#so i guess... thanks in stars and time. for helping me reach a decision about faith.

[shock-micro]

the practice of taking multiple names... i do wish it was a bit more supported in places like the united states. i love my family name, my family means the world to me,

but there's also the last name of berri that i'd love to take. it was the second name that stuck with me after "mira", and i've nicknamed myself "miraberri" in a lot of things over the past year i've had it...

...i suppose the other trouble is that i've already changed my legal name once, and so now i'd have to pay for it to be changed again... ahh, the wonders of capitalism and rigid social systems.

wouldn't it be nice if we lived in a society that embraced Change?

that freely allowed, even encouraged changing oneself? embracing the fact that everything will change eventually, and must do so for things to not become stagnant?

that some things might not be right as they are, despite the state of things being comfortable for many people? that the status quo, or our time-honored traditions, aren't infallible, perfect concepts?

i guess the idea is too much for some people to understand.

maybe some day, that'll change, too.

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 9

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 8 | Series Masterlist | Part 10

Chapter Summary: Bucky takes you home, but will he keep his hands to himself?

Chapter Word Count: Over 3.7k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, tension, dirty talk, unease, possessiveness, inner turmoil, slight feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight and thank you for your patience! Hope you lovelies continue to enjoy. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You thought you heard the men wish you well once more when Bucky led you out of the office. You weren’t completely sure since you tried to block everything out, but attempting to disassociate wouldn’t exactly do you any good. The night wasn’t over yet and you had to stay sharp. You didn’t know what Bucky had planned for when he got you home. Were you prepared at all?

Not in the least.

You half expected to walk back through the front of the club to leave, but Ray directed you to a door near the back once he gave Bucky a nod. The car was waiting in the alley and you took a moment to glance up at the sky. You could only make out one star and you wished in that moment you could grow wings and fly away. But when did wishing upon a star do you any good?

“Let’s get you back to your place,” Bucky said, helping you into the car.

You had to give him credit for trying to keep up his end of the bargain by getting you home on time. Your body refused to relax though once he sat beside you and took your hand. Was he trying to get you accustomed to his touch? Make you crave him? It bothered you that in spite of your determination he drew you in to a certain degree. But you wouldn’t let him take you to bed tonight. You weren’t ready to cross that inevitable line.

Maybe, just maybe, if your performance in bed disappointed him, he’d get bored and walk away. The thought almost made you laugh. That wasn’t happening. If anything, he’d probably love teaching you how to be his perfect lover.

“I think tonight went well,” Bucky smiled.

“Which part exactly?” You mumbled, pulling your hand away. The part where he forced you to go, how his men all but admitted they knew Bucky stalked you, or how they beat the hell out of a man?

“Just the night in general. I knew everyone would love you, but I really think Thor wants to be your big brother now,” Bucky replied. You wanted it so badly to be endearing, but Thor was dangerous. He mentioned a father-in-law. How exactly did he find his wife? And bringing up the flower donations to the hospital. Bucky seemed upset. Why? “Which he’ll have to fight Steve for.”

“Fighting. You guys seem to excel in that arena,” you said, remembering how they all took turns beating up John. “But I guess Steve does have a bit of that ‘big brother’ vibe, helping you take total control of my life and whatnot.”

“Not total control. I’m still letting you work, but maybe I can buy the shop.” He chuckled at your thunderous expression. The light threat had you seeing red. “I probably shouldn't joke about that, should I?”

“Letting me work? Like it’s your decision? And don’t you dare buy the shop.” You pushed at him to keep from slapping him when he chuckled again. Not with enough force to get him far away from you, but you needed some sort of space in the vehicle. He also needed a good hit over the head. “You’re a bully, do you know that? So are your friends.”

His laughter died off quickly when he reached out and gently took your hand again, prying your fingers away from your palm. You didn’t notice it stung from your nails until he brought your hand to his mouth and kissed it. “You think we’re bullies?” He asked against your skin.

“Yes. Besides nearly beating that jerk to death, you do realize that you use force and threats to dominate and intimidate. That’s a form of bullying, Bucky,” you said. Was he deliberately being obtuse or was he lost in his delusion that this was all normal?

“I wouldn’t say we’re bullies. I call it protecting and keeping what’s mine,” he said. There was no shame on his end.

“Right. Because I’m a possession and not a person,” you said, your face scrunching up as you tried not to cry. You needed rest. If part of Bucky’s plan was to wear you down by overwhelming you, mission accomplished. “I’m so tired. I just want to go to bed.”

“You’re a person, not a possession, Kotyonok. And not just a person, a good person who gives so much of herself to others. And probably one of the only people who rightfully calls me out on my shit.” His response drew you up short. “Outside of my friends, no one else does that.”

“Maybe because they’re afraid of you and what you can do,” you said after a moment. Fear could make anyone say what they thought people wanted to hear. “Either that or they want your approval,” you added, which you could also understand to a point. People wanted a sense of belonging, especially with those who had influence and power.

“Maybe they are afraid,” he agreed, brushing his lips against your palm again with a sigh. “What is it about me that scares you most?”

“I’m not really sure exactly,” you admitted. There was so much about the situation that terrified you. What he was capable of. How he inserted himself into various aspects of your life and so quickly. How far he was willing to go to keep you. “But I think it’s your conviction. That you’re so sure that I’m your other half and no one can convince you otherwise, not even me.”

You could scream until your lungs gave out that you didn’t belong with him and you knew in your heart he’d argue until his last breath that you did. He was steadfast in that belief that you were soulmates. That conviction was so strong that what you really feared was that he would somehow convince you that he was right: that you belonged together.

Those steel blue eyes of his met yours and mesmerized you for a heartbeat before you looked away. “Love is scary. It’s natural to be afraid of it.” His lips brushed your ear, making you shiver. “But giving someone the most fragile parts of yourself is one of the bravest things a person can do.”

There was truth in his words, but it felt like he moved another chess piece into place. He was trying to disarm you and you couldn’t let him. “Who painted that black dahlia in your office?” You asked suddenly, feeling him move back enough that you could turn your head toward him. “And why display that flower?” You didn’t believe for a second that he chose it for aesthetic purposes.

“Beautiful, isn't it? Steve painted it,” he replied with an odd mixture of affection and bitterness. “It’s for my parents.”

“Steve is a gifted artist.” You hoped your voice stayed even enough that Bucky wouldn’t get jealous of you complimenting another man’s talent. “I don't know if the symbolism of flowers mean anything to you, but the black dahlia-”

“Betrayal. Sadness. Darkness,” he ticked off, his voice cold enough that another shiver moved through your body. “It was the last flower my dad ever got my mom and it serves as a reminder.”

You swallowed as warning bells sounded in your mind to tread carefully. “And what's that?”

He moved close, your eyes shutting as his hand wrapped around the nape of your neck. “That I'll never do to you what he did to her.”

There was suppressed rage within him. Sorrow. It rolled off him in waves strong enough that they could drown you. He said earlier that his dad got what he deserved. What had he done to his mom?

“You’re in pain,” you whispered. He was hurting and you logically shouldn’t care. So why did you want to know the cause of that hurt? “You have to tell me why.”

It wasn’t for you to use to your advantage. You weren’t sure if you could manipulate someone else. If you knew what happened though, it would at least give you more answers to who Bucky was and why he was the way he was. It could help you gain some sort of understanding.

“I’m not in pain when I’m with you,” he whispered, bringing your hand on his chest. Was he relying on you to chase away whatever haunted him? “Later. I’ve overwhelmed you enough for one evening.”

You let out a breath. You swore he was doing this on purpose, giving you just enough information that you’d wait around until he gave you more. “I can’t argue with you there,” you said, his heart racing under your touch. “Just answer one thing for me, please.”

“What’s that?”

“Marc from the bookstore,” you began, the man’s kind face shimmering in your mind. “Did anything happen to him?”

“I’d question another man being on your mind, but I know you’re just concerned about his well-being.” An easy smile crossed Bucky’s face as you bit your tongue. You could think about anyone you wanted to. “I can’t speak for him right this second, but he was perfectly fine when you and I left. He was just having a chat with one of my associates.”

You exhaled, thankful Marc wasn't hurt. “What kind of chat?” You asked. He was a nice guy, though he did seem to know a bit about Bucky. What exactly was he involved in?

“He just got a warning to be careful about what he does or doesn’t say to his customers.” You tensed before he kissed your forehead. Did he know about the conversation you two had? “And I don’t think the two of you should be alone with each other in the bookstore going forward.”

Just when Bucky had you feeling some sort of sympathy for him moments ago he shocked you right out of it. “Another decision that isn’t yours to make,” you stated, the car coming to a stop. “And you really don’t have to walk me up. I think we’ve had enough of each other’s company tonight.”

“I said I’m tucking you into bed and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” The smile he gave you was nothing short of cocky when he added, “And you owe me a photo. I’m going to get it.”

He was a dog with a bone. He wouldn’t let that go. “Why don’t you just take a photo of me giving you the finger?” You suggested as he helped you out of the car.

“Only if you do it with a smile. I’ll even set it as the background on my phone,” he winked. Your reluctance and defiance of him didn’t phase him in the slightest. “And if you give me the finger, I’ll take it as an invitation that you want to fuck me.”

“Let’s go, please.”

You said nothing else as you went into the building, your anxiety mounting by the second. The slow rise of the elevator didn’t help, Bucky’s hip pressed against yours like he couldn’t stand to have space between you. You figure he’d shove you against the wall and claim your mouth, but he didn’t make a move. It impressed you that he behaved until you got to your floor. It didn’t stop your hand from shaking when you got your keys out.

“Still don’t want to say good night now?”

“I don’t want to say good night at all,” he answered, following you into the apartment and turning on the light. The welcoming feeling you expected when you got home wasn't there. There was a chill in the usual warmth.

“Well, you’ll have to sooner or later,” you said, swallowing when you faced Bucky. He shut the door and watched intently as you set your keys and bag down. You were quiet as you stared back, tension thick as you tried to predict what he was going to do. Once again, he managed to hold all the power in your home.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” He asked, heat and hunger in his stare as he slowly advanced.

Your throat went dry as you stepped back. “You have.”

“So beautiful and so good.” You made another move to retreat when he stepped forward, his manner confident and compelling as he reached out and prevented you from moving back further. “It’s driving me crazy not having you yet.”

“Please, you don’t…” you trailed off when he sank to his knees, unexpected heat flowing from your core. He guided one of your hands to his shoulder to brace yourself, his eyes soft as he helped remove one of your shoes. You found it difficult to breathe as he removed the other, his hand brushing your ankle with infinite tenderness. Like it was an honor to touch and be on his knees for you.

“I know the first time I taste you I’ll never want to stop. I’ll have to wake up every day between your thighs. Fall asleep that way, too.” His hand slid up your calf and his eyes darkened when your other hand found its way to his thick locks. Wetness gathered between your legs when his touch moved to your thigh. “Your pussy is hungry for me, isn’t it? My fingers, my tongue, my cock. I’ll feed her well.”

His voice was like velvet. Seductive. Aching. “Bucky…” Your breath rushed out swiftly when he kissed your mound through your clothes, tormenting you with arousal you didn’t ask for. It frightened you.

“I can smell you,” he murmured, nosing along where his lips had been before he sat back. “Smell so fucking good.”

Moving your shoes out of the way, he rose to his full height again as you willed your legs not to shake. You weren’t used to anyone looking at you, let alone speak to you, the way he did. Stark desire. Possessiveness. His form of love. Your heart pounded and you refused to answer him or glance down. If you looked at the front of his pants…

He took your hand and pulled you in the direction of the bedroom. Your heart pounded with mounting speed, your heels digging into the floor. “You still haven't kissed me,” you blurted out, hoping it would prevent him from taking you to bed. Or would he take that as an invitation to kiss your lips?

“No, I haven't.” You tried to keep some distance between you as he went to your bed, his hand moving along the blanket. You couldn't breathe. “It scares you how much your body wants mine, doesn’t it?”

“Is that what you think?” You asked, forcing air back into your lungs. It did scare you. It also scared you that you didn’t push him away or scream when he dropped to his knees to remove your shoes. Where was your fighting instinct?

“It is what I think.” The ease in which he moved away from the bed to your dresser to find your pajamas frightened you, too. Like he belonged in your room. You thought back to the night he broke in and left your gift on your bed. How much time did he take to look around? “Like love, giving your body to someone can be scary. You have to trust that you won't get hurt when you’re physically vulnerable.”

“You swore you wouldn't hurt me,” you reminded him.

“And I won't. But you know what else I think?” His magnetic gaze stayed on you as he brought a nightgown over. “That no guy has ever really taken care of you and you’re apprehensive to let me try.”

If you were apprehensive, it was because he was a walking red flag. “What makes you…” Your words stopped when he grasped the bottom of your shirt and pulled it up. Your arms instinctively went up before you realized what you were doing. Removing your shirt, you didn’t get a chance to cover your breasts before he slipped the nightgown on you.

“Your past boyfriends never did anything for you. Emotionally, physically,” he stated, sliding his hands under the nightgown to your hips. Grasping the hem of your pants, he pushed them down as far as he could. “I’ll bet they didn’t even buy you flowers and used the excuse that they didn’t because you’re a florist.”

The words were tiny cuts on old wounds, but you wouldn't give him the satisfaction. “And you will?”

“I will. I’ll give you the life and love you deserve, making you forget any other man out there existed before me.” His eyes raked over you as you stepped out of your pants, your panties still soaked. “But I’m not gonna fuck you.”

Exhaling slowly, relief flooded you. Though you couldn’t help but wonder why he wasn’t trying to take what he wanted. “You won’t?”

“Not tonight.” He shook his head even as his fingers moved along your waist. “Like I said, I’ve overwhelmed you enough. Sleeping with you might really put you over the edge.”

“Thanks.” He desired you, but continued to hold it at bay for your sake. How long would that last? “I appreciate that.”

“And we both know the moment I take you to bed, you’ll be begging for more.” His voice dropped as he toyed with the soft fabric. “And as much as I want to stay in bed with you all night and morning and give us what we both crave, I still need to get things in place at the penthouse and you need rest. You understand.”

You tried not to smile and failed. He acted as if he was doing you a favor. Cocky bastard. “I guess we’ll just have to suffer until then.” Sarcasm continued to be a good way to deflect.

He exhaled at your light teasing, his body still a bit tense. Being close to you and not having you was probably driving him mad. “Maybe we'll have to have another private call and finish what we started. Give us both some relief.” He turned you toward the door and gave you a light swat on your ass. “Go wash your face and brush your teeth before I change my mind.”

You made it to the bathroom in record time, not having to be told twice. You didn’t want to risk staying there in case he lost his resolve. Looking in the mirror as you went through the rest of your nighttime routine, you expected to look more exhausted from the whirlwind of the day. You somehow looked wide awake. Was the experience giving you thicker skin? Or did his desire for you somehow give you a bit of a twisted spark? You’d still be billing him for your future therapy bills either way.

A couple of deep breaths and you made your way back to your bedroom. You paused when you saw Bucky holding a framed photo of you and your friends, longing in his eyes when he lifted his gaze. “You look so happy,” he murmured, carefully setting the frame down on the nightstand before he pulled the blankets back for you. “Can you do me one favor and I’ll go?”

“I was happy. It was a fun day.” You slipped into bed when he gave you space to do so, but his body was still close to yours. Firm. Hard. He really could pin you down and do what he wanted if he wished. “What’s the favor?”

He tucked the blanket around you, his hair falling into his face. You almost reached up to brush it back, but refrained. Who knew what your touch would do? “Look at me like you love me. Please.”

You stiffened as you stared up at his face, your heart simultaneously racing and breaking for him. Love was something that provided a sense of connection, fulfillment. It was a way to show you that you weren’t alone in the world. You wanted to believe you were worthy of love, that you could build a life with someone. Bucky believed he was that someone.

Why?

You weren’t sure if it was his yearning gaze or if you were ready for the night to end, but your expression softened as you imagined meeting him in another life. Going on fun dates, talking about books, making each other laugh as you cooked together, snuggling under a blanket as you talked about your future. You found yourself smiling at the images that went through your mind. What could’ve been. What could be if he lessened his hold a bit on you.

He audibly exhaled when he snapped a photo on his phone, making you blink. “Thank you. Now I can look at this whenever I’m not near you and need to feel your love.”

Words escaped you, the invisible collar around your throat getting tighter. You could only nod and wonder how you kept throwing fuel on the fire of his want for you. Which one of you would burn first?

“Get some sleep. Dream sweet dreams.” You felt featherlight kisses on each eyelid when you shut them. “You know, I’ll sleep a lot easier once you’re in my bed.”

“If you get me into your bed,” you mumbled, refusing to look at him.

“Stubborn kitten.” He chuckled and gave each eyelid one more kiss. Why were his lips so soft? “Maybe I’ll stop by the shop tomorrow so I can take you to lunch. You can tell Addison all about it.”

“Maybe.” You yawned and snuggled more into your pillows. “Good night, Bucky.”

A finger moved along your cheek before it stopped abruptly. “Good night, Kotyonok.”

Bucky still hadn't kissed your mouth.

You didn’t open your eyes as he left, but you didn’t fall asleep right away either. Your body was too wound up. Too many questions went through your mind. Like what happened with his parents and how exactly he’d move you out of your place.

The man was a step ahead in everything. You’d be in his penthouse before the month was over. He’d get his way, but maybe it didn't have to be his way completely. He could give you an area in the place for you and you alone. It wouldn’t hurt to ask. After all, he did say he’d make it up to you by dragging you out tonight.

And if he cared the way he said he did, he could give you that one small thing.

Is our poor Kotyonok starting to accept the inevitable? Will Bucky stop by the shop? And how much longer until he really takes you to bed?Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[clangenrising]

Month 20 - Leaffall

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Despite the heavy, nearly unbearable grief over Sagetooth’s passing, Ospreymask was doing very well these days. Her wounds had all healed nicely. Things were starting to feel less dire. After the battle, SkyClan had started sending warriors to help patrol the southern border, just in case, and the Clans had reinstated the twenty-four hour patrol schedule that had been abandoned after Razor’s death. As much as the work was tiring, there were always new cats in the camp and the novelty of it was enough to brighten her spirits considerably.

It was especially nice when Pebblefall came to visit. Ospreymask had begged Russetfrond to let her patrol with them whenever they came by and he had eventually relented, seeing as offering to work wasn’t something she usually did. She couldn’t help but feel smug about it. If only he knew what she and Pebblefall got up to when they had the time to themselves, maybe then he would have second guessed that decision. 

On a breezy leaffall day, she took a good long moment to appreciate just how lucky she was as she lay sprawled against their belly in the grass, watching it wave gently over their silvery speckled fur. It wasn’t every day you found a friend like Pebblefall -- or for that matter, a friend like Branchbark, who had agreed to cover for them on patrol again. Sighing, she reasoned that they ought to get back before he got ambushed by rogues or coyotes or something, even if she’d rather keep dozing peacefully to the gentle rhythm of Pebblefall’s slumbering breaths. 

“Alright,” she said, batting lightly at their face, “time to get up, lazy bones.” Pebblefall groaned and rolled onto their back to stretch their paws as far as they could go in either direction. Ospreymask had to resist the temptation to lavish the gorgeous arc of their body with playful licks like she so often did these days. That would lead to Branchbark being on his own for another good while and she was already starting to feel guilty about how long they had been gone. 

“Do I have to get up?” Pebblefall asked sleepily, peeking at her with one eye. 

“Yeah…” she sighed again. “I think Branchbark is probably getting tired of covering for us by now.” 

“Oof,” they frowned and sat up. “You’re probably right. I wish I could thank him for everything.” 

Ospreymask laughed and said, “You could always try. Stars know he could do with a bit of stress relief.” 

“Not like that, dummy,” Pebblefall swiped at her and she bounced backwards out of their reach. 

“Why not?” she kept laughing. “You seem happy to thank me that way.” 

Pebblefall stood and stretched, glaring playfully at her as they bowed. “Thank you? What have you done worth thanking for?” 

“Um, I am generous enough to allow you to enjoy the pleasures of my body,” she huffed performatively and stood up straight as if offended. “Is that not worthy of thanks?” 

“Sounds to me like we’re gonna get stuck in a loop pretty quickly if that’s how I thank you for letting me thank you,” they snorted. Carefully fixing the nettle flowers they wore back into place behind their ear, they padded over to join her. 

“Is that a bad thing?” she purred teasingly, winding her tail around theirs.

“I guess not,” they chuckled and nipped playfully at her ear. She shook her head and they set off towards the border where Branchbark was waiting for them. 

Ospreymask hummed thoughtfully to herself as they walked, eventually saying, “You’re good with me keeping the kittens if there are any, right?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Pebblefall nodded. “I’m not in any rush to be a parent.” 

“Good, cause you would have had to pry them from my cold dead paws,” Ospreymask declared. “I’m so kitten crazy it’s not even funny.” 

“I do not understand that at all,” they shook their head. “Kits are so tiring and annoying. I can’t imagine having to carry them either, it sounds like a nightmare.” 

“No way!” she said. “They’re so much fun! Just cute little bundles of joy that love you with all their heart. It's so easy to impress a kitten, it’s the best.” She smiled, imagining little Pebblefall copies following her around and asking her questions about the world. “I’m actually really looking forward to being pregnant. I want to feel their little heartbeats and kicks and everything. It sounds absolutely magical.”

“If you say so,” they shrugged and she let that be the end of it. She was too busy thinking about the kittens she might soon have. 

Eventually, they made it to the border and found Branchbark waiting where they had left him. He looked up as they approached and let out a sigh of relief. Standing, he padded over to them looking miffed but mostly glad to see them. 

“There you are,” he said. “The next patrol is supposed to relieve us soon. I was getting worried about how I would explain where you’d gone.” 

“You can always come get us,” Ospreymask offered but Branchbark blushed and shook his head. 

“Uh, no, I don’t think so,” he fumbled out the words and Ospreymask laughed. 

“Okay, I get it. We’ll take a smaller nap next time, promise.” 

“Can’t you just, you know, not nap?” he asked, quirking a brow at her. 

“It’s tiring,” Pebblefall said. “It’d be more suspicious if we didn’t nap and the two of us came back exhausted.”

“It can’t be that tiring,” Branchbark scowled. 

“You’d know if you’d tried it,” Ospreymask gave him a playful shove and he pushed her back without any humor. She was pushing her luck and she could tell.

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” he rolled his eyes tiredly. “Let’s just make another sweep before we have to go back, alright?”

“Yeah, sure thing,” Pebblefall said with a guilty grimace. “We’ll be more considerate in the future, man. I’m sorry.” 

Branchbark sighed. “It’s alright. Don’t mention it.” He started walking, leaving Pebblefall and Ospreymask to exchange rueful glances. 

As they finished out the patrol, Ospreymask’s guilt grew in her stomach and started to writhe. Branchbark had taken Sagetooth’s death a lot harder than she had -- probably harder than anybody -- which had totally caught her off guard. She’d tried to go back to acting like nothing had happened, to replace the sadness with new joys, but it seemed like Branchbark wasn’t having as easy of a time at it as she was. And on top of it all, she had been asking him to be all alone for not inconsiderable stretches of time so she could fool around without doing anything for him in return. 

If he had asked her for a favor, she would gladly have given it to him, but he never asked for anything. She chewed her lip for the entire walk back to camp, trying to think of a way to repay him for his kindness. She was so deep in thought, she barely noticed when Pebblefall said goodbye and headed back to their own territory. 

“Hey,” Branchbark asked, a little while after they had left, “are you alright?” 

“Yeah,” she nodded, smiling immediately. “I’m fine, I’m just worried about you man. I feel like I’ve been a bad friend.” 

Branchbark pursed his lips and looked down. “No, you’re fine, I’m just… stuck in my head right now.” 

“I know!” Ospreymask cried, butting her head against his shoulder. “You’ve been so good to me lately, I wanna return the favor.”

“It’s okay,” he said, nuzzling back into her. “I don’t know what I would ask for anyway.” 

“Well, if you can think of something, just let me know, yeah?” she asked. 

“Yeah, okay,” he nodded. 

Ospreymask sighed in defeat. He wasn’t going to ask.

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Datura Pt 15

Author's Note: Darrrrrlllllliiiiinnnngggg guess who's back from jail the debilitating cycle of mental illness?

Seriously tho, thank ya'll for sticking with me I have not been able to write more than a couple paragraphs a day lately. Please enjoy meeting a couple familiar faces, as a treat.

Content Warnings: Canon Typical Violence

Previous Chapter/Masterlist

-----------------

Giving the High Lords’ their powers back is, surprisingly, the easiest part of the next hour. Reaching into your power well, untangling the threads of each of them, swirling together within you is easy compared to getting them to agree on anything. They all stand there, in what’s left of the Throne Room, yelling at each other about what’s to be done about your father. Rhys and Helion want him dead now, the Cauldron returned to its resting place. Beron and Tarquin want to go home and be done with the whole mess. Kallias and Thesan want to try and muster their armies, in case of all out war. 

By this point its all a jumble of nonsense in your ears. You’re so tired. Rhys, with his powers returned, is healing nicely from the wounds you’ve inflicted, and despite all he’s endured, he’s the one holding you upright as you lean into his side. It’s taking all your energy to just keep your eyes open, to not give into the warmth that radiates from his skin, and sink into it. 

“We are wasting time!” Helion agrues.

“What he does in the Human Lands is no business of ours!” Shouts Beron.

You’d snarl at him if you had the energy; every time he opens his mouth you wish you’d had the presence of mind to give his powers to Eris instead, but the headache from holding all that had gotten so bad you’d thought your head might actually burst if you didn’t expel as much of it as you could. As is, Tamlin’s powers still prowl beneath your skin; finding him will be a challenge you’ll have to face later, once this threat is finally over.

Rhys’s hand strokes your side soothingly as he comes to Helion’s defense, his snarl making the room shake. He is a sight to behold at full power, everything about him seems to dim the impressive powers around him. Wisps of shadows twirl around his body, twining around your own in exploration. A welcome darkness. You’d like very much to fall into it and not think about any of this for weeks and weeks.  

“We are getting nowhere with this,” Kallias insists. “Let us return home and send out spies. We are of no help to anyone if we end up dead because we went in blind.”

“We cannot wait that long,” Helion presses. 

“We won’t need to,” Rhys says, flicking a bit of lint off his shoulder. “My spy should be here with news any minute now.”

Even you crane your head up to look at him, surprised. He hasn’t moved from the Throne Room, is only now dressed because he summoned something from a pocket realm, when would he have had the time?

He merely winks at you as he says to the others, “Once he arrives, we will make our decision.”

“And we should trust a word from your spies?” Beron snarls. “As we should trust a story about the Cauldron from her.” He’s been rather pissed that a female had wielded his powers, and has taken every opportunity to take a shot at you since getting them back. As if diminishing your ability cleansed them of whatever womanly germs you may have gotten on them. 

“I gave you those powers of my own free will, I can take them back any time I desire,” you warn. 

He has the good sense to step away from you, at least, even if his disdain is palpable.

“The next time you look at my mate like that,” Rhys snarls so low the lights in the room start to wink out. The stars that usually glitter in his violet eyes shrink, pupil expanding until it’s nearly black. “I’ll separate your head from your shoulders.” His shadows deepen, swirling around him.

Mate. The word clangs through them like a warning bell and there are various reactions of disgust and surprise. Helion claps him on the back in congratulations despite the others’ response.

You brush a mental hand over the thin thread that connects you to Rhys, testing to tell yourself that it is real. The loss of the bargains is visceral, it feels as if there’s a gaping wound in your soul, poking around in there feels like touching an exposed nerve, but beneath it, glittering like a million stars, is that tether. The one you suspect might have been the only reason you’re still alive at all. 

Rhys opens his end of it to you, the door of adamant thrown open far wider than it had ever been before. “Are you all right, Darling?”

You could cry from a thousand different things right now, but the fact that you can hear him, feel him like this makes you close your eyes for a brief moment and relish the fact that Hybern hadn’t robbed you of this too. “I thought…” the memory of that dark power holding you down, tearing the bargain apart, flashes across your shared mental space before you can shut it out. “I wasn’t sure this would still be here.”

Rhys’s anger flares down the bond as the memory plays out before him, the arm around your waist tightening. “It will always be here. Nothing, no exiled king, no Mountain, no damned Cauldron, will ever change that.”

“Even if I did punch you in the face?” You quip, eyes blurring with tears. 

His deep rumble of a laugh flows down the bond, fills it with glittering starlight. It is such a contrast to the dark lord mask he still outwardly shows the other lords. Looking at him, they can only see Darkness Incarnate, a creature of shadows and malevolence that keeps baring his teeth when someone gets out of line. Yet here, between your two souls, he is gentle and kind and bright. 

“Maybe if you’d broken my nose it would be different, I am known for my good looks after all,” he returns. “So I suppose it can be overlooked.”

You’ve almost forgotten the other lords are still bickering until Rhys’s remark makes you snort and Beron turns to glare at you. It’s only because your mate flashes his teeth at him with a growl that he keeps from pointing it out. 

You could have stayed like this, warm in both his physical and mental embrace, had a male with wings not entered the room. Fae came in all shapes, sizes and colors, your travels had shown many of them to you over the years, but you’ve met very few with wings like these. The leathery membrane is reminiscent of a bat’s, with a large apex talon at the tip; when folded behind him, the talons make it look like horns are growing out of his shoulders. He weara]s black fighting leathers, fit tight to his muscled form; a sword sheathed between his great wings, a single, ornate dagger strapped to his thigh. You know him to be with Rhys solely from the shadows that mist over his frame, drifting through his dark hair to shroud his face as he enters, his powers not entirely unlike your mate’s.

The male’s hazel eyes flick immediately to Rhys, his features mostly schooled into cold indifference, but you note the briefest flick of relief as he takes in his High Lord.

“Don’t tell me you only brought the Shadowsinger?” Helion asks with a pout.

The rest of the room finally falls silent as the male steps up to the table you’ve all been arguing around. Rhys claps him on the shoulder in greeting, your mate’s posture relaxing at his presence.

The male returns the gesture, the hand he reaches out scarred beyond any repair. “M’lord.” There’s a bit of teasing underneath the tone, as if he says it in joke, perhaps that is why Rhys flashes him a grin in return.

“Well?” Thesan questions. 

“My spies and I have tracked Hybern back to a temple in Spring,” the male says, turning away from Rhys to face them. “Troops are prepared to move, but no one has yet. I couldn’t get any closer.”

You run your fingers over your damaged throat in thought. He has the Cauldron still, why not use it?

Helion asks as much before you can say it aloud. 

“I couldn’t get inside, his shields are extensive. If we are to engage him, we’ll have to draw him outside.”

“With what army?” Kallias returns.

“We have an Illyrian legion and a squadron of Darkbringers standing by,” he says with a nod to Rhys. 

“Ah, so you did bring Cassian,” Helion says with a grin. “I was hoping I’d see a pretty face after being in this cage for so long.”

Beron snarls softly under his breath in disgust. 

“I can break the shield,” you say. 

“Tore through Amarantha’s like butter,” Helion agrees.

Rhys’s attention is now glued to you, as is the Shadowsinger, hazel eyes assessing the way his lord holds you. 

“I can go in first, take the shield down, and you all can come in behind me.”

“And let you lead us right into a trap?” Beron snarls. 

“Would you prefer to go in first?” Tarquin returns.

“Helion and I will be right behind you,” Rhys says slowly, as if he’s still thinking through the details. 

“I can cleave any surprise spells beyond the shield,” Helion confirms.

“My troops can provide cover, if Hybern’s men move,” Rhys continues. “The rest of you can follow along behind. We’ll distract Hybern while…”

A shiver runs inadvertently down my spine at thought, but I force the words out anyway, “While I drain the Cauldron so he can’t use it.”

Rhys nods, a string of affection trickling down the bond. “Once Hybern and his troops are dead, or captured, we send the Cauldron back to its resting place, and we all go home.”

Kallias rubs a hand wearily over his face. 

“I don’t see why all of us have to risk our necks,” Beron snarls.

“Because we don’t know what else he has up his sleeve,” Thesan returns. “We’ve all been in the dark to the outside world for the last fifty years. He could have anything.”

“He doesn’t have his whole army moved in yet,” the Shadowsinger confirms. “We have to move now.”

Tarquin sighs as he leans his weight against the table. “Let us be done with it then.”

You sigh with relief. It’s almost over. This nightmare is, mercifully, moments away from over. All you have to do is tear down a shield and drain the actual, life giving, Cauldron.

The terrifying, cold, bottomless Cauldron that had swallowed you and spit you out. The very thing that had tied you to Hybern’s will and nearly cost you your mate. And you wanted to, somehow, take that power from it so it couldn’t be wielded?

You are in over your head.

You never should have suggested it.

But how can you not? Even with all their powers restored, none of the High Lords can take power from anyone, or anything else. That is a gift that belongs to you and you alone. It has to be you.

By the time you pull yourself out of your thoughts over the ancient artifact, the other lords have filtered out, leaving you alone with Rhys and his spy. It’s only when they’re gone that Rhys releases you, so he can throw his arms around the other male. It is far more affectionate than you have ever seen him be with someone aside from yourself. 

“Az,” he half sobs into the other male’s shoulder.

“You idiot!” The other snarls, even as those scarred hands grip so tight to the back of Rhys’s shirt it looks like he might tear it. “What were you thinking!?”

Rhys’s response is still more sob than laugh, but there is some humor in it nonetheless. “It worked didn’t it?”

“I’d thought I’d never see you again, you stupid prick!” 

When they finally pull away, Rhys is grinning. “Az, you should meet my mate.”

You’re still standing there awkwardly, and probably looking like you’d been tossed under a wagon, if you’re being totally honest with yourself, and the only thing you can think to do is give a little wave. “Hi.”

He looks back and forth between you two, shadows drifting off his shoulders, slithering around his dark boots like snakes as they come to appraise you, much as Rhys’s own powers had that night on Calanmai. Though these are colder and more methodic in their search than your mate’s had been.

“Y/N, this is my brother, Azriel.”

“Who’s blood is all over your hands?” Azriel asks by way of greeting.

It’s an effort not to tuck them behind your back under his scrutiny. “A little bit of everyone’s really,” you mumble.

Azriel shoots Rhys a look that has your mate grinning, “She killed Amarantha.”

“Well, then, it’s nice to meet you,” Azriel replies, the corners of his mouth quirking up in a grin. 

“You two will get along well, I think,” Rhys says, and judging by the warmth he’s flooding down the bond you know he really means it. This is important to him. 

“You make it a habit of killing dictators, Y/N?” Azriel teases.

“Well we are on our way to kill my father, so I might be,” you return.

The shock on his face is enough to make you grin, even as Rhys slaps Azriel on the back and says, “We should go find Cass.”

Cass turns out to be one of the tallest males you’ve ever seen, bearing the same dark wings as Azriel, long brown hair tied back out of his sun kissed face. While Azriel had remarks on Rhys’s absence to make, this one merely barreled into him as soon as he caught sight of him, nearly taking them both to the ground in his attempt to bear hug him.

Azriel takes up the space beside you, watching them with the same cold indifference he looked at everything. “Careful, he’s a hugger.” Was the only warning you got before the giant of a male released Rhys to sweep you up into a hug of your own.

You awkwardly pat his large back once your feet manage to get back on the ground. “Uh hi.”

“You’re much prettier than he is,” he says when he pulls away, a shit eating grin plastered to his handsome face. “You sure you want this loser?” He jerks his thumb in Rhys’s direction for good measure.

Rhys grabs you by the shoulders and pulls you back against his chest. “Don’t mind Cassian, he was dropped as a baby.”

“I was not!” Cassian returns. “Thrown out into the snow sure, but no one ever dropped me.”

“His head’s so big you wouldn’t have noticed if he had anyway,” Azriel returns.

Rhys chuckles as they turn to square off each other, shouting obscenities. “I know they’re a little much-”

You run your fingers over his arm where it’s braced against your collarbone, the weight of him at your back solid and reassuring. “This is pretty much what I’d expect of anyone related to you, honestly.”

He gives your shoulder a teasing pinch, “Brat.”

“You endured all this for them,” you say in a more serious tone. “You gave all of yourself to make sure they were safe. They’re important to you, so they’re important to me.”

He kisses the top of your head in thanks. “I can’t wait for this to be over, so we can go home and you can meet the rest of them.”

For that, for them, you can do this, you can go up against the Cauldron. You give his hand a squeeze. “Let’s get this done then.”

----

The crunch of every dead piece of grass under your feet sounds like an alarm bell. The rustle of the trees, the quiet of the nearby birds, it all feels as if it’s screaming your location right to your father.

You draw a deep breath as you creep forward, then another as the Temple finally comes into view. Hybern’s shield around the building is a lot less visible than Amarantha’s had been, yet you can feel it. There’s a buzzing beneath your skin that grows the closer you get to it, the air tinged with a hint of overripe fruit.

“Hello, Daughter of the Void, have you come to play another game?”

You freeze, a shiver running down your spine. 

Behind you, Rhys and Helion pause too, watching the area ahead of you warily. Cassian had produced armor and weapons for both of them, their swords still sheathed at their backs. Rhys reaches a hand up to grab his at your movements, but neither mention hearing the Cauldron.

“Darling?” Rhys asks mind to mind to avoid being heard. “Are you all right?”

Your stomach is in your throat, it’s an effort to swallow. “Yeah,” you lie as the phantom touch of that icy water brushes over your skin. Cassian hadn’t found armor for you, just a pair of more practical clothes and boots. Helion had offered to cast a shield for you, but his efforts had been for nothing, your body had swallowed up the shield like it was starving for any bit of new power it could reach. Still, you wish you’d found something, anything to make you feel a little less powerless against what you were up against.

“Just thought I heard something.” In a few more tentative steps, you’re at the edge of the shield.

“Come, come and play, Sweet Nothing.”

You reach out a hand, even though it’s shaking, and let your claws slide into place. They’re still a little distorted from Spring’s powers, you skin a war of fur and scales as the warring powers fight for dominance.

You can do this. Your mate is right behind you. His brothers and their winged armies just above the treeline. You are not alone to fight Hybern this time.

“Once we’re through, let Helion go ahead and check for protection spells,” Rhys cautions.

“I didn’t see any before,” you muse.

“He wasn’t trying to keep you out then,” he reminds. “But he knows that you’re against him now. We have to be ready for anything.”

You square your shoulders. You can do this.

The shield splits under your claws as if you’re shredding paper, your hand tingling with the sensation of a thousand needles as you draw all that power into you. After holding the powers of all the High Lords, this is nothing in comparison, even if it is stronger than Amarantha’s. You don’t stop pulling it into you until you no longer feel the buzzing of it against your skin.

“We’re in,” you say to Helion, who strides past you far more confidently than you felt he should be.

Especially when it’s so… quiet.

You tilt your head, listening. There are still no birds here, but there is no waiting army either. Hybern had plenty of soldiers when you’d seen him last, too many to cram all inside the Temple, even with the ones you’d misted under his orders. It shouldn’t be this quiet.

Helion’s head tilts to the side as he too considers the stillness. 

You can’t smell any spells at work, or see any other types of shields.

“Come, come and play,” the Cauldron beckons. “We have so much more to learn from each other, Little Death.”

Why have no army in sight with something this valuable out in the open?

Why leave something you could hear within reach?

You glance back at Rhys, by the look on his face its clear he too knows something is wrong, but he still can’t hear that it’s wrong. 

“Come.” It starts like a second pulse within your chest. 

“Come.” Then the hair on your arms raises.

“Come.” The ground trembles, but still no one but you notices.

Because you were remade. It knows you and you know it. And that’s the only way you have time to run and push Helion out of the way before Hybern uses the Cauldron to send out a blast of pure energy that hits you right in the chest.

_________________________________

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Leather and Lace - Chapter16:  Feelings Revealed

PART 2 - WHERE DO WE GO FROM HERE?

Summary: After Arthur’s rejection, tensions run high between the two of you and decisions need to be made.

*As always, special thank you to my best-y @rivetingrosie4​ for beta-reading and all the helpful notes & encouragement. 

*Full disclosure: The line about “the moon and stars” further in the story is based on a meme I read. And I have images from @red-dead-simp​ and @regwishesshehadmagic​ in here. 

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*This stunning image comes from @red-dead-simp​

Tag List:  @rivetingrosie4 @bimbo-dollz @pine4pple-b0i @redwritr @kuri-chans-blog @queer-sadie-adler @joelmillerswifey @gimmethosedaddymilkers @pcotarelo @delilah-grimes @maemortem @wistfulwisteriawitch @lilacxxdreams @mentallyillfrogs @absolutegeek @spurz @sophiaj650 @uniqueclodzinevoid @lookingformaurice @pawoui @randomidk-123 @yyiikes @eddiemetalheadmunson @twola @kmartkiddieisle @red-dead-simp​ @regwishesshehadmagic​

*I tagged people who expressed interest in the continued story. If you’d like to be added or removed, please let me know.

The ride back to camp from the overlook is terribly awkward. Your mind is blank and foggy and your body numb as you sit slightly slumped in Blue's saddle. You are reeling from the preceding events. You keep your horse moving at a quicker pace to stay ahead of Arthur's as you head home. Any time that you hear him approaching closer to you, your muscles tense up and you spur your heels into Blue's side to encourage him to go just a bit faster to maintain the distance between you. You can't even bring yourself to look at Arthur for fear of shattering into inconsolable pieces out of humiliation.  

For Arthur, the entire ride back is riddled with regret and second-guessing. He casts his gloomy eyes on your backside the entire way home, without so much as a glance back or sound from you. It causes his heart to break in two. And oh, how he wants to give the other half of it to you. But as he looks down at his gnarled hands and the worn metal of the guns that hang so naturally on his hips, he knows this is the way it has it be. He is going to keep you safe, whether you like it or not. You may hate him for it, but at least you'll be alive to do it.

When you hit the treeline of the camp, you push Blue just a bit faster and lead him to the far end of the hitching posts, determined to stay as far away from Arthur as you can for the time being. You quickly dismount, with the hair on the back of your neck standing up as you feel his eyes watching you, while keeping your back to the man. Once you have Blue settled in for the day, you make haste to head to your tent, walking briskly and keeping your head down. Your eyes stay focused along the soft grass at your feet, desperate to avoid any attention from anyone else in camp. Somewhere in the distance, you can hear Karen calling your name, but you pretend not to hear her. You are not in the mood for visiting and carrying-on with your friends right now.

As soon as you reach your tent, your trembling fingers fumble to draw the sides down, a clear indication that you do not want to be disturbed. You can only hope that no one hears you sobbing quietly within the canvas. You are numb, totally and completely, as you fold your arms around yourself to keep from shaking. You cannot wrap your swimming mind around what has just happened. You poured your heart out to Arthur. You literally begged the man to be with you. And he rejected you. And worse yet, he basically severed himself from you in the process.

Arthur slowly climbs down from his own horse upon arrival, and silently watches you walk away and head to your tent. Regret coats his insides like water pouring over a river rock. But he doesn't have time to wallow too long. The man isn't even in camp for five minutes and Dutch is calling his name. He lets out a heavy groan, accompanied by a long sigh, at the sound of Dutch's voice carrying through the camp. Dutch is the last thing he wants to deal with right now.

Of course, Arthur's heavy footfalls and scowl are lost on Dutch as he approaches the older man's tent. Arthur is his guard dog; Dutch is used to seeing him angry and sullen. In fact, he almost prefers it. Dutch needs him this way. Arthur stands in front of Dutch's tent, his gaze unfocused and mind wandering as Dutch speaks to him. The man's deep voice sounds muffled in Arthur's ear as he half-halfheartedly pays attention to what is being said to him, his mind somewhere else entirely.

"Think you can handle that?" Dutch's words finally catch Arthur's attention, snapping him out of his listless thoughts.

Arthur lifts his eyes to meet Dutch's expectant gaze. "Whatever. Just make sure the tip is solid and I'll make it work."

------------------

Arthur takes advantage of the quick job Dutch sends him on the day that you have confessed your feelings for him. He smartly uses the opportunity to give you some breathing room and time to calm down a bit. After checking in with Dutch upon his return, he heads over to his tent to put away his things and takes a minute to breathe. Arthur stands with his thumbs hanging from his gun belt as he surveys the camp, checking the state of things. His body naturally falls into this stance whenever he stands still for a moment. And right now, he is more weary than he’s been in a long while.

His wandering eyes eventually find you working alone in your med-tent. Your hair is pulled back and out of your face so you can work, but a few tendrils of soft locks have escaped and dangle to frame your face. Your hands move slowly, practically dancing around the bowl that has enveloped your attention. Arthur takes in the heavenly sight of you, standing in a simple white blouse and green skirt set comfortably upon your hips, mulling over what he should do, as he nervously chews his plump bottom lip for a moment. Eventually, he decides to see how things feel between you two and tentatively makes his way over to your med-tent.

Arthur kneads his thumb into the palm of the opposite hand nervously while he waits for you to notice him standing there outside the tent.  He stands with an uneasy grin, fidgeting slightly. "Hey you.”

You briefly look up from the steaming bowl of herbs and boiling water that you are stirring, careful not to look him in the eye for too long. "What can I do for you, Arthur?" Your voice carries none of the usual excitement that he hears when you see him.

Arthur's face drops, disappointed with your short reply. He clears his throat to attempt to dislodge the knot there before trying to continue. "I was out earlier and found some of that yarrow and dandelion root you use all the time. Grabbed some for you." He reaches into his satchel and pulls out a bundle of the fragrant herbs. He carefully unwraps them from the white cotton rag he's kept them in and holds them out to you with his large hands. A hopeful look sits upon his brow as he cranes his neck a bit to see if this peace offering will get you to look at him.

"Thank you. You can set them down on the table there," you instruct softly, pointing to the end of the table with your wooden spoon. Usually you'd jump at the chance to take something from Arthur, seizing any opportunity to touch his hands and for your fingers to teasingly graze across each other’s. But not this time. And this deviation in your behavior isn’t lost on Arthur, either.

"I could take you out and show you where I found it, if you like? In case you need more?" He gingerly sets the bundle of plants down, watchful for your reaction.

“Actually, that bundle there will last me awhile. But thank you.” With a quick and awkward smile, you return your full attention to the steaming liquid in front of you.

“Sure” he murmurs, feeling crushed. Arthur stands there a moment longer, as there is usually some sort of chatter from you. You always try to utilize his attention as much as you can when you have it. But now, you venture nothing else for him. So he turns and walks away, his boots slow to move in the grass. He does not notice that you discreetly reach up to wipe a rogue tear that escapes and cascades down your cheek as he turns away.

And so it goes on this way for a few days. You speak to Arthur only when he speaks to you, and even then, it's simple exchanges. There's no more joking or banter between you. Gone are the stolen glances and discreet blushes when catching each other staring. You have no harshness towards him, of course. But you can't bring yourself to maintain the flirtatious nature of your relationship either. You are not mad at Arthur after your revelation at the overlook, nor are you mean to him. You simply treat him like anyone else. Which, as it turns out, is something that Arthur is not prepared for. He is used to your smiles and greetings just for him. He is used to being special to you. But now, Arthur is just like everyone else in the gang.

This change in the dynamic weighs heavily on Arthur. His feelings aside, he simply misses you. It's been a long time since Arthur has had someone he can talk to and confide in. For someone who is generally annoyed by other people, Arthur has found that he enjoys your specific company. Your conversations and activities together range from the profound and insightful to the delightfully mundane and ordinary. In fact, he has come to need your companionship to balance the negativity of his life. Your softness counteracts the harshness that he experiences every time he is away from you. He craves the blissful distraction that your honey-sweet voice offers him.

One afternoon, Arthur decides to make another attempt to talk about this precarious situation. He catches you by the laundry while you are hanging today's wash to dry. You notice him out of the corner of your eye making his way over to you and you can feel your stomach start to churn as you avert your eyes to the task at hand.

He stops just in front of you as his hand comes up to rub against his chin nervously. "Y/N? Can I talk to you a minute, please?"

With a blank stare, you say nothing in response. You slowly lower your hands from the clothes line, twirling the clothes pins in your hands in distraction.

"Look, I know you're not happy with me right now, and I understand that," he starts. "But I was hoping we could still be friendly and all." Arthur's sapphire eyes search yours, looking for some indication that you are willing to put this unpleasantness behind you both.

Nibbling on your bottom lip, you hesitate before you answer him. "Did you change your mind?"

"No," he shakes his head, glancing down at his boots. "No, I can't go about that. But I want things to just go back to how they were between us." Arthur is a simple man, and he is also a creature of habit. He is used to your presence in his life and, more importantly, the impact that you have on it.

“It doesn’t work like that, Arthur." You furrow your brows at him, finally speaking more than a few words at a time. "I understand your reasoning, I suppose. I don’t agree with it, but I accept it." You pause, looking down as your eyes begin to flutter at the emotional wave that you are trying to halt in your gut before you continue. "You’re allowed to feel what you do about it. I suppose I can’t be angry with you for that." Rolling the smooth wooden clothespins between your fingertips and inhaling deeply through your nose, you lift your chin to catch his gaze again. "But don’t expect me to act like nothing happened, Arthur.”

"I just can’t go down that road again, (Y/N)," he says, gesturing with his palm out, imploring you to understand. "Besides, I just want you to have a normal life."

With a slight shake of your head, you look up into his face. "Arthur, I have no interest in a 'normal life'. And besides, my life has been anything but normal already."

His only response is an eye roll before looking off to the side in frustration, trying not to start a fight with you again. The movement causes a pang of annoyance to strike in your chest as your hand plants onto your hip.

"I don't need your constant protection, Arthur." Your statement comes across a little more harshly than you intend to when you notice he is trying not to look you in the eye.

It is a comment that makes him slowly turn his face back to you with a sarcastic scowl. "Oh, I beg to differ on that one." God, the condescension is almost tangible.

You let out a deep and disappointed sigh as you study him a moment. "Nevermind. You just don’t get it." Shaking your head and dismissing this whole conversation, you bend over and harshly snatch up the laundry basket at your feet. You maneuver around him to head back to the tents and leave him standing there.

---------------------

By this point, you have become quiet and melancholy around camp. Everyone notices that you're not your usual bubbly self, as you seem to float through camp now, rather than be a part of it. Always observant, Abigail has had enough and pins you down to ask what the hell is going on with you.

"Why are you and Arthur so odd lately? Did something happen? Did you have a fight or something?" She eyes you suspiciously, handing you a cup of coffee while you and the girls take a break from chores and sit at one of the tables. The weather is still fairly warm today and everyone is bustling about to prepare for the oncoming colder months ahead.

You look over at Abigail with a woeful look as you accept the hot cup. "I told Arthur how I feel about him."

The girls all gasp in excitement, eager to finally talk about this thrilling topic. But your somber expression immediately halts their celebratory giggles.

"I don't understand, (Y/N), why aren't you more excited about this?" asks Tilly, leaning in closer to you from across the table to know more, astonishment draped across her cherub face.

You stare listlessly at the cup in your hands. "He turned me down. He said no."  

“He said what?!” Abigail’s eyes shoot wide before quickly screwing down in confusion.

“No! Why would he say that?” breathes Mary-Beth in hushed wonder, bringing her hand up to her mouth in shock. She exchanges a confused glance with Tilly before looking back to you, anxious for details.

You shrug softly with a sorrowful smile. “He doesn’t think he’s good enough for me, I guess.”

“Well, duh, of course he isn’t!” Karen blurts out with a wave of her hand before it slams down onto the table with a loud clap next to you. “But let’s be honest, there probably isn’t a man alive who is.”

“He’s entitled to his decision,” you quietly repeat the worn excuse you had given to Arthur already. “Besides, he’s been hurt before. I suppose I can’t blame him.”

“This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard," argues Karen, her pouty red lips frowning. "Do you want me to go talk some sense into him, honey? I’ll put my foot in his ass and set him straight.” Her doll-like eyes burn with intensity as she crosses her arms over her chest in a huff.

“No, no." You can’t help but smile at your friend's defense of you as the image of Karen taking on Arthur makes you chuckle a bit. "I can’t force him to be with me and I wouldn’t want to anyway.”

“It just doesn’t make any sense, (Y/N),” Mary-Beth points out. “I mean, we’ve all seen the way he looks at you. And when you two are dancin’ by the fire… I wish I had that.” Mary-Beth is so sweet and always the hopeless romantic of your circle. And while all of the girls have been pulling for you and Arthur to be together, it is always Mary-Beth who is the biggest supporter of it. When you had your hang-over confession of your crush on Arthur after your drunken night out with Karen, Mary-Beth told you that you and Arthur are like a real-life story out of one of her romance novels. At the time, you dismissed the silly notion as nothing more than a foolish daydream. But, still, it was a comment that made butterflies flutter in your stomach.

With a dejected sigh, your chin lands into the palm of your hand. Your shoulders sink as you lean onto the table. "Well, doesn’t matter now, does it?"

There is an awkward stillness as this discussion settles amongst your little group. Frankly, the girls are speechless. But your quiet moment with the girls doesn't last too long before Ms. Grimshaw saunters over and disperses you all. As long as there is daylight, there is work to do, and she will make damn sure that it gets done. Dividing up the chores between you all, the matriarch ushers you and Abigail over to Pearson's wagon to start prepping vegetables for tonight's dinner. You grab yourself a cutting board and a bowl of potatoes and amble over to a small work table to start peeling.

Once she has Jack occupied, Abigail grabs a bowl of carrots for herself and sits down across the table from you. She watches you with a heartbroken and disappointed look as you set about your task. You and she have become quite close since you've come here to join the Van Der Linde gang. While she certainly cares for Arthur as her own family, she feels just awful for you. She knows how much you care for Arthur. It's so obvious in everything that you do. And she knows that you could make Arthur truly happy, too. 'Damn him,' Abigail thinks to herself. 'Why does he have to be so god-awful stubborn?'

"I’m sorry, (Y/N), really I am." Abigail's voice breaks the painful silence as the two of you work. You look up at her with the eyes of a puppy that's been kicked. "I don’t know what’s gotten into Arthur. I really thought he’d jump at the chance to call you his," she insists tenderly.

You nod in understanding, but honestly, the whole situation is becoming exhausting. You've tried so hard to come to terms with it, but it's becoming harder than you expected. “Maybe it was a mistake to come here," you admit softly, your voice slightly broken. "But back home in the east, I have nowhere to go, and I can’t go back to Rosewood." You reach into the bowl of potatoes again, your fingers working as you precariously drag the knife over the starchy vegetables. "But, I don’t want to be a problem here either, though. I’d leave here but I'm afraid to even do that." You cringe internally at how pathetic you sound, especially complaining to Abigail who has had her fair share of hardship in this world.

She observes you with a sympathetic click of her tongue being the only sound she is able to muster at the moment as you continue.

"You know," lifting your eyes back Abigail, "Arthur said I shouldn’t even be here. Suppose he’s right about that. As usual." You roll your eyes a bit. "I guess I just don’t belong anywhere."

Abigail reaches over the table and wraps her hand over top of yours. "Oh, (Y/N) please don’t say that. Of course you belong here." She affectionately squeezes your hand a bit more. "Don't listen to that fool. You're one of us now." Chuckling, she adds, "Whether you like it or not."

You finally stop peeling potatoes and give her a tired but appreciative smile. "It's times like this that I really miss my father, you know? At least we were misfits together.” Your face drops a bit at the memory of him. You and he came out west together to start a new life and, well, that is certainly what has happened. You have forged a new path for yourself with this gang of thieves and miscreants and found a new family within it.

But still, you miss your father terribly, as he was always your one true and unyielding ally in this world. There have been many moments where you have caught yourself in tears and heartache over his abrupt death. While the members of the Van Der Linde gang have been most gracious in welcoming you into their circle, that pang of sorrow still lingers like a fresh wound. And now in light of this situation with Arthur, it seems to have come back to the surface ten-fold as you're not sure what to do now. Your father was always such a kind and understanding man, very pragmatic. You’d give anything just to have his council again.

After the two of you are done helping Mr. Pearson with dinner, you head back to the privacy of your tent to nurse a throbbing headache, and Abigail wanders over to the fire with Jack in tow. While her boy plays with his wooden figurines at her feet, Abigail sits cross-legged on the ground with her chin in her hand, staring into the crackling flames with a contemplative scowl on her face. Soon enough, an all-too familiar raspy voice catches her attention.

"Oh boy, who's on your shit-list now?" jokes John as he playfully tugs on the few wisps of hair that hang from her loose bun and dance along the nape of her neck. He slowly lowers himself to sit next to her, leaning out onto his knees with his elbows. "I'm hopin' it ain't me." He bumps into her shoulder with a smirk.

She snorts in his direction. "No, for once, it's not you. It's that idiot brother of yours."

John listens to Abigail vent her frustrations out to him as she goes on for a good twenty minutes. (Honestly, it feels good to him to not be the target of her ire for a change.) And after hearing of what is going on between you two, John decides to talk to Arthur about it. He actually agrees with his woman for once and wants to see if he can nudge Arthur in the right direction. You and John may have gotten off on the wrong foot when you first came to join the gang, but since then, he has come to be quite fond of you. He appreciates the friendship you have provided for Abigail, and you’ve helped him to create a better relationship with her. And, as much as he and Arthur bicker, John has to admit that you are good for Arthur. Plus, if he doesn't talk to Arthur, Abigail certainly will. And John will try to spare his brother her wrath that he knows all too well himself.

John finds Arthur over by the horses, getting them fed and watered for the night before everyone settles in by the fires. He saunters over to Arthur, no announcement, no greeting. He just blurts out “Are you crazy?!"

Arthur halts in his movements, looking over his shoulder and giving John a confused look. "What in the hell are you goin' on about now, Marston?"

"You have a woman like (Y/N) throwing herself at you and you say 'no'?! Jesus, I don’t ever want to hear you talk about how stupid I am!” John plants his hands on his narrow hips as he scolds the man in front of him. Arthur just gives him another confused look. "Abigail told me," replies John. "Apparently (Y/N) is all upset and was talking to Abigail about it."

Arthur rolls his eyes to the sky. "Shit..."  

"And before you get all mad at (Y/N) for blabbin', Abigail had to drag it out of her," John says quickly. "She was wonderin' why (Y/N)'s been actin' funny the last few days. "

"Oh..." Arthur sighs. He tosses the horse brush that is in his hand into the bucket at his feet and shoves his fingertips into his eye sockets in frustration. Great. Now the whole damn camp is going to know his business. "It ain’t that easy, Marston." He offers John his feeble excuse with a dismissive wave of his arm towards his brother.

John rolls his eyes in exasperation. "Well, what’s so damn hard about it, Arthur? She likes you, you like her - and don't tell me that you don't!" he quickly points his finger at Arthur before the man can even deny it. "It don’t get much easier than that!"

"What if..." Arthur's hand waves haplessly in the air, his eyes scattering across the camp, as he tries to find the words. "What if I get her killed? Huh?" A long, depressed sigh escapes his chest as he turns to lean his burly arms out over top of Buck's backside as he thinks. "Or, what if she decides that she really doesn't like me after all?" His chin turns back over his shoulder to meet John's questioning gaze again. "What then?"

"Well, that's a real possibility. I mean, I've known you for years and I still don't like you," John snickers.

"Don't be an ass," Arthur snaps back.

John proudly places his hand over his chest. "I can honestly say that for once, between the two of us, Arthur, I am not the ass in this situation here."

“She deserves better than the likes of me,” Arthur continues, flipping his hand about wildly again to indicate himself and the camp. And as he hears his own words hanging in the air, Arthur knows he's trying to convince himself more than John right now. Deep down, he's desperately trying to justify the huge mistake he knows that he is making.

“Well, that goes without saying." John walks a few steps closer to Arthur, casually patting Buck's hind quarters as he speaks. "But I say, if you really want (Y/N) to be happy, then just give her what she wants. And for whatever reason, that’s you, jack-ass." He looks his brother in the eye, an impish grin on his thin lips. "(Y/N) is not dumb, Arthur. Did you ever stop to think that if someone like her fancies you, then you can’t be all that bad?”

Arthur thinks on this for a moment, stunned by this idea. He's never considered it from that perspective. His vividly colored eyes dart around as the notion rolls about in his head. "You know, Marston, you may not be all that dense, after all."

John simply snorts in response. "Well, ain't that hard, considering the company that I keep."

"I can't believe I'm taking relationship advice from you of all people," Arthur mutters, as he draws his hand over his face in disbelief.

"I know, right?" John chuckles a bit as he slaps Arthur on the shoulder.

To Arthur's surprise, his talk with John actually makes him feel better. He decides to try to make things up to you, or to at least make the focused effort to go back to how things were before. But to his dismay, you resist his advances. You are trying to keep your distance from him at this point, avoiding him whenever you can, as you find that it's just too painful to be around him. You eat your meals in your tent, and you keep to yourself when you work. You are not unkind or rude to Arthur, using only simple one word answers when you have to talk to him. But there is no fondness or attachment with him as usual. The familiarity between the two of you has dwindled like a dying candle flame about to be swallowed in a bed of used wax.

You strategically place yourself the furthest away from Arthur whenever he is in camp, volunteering for any task that Ms. Grimshaw has available to keep yourself preoccupied. Grimshaw hates it when you girls are interrupted from whatever work she has dictated you to do. So you will use her iron-will to your advantage to shield yourself from Arthur if you can.

Aside from washing laundry all day, you run errands with Mr. Pearson, run scouts with Javier, and try to get out of camp altogether whenever you have the opportunity. You jump at the chance to go hunting with Charles any time he offers. In fact, you have come to rely on Charles quite a bit lately. Charles naturally has a calming presence about him and he has become a great comfort to you. He himself is also a bit of a loner and outsider in this group, and you have found a kindred spirit in him.

At one point you are in your tent cleaning up and turn to head out to find Charles. You are not paying attention, looking down as you shake out the jacket in your hands and you run right into Arthur, almost bouncing off of his chest. He has come to try to talk to you yet again, and corners you by your tent. He is standing in front of you with his thumbs tucked into his gun belt, as he usually does, but this time he has a slight scowl set upon his face, his eyes dark. If you didn't know him better, you'd be intimidated by his demeanor standing there.

You gasp, jumping slightly and placing a hand over your chest in surprise. "Jesus, Arthur! You scared the hell out of me!"  

“Figured I had to sneak up on you lest you run away from me again," he retorts, his voice carrying a tinge of annoyance to it. "What, are you trying to make me jealous by hangin' 'round with other men, now?”

You halt at his accusation, your face twisting up. "Excuse me?"

“You’ve been hangin' 'round with Charles quite a bit lately." His eyes level at you with a cold and mirthless stare.

"Have I?" Your reply is sarcastically innocent. You do not care for his insinuation in the slightest, and now it is you who is getting annoyed.

"Yeah, you have," Arthur pushes. "You won’t go out hunting with me, but you’ll go out with him.” He juts his thumb over his shoulder back at the camp behind him.

“I like Charles," you counter harshly. "He doesn’t talk much. I don’t have to worry about stupid shit coming out of his mouth.”

"Is that a fact?" His slow drawl is clearly an indication that he is not amused at your statement.

"Yes, it is. Is that a problem, Arthur?" You are not about to back down from him, no matter how much he towers over you as he steps even closer to you now while you glare up at him bitterly.

He waves his hand at you in irritation. "No. No, you do whatever you damn well want.” You can tell he is getting riled up now, as his eyes are flashing, and you can see his jaw clenching, even under his beard.

“Good, because I plan to," you snap at him again. "Besides, what am I supposed to do?" You toss the jacket that you are still holding onto your cot behind you before crossing your arms defensively over your chest. "And where’s this coming from, anyway, Arthur? I thought you wanted no part of that?"

He just stares at you, not really sure what to say to that. The argument is right there on the tip of his tongue, ready to strike its ugly head. He wants nothing more than to grab you and hold you tight, never letting you go; needing you to just stop lashing out at him for a damn second. But he can’t. He just…can’t. So instead, he stands there like a mountain; silent and not moving.

Anger begins to build in your chest, causing the brows above your beautiful eyes to crease. You can feel your heart beating painfully faster as the adrenaline courses through your body. And you can sense that your mouth is about to pour forth words that will be an unstoppable waterfall.

"First there’s the glances, the lingering touches, taking me out places, talking to me all the time," you start rambling, your composure quickly crumbling now that you are speaking to him again. "Then all of a sudden acting like I'm nothing to you-“

"Hey! I never said you were nothing to me!” he interrupts with a shout as he takes another step closer to you.

"- only to be jealous, now?!" Your voice squeaks as it hits the louder decibel.

“I ain’t jealous and I never promised you anything! You’re the one who made it complicated!” He points his large finger in your face, mere inches from your nose.

"Right, my error. My miserable error for giving a damn about you!" Your arms shoot straight at your sides as your voice continues to rise in anger, your eyes dangerously brimmed with tears that threaten to spill forth and betray your hard front.

You lower your head to your hands, driving your fingertips into your temples, desperately trying to keep your brain from exploding. "What are you doing, Arthur?"

"What?" he snaps defensively.

"What are you doing to me?!," you holler at him, lifting your face back to his. "You want me here, but you don’t want me here. You don’t want me, but you don’t want me with anyone else, either. You can’t keep stringing me like that! What is it that you want, Arthur?!"

"I don’t know what the hell I want!” His voice roars into your face, standing nose to nose with you now, so close that you can feel his hot breath across your cheeks.

"Well that’s obvious," you say flatly.

And as you fearlessly hold his stony gaze, it occurs to you that you're going to have to let this fantasy of yours die. You've tried so hard to make him see what’s in himself, and to see you; to get him to see that your heart is here for his taking and, more importantly, that he deserves to be loved in return.

But he’s a broken outlaw. And you're going to have to come to terms with that and let him go. The reality of this idea painfully nets over your heart as your gaze flutters before it drops from his angry eyes to his heaving chest and finally falls to the ground to his dusty boots.

Defeated, your shoulders drop. You shake your head as you turn away from him, not able to look upon his face anymore. "Just…get the hell out of my tent, Arthur." Your tone is quiet and broken now after all of the yelling. He's done it. He's won the argument and finally gotten what he's been pushing you for. You're done with your childish fantasy of making this fearsome outlaw a partner to you.

Arthur stands there staring at your back for a moment, the corner of his eyes stinging slightly. Rage electrifies and radiates throughout his whole body as his hands flex in and out of a fist at his sides. Finally, he turns and storms away from your tent. "God damn it!" he mutters harshly to himself. Why is it that everything he touches turns to shit?

From where he's been watching this whole exchange, Hosea quickly stands up from his chair, alarmed, as he watches Arthur stalk angrily away from your tent.

“Arthur!” Hosea calls out, his face clearly laced with concern. For an "angry Arthur" is a "dangerous Arthur" for sure.

"Not now, Hosea!" Arthur snaps, waving the older man off without so much as a glance in his direction as he stomps off.

Arthur is so infuriated right now, he's not really sure what to do. He's irrationally upset with you. He keeps replaying that day at the overlook when you revealed your affection for him. Why in the hell did you have to do that? It ruined everything. The two of you could have remained friends, and if he longed for you, he could just do it secretly as he's been doing since he's met you. But no, you had to push the idea and now the two of you are either hollering at each other or not speaking altogether. Why did you have to come here and be so nice to him? Why did you have to make him fall for you?

But he soon realizes how foolish he is being, chastising himself. It's not your fault, but his. He never should have let it get this far. He should have kept his distance from you from the start. He should have known he’d be weak-willed and defenseless against someone as good and pure as you.

Arthur stalks back to his tent and as he does, he looks up and sees Charles sitting outside of his own tent. He's sitting upon a log as a makeshift chair, his attention acutely fixated on the materials in his hands. Looks like he is making more arrows. 'Probably so he can take (Y/N) out hunting again,' Arthur sourly thinks to himself.

Arthur walks over to Charles, knowing he probably shouldn't right now. All of his reasoning argues that he should just stop and try to calm down. But unfortunately, Arthur is not thinking rationally at the moment. Charles casually lifts his head as he sees Arthur approach out of the corner of his eye.

"Arthur." Charles greets him with an air of caution, as he can see the tension on his friend's face. He could hear you and Arthur arguing just a few minutes ago. From where his tent is situated in camp, it is farther from yours, so Charles couldn't hear exactly what was said, only the volume and tone with which it was.

"Charles," Arthur coolly greets in return. "What you workin' on there? Hmm? More arrows to go huntin' with?" He cocks his head to the side as he coldly stares down at the items in Charles' hands.

"Yeah. I promised (Y/N) the next time we go out that we'd work on her bow skills. Been working with her on tracking lately. But she really wants to get a grasp on working with a bow."

Arthur looks on with disdain as Charles’ large fingertips delicately wrap the end of the arrow shaft with feathers.

"Oh, I'm sure she wants to get a grasp on somethin', alright," Arthur retorts bitterly.

Arthur's tone makes Charles hesitate. He looks back to Arthur and measures his words carefully. "You got a problem with me taking (Y/N) out hunting, Arthur?"

"Maybe I do."

Charles is not a violent man by nature, but he will stand his ground if need be. He has no designs to "steal" you from Arthur, if that is what the other man thinks he's doing. He has no intention of fighting over you, either. But Charles will fight for you if he has to. He puts the shafts and string in his lap down on the ground next to his feet. Arthur doesn’t move a muscle of his large frame as Charles slowly stands to square off and meets him at eye level.

“If you got a problem with (Y/N), Arthur, that’s between you two. She and I are only hunting together. That's all." Charles's voice is low and even. He doesn't want to provoke his good friend, but he also resents his tone. "Apparently, she's looking to get out of camp a lot lately, looking for some peace and quiet. And, she's a good shot, damn good shot, in fact. So she is welcome to hunt with me whenever she wants." Charles pauses, standing a little straighter, pushing his chest out a bit. "Besides, she’s my friend, too.”

Arthur cocks a knowing eyebrow at Charles. “Yeah, and we all know how friendships can go.”

“Mind yourself, Arthur,” warns Charles, pointing his finger at his chest and giving his friend a look that is more of disappointment than anger, before he sits back down and calmly resumes his work. He understands Arthur's frustration, and understands that he is not the target of the outlaw's anger. He also knows Arthur is better than this pettiness, too. But more importantly, Charles won't stand for anyone speaking badly about you, regardless of who it is.

Arthur says nothing else, realizing that he is not getting anywhere with Charles. So to avoid ruining yet another relationship that he has come to rely on, Arthur smartly buttons his lips and walks off to sulk in the solitude of his tent.

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This stunning image comes from @regwishesshehadmagic​

The morning following your fight, Arthur is awake before the sun. He watches with bleary eyes as the crisp morning sun begins to fracture into his tent between the opening in the canvas. Not being able to sleep all night, he drags himself to sit up on his cot with a groan, rubbing his hands through his disheveled hair.  Despite his overwhelming fatigue, he is so restless, he can’t stand it. Feeling as if he is on the edge of going crazy, Arthur quickly gets himself together and rides out of camp before anyone is aware. He doesn't know where he is going or what he is going to do, only that he has to get out of this godforsaken camp and clear his head.

He spends the next two days out in the woods, thinking about what to do and what he really wants. He is being torn apart by this rift between you and him, torn between what he wants and what he feels is right. Arthur sits among the trees, silent as a statue, while the forest life goes on about its merry way around him, and rolls his doubts and misgivings over and over again in his mind, along with what Micah had said. Torturing himself with angry and hurtful words, the man blames himself for allowing himself to be in this situation to begin with.

As the long day draws out into the night, Arthur still sits, legs stretched out before him as the small campfire illuminates the now-encroaching darkness. And of course, Arthur also thinks of you. He takes his journal out and reads over the entries. Refreshing his memory with thoughts of you, he relives the moments you've spent together. Each passage brings forth a plethora of emotions, each stronger than the last. Your image is scattered throughout the worn pages in various forms, from the details of your eyes and lips, to the graceful curve of your neck, visible when your hair is pulled up, to a full-body likeness of you standing with Jack on your hip. His rough fingers trace over the lines of your face as he sits in deep thought, a small smile involuntarily blooming across his features.

But most importantly, he thinks about what you said at the overlook. His eyes relax and stare unfocused into the dancing flames of his fire, and Arthur's chest tightens as he vividly remembers the look on your face when he declined your affections and sat there and did nothing as he watched your eyes rim with tears. Your voice still booms in his ears:  “What is it that you want, Arthur?!”

Arthur’s fingers move as if combing through mud as he pulls a cigarette out of his satchel and lights it. Pulling a long drag off of the end, he lets out an extended and tired sigh. What does he want?

He knows he’s lonely. He hates to admit it, but he is. Cold nights and empty beds; no warm arms waiting to welcome him home. But the fear of exposing himself to love again, only for it to end horribly, is terrifying, even to a fearsome, hard outlaw. Losing Eliza and Issac shattered his heart. And Mary’s rejection has left him bitter and angry. Over the years, Arthur has channeled his hurt and pain into an armor until he has become someone else altogether; a shell of what he once was, and he wasn’t all that great to begin with. He’s no good, like a rotten apple that’s fallen from the tree that no one wants to take. Arthur doesn’t think he has it in him to do it all over again. And now, he is in a position to be stuck between living his life and running from it.

But you are different. You are not as young and naive as Eliza was. Nor are you as self-serving as Mary. Though he cared for and loved both women, Arthur knew, even then, that he was doomed, for these women did not fit with his family and lifestyle. But with you, that burden is removed. Not only do you accept the gang, but you have embraced it. And you are someone who cares for him, not for what he does, but for who he is.

You are delightfully chaotic; quite the beautiful mess, in fact. Arthur finds you to be wonderfully out of place in his life, but maybe that is as it should be. Kind of like when you see the moon during the daytime. You’ve turned your broken into beautiful and made your strength look invincible. You have never asked Arthur for the moon and the stars, but only to lay in the damp grass at night with you to watch them. And to Arthur, this means more than anything. The way your nose wrinkles when you smile. The way your eyes light up when you see him. The way you snort sometimes when you laugh. The way you get impassioned when you speak of something that touches you. Even the way you walk away from the fire at night to head back to your tent. Arthur wants it all.

And it is then that Arthur is hit with a profound realization. His eyes open wide and the air is sucked out of his chest as if he's been thrown from his horse. Arthur loves you. He loves you. And, more importantly, he wants the two of you to be together. More than anything. But can he do that?

He knows it's not the safe path, and probably not what is best for you. But John is right: if this is what you both really want, why not do it? He finally comprehends that he’s spent so much time being strong for everyone else that he’s never allowed himself to be happy. Maybe that needs to change now.

With resolve in his veins, Arthur quickly packs up his makeshift camp, literally tripping over himself in his haste, and heads back home.

As Arthur comes down the path back to camp, his eyes immediately notice that your horse is gone. Disappointed, but not discouraged, Arthur thinks about his next move and decides to ask Abigail and Mary-Beth what to do. If he is going to fix this great divide between you and him, he is going to need help to do it, as so far, he clearly doesn't know what he's doing on his own. He needs to bring "the big guns," as they say. And fortunately, Arthur finds the very two people he needs sitting together at a table.

“Can I talk to you ladies a minute?" Arthur calls over as he walks with purpose in their direction with a very determined look upon his face. The two women halt their conversation upon hearing him, curious about what he could want.

Mary-Beth smiles up at him as Arthur gets close to their table. "Sure, Arthur. What do you need?" He sits down next to Mary-Beth, pausing to organize his thoughts before he just comes right out with it.

"(Y/N) told me how she feels about me. You know, that she likes me an’ all. And like a fool, I pushed her away.” His eyes dart back and forth from both of their faces before shamefully down at his own hands that fidget on the table. "I guess I underestimated how I’d feel about that."

Abigail sits up straighter as a huge smile begins to cross her lips. “Are you saying that you want to be with her then, Arthur?”

"The question was never if I wanted to," he says to Abigail. "But she won’t even speak to me now." He holds his hands up in defeat before letting them fall haplessly onto the table, and looks to the women with a pathetic face, pleading for help. "Every time I try, we end up yellin’, and I make it worse."

Abigail gives him a scolding look. "Well, Arthur, you wounded her pride and broke her heart. What do you expect?" 

“Maybe you need a grand gesture?” suggests Mary-Beth, gesturing with her arms in emphasis. Her eyes go wide with excitement, eager to help usher this new relationship into existence. "(Y/N) can be stubborn, for sure. So if she won't talk to you, Arthur, then make her listen. Maybe you need to show her how you feel?"

“If you’re going to do something, you may need to do it soon, Arthur," warns Abigail, tapping her finger on the table. She goes on to tell him that you feel as if you don’t belong and have been distancing yourself from the whole camp.

 "She's up and out before anyone else, and when she is in camp, she rarely leaves her tent now." This worries Arthur because what if you decide to leave? Then what? He’s scared to lose you even though you're not his to lose.

Arthur sits quietly, taking in all of this information. He tries to think of what he could possibly do while Abigail and Mary-Beth both stare at him, waiting for the answer. "Thank you, girls. I appreciate your help," he finally says. "Do me a favor though, and don't mention this to (Y/N), please? I don't know what I'm doin' just yet, and I don't want to disappoint her even more than I already have."

"Sure, Arthur. Whatever you say," Mary-Beth answers with a hopeful grin. “Good Luck!”

He then looks to Abigail, who just stares back obstinately.

"Abigail?"

"Ugh, OK fine! I won't say anything. But you had better do something, Arthur Morgan!" as she points her finger at him. "Or so help me-"

"OK, OK!" he holds up his hands in surrender as he stands up. "I don't need two women in camp after me. I'll take care of it." And he smiles to himself as he heads to his tent to plan.

After mulling over his options, Arthur decides to ride back to Rosewood where you came from to see if he can find anything of your father's there. If you are missing your family, as Abigail told him, Arthur is hoping to bring back some sort of remembrance of him for you. After a quick check-in with Dutch, Arthur immediately heads out of camp and on his way to Rosewood. It's a few days' ride, so he needs to get going so he can hurry and get back.

Meanwhile, back at camp, you notice Arthur has been gone intermittently since your revelation, and now he’s been gone for several days after your fight. Things seem to be going from bad to worse. Figuring he’s outright avoiding the camp itself because of you, you don’t know what to do. This is his family, his people. And if you're the one making things difficult, then you will need to be the one to leave. So, you start coming to terms with the idea that you will need to find a new place of your own.

This evening, as the sun starts to crawl back behind the mountains, you find yourself sitting outside of camp by yourself. You stare out into the watercolor-painted sky, thinking over where you'll go and what you'll do. The idea of leaving is terrifying. You'll have to start over yet again. You'll miss everyone in this camp who you have come to love so dearly. You’ll surely miss Abigail and Jack. And of course Hosea. You'll miss Arthur. 

You draw your knees up closer to your chin and wrap your arms around them as an overwhelming fatigue cascades over you. You are so lost in your own thoughts that you do not hear footsteps behind you.

“(Y/N)? What are you doing out here?” You hear Charles' soft voice cut through your thoughts. When he didn't see you at dinner yet again tonight, he decided to come to check on you.

You hastily wipe away a few tears from your cheeks and try to smile for him. “Hi, Charles. What can I do for you?”

He cautiously approaches you as one does a wounded animal. His brows knit in concern when, even in the setting sunlight, he can see the red-rim of your wet eyes. "Arthur ain’t gonna be too happy if he finds out we’ve let you wander off by your lonesome.”

You scoff at that. "Oh, I highly doubt that," giving Charles a sad smile. "Although Arthur is the expert on what I shouldn’t be doing, it seems." You turn your attention back to the horizon, watching the last flecks of golden sunlight begin to fade for the day. "Besides, he won't have to worry about it much longer."

Charles freezes before nervously shifting his weight from hip to hip. "What do you mean by that?"

"Oh…nothing. Forget I said anything." You wave off the comment as if it is nothing more than a rambling thought, but you still avoid his dark eyes.  

"(Y/N)…you OK?"

"Yeah…sure. I’ll be fine"

Charles steps closer to you, studying your face and countenance, not believing you for a second. "Listen (Y/N), I know you and Arthur are in a weird place right now-“

"Oh, Charles, I really don’t want to talk about Arthur. Really, I don’t,” you insist, shaking your head vehemently. Your eyes have a glassy sheen that causes Charles to cringe in pity for you.

“OK,” He’s silent for a moment. "Can I do anything for you?" His hand tentatively reaches out to you, not really sure what, if anything, he can do.

"No, sweet man, I’m OK. Thank you." You try to give him another smile for reassurance. "Go ahead back to everyone. I won't be out here much longer. I promise."

Charles hesitates a bit longer, before turning to head back to camp. "All right, if you're sure you're OK, then."

When you see him disappear amongst the tents again, you turn back to the horizon. The sun is gone now. The light has been snuffed out, leaving a cold and lonely atmosphere in its wake. The first few pin-pricks of starlight begin to emerge in the purple sky. You sigh deeply as your shoulders drop even more and your eyelids fall like stones. 

"I'm not sure of anything anymore," you whisper to yourself.  

A/N: *Oh my goodness, half-way there! More drama to come, but I promise, we’re getting there, and it’s definitely worth it (I hope anyway)

[seventh-district]

Dying Star

In the back of your mind, you recall something you once heard, something about light, and time, and distance. Space. Something about... how you can still see a star that's already burnt out, because its light hasn't reached earth yet. The ghost of a star that's already died. Only still perceptible thanks to time, and distance.

You remember Sam's words, once whispered to you on this very roof.

"Whatever your choice is... I'm not gonna live forever. I made that decision a long time ago."

You think about dead stars.

You think about time.

- - - - - - -

Sam’s words have been weighing heavy on your mind ever since you discussed your shared future and the various forms it could take. You didn’t realize just how heavy they were until it all came spilling out of your tired mind on a late night spent together beneath the stars.

Pairing: Sam x Darlin' / Reader

Word Count: 4,053

Contains: [angst] [a dash of humor] [a hint of chubby!Sam bc i like 'em strong and soft] [crying] [cuddling (dub-con cuddles with Quinn in the past & consensual ones with Sam in the present)] [emotional hurt/comfort] [implied/referenced dub-con sex (nothing graphic) (in the past between Darlin' and Quinn to be specific) (refer to my Ao3 notes for further explanation)] [mentioned Quinn] [not quite Dissociation i guess but Darlin' does zone-out/get lost in thought more than once] [pet names (Darlin' (obvs.) and honey)] [Reader is Darlin'] [Sam wears a cowboy hat bc i said so] [some passive suicidality from Sam if you squint (hell, maybe you don't even have to squint)]

A/Ns: Well, well, well, here I am, the person who said they wouldn't write any Redactedverse fanfic. I recently felt a mighty need to expand upon the blurb I wrote in this post, and I'm braving my fandom anxiety by sharing it here. pls be nice 2 me abt it

Timeline-wise, this fic takes place sometime after the ‘Talking About the Future With Your Vampire Mate’ audio but sometime before their presumed eventual departure from the house that William gave Sam, given that they've already had the 'turning' discussion but are still on the same roof in this fic.

This is a songfic, inspired by and quoting verses from 3 songs. Those being:

‘Dying Star’ by Ashnikko feat. Ethel Cain

‘Fix What You Didn’t Break’ by Nate Smith

‘No Plan’ by Hozier

The roof of Sam’s house is far from a ‘cushy’ place to relax. But as you lie here next to him under the stars, a knowledge settles within you that you wouldn’t trade the rough shingles beneath you for the softest mattress in the world. Not if it meant there’d be anyone other than him lying next to you.

Some people might counter that it’s an easy thing for you to say, given the number of nights you’ve thrown a balled-up shirt onto one end of a worn-out couch and called it a bed. But some people don’t know you as well as they think they do.

You’ve known luxury. Quinn might’ve been just as content taking his fill on a seedy motel bed as he was wrapped in silks at a Hilton, but he knew how to play up the luxe when it served him to do so. And in the early days as he worked to lure you in, it did. Plush sheets and expensive drinks helped to soften the preordained blows and dull the imminent pain that your nights with him held.

Once you’d latched onto the bait though, he let the act drop one piece at a time, like props collapsing on a stage. After all, what was the point in all of those frivolities when you both knew what you really came to him for? It wasn’t to be wined and dined, it wasn’t to be dressed up and shown off, and it wasn’t even to be slowly stripped of it all, laid out across the rolling clouds of a pillowy mattress.

It was to be used. Tranced. Restrained. Bitten. Drank from. Choked. Hit. Edged. Denied. Made to writhe and whine and bleed and plead. Plead for more, for less, for nothing, for anything. Anything to quiet your mind and fill the ever-expanding void inside you where you suspect love was supposed to live.

That’s what you both really wanted.

At least, that’s what you told him you wanted.

That’s what you told yourself.

You only got what you asked for.

To your right, Sam stirs, stretching gently with a yawn. The soft noise he releases as he does so reminds you of where you are, and you trace back through your thoughts to find how you got so lost.

…Right. Luxury.

While your relationship with Quinn certainly changed over time, you never forgot what it felt like in the beginning. 

You remember nights laid next to him, body sore, mind quiet. Quinn’s idea of aftercare was lacking to say the least, but you had nothing better to compare it to at the time, and you’d take what you could get. At least your head felt empty, and the bed was soft. Exhaustion would pull you under soon enough.

The mattress, sheets, and pillows enveloping you were likely worth more than you even made that past month. ...Or several. You found that display of luxury hard to be impressed by though, when it wasn’t the type of comfort you’d been seeking.

As Quinn shifted in his presumed sleep, pulling you in tighter, you didn’t fight it. You found yourself unwilling to fight anything he did, like his mere presence was enough to drain the fight right out of you. You told yourself that you were okay with that. Because you wanted it.

Lying there with your head on his bare chest, you took a deep breath and told yourself that you liked the stench of cheap cologne, poorly masking the cigarettes and alcohol on his breath. You silently told yourself that you liked everything. You liked the pain that he chased with hints of pleasure. You liked the loss of power, the way you couldn’t fight back if you wanted to once he looked you in the eyes. You liked all the things he said, no matter how much the truth might hurt.

He was right, you supposed. Your desires, the things you craved, the depravity that you so enjoyed, wasn’t normal. It was uncommon, unusual, and in the eyes of some, unfathomable. To possess such dark desires, there must be something truly broken inside you.

How lucky you were, to have found someone willing to indulge you. Someone that could give you everything you wanted, and be so kind as to keep it a secret too. He promised that word of the things he did to you, the things you let him do, would never get out. You remember the way he held your hand as he told you, falling for the guise of sincerity in his eyes. You remember his warm smile, and his razor sharp teeth.

You remember seeing that exact same smile on his face through one-way glass as he sat across from Sam and told him everything.

You stood in that room and thought back to those nights of luxury. To the feeling of his nails ghosting over the freshly healed punctures in your neck. To the way he held you against him. You remember laying there, lifeless, feeling like prey playing dead. Afraid to move, afraid to disturb him. But why? He hadn’t threatened you. He never told you that you had to stay. He never said that you couldn’t move, or pull away. So why did you feel that way?

As you stood, helplessly witnessing hours of his slander in that interrogation room, you understood. Your rose-tinted glasses had long since shattered, and you saw that smile for what it was. It was the smile of a man playing a dangerous game, brimming with satisfaction, thinking he’d won.

The radio near you begins to crackle, static obscuring the hosts voice as they announce the upcoming song. Sam doesn’t even open his eyes, just raises a hand and reaches out, blindly adjusting the antenna of the old device.

You’ve teased him for holding onto it for so long, as he is wont to do with damn near all of his possessions. But as you watch him deftly extend and angle the antenna with practiced care, the response he once gave you proves itself true once again.

“I don’t wanna replace it, Darlin’. It’s not broken. It just needs someone who knows how to make it sing again.”

The static clears, and music flows through the radio’s old speakers once more.

You watch Sam return his hand to its prior position beneath his head, acting as a makeshift pillow of his own. The way he’s lying has his hat pushed forward, and it’d be doing a damn good job of shielding his face from the sun if it weren’t somewhere around midnight at the moment. Still, it suits him somehow, despite its lack of any practicality. All he’s missing is a stalk of wheat between his teeth and a tree to lean against and he’d be the spitting image of the cowboy he swears he isn’t.

His other hand rests on the soft curve of his stomach, rising and falling again as he breathes. He’s the image of peace in moments like these, and you’re drawn to it like a moth to flame. Maybe one of these days you’ll find some of your own, but for now you’re more than content to bask in his.

As you admire him, he takes a slow, deep breath and you mirror it on instinct. The grounding practice helps you leave your mind and return to your body, if just for a moment. In doing so, you realize just how tense your ruminations have made you.

You relax your hands, releasing the blanket beneath you from your iron grip. You brush your palms over it, worried that you’ve torn the fabric once you realize that your nails had halfway shifted to claws. You don’t fret much over damage to your own possessions, but this blanket is Sam’s and you’d hate to ruin it. Though, you suppose he doesn’t prize it too much or he wouldn’t have laid it out here across the roof in the first place.

“If I buy somethin’ it’s because I wanna use it. Now quit frettin’ and get over here.” You recall what he told you earlier as he patted the blanket next to him in invitation, and you smile.

Doing a small stretch of your own, you release the tension in your shoulders, turning your attention back to the stars above you. For a while, you let the soft music wash over your tired mind.

“I asked him not to kill me politely. He drained my magic core, bottled up at the source. I washed up on the sea glass shores. I’m nobody's captive.”

In spite of your best efforts to relax, you’re still subconsciously futzing with the loose threads of the old blanket beneath you.

You’re made aware of it when Sam reaches a hand down, gently laying it over yours and effectively stilling your anxious motion.

“Burning like a dying star, invasive weeds rooted in my heart, set in a crooked trajectory. The journey here was hard, I was almost pulled apart. Trying to leave his orbit took what’s left of me.”

You flip your hand over beneath his so you can hold it properly, lacing your fingers together.

For reasons beyond your understanding, emotion tightens your throat, the threat of tears pooling in your eyes.

…You must be more tired than you thought.

As minutes pass and one song fades into another, your gaze dances across the blurry, scattered points of light in the dark sky.

“You were the star in the pitch black, shine the way on the way back. Out of nowhere, answered all my prayers.”

Sam’s always been so much better at identifying stars and finding constellations. But as the music plays, you begin to see one of your own.

“Picked up the towel that I threw in, took in a heart that was ruined. Showed me the past ain’t a tattoo, loved me even when you didn’t have to.”

“Sam.” You squeeze his hand to get his attention.

He squeezes back in acknowledgment. “Hm?”

“I want you to look at something.” You swallow back the emotion that tries to seep into your voice, but it catches his attention all the same.

He leans up and lifts his hat from his head, setting it aside near the radio. He then reaches to turn a dial back, lowering the music’s volume to give you his full attention.

You release his hand, raising yours up as he turns back to face you. You don’t say anything at first, nearly too lost in your own mind to realize you need to actually voice your developing thoughts.

"What—what're you pointin' at Darlin'?"

Your hazy focus is trained on the brightest star visible in your line of sight, arm stretched out to the sky above you. "That really bright one, to the... to the left."

Sam does his best to follow your less-than-specific directions of 'to the left', your pointed finger doing little to help given the difference in perspective. Luckily, after all these years, he knows this stretch of night sky like the back of his hand, so it isn't hard to locate the brightest one. Ghosting his fingers up along your exposed wrist where your sleeve had slipped back, he takes your hand in his again and brings it back down to earth. "Okay, yeah, I see it now. What about it though?"

"That's you." You say, matter-of-factly.

"That's me?" He questions, humor in his tone.

"Mhm." You nod with finality, blinking slow.

Sam considers the odd statement for a moment before gently correcting you. "I'm uh, I'm pretty sure that's Sirius, actually."

You scoff. "I am being serious."

Sam stifles a laugh. "No—no I mean—like... what's another name for it... Oh, it's also called the Dog Star."

"C'mon Sam, at least call it the Wolf Star if you're trying to turn this around on me..."

He shakes his head and readies himself to explain further, but you cut him off before he can start. "But no. No, this isn't about me. That's you."

He decides to play along, finding something endearing in your overtired nonsense. "Okay... then would'ja be so kind as to explain to this confused old man just how, or why that star is me?"

Your frown is audible in your voice as you latch onto the wrong part of his sentence. "You're not old, Sam. ...Do I need to tell Asher to kick the jokes down a notch?"

He smiles at your over-protectivity. "There'll be no need for that, now. Was just a joke, honey, I promise."

You huff, but begrudgingly shift focus back to the prior topic. "It's... I dunno. It's just you, Sam. It's... bright. Light. Something warm, out there in the cold dark. Standing out amongst all the rest. Calling to me, stealing my attention.”

Sam’s brow furrows as you continue to explain, realization setting in that you really are being serious.

“I... I didn't come out here looking for it, but there it is. ...And there you were. In the dark. The only bright thing I'd seen in... fuck, in years. Years of chasing fleeting warmth, tripping over myself in the pitch black, falling into... places and people that I shouldn't have. You were the light in that darkness. Even there, at Wonderworld, surrounded by the ghost of him. Your warmth, your presence, your aura—even with all of your walls up, you outshone it. Your warmth didn't hurt. I didn't have to squint when I looked at you. You weren't the blinding sun. You were the brightest star I'd ever seen. You guided me home."

In the back of your mind, you recall something you once heard, something about light, and time, and distance. Space. Something about... how you can still see a star that's already burnt out, because its light hasn't reached earth yet. The ghost of a star that's already died. Only still perceptible thanks to time, and distance.

You remember Sam's words, once whispered to you on this very roof.

"Whatever your choice is... I'm not gonna live forever. I made that decision a long time ago."

You think about dead stars.

You think about time.

"...-lin'? Darlin'?" Sam's calloused hand squeezes yours tight, his urgent tone pulling you out of your thoughts. "There you are. Think I lost ya' for a minute there... you good?"

You look up at Sam, concern creasing his features, faint shadows cast across his face from the light of the dying stars above him.

You reach out, pulling him down into you. He falters for a moment at the sudden proximity, but quickly embraces you in turn. Burying your face into his collar, Sam's concern grows when he feels it saturate with tears. A human might struggle to hear your words, muffled against the thick flannel, but his hearing catches them just fine.

"Don't burn out too quickly. Please. I still need you here. I don't—I don't wanna be left in the dark again. Please, please Sam. Don't leave me here. I'm not selfish enough to ask you for forever, but please. Not yet. Not yet. Not yet."

The words feel like a weight being lifted from your shoulders, but with it comes a flood of emotion they’d been holding back. You cry harder into him, and as much as it pains Sam to witness, he lets you feel it, for as long as you need.

Your fear of losing him manifests itself physically, nails curling and sharpening again. When he feels them prick his skin through the fabric of his shirt, he calls your name but doesn’t pull away. Instead, he leans further down into you, letting his weight ground you. “Darlin’, I am right here. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

As you eventually cry yourself out, enough wherewithal returns to you to realize that you should probably release the poor man from your grasp, and the awkward position you pulled him into. When he pulls away enough to see your face, you notice a string of snot running from your nose to his shirt collar. Quickly batting it away out of embarrassment, you cringe, voice thick as you apologize. “Eugh, gross. Uh… sorry. About that.”

He shakes his head, laughing good-naturedly as you wipe at your nose with your jacket sleeve. “It’s completely fine, honey. After all, I’ve been covered in plenty of your, uh… various fluids before. When you come from my line of work, this is child’s play.”

He leans to his right, reaching back and pulling—of all things—a handkerchief from his jeans’ left back pocket. You laugh at his words, and at the sight, but with how congested you are it turns into more of a hacking cough than anything. Accepting his offering, you blow your nose into the black patterned fabric.

As soon as you can speak somewhat clearly, you can’t stop the teasing remark that slips out of you, gesturing with the wad of fabric in your hand. “You know, you really aren’t beating the cowboy allegations with stuff like this.”

He rolls his eyes but his soft smile remains. “It’s a practical thing to have on me, ‘allegations’ be damned.”

You shake your head with a smile of your own, but don’t disagree. As you’re visibly unsure what to do with the dirtied fabric, he takes it from you, setting it aside. “I’ll toss it in the wash when we go back inside. Along with my shirt, and…” He eyes you for a moment. “…that jacket of yours too, given how long you’ve probably been wearin’ it.”

Normally you’d argue that it hasn’t been that long, but come to think of it, you actually can’t recall when you last washed the thing.

Reaching up and rubbing your temples, you already regret your crying fit as a headache begins to set in. “Fuck, Sam... I’m sorry for… whatever that just was. I don’t know what came over me.”

His expression falls into something serious again. “You never need to apologize for feeling. And it certainly seems like… you needed to feel that.”

You nod quietly, but don’t elaborate, prompting him to question you gently. “Darlin’. What was that about? The—the askin’ me not to leave. Are you… afraid that I’m gonna leave you?”

You close your eyes, weighing out your response. “…Not in the sense that you’ll break up with me or something, no.”

His gaze narrows and his head tilts as he rolls your answer over in his mind. “If it ain’t that, then—” He remembers how you mentioned ‘forever’ and cuts himself off as the puzzle pieces start coming together. “Oh. …Oh, Darlin’, no.”

You open your eyes to watch as he shifts from leaning next to you, moving to sit up beside you. “Is this about what I told you, when we sat up here and had our uh… turning discussion?”

You hate to admit it, but you nod in confirmation. “…It’s your choice, Sam, and I never want to take that away from you. I shouldn’t have said what I just did, I—I don’t want to make you feel guilty, or like you have to stick around for my sake. But I’d be lying to you if I said it hasn’t been playing on my mind. The thought of you… leaving. Like that.”

He reaches up, running a hand through his hair. “I… think I maybe should’ve been a bit more clear, when I said that. Because I wasn’t talking about any time soon. I didn’t want to give you the false impression that I plan on sticking around for centuries, but… I also wasn’t trying to imply that I’ve got plans to do it next week either.”

You bolt upright, voice cracking. “Next week?! I sure as shit hope not!” You grab your head, pain flaring and suddenly dizzy from the quick shift in position.

He places a hand on your shoulder to steady you. “I’m not, honey, I’m not. Did you catch the rest of my sentence? I’ve got no plans to leave this world any time soon. I promise.”

You groan, head pounding. “I heard you, I did, I just—fuck, I don’t even wanna think about you leaving so soon. Here I am, stressing, thinking I’ve only got—I don’t know—some odd years left with you, and…” You sigh, trailing off.

Sam stays quiet for a minute, letting the crickets sing.

Eventually, he interrupts their chorus. “…Can I get closer to you?”

You nod. “…Please.”

He closes the gap between you, carefully wrapping a strong arm around your curled shoulders. “You’ve got way more than a couple years. I promise you that.” Your tension begins to ease a bit as he clarifies. “You… you’ve helped me find a life that I actually feel like livin’ again, for the first time in a long time. And I want to experience it with you for as long as I can.”

“…Really?” Your voice sounds so small, so unsure, so… unlike you when you question him that he wants to kick himself in his own ass for the role he unintentionally played in making you feel this way.

“Yes. Really. I mean—” His voice takes on an edge of humor. “If you decide to set your sights on the year 3,000…” He shakes his head. “I don’t know about that. But as far as the 21st century is concerned? …I think I’d like to see it through. For as long as you’re there to see it with me.”

His words cause fresh tears to well up in your eyes, and you sniff in an attempt to hold them back. The sound catches his attention, and he leans forward, thumbing across your warm cheek. “…I’m makin’ you cry again…”

You shake your head, clearing your throat. “No—No, it’s okay. It’s good. They’re… they’re good. It’s… relief.”

He breathes out a relieved sigh of his own. “Yeah?”

You nod, leaning into him. “Yeah.”

As you rest against each other, breathing in the cool night air, you nudge him with your shoulder. “Can we… lay back? For a bit?”

He squeezes your arm in gentle confirmation. “Of course.”

He twists and reaches back to straighten the wrinkled blanket beneath you, before laying out across it himself. The radio crackles as he turns the volume back up a bit. Watching him with tired eyes, you smile at the sight of him patting his chest in habitual invitation.

“Sit in and watch the sunlight fade. Honey, enjoy, it’s gettin’ late. There’s no plan. There’s no hand on the reign. As Mack explained, there will be darkness again.”

Curling up against his side and laying your head on his chest, you release a heavy sigh when his hand comes up to rest on your shoulder. As his fingers press rhythmically into the tense muscle beneath them, you breathe in his scent. Black coffee and wildflower honey… he smells like home.

“Your secret is safe with me, and if secrets were like seeds, when I’m lyin’ under marble, marvel at flowers you’ll have made.”

You reach your hand out across his broad chest, slipping beneath his open flannel and sliding down to rest on his waist. He sighs, relaxing further beneath your touch.

“My heart is thrilled by the still of your hand. That’s how I know now that you understand.”

Yeah, you’ll take this over ‘luxury’ any damn day.

“There’s no plan. There’s no race to be run.”

Laying there with him, listening to the low hum of the radio, the moment grows so comfortable that you almost hesitate to break it.

“The harder the pain, honey, the sweeter the song.”

“…Sam?” You whisper into the night.

His hand sweeps across your back before returning to your shoulder. “I’m here, Darlin’.”

“There’s no plan. There’s no kingdom to come.”

You smile. “I… I’d like to be there, to be here, to see it through with you, too.”

It takes him a moment to recall exactly what you’re referring to, but when it hits him he hums a low understanding tone, clearly pleased. “Then let’s see where it takes us, yeah?”

“But I’ll be your man if you got love to get done.”

He presses a soft kiss to your temple. “We’ve got plenty a’ time.”

A/N: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. You can find my extensive notes and commentary on this fic right here on Ao3. My Sam & Darlin' Playlist My Sam Playlist My Darlin' Playlist My Sam & Darlin' Moodboard My Sam Moodboard My Darlin' Moodboard Header Image Credit: Gage Smith on Unsplash

[sblass05]

—Warriors of Light— Kingdom Hearts

When Destiny Islands fall, Kairi is the one who summons a Keyblade and travels with Donald and Goofy to save the worlds from the Heartless. Sora is the one who hails from a different world and guards a pure light. And Riku… Well, he’s dealt with a lot even before the fall of the Islands, and it leads him to make some bad decisions.

An alternate universe where two (for now) characters are swapped and several things are added based on what I want to add.

Chapter 1: Home Is Where The Heart Is

In the small world of Destiny Islands, Kairi sat by an old statue admiring a messy and beautiful picture. The buildings of the town were a clash of colors, the vegetation was lush and the people smiled as they went about another peaceful day. The stone figures of a wistful woman with her arms around a joyous girl and a boy with determined eyes, a star at their feet, sheltered Kairi from the sun. Each element was beautiful on its own, but when they came together, they formed something truly wonderful: home.

The clock on top of the town hall struck ten and reminded Kairi she should get a move on, so she took to ambling along the dirt path. She still occasionally paused to admire some flowers or run her hand through fountains gushing water, and in turn, the world seemed to pay attention to her.

Her clothing wasn’t unlike what many girls on the islands wore — breezy top, tight shorts, violet skirt, slip-on shoes, a black sleeveless jacket she modeled after Sora and several handcrafted accessories. Her short, bright red hair and cheery disposition made her stand out though, even amidst the colorful and sunny environment. People on the streets stopped to greet her or thank her for the last time she helped them carry groceries or clean their houses, watched over their kids, or just kept them company.

Eventually, she reached a two-story building and entered to the welcoming click of a bell. The place was filled with shelves and displays, where charts, compasses and other navigation tools were placed side by side with postcards, seashells, flower pots and all sorts of handcrafted items. A woman wearing beads and pigtails stood at a counter. Upon seeing her enter, the woman smiled.

“Hello, Kairi!” she welcomed her with a grin. “In need of more Thalassa shells?”

“Hi, Vanille. Actually, I’m here for Sora.”

“Figured. That sleepyhead’s still in his room.”

Kairi rolled her eyes, said thanks and took the stairs in the backroom to the second floor, which housed a cluttered apartment full of picture frames of Vanille and Sora from over the years since he was five.

Speaking of which, Kairi stood by the door to Sora’s bedroom. There was faint snoring and moaning on the other side. Normally she would just break in and drag Sora out of bed, but this time, she had a better plan.

She tapped on the door. “Sora, it’s me, wake up.”

There was no answer.

She knocked harder. “Sora, Riku is waiting for us.”

The sound of someone rolling over blankets.

She knocked even harder. “Come on you lazy bum. Wake up.”

He rolled over again and groaned something that sounded like “Five more minutes.”

Kairi gave a sigh of false disappointment. “Looks like Sora isn’t coming. What a shame. I even brought him a piece of Grandma’s fubá cake. Oh well, guess there’s more for me.”

“WHAT?” There was a thump and seconds later Sora came out, the spikes in his brown hair even messier than usual. “I’m here, give it to me!”

Kairi laughed as she handed him a paper bag. “Here you go, you lazy bum.”

He tore it open and devoured the cake with the enthusiasm of a starving man. It was over in five seconds. “Hmm, so good! Vanille’s food is fine and all, at least when she doesn’t burn it, but Auntie Yara’s is on another level.”

“So now that you’re awake, how about we go meet up with Riku?”

“Alright, alright, just a second.”

Soon the two were exiting the shop, Sora now sporting his usual inconspicuous red jumpsuit and yellow shoes, as well as the short hoodie Kairi had hoped to emulate. As they chatted along the way, she told him about the dream she had that night. As was common with dreams, the details had gotten foggy since she woke up, but she remembered a castle in the mountains that felt like home. Sora listened intently, not cutting her even once, something most other people would consider a miracle.

“Hmm…” Sora tilted his head in that adorable way he did while thinking hard. And then his eyes shone. “What if that place is out there somewhere? And you dreaming about it means we’ll see it soon!”

“If anyone was gonna dream about the outside world, I’d expect it to be you.”

Sora chuckled half-heartedly. “I don’t know. It’s not like I remember anything from before I came here.”

“Nothing at all?”

“Nothing. But maybe we can still find it. The place where I came from.”

“We can find more than just that. We’ll find all sorts of worlds out there.”

“I can’t wait!”

They arrived at a small wooden pier, where a silver-haired boy waited impatiently. He was leaning on a light post with his arms crossed and his brow furrowed. When he noticed the two, the boy stood straight.

“Finally,” he said. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”

“Sorry, Riku. But you know Sora is a lazy bum who refuses to get out of bed without leverage.”

“Hey! You’re late too!”

Kairi giggled and ran over to Riku, leaving a pouting Sora to trail behind.

“Unbelievable,” Riku said. “I do most of the work on the raft and you can’t even be here on time.”

“Sorry, mister punctual.” Kairi patted him on the head and laughed off the annoyed glare she received. “Let’s finish it together then.”

She and Sora went for the small boats moored on the pier. Before following them, Riku picked up something resting on the ground. A long wooden pole almost twice his size.

“What’s that?” Sora asked.

“This light pole fell down during the latest storm. I thought it could be our mast.”

“Good idea,” said Kairi.

“Cool!” Sora got closer to admire their new find and his hands went to touch it. “I’ll carry it!”

“No need, I got it.”

“But I wanna do it! Gimme!” Sora grabbed the pole and tried to pull it, but Riku pulled back.

“Hey, stop! You’re gonna mess it up.”

“I won’t! Just let me do this!”

“I can do it by myself!”

“Stop it, you two.” Kairi’s voice cut through their argument. “This thing doesn’t even fit in one boat.”

She took the pole from their hands and showed her point. It was too long for a single boat. So instead, she rested each end on one boat, like a bridge connecting them.

“There. See? Now both of you can carry it.”

“Great idea, Kairi!” Sora beamed.

“It’s not that impressive, really,” she said.

“But we’ll have to row together,” said Riku. “Think you can keep up, Sora?”

“Of course I can!”

“You’ll help by not going too fast,” said Kairi. “And I’ll signal so you know when to row.”

Her strategy worked very well. Whenever she said “row”, Riku and Sora moved their oars in sync to propel their boats evenly. They kept a steady pace and eventually reached Kealoha Island. It was just off the shore of Tuatahi Island, where they lived, way smaller and uninhabited. The island was instead a site for festivals and other celebrations, as well as a playing ground for the children of the town, which granted it the nickname Playing Island.

Once there, they raced to the cove on the other side of the island and uncovered their secret project. What had once been a pile of driftwood and planks now looked like a proper raft, albeit with a few key components missing.

One such component was the mast, so Sora and Riku worked to secure the pole they brought to the hull and tie the other spars. Or rather, Riku did. Sora came up with a game of throwing nails like darts at pebbles, shells and even a poor crab that peeked out of its hole every few minutes. The only way Riku would get him to focus on the task at hand was by threatening to tell Vanille about his cookie jar heists, but even then he mostly hummed to himself or daydreamed about their future adventures.

From her spot, Kairi laughed at the boys’ shenanigans. She sat by a palm tree sowing pieces of leftover fabric Riku got from his seamstress mother to create the sail for the raft. The pieces originally all had different colors and patterns, but Kairi had managed to bleach them white to make the sail uniform. She’d hidden her reasoning for doing so from her friends, instead saying she just thought it looked better like that.

Hours went by and in what felt like no time, the sun reached its peak.

After a supposed-to-be-short lunch break at Kairi’s, where her grandmother’s seafood with mashed potatoes and fubá cake held them for way longer than Riku would have liked, they returned to the Playing Island, but they weren’t alone anymore.

Some of their friends from school had come to the beach as well. They arrived to Ryukku and Yuna staring at each other in anticipation, and Tidus, Wakka and Selphie watching from the sidelines.

“Alright ladies.” Wakka, a tall boy with orange hair, raised his hand to give the start out. “Aaaand go!”

The two girls closed in on one another and started to dish out attacks. Ryukku dealt fast punches with her toy claw and Yuna dodged them with graceful moves. In her white floral dress, it almost looked like she was dancing.

“Go Yuna! Go Ryukku!” As Selphie hopped, the curls at the end of her hair bounced.

“Look, the other Riku’s here too,” said Tidus, whose hair was the color of the sand. Riku rolled his eyes at the common joke made with their names. He, Sora and Kairi had stayed to watch as well.

Eventually, Ryukku landed a hit and Yuna’s rod fell from her hands. Wakka announced the winner and the two joined the rest of the group.

“That got me pumped!” Sora turned to Riku with a grin. “Let’s go Riku, me and you!”

“Sure. If you wanna lose.”

After picking up some wooden swords from the seaside shack, the two faced each other on the “dueling ground”. Everyone else was just as excited to watch, even if the result was predictable. Sora and Riku just carried so much energy whenever they competed, it was hard not to get pumped.

Wakka gave the go-ahead and Sora charged.

Riku stepped out of the way and jabbed Sora in the arm. Sora paid that no mind and went at Riku again. The swords met with a clack, over and over, all while the two boys smiled and threw taunts around. Then suddenly, Riku made a swift and powerful swing. Sora’s sword leaped out of his hand, spun in the air and landed point down in the sand.

“Sora’s disarmed, Riku wins!” Wakka announced.

Everyone else had unsurprised looks, but Kairi smiled at Sora. Even though this was the result nine times out of ten in every competition, she admired how he kept trying regardless, so she always did what she could to show her appreciation for him.

“Giving up already? I thought you were stronger than that.” Riku had a different approach.

“Hmph… Let’s go again!”

“No way, you always lose Sora. It’s no fun watching!” Ryukku complained. She was a blonde girl with a high ponytail. “Hey Kairi, why don’t you fight?”

Kairi shook her head. “There’s no need, I don’t like fighting all that much.”

“C’mon, don’t back down!” Tidus grabbed his pole and went to the dueling ground. “Take me on!”

She tried to deny it, but everyone else started chanting her name. Finally, Sora came in and offered her his wooden sword.

“Just give it a shot,” he said with an encouraging smile.

She couldn’t say no to him. She took his sword and went to meet Tidus. Before the match started, he turned to their audience with a cocky smile.

“This win is for you, Yuna!”

Her bicolored eyes widened, she covered her burning cheeks and gave him a little smile. Ryukku laughed and nudged her, while Selphie sighed and said, “What a gentleman.” Kairi smiled at her friends’ excitement.

“GO!” Wakka’s voice started the match.

Tidus lost no time and swung at Kairi. His attacks were slow and predictable, easy for Kairi to dodge, but she only swung back haphazardly at him once or twice. On the third time, she was disarmed.

“Ha ha! I win!”

Everyone cheered for him, Yuna even clapped. Tidus ran to her and asked if she saw how good he was, and Kairi smiled despite her loss.

“Don’t be upset, Kairi,” Sora comforted her when she joined them. “You did great.”

“I’m not upset,” she assured, and she wasn’t lying. “Like I said, I don’t find fighting so fun.”

Riku frowned at her. Before she could ask what was wrong, he grabbed her arm and dragged her back to the dueling ground.

“Riku?! What are you—”

He stood a few meters from her and raised his wooden sword. “We’re fighting.”

“What!?” Her surprise was mirrored by everyone else. “But I don’t—”

“You’re wide open!”

Kairi barely parried his strike. She took a few steps back but Riku quickly closed the distance and swung, so she jumped out of the way. He wasn’t gonna let her walk out of it.

“Come on, Kairi,” he said. “I know you’re stronger than this.”

From the sidelines, Sora jumped and shouted like crazy. “Go, Kairi! I know you can do it! Just do your best!”

Hearing him cheer for her lit something inside Kairi. She gripped her sword harder and took on a proper stance. Riku smiled and came at her again. This time, she met his sword with a firm guard.

She continued blocking and dodging, but she wasn’t running away. This was how she fought, a defensive style that tired her opponent until she found an opening or weakness to take advantage of. She wasn’t a powerhouse like Riku or a well of energy like Sora, so she had to make do with her agility and creativity.

But Riku was the best of them for a reason. His moves weren’t just strong, they were quick and precise. Kairi didn’t think she could tire him down before he disarmed her. She’d have to create an opening herself. Fortunately, she’d watched him fight for years.

She put some distance between them and Riku closed it with a thrust like she expected. Kairi threw her body backward and cried as if she lost her balance. But when Riku’s hand was furthest from his body, she planted her hands on the sand, raised her feet and kicked his sword away.

For a moment, no one said a thing. They just stared at the fallen sword. Then Sora erupted into cheers and the rest of them followed suit.

“That was awesome!”

“It was like a martial arts move!”

“Where did you learn that?”

Sora all but tackled her into a hug, which made her heart skip a beat. She was so happy though, she paid it no mind.

“I knew you could do it!” he said. “You’re amazing, Kairi!”

“Thanks, Sora,” she replied with a giddy smile.

Riku had a neutral expression. When Kairi looked toward him though, he gave a rare genuine smile, the kind reserved for her and Sora alone.

“Man, I can’t believe I beat someone who beat Riku,” Tidus commented cheekily. “Does that make me the strongest on the island?”

The smile dropped from Riku’s face and he stared Tidus down with intense eyes. “Wanna test it?”

Ten seconds. That’s how long it took for Tidus to be disarmed. Nobody even cheered, they just told him not to worry about it.

“Huh. Funny,” said Wakka. “Tidus can’t beat Riku, but Kairi can. And Tidus can beat her.”

“You win some, you lose some, I guess,” said Ryukku.

Kairi and Sora looked at Riku with worry. It wasn’t like him to be that serious during a duel. They competed for fun, not for show.

There was a twinge in Kairi’s heart.

“Kairi, Sora,” Riku called. “Let’s go back to work.”

“Alright. See you later, guys!”

“Wait, what work?” Wakka’s question went unheard as the three ran off.

Selphie put her hands on her hips. “Those three are up to something.”

“Must be why we barely see them these days,” said Yuna.

“Well, as long as they have Riku, they’ll be fine,” said Tidus.

“Aw, I want to be in on it too!” Ryukku protested.

Back with the three in question, Sora still wasn’t over his friends’ duel.

“And the way you waited until the last second and then kicked Riku’s sword like a ninja! It was so cool!”

“Your fight was cool too, Sora,” said Kairi.

“Thanks, but I lost. Like usual…”

“I think you’re really cool for fighting even though you lose. That’s not a weakness, it’s a strength.”

Sora’s smile became even cuter when he was blushing. “Thanks a lot, Kairi. You really know how to make a guy feel better.”

Now it was Kairi’s turn to blush. “It’s nothing. And besides, I lost to Tidus too.”

“It’s easy to lose when you’re trying to,” Riku said sharply.

Kairi and Sora turned to him. “What do you mean?”

“Cut it out, Kairi. I know you lost on purpose.”

She looked away. “What makes you think that?”

“Because you’re good and I know it,” he said. “The girl I fought wouldn’t go down that easily. You let Tidus win.”

Kairi didn’t say anything. Sora came into her field of vision with a curious expression.

“Is that true, Kairi?” Blast, why did he make it so hard to lie?

“He was much happier than I’d be winning. Yuna was too.”

“So you let Tidus win to show off to Yuna?” Riku asked skeptically.

“Yeah, I did,” she admitted. “Now can we go back to the raft?”

Her friends gave her looks but didn’t say anything. She was thankful for that.

They resumed work on the raft. All that was missing now was the sail and some reinforcements to the hull. Riku and Sora got to work on the reinforcements with planks, and Kairi went back to sewing the sail.

A few hours later, she got up to move to a different spot. Riku and Sora asked where she was going and she said she wanted to take in more sunlight. Since hills cut the island in the middle with the cove facing east, there was naturally less sunlight in the later hours of the afternoon, so it was a believable excuse.

Kairi headed to the seaside shack, away from anyone’s sight. Once she made sure she was alone, she uncovered the paint cans and brushes she hid there for this exact moment, lay down the already sewn sail and got to work.

When she rejoined her friends, the sky was beginning to turn orange and the raft was practically finished. The only thing missing was in her hands.

“There you are,” Riku said upon her arrival. “What took you so long? I hope you weren’t slacking off again.”

“Sorry,” Kairi said. “It just took a while to include the final touches.”

She unfolded the sail to reveal her surprise: three emblems painted on the white fabric, one yellow and two light grey — the closest she could get to golden and silver. Riku and Sora marveled at her work and compared it to the emblems they wore.

Riku’s was just like the golden pin attached to his right wristband: an anchor with a rope around the shank and a nautical star in front of the right arm. Sora’s was a simple three-pointed crown identical to the pendant around his neck. Kairi also wore her emblem in a necklace, though hers was much more elaborate and took the longest to draw. A heart with a feathered wing on the left side and vines of flowers entwined around the right.

“Since we built the raft with our own hands, I figured we should sign it,” Kairi explained. “So I thought of including symbols from our families. Or just our past.”

She added that last bit after Sora looked down and fiddled with his chain, his last reminder of wherever he came from.

“I also thought of a name.” Her friends eyed her with curiosity at that. “Destiny Voyager.”

“Destiny Voyager?” Sora echoed. “Because we’re from Destiny Islands and going on a voyage?”

“Well, yes, but not just that. People say the Voyager was the name of Koa’s boat. And with our raft, we can sail the entire Ocean, just like he did. Go wherever we choose, while still remembering that this is our home. We can make our own destinies.”

For a moment, Riku and Sora stared speechless at her. They soon smiled though. It wasn’t unlike Kairi to say something like that, a bit corny perhaps, but completely earnest.

“That’s such a cool name!” said Sora, another big proponent of such attributes.

“Doesn’t sound bad,” Riku agreed in his cool manner. Kairi beamed at their support.

Together, the three tied the sail to the mast and marveled at their creation, finally complete after weeks of work. Kairi and Sora thought it looked perfect. Riku was pretty satisfied too, but then he noticed something that made him raise an eyebrow.

“Hey Kairi. Why is Sora’s symbol above ours?”

Indeed, the crown was slightly higher than the anchor and the heart, but that hadn’t been a mistake.

“It’s because he’s Sora,” she said.

When she was a child, her mother taught her some words in her grandparents’ language and explained the meaning behind each of their names. Sora for sky, riku for land, and kai from the word for sea. Around the same time, her grandmother told her of the importance of each of the three domains that made up the Islands.

“The Sky carries the wind that blows our sails and the stars we use to tell where we’ve been and where we’re going,” she continued. “Like how Sora shows us the way to new and old places.”

He puffed out his chest proudly at her explanation. Kairi giggled while Riku played it cool.

“So basically, he’s an airhead.”

“Riku, stop teasing me!”

As Sora complained, Riku just smirked. He had always been hard to faze, steadfast and reliable.

“The Land gives us ground to stand on and take shelter in. And Riku keeps us safe and focused when times are rough.”

So long as we take care of him, she thought but didn’t say it, knowing he wouldn't like it.

“Then what does Kairi do?” Riku asked. Before she could shrug her role off, Sora spoke:

“Kairi makes it all possible. After all, the Ocean connects us to everything out there.”

He really thought that about her? Her cheeks felt warm at the mere thought. Riku looked sideways.

When they returned to the seashore, it was just the three of them again. Even though they were old enough to go to the Playing Island alone, they were always instructed to return before dark. Still, Riku, Sora and Kairi agreed to stay to watch the sunset. So they headed for their favorite spot, a crooked tree on an islet accessed via a wooden bridge, and sat on the trunk. Kairi sat in the middle, with Sora to her right and Riku to the left. For her, there was no better place to watch the sky go from blue to orange as the sun settled on the Ocean’s embrace. They’d done this countless times over the years, and she still loved it.

As she was absorbed in the sight, Sora started humming. He often hummed when he was distracted — which was frequently — and it was always the same tune. He couldn’t remember where he heard it. A thought crossed Kairi’s mind.

“Hey, Sora.” He stopped humming and turned to her. “Maybe you learned that song of yours in your original home.”

“Maybe…” He smiled sadly and fiddled with his chain again.

“Do you miss it?” Riku asked.

“I’m not sure I can miss a place I don’t remember,” Sora admitted. “It mostly feels weird not knowing where I’m from, even if this is my home. But sometimes… I wonder if there’s someone there who misses me. Someone I can’t even remember…”

Kairi placed a hand on Sora’s shoulder and offered a sympathetic smile. This gesture lightened his unusually solemn mood and he found it in him to smile too.

“But still, whatever brought me here, it brought me to you guys. So even if I could, I wouldn’t change a thing. And who knows… If coming here made me meet you two, then imagine how many friends are out there that we haven’t met yet!”

“That’s a really sweet sentiment, Sora,” Kairi said.

“Tch. That’s so like you.”

“What’s THAT supposed to mean?” Sora asked. “What about you, Riku? What do you want to do out there?”

Riku went silent for a moment. An old memory of these very shores came to him.

(“Outside this tiny world, there’s a much bigger one,” the stranger said, smiling down at him. He had an air of strength the young Riku had never seen before. He wondered if the stranger also had something he wanted to protect.)

“I’ve been thinking… If there really are as many worlds out there as there are stars in the sky, then ours is just a little piece of something much greater. I want to see what this greater World is. If we just sit here doing nothing, then nothing will change. So let’s do something different. It’s like you said, Kairi. We’ll make our own destinies.”

Sora and Kairi shared looks, not sure what to make of Riku’s words. Even for him, it all sounded weirdly serious.

“You’ve been thinking a lot lately, haven’t you?” Kairi broke the silence.

“I just don’t want to remain stagnant my whole life. Keeping still is the same as going backward.” There was a brief pause, and then Riku looked at her. “What about you, Kairi? What do you want to do?”

“Me?”

Kairi took in the world around her. She saw the ocean, the beach, the sky, heard the waves crashing and the seagulls settling down for the night, felt the salty breeze and the last rays of the sun. She thought of everything else her senses couldn’t reach, the town, her family, their friends, all the other islands. All the little pieces of something greater. Something wonderful.

Kairi held Sora and Riku’s hands and pulled them closer. With the two there, the picture was complete.

“Maybe we’ll meet new friends, and maybe things will change. But I hope that in the end, we can still come back here. Together.”

Her friends returned her smile and the three went back to watching the sunset. No more words were exchanged. They didn’t need to be.

Sora was the first to leave minutes later, hopping off the tree to pick up his things. “Sorry guys, but I promised Vanille I’d go home by six. See ya tomorrow!”

Riku and Kairi waved him goodbye until he broke into running. Kairi watched him stumble on the sand on his way to the docks. As she did, she inadvertently started caressing her own right hand — the one that held Sora’s moments prior.

“We better head back as well,” Riku said, hopping off as well.

“Yeah…”

But instead of going, Kairi stayed on the tree. In a half-conscious act, she reached for one of the yellow star-like fruits growing and held it, her gaze shifting between it and Sora.

Her gesture didn’t go unnoticed by Riku. His heart stinging, he spoke amicably:

“And what’s with the Paopu fruit?”

“You know I like them. ‘A bloom of love sowed with an oath, nurtured and kept by friendship’. Grandma used to tell me that story all the time. It says that if you and your friends carry good luck charms shaped like them, you’ll always find your way back to each other. And if you share them with someone you really care about…” Her eyes were dreamy and her cheeks flushed. “That’s an oath to remain a part of each other’s lives, no matter what. A way of saying they are your destiny.”

Riku clenched his fists and put on a playful smile.

“So what? Don’t tell me you have a crush.”

Now Kairi’s whole face was red as if she was about to faint. “Wh-What?! No! Of course I don’t!!”

“Oh, I think you do. You’re into someone and want to share a Paopu with them before we leave. Who is it?”

“NO ONE! It’s no one! I’m not into anyone!”

Riku closed his eyes and cupped his chin as if thinking very hard. “Hmm, there’s Ryukku, Selphie, Wakka, Tidus, Yuna… Or how about my cousin Noct? I know you find him hot.”

“No! I can find someone hot without having a crush on them!”

“Wait… Don’t tell me… Is it me or Sora?”

“WHAT?! N-NO! Stop, I told you it’s nothing like that!” Kairi covered her face with her hands. Smirking, Riku played along.

“Relax, I’m just joking. There’s no way you’re into one of us, right?”

“R-Right! There’s no way.”

“Just had to be sure. We’re setting sail soon. Once we leave, it’ll be just the three of us. If it turned out one of us has this kind of feeling for another, it’d be weird, don’t you think?”

Kairi lowered her head. “Yeah. It would.”

“Anyway, I’m heading back. You should come too.”

“In a minute,” she said.

As Riku walked away, Kairi got off the tree and approached the edge of the islet while gazing at the Paopu fruit. With a heavy sigh, she dropped the fruit into the ocean and watched it sink before turning away.

~♡~

Already at nighttime, Sora and Vanille prepared for dinner. No walls separated the kitchen, dining and living room, so the two could chat while Sora set up the table and Vanille put grilled cheese sandwiches on the stove. When he told her that Riku had challenged Kairi to a sword fight, Vanille turned away from the stove to give him her undivided attention.

“He challenged her out of nowhere!” said Sora. “At first Kairi was in trouble, but then she began standing her ground in that awesome way of hers when no one can land a hit! And then just as it looked like she was about to lose, she disarmed Riku with a cartwheel! I’d never seen anything like it!”

As he spoke, he remembered Riku’s accusation and Kairi’s admission that she threw the previous match with Tidus so he could have a moment with Yuna. The memory made his smile widen.

“Man, Kairi is so cool. She’s strong, smart, fun, and she’s always doing everything she can to make people happy.”

“She certainly makes you happy,” Vanille said suddenly.

“Of course she does! She’s my best friend!”

Vanille gave him a knowing grin. “That she is. But are you sure you don’t want her to be something else? Something more than just a friend?”

It took Sora a moment to understand her implication. When he did, his face turned red.

“W-What?! No, no, I mean, where did you even get that idea?”

“Oh, don’t try to fool me, you’re an open book! And one I’ve known for over nine years now.”

He looked away, embarrassed. Vanille chuckled and ruffled his hair.

“It’s okay. Kairi’s a great girl and cares a lot for you. But if you really want something more with her, you gotta tell her.”

“You really think so?”

Vanille opened her mouth to answer but stopped when she noticed a strange smell in the air. Sora looked behind her in horror.

“Vanille, the grilled cheese!”

There was smoke coming out of the frying pan where she had left their dinner. Vanille cried and hurried to turn the stove off, but it was too late. What was originally a sandwich now looked more like a lump of coal.

“Sorry I distracted you…” Sora said.

“You don’t have to apologize,” she assured. “How about we get takeout again?”

“Yep. Takeout sounds great.”

~♡~

The palm leaves moved at a sluggish pace. Clusters of small houses sprawled through the hills like pebbles on a road. All the way down, a sabulous beach met an ocean that went on forever.

Riku’s entire world fit on the frame of his window. He could see all matter of life on Destiny Islands while sitting on his bed. It was a trite view, it had been for quite some time, but Riku took comfort in the fact that he didn’t have to bear it alone.

Soon he wouldn’t have even that.

(“That’s an oath to remain a part of each other’s lives, no matter what. A way of saying they are your destiny.”)

Kairi’s words buzzed in his head so much they threatened to tear a hole through his skull. His heart ached at the thought of his two closest friends holding out Paopu fruits to each other, delighting in some unmatched intimacy that was their alone, all while Riku could only watch from afar. Next thing he knew they were locking lips. His stomach twisted at the idea and he cursed his imagination for subjecting him to it.

A creaking sound broke through his thoughts. The door opened and a head of silver hair peeked inside. His mother.

“Hey.” Her voice was low, as if she were speaking to a cornered animal. “There’s some leftover pasta in the fridge. How do you feel about mac and cheese again?”

“Whatever. It’s fine,” Riku said without looking at her.

Instead of leaving, she stepped into the room.

His mother was a slim woman with a face partially obscured by strands of hair loose from her long braid. She wore old patched-up clothes in hopes of saving extra money to buy good materials to make Riku’s clothes. The golden earring on her left ear had the same emblem as the one on her son’s wristband.

“Are you sure it's fine?” she asked. Like Kairi and Sora, she always seemed to know when something was wrong with him.

“Yeah.” He still didn’t make eye contact.

“Do you want anything else?”

“No, I’m all good.”

“If there’s something I can get you, I’d be happy to—”

“I said I’m good, Mom!” Riku snapped. “Just go already!”

His mother froze for a moment. Her shocked expression soon shifted, first to one of worry, and then helplessness at the wall between her and her son.

As if to try and pierce through that wall, she sat on the bed, tucked some strands of hair behind his ear and held his face gently. This time, Riku met her eyes. They were the same tint of bluish-green as his, tired too from the everyday stress. Yet even after all the struggle and heartbreak life had subjected her to, they revealed a hidden spark, a sort of quiet strength Riku didn’t fully understand.

“Look, I know the last few years have been hard and I haven’t always been the most present parent. But I want you to know that I am here, and you can talk to me about anything that’s bothering you.”

Riku leaned his head on his mother’s hand, the warmth of her touch soothing his mind and his heart. But in some deep corner, the ache persisted. His mother’s affection was familiar and comfortable. It made him feel at ease like a little boy again, in a world that was small and safe. But didn’t he want the opposite? Didn’t he want to leave that safe and stifling place and go into a larger world, away from someone else’s wing?

Didn’t he want independence?

He turned away from his mother’s touch. She gave a heavy sigh and headed for the exit.

“I’ll be downstairs if you need me,” she added before closing the door.

A twinge of shame crept in when he heard how distressed she sounded, but Riku continued gazing stubbornly out the window. At an unchanging world that trapped its residents with an endless moat of saltwater. And in that prison, people deliberately chose to further chain themselves with meaningless promises of love and a life spent together. And those who had no one to tie themselves to were left behind and forgotten.

His hand met glass when he tried to reach out. Somewhere out there, either beyond the sea or among the stars, was a World bigger than anything he could imagine. If only he could reach that place, then he wouldn’t be trapped anymore. If only Kairi and Sora also had meaningful things to see and do instead of leading an aimless life in the same static place, they wouldn’t want to be together so badly.

“This place is the problem,” Riku said solemnly. “This world is just too small.”

~♡~

Kairi laid out Thalassa seashells, threads of flax, a small block of wood, and tools for sewing and carving on the dining table, then took a seat. While waiting for the front door to open, she picked up the flax and began weaving them into a braid. It was a stiffer material than what she normally used, but a lifetime of crafting had made her a skilled artisan.

She was so lost in her weaving that it surprised her when her grandmother suddenly sat by her side. She had completely forgotten she was in the room too.

The old woman’s smile carried all the warmth of a tray of freshly baked cookies. The scent that stuck to her dress was just as comforting, a mixture of all the herbs and flowers from her garden with a slight touch of flour and cinnamon. She always wore an apron and her grey hair tied in a high bun as if to tell the world that despite her advanced age, she was still kicking.

“I see you’re making Wayfinders,” Grandma said, looking at the materials on the table. She raised an eyebrow when she realized there were only ten shells. “Are these for Riku and Sora? Why not for yourself?”

“Well, it’s hard to find shells of the same color and size, let alone five of them. And I know how important it is to use Thalassa shells. So I’m making theirs first.”

Her grandma nodded in understanding and watched Kairi work. She had watched over her like this since the day she was born. It was amazing how two people could enjoy each other’s company for so long.

A ringing broke their comfortable silence. Kairi and her grandmother looked at the telephone with uncertainty before Kairi went to pick it up.

“Hayazaki Amada residence. How may I help you?”

“Kairi?” her mother’s voice answered. “It’s so good to hear you!”

“It’s good to hear you too, Mom. But why are you calling? I thought you and Dad were on your way home.”

“Oh, right…” Kairi didn’t like the dismay in her mother’s voice. “Some unexpected things showed up and… They need us here in Origo Island. We’ll probably stay a few more days to help them sort everything out.”

Kairi’s heart sank. They weren’t coming again. Something stung in the back of her eyes but she held it back. She wasn’t about to cry like a little kid because of some petty grievance. She put on a smile and hoped her voice wouldn’t betray her disappointment.

“I understand. Those people need your help. You guys have got to do everything you can for them. Grandma and I will wait for you.”

“Oh, dear. We are so blessed to have you for a daughter.”

The two said their goodbyes and then her mother ended the call. Kairi put the handset on the base and her smile fell. Her grandmother’s disappointment was plain on her face.

“They’re not coming, are they?”

Kairi shook her head. Her grandma gave a heavy sigh and shared a sympathetic look. But then a spark flashed through her eyes and she smiled.

“I’ve got something that might cheer you up.”

Kairi waited in the living room while her grandma went to her room. She returned moments later with something small wrapped in gift paper.

“I was talking to Vanille the other day and she told me Sora asked her for crafting tools and building materials. And when I talked to Fuyuko, she told me Riku asked for any leftover fabric she might have. Some time later, you were in the yard bleaching and measuring pieces of cloth. Isn’t that curious?”

Kairi’s heart skipped a beat. She didn’t know about the raft, did she? Had they been that obvious the whole time?

“After that I thought, those three must be up to something,” Grandma continued. “I wasn’t sure what though, until Vanille was cleaning Sora’s room and found a drawing of a boat with three people and the words ‘our raft’ above it.”

“Damit, Sora!” Kairi cursed under her breath. For as fond as she was of him, he was a pretty lousy secret keeper.

Now it was too late. Grandma, Vanille and maybe even Riku’s mom knew about their plan and would probably forbid them from going through with it. That’s what Riku feared would happen at least, and what he told Sora and Kairi to convince them to keep the raft a secret.

But instead of scolding her or even scowling at her, her grandma just chuckled and handed her the bundle. Confused and anxious, Kairi opened it and uncovered a burgundy-colored notebook. Golden letters had been embroidered on the cover, forming phrases in the language her grandma and her father sometimes spoke. After struggling a bit to decipher the words, Kairi realized they were the lyrics of a song her grandma used to sing her to sleep.

“‘What is written in me will be kept with me, if it pleases you. Life always goes on, what can we do? I only ask you one favor, if you will. Don’t forget me in a corner somewhere.’”

Kairi looked at her smiling grandmother and felt like crying. She all but threw herself at the woman, squeezing her in the biggest hug she could give.

“Thank you so much, Grandma! I’ll never forget!”

Her grandma returned the hug with one arm and ran her fingers through Kairi’s hair with the other. Some tears escaped her eyes as she did. It felt like so little ago, she could cradle the girl before her in her arms.

“On the road ahead, you’ll encounter all sorts of people and places that will shape who you are. Those connections you forge will lead you to your destiny. There will be hurdles and hardships along the way, but you must press on. As long as you keep moving forward, you’re bound to find many wonderful things.”

She moved away just enough to look at Kairi’s face.

“Whatever you find on that road, I just hope you’ll continue the kind and loving Kairi I love so much.”

Kairi made an affirmative noise in response. More than imagining what the road ahead might hold though, she was just happy to be in the arms of someone she loved.

Next Chapter→ (currently not available)

[ternfic]

Reboot

Chapter Twenty-One

“Giving Emmet the cold shoulder now?”

Lucy scowled into her glass, holding back an irritated huff. Of course he would come find her just to harass her. “Fuck off, Rex.”

“Ooh, she swears! I hope you haven’t taught my dear sweet innocent baby brother the fuck word.”

Lucy snorted in spite of herself. “No, I’m not giving him the cold shoulder. He wanted to spend some time with Watevra to get to know her. So I figured I’d take the time to myself to get my head sorted out.”

“And you thought alcohol would help with that.” He plopped down in a chair beside her.

“Of course not. It’s iced tea. What do you want, anyway?”

Rex didn’t answer for a while. “I guess I just… want to make really sure you’re not going to abandon him again. Been hearing some interesting rumors going around about you and a certain General.”

Lucy’s cheeks turned a fascinating shade of pink, and she thumped her head onto the table. “That’s part of what I’m trying to get sorted out…” she muttered. “I love Emmet, I do! And now that things are finally settled and we don’t have to worry about danger anymore I want to tell him yes, but…”

“Systar’s brainwashing effects got to you too, huh?”

“Yeah,” she sighed miserably. “And she’s just… so sweet…” She let out a helpless laugh. “I seem to have a type.” She sat up again and scrubbed at her face. “That and all the new memories. I used to think being a nobody before I became a Master Builder was such a terrible thing, but compared to this new ‘I used to be a pop star’ backstory, I think I preferred being a nobody. It feels so alien.”

“That’s a mood,” Rex muttered. He let out a long, slow breath. “I’m still kind of pissed at you all, but I think… had I been in your shoes, I would have made the same decision. I’ll probably even be grateful for it someday, just. Not right now.” Lucy nodded absently. “Lu. Whatever you decide to do, talk to Emmet about it first. He deserves that much from you, at least.”

“Yeah…” she murmured. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I never should have asked Emmet, asked you, to be someone you weren’t just to make me happy. That’s not a mistake I’ll be making again.”

Rex stared at her for a long moment. “…Thanks,” he murmured eventually, and shoved himself back out of his chair, leaving the hall. Lucy watched as he retreated, then shrugged and turned back to her tea. She’d said what she needed to.

Plans for the merging of Apocalypseburg and Systar were already well underway. It sounded like the Systarians were intending to move several of their inhabited moons into Alterra’s system, but for the most part they would be relocating to the planet itself and working on terraforming it to restore it after their warring had rendered it nearly lifeless. They’d even already begun some of the reconstruction- the ruins of Bricksburg finally got torn completely down, and foundations for the new city were being laid down.

Lucy wore a new ring- a proper engagement ring, this time. She’d insisted on Emmet making this one as well, and loved it just as much as the one that had been lost, if not more. She and Emmet had also eventually sat down to have their talk about Lucy’s increasing interest in Sweet.

“I know,” Emmet soothed as Lucy fumbled over her words. “I’ve known for several years now.” She stared at him, dumbfounded.

“How…?”

“You’re the most important person in my life, Lucy. I know I’m not always the most observant person, but when it came to you, I paid attention.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“It seemed like something you were still coming to terms with. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“And you’re not- upset? Jealous? Anything?”

Emmet reached to twine his fingers with hers. “Of course not. You deserve the world, and Sweet’s an awesome person. I’d be happy to have her around.”

“Why? You like her too?” Lucy teased, finally relaxing. Emmet smiled, gently tugging her close to touch their foreheads together.

“You know you’re the only one for me.”

A year to the day after their kidnapping, Syspocalypstar was ready for its first inhabitants. There was a planet-wide celebration involving a lot of food, music, and fireworks. “I gotta admit, it feels good to be home,” Rex told Emmet.

“Rex, you’ve been here helping to rebuild the whole time.”

“Yeah but it didn’t have the ‘home’ vibes til it was finished.” He paused. “The flowers everywhere are gonna take some getting used to, though.” Emmet laughed.

The two brothers glanced up at the sound of Mayhem’s jetpack approaching, and the General dropped Lucy down onto the overlook with them. “Hey!” Emmet greeted, giving Lucy a hug. “Where’ve you two been?”

Lucy only grinned and shoved a pair of binoculars into his hands. “I’ve got a surprise for you,” she purred, directing his gaze to the distance. He scanned the horizon for a moment, and then froze, nearly dropping the binoculars.

“Our house!”

Lucy smiled and wrapped her arms around him, kissing his cheek. “Sweet and I worked on it all day yesterday. Hope you don’t mind that we made some modifications to it.”

“Not at all!” He leaned back into her embrace, wiping his eyes. “I’m just- you actually rebuilt it…”

“I loved the house you built for us. I’m sorry I ever made you think otherwise.”

“You do realize you’ve got an audience, right?” Rex drawled, and laughed when Lucy flipped him off.

“You’ve sure got the ‘obnoxious big brother’ thing down pat now,” she huffed at him. Sweet started giggling. Rex only smirked at her.

“Gotta say though, I’m jealous Emmet gets to live with two gorgeous babes.”

“Flatterer.”

“So where are you gonna stay, Rex?” Emmet asked.

Rex shrugged. “I’ll probably just get a flat in the city. The raptors will stay with the Rexcelsior, keep an eye on it in the meantime. I probably won’t stay, the boredom will get to me at some point-”

“Aww Rex, no-” Emmet gasped.

“But I want some time to enjoy being back home first. And it’s not gonna be like last time, I’m not gonna disappear for ten years again. I’ll be sure to come back and tell you all about my adventures.” Emmet sulked at him. “Hey. I promise. I finally got you back, I’m not gonna risk losing you again.”

“Just- don’t leave without saying goodbye…?”

“Of course not.” Rex reached over and ruffled Emmet’s hair, grinning. “You’re stuck with me now, kid.”

[starrclown]

Hi!

Okay, so I remember you ask about LMK rare pair on IG. And to be honest I have no idea. Until now. What you think about Not Mayor and Wukong? IcePeach? BrokenDolls? Or whatever their ship name is.

My idea for them is Mayor try find new a purpose in life after LBD gone. At first he try to reach Bai He because he can't cope nicely and Bai He kinda look like LBD. But there is one problem and that is Wukong. *Cough* FrozenStar Duo*Cough*. So he decide to keep on eye on Wukong instade because he have nothing else to do and since Wukong always be seen with Bai He for past few week after LBD gone. He hates Wukong at first because you know Wukong is kinda the want who make him know that LBD doesn't need him. He hated that feeling. But he also feel something when fighting with Wukong. It's the warm because Wukong always warm. He can't stop thinking about that warm.

He sees Wukong as a leader, a protector, a hero but most importantly a KING. Someone who deserve to be serve. He kinda became bit obsess with Wukong after keep watching the king and staff. He decide to do something.

Even after everything he still a Mayor for some reason. So after the city fully fix in a month and half (thank you technology. They live in futuristic time so you know). He organized so call "Celebration Party" to celebrated a win against LBD. The party was open to public and invited the the Monkie Gang as special guess and also Monkey King. So like it or not they kinda have to go since the whole city expect them to there.

Save to say that Mayor plan kinda work. Wukong is there so that's perfect. He bait Wukong to the middle of party where a lot of people can see them. He ask Wukong to dance with him and Wukong couldn't say not since all eyes on them and Wukong stage fright kick in.

They dance. And Mayor could feel the warm again. Normaly he would always feel cold since that what LBD do. The cold is nice and love it for a long time even he wasn't needed he still love it because that all he ever know. But this WARM. This warm is so addicted. The more he feel the more he want. It was powerful. He wants more

"May I serve you, My King" he said kissing Wukong hand.

(dude, Stalker Tango was playing on background while they dance. It's the vibe I get for this whole thing)

4 things.

1. Hiiiii!!

2. I clicked on this and it shot to the bottom of the text and all I saw was Stalkers Tango. (I used to EAT up that song. It was all over my YouTube page like 2 years ago.)

3. Yall I saw this ship on Tiktok like 2 days ago. It was a sideshow with those two and with the audio "Do you think you'd kill for me on day? Yes, of course I will my darling." I don't know if they have like a confirmed ahipname cause like, that's a RARE rarepair right their. I call them Star-shapedIce. I thought of it cause you know those ice molds you can make diffrent shapes with? Like those!

4. There are so many parts about this I like.

Mayor just like, having nothing to do after LBD. Like it makes perfect sense cause he has spent litteraly years serving her. The idea he's just like: "Well this kid looks like her, might as well." *Spots Wukong* "Fuck not that guy."

Bro your feeling warm cause SUN WUKONG my guy 😭. I know this is saying he's getting warm cause he's catching feelings but I like the idea that he says Wukong makes him feel warm and Bai He in thr back is like, "Yeah! No duh! Your fighting SUN Wukong! Dude your on a tropical mountain with monkeys and fruit trees! You dumbas-"

This raises a good question, does Mayor still have like political power?? Like can he make decisions for the city. Do the people of the city know that their mayor was LBD's right hand man? Bro that would suck if your Wukong. This Mayor, someone you know helped LBD take over the world, is just inviting you to dance and shit and you can't say no cause you can't let the people of the city you protect down. Ya think he gets pissed after the 4th party invitation?

Say Wukong agreed to let Mayor serve him. Since we both agreed that Bai He would be with him (cause that duo is great) dude she would NOT be chill (ha ha) about him being there. Angst material right there.

Normalize this ship that no way would be healthy in the beginning. The toxic spice ✨

- ⭐️StarClown⭐️

[iheartmomochi]

2D Star Vol 12 Momochi Interview Translation

Important: i DID NOT make this translation. I commissioned currytantou on twitter, so all credit goes to them! I 10000% recommend you also commission them if you want a jpn -> eng translation!! And please do not repost this translation anywhere or use it for a re-translation into another language.

Seems like there are those who have been waiting for Japanese-style rock! ♥ I hope I can live up to your expectations~ ♥

First of all, please say hello to the readers.

Hello~ I am the vocalist of Veronica, Momochi~ ♥ Happy to meet everyone~ ♥

New songs, “SCARLET GAME” and “Last Coffee” were released in July. What kind of songs are they about, this time round?

I suppose the songs are something that sound like Veronica but at the same time feels new~? We tried adding game sound effects in “SCARLET GAME” in the intro and I also switched the way I sing in every key point. Like, we’re trying to bring the excitement felt when playing games, so we tried to bring fun through the song ♥

Any behind the scenes episode related to “Last Coffee” during its production?

Hm~ Let’s see~ From the lyrics, it sounds like a goodbye song so I tried singing with that in mind.... However, I didn’t want it to be too gloomy so I tried to balance it out with song arrangement, I guess?~ The song was well received among the band members but I didn’t expect such an overwhelming response, now that it’s been released~! Thank you everyone ♥

A best compilation album, “Dear ♥ Vocalist” The Best Rock Out!!! #2 was released on 19th September. Let us hear about this release too.

The release was decided abruptly so that truly shocked me! I think the decision was made when the audio sample for this single was released on the website... I was like, “Huh, (another new release even though) I just finished these songs?” (laughs)

After all, there are new songs included even though it’s a compilation album.

That’s right >< I was stumped and immediately discussed the matter with my members... After a lot of consideration, we decided to remake our past song and went for Japanese-style rock after a while. Since Veronica’s first survival song and the song in the first best compilation album were Japanese-style rock; it seems like among our loyal supporters, Cheers, there are those who have been waiting for Japanese-style rock! ♥ I hope I can live up to your expectations~ ♥

CR69Fes is coming soon on 30th September. If you have any message to say, please do!

I get really nervous when I think that the event will take place at the end of this month~ >< To the audience who had been looking forward to the day since it was announced, thank you for waiting!~ I’m excited to meet you guys at the venue~♥ I’ll do my best to sing well~!

Lastly, please give a message to the readers.

Thank you always for your support ♥ The fourth survival is about to reach its climax, but I’m sure your presence will help turn it into a success~ Everyone, please continue to watch over us ♥ This was Momochi ♥

[k-s-morgan]

Hi Morgan I am from Asia and I love ur blog

Can u help me understand something as I am new to this series there are some things that confuses me.

I think Will doesn't love hannibal as much as Hannibal loves Will . Yeah I understand he chose him after everything Hannibal had done but he always makes this decision at the end and after that he tries to justify his actions he is not always 100% sure with his decisions. He literally threw them off the cliff after some seconds of acceptance. Tbh I guess I fall on the minority when I say he really irritates me . I still feel hannibal's love and devotion is deeper than Will's.

Just my opinion tho

Second question was he was really jealous of Bedelia because of his underlying feelings or it was just him feeling salty that she wasn't as scared as he was .

Thank you

Ai shite iru (love u)

Hello! Thank you so much for your lovely words! <3

I have a very long post about the different ways in which Will and Hannibal express love here. I'll copy the TLDR part: Hannibal is more open about himself and his feelings, including love, hence he doesn’t have many challenges with admitting it. Will is closed off, stiff, and emotionally repressed, so he expresses his feelings in a much more subtle way.

Will has gone through a long, painful journey. He went from hiding from emotions and deflecting to not denying and carefully acknowledging them. We don’t hear words “love” or “in love” from him in relation to Hannibal because Will is not that kind of person. He doesn’t use these words freely, and for him, every small emotional step is a struggle. He tried to deceive himself and other numerous times; he tied to deny the truth and manipulate his own mind, but with each season, his feelings for Hannibal became more and more explicit. Will reaching out for physical contact, Will saying “It’s beautiful” are his way of saying, “I ached for you. I love you.”

So, I think his feelings are equally strong, he just doesn't express them in the same way. If there was S4, I'd expect Will to keep making progress and to start showing Hannibal how much he loves him more openly. Hannibal truly needs to see how adored he is, he might be emotionally starved at this point, after so many years.

About Bedelia, Will was absolutely jealous of her. Bryan on Will and Bedelia’s interactions:

And when we got to the Will and Bedelia scenes, they were just delightful. Because there were, in a sense, two spurned lovers, sniping at each other over the man that they were obsessed with.

He also said that he loves how "bitchy Will and Bedelia are to each other" and that they consider each other as "the other woman in Hannibal's life."

Hugh said a similar thing in the commentaries to the show:

Will and Bedelia are brides of Hannibal, exes of Hannibal, they consider each other the other woman in Hannibal's life, and they are very bitchy toward each other for this reason.

Just one conversation example from the show:

Will: You didn't lose yourself, Bedelia, you just crawled so far up his ass you couldn't be bothered - personal, targeted against Bedelia's attachment to Hannibal.

Will: You hitched your star to a man commonly known as a monster. You're the Bride of Frankenstein - personal attack with romantic connotation. Bedelia catches up on it and mocks him:

Bedelia: We've both been his bride. Have you been to see him?

Will: Yes.

Bedelia: Haven't learned anything, have you? Or did you just miss him that much?

Will: Have you been to see him? - jealously-personal again. Will wants to know if Bedelia is keeping contact with Hannibal. It's all about her relationship with Hannibal.

His aggression toward her and the extent of it is the reason why I think he was the initiator behind the attack on her that we see in a post-credits scene. He needed reassurance that Hannibal is capable of killing her, something he could never do to Will.

[shiningdesignersreflections]

Chapter 2: Surprise Guest

Narrated by Vivian.

Vivian: Chief, I think Lolory will make a good guest.

Narrator: There was a long moment of silence. For a second, I thought the screen really froze this time.

Narrator: Silence ensues. Then, the editor-in-chief finally pushes his glasses up and starts speaking.

Chief Editor: You do realize that we're called Miraland Geographic, right?

Vivian: Of course I do.

Chief Editor: And do you also realize what they call Lolory, right?

Vivian: Ambassador of Elegance.

Chief Editor: So...

Chief Editor: Are you trying to change the show into another "Beauty and the Beast"?

Vivian: Hmm... That doesn't sound too bad!

Chief Editor: Beixi, what do you think?

Narrator: I thought Jiang Beixi would dismiss the idea as ill-conceived, but instead she says...

Jiang Beixi: Your candidates would make excellent academic advisors or remote guests, but due to their advanced ages, getting them on the show is risky.

Narrator: She says in a calm and unhurried voice as she types away at the keyboard. It takes her no time at all to get a file sent.

Jiang Beixi: I just sent you the info and rating data of Lolory's previous shows. She can handle everything from celebrity interviews to hit variety shows.

Narrator: She was fast! Even the most difficult of chiefs would not say no to a proposal as compelling as that.

Chief Editor: Okay. We'll do a pilot first to see how it goes.

Narrator: When I contact Lolory, she is on set. After pitching the idea to her manager, I get turned down.

Vivian: Is it that she's not comfortable with doing reality shows?

Agent: Lolory has done a reality show before. As you can see, her performance was impeccable.

Vivian: Is it Wasteland that she doesn't like?

Agent: Lolory is a fan of cultural diversity, but Wasteland is too far away, and her schedule doesn't permit long-distance travel.

Agent: Sorry, I have to go. Got work to do. Thank you for reaching out anyway. Hopefully we'll have opportunities to work together in the future.

Narrator: The agent was just being polite and didn't spill the real reason... perhaps they had misgivings. I have to be more well-prepared before trying again.

You: How did they manage to get Lolory on her last reality show?

Vivian: About that, the director said it was because Bebity agreed to do the show first.

Vivian: I don't do reverse psychology. It gets cheap attention that doesn't last. It's a far cry from innovation.

Jiang Beixi: Why does it have to be Lolory?

Vivian: Sports stars, travel bloggers, or scholars recommended by the editor-in-chief... they're the audience's ideas of a guest. But not Lolory... she'll be a surprise.

Vivian: Given her intelligence and sophistication, she'll handle the show well. Plus, she's popular. Having her on the show will help with the ratings.

Vivian: If you ask me why it has to be her, I guess it's instincts.

Vivian: My admiration for her goes back to high school when she left a deep impression on me during a magazine shoot.

Vivian: She was wearing an uncharacteristic gothic dress and holding a skull-topped cane. Her dangerous charm perfectly matched the cover title... Alternate Elegance.

Vivian: Just imagine what happens when her unique charm meets the primitive and unbridled beauty of Wasteland.

Jiang Beixi: A perfect contrast?

Vivian: Exactly!

Vivian: I was wondering, though, why you agreed to my decision that day without asking any questions?

Jiang Beixi: Admittedly, sometimes you don't do things by the book, and you always think out of the box. And...

Jiang Beixi: To be honest, I just had this subconscious urge to support you. It could be our bond as long-time partners, or it could just be my instincts.

Vivian: When I first met you, you looked like the most unlikely person to go with instincts.

Jiang Beixi: Well, change happens in unexpected ways. For example, you once came close to quitting the Wasteland shoot, but now you're persuading others to do it.

Narrator: That's true. The charm of Wasteland won me over and gave me new ideas. From that perspective...

Vivian: I know a way to pique Lolory's interest, and it's going to work this time!

Jiang Beixi: Okay then, I'll go get prepared for the shoot.

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

[mysimsdiary]

Part 20 - It was an ordinary day at Elio's workplace, bustling with activity as usual. He was focused on his tasks when a group of people with cameras and clipboards approached him. Their polished outfits and confident demeanor immediately set them apart—they were a film crew scouting locations.

“Excuse me,” one of them said, stepping forward. “Are you Elio De Luca?”

Elio turned, a little startled. “Yes, that’s me. Can I help you?”

The crew’s director smiled. “We’re from Stellar Films. We’re scouting locations for our next big production, and someone mentioned you work here. We think this area could be perfect for a key scene in our movie, and… well, you’d be perfect, too. Have you ever considered acting?”

Elio raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Acting? No, that’s not really my thing.”

The director chuckled. “You’ve got a great presence, and your workplace has such a unique charm. Imagine this as the backdrop of a heartfelt scene. It’s exactly what we’re looking for. Plus, it could bring attention to your work and the area.”

Elio’s expression softened, but he shook his head. “I appreciate the offer, but this place isn’t about glamour or the spotlight. It’s a space for honest work, not a stage. I wouldn’t feel right letting it become part of a film for the sake of me playing a role. I’m just a guy doing his job.”

The crew looked disappointed but respected his decision. “We understand,” the director said. “It’s refreshing to meet someone so grounded. Thank you for your time, Elio.”

After they left, Elio couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt, but he knew he’d made the right choice.

---

That evening, Elio shared the story with Bria as they sat in the living room, Avia crawling around on the floor with her favorite stuffed toy.

“Wait, a film crew wanted *you* to be in their movie?” Bria teased, smirking. “Guess I’m married to a star now.”

Elio laughed, shaking his head. “Hardly. I told them no. I love what I do, and I don’t need the spotlight to make it meaningful.”

Bria leaned in, kissing his cheek. “That’s why I love you. You stay true to who you are.”

Later that night, as Bria cleaned up after dinner, Elio took Avia to her room. He sat with her in the rocking chair, pulling out a brightly illustrated toddler book from the shelf.

“Okay, little one,” he said softly, cradling her in his lap. “Let’s see what adventures we have tonight.”

Avia snuggled against him, her tiny fingers clutching his shirt as he read the story aloud. His voice was calm and steady, and Avia’s eyelids began to droop halfway through the book. By the time he reached the last page, she was fast asleep.

Elio kissed her forehead and carefully laid her in her crib, tucking her in with her favorite blanket. Standing there for a moment, he watched her sleep peacefully.

As he returned to the living room, Bria looked up from the couch and smiled. “She asleep?”

“Out like a light,” Elio said, sitting beside her. “I’ll never need a movie or fame. Everything I need is right here.”

Bria rested her head on his shoulder, and they sat in comfortable silence, knowing their life together was the greatest story of all.

Previous - Next

[orginllazyblog]

The Only Sea Sepant: Leviathan

Mizuki Abyss Story

Warning: deaths, side characters u just meet leaves, negative parents

Where should I start? I guess I'll start off my 1st life when I was the second eldest Imperial Princess. I was once adored by everyone by my natural beauty. One night, I was wandering around the Palace Garden until I encountered a terrifying demon. I thought those creatures don't exist. I remember like it was a never-ending nightmare.

"Your beauty is just like the moon. Skin so light, and your eyes shine like the stars. Won't you be my bride?~"

Of course, no! I have standards and my responsibilities as the princess. Eventually, the demon got so mad that I thought I was going to be a goner.

"You shall regret your decision. I place this powerful ancient curse upon you: You shall never receive love, and you'll die at a young age repeatedly."

The next morning, I was public executive by my envy elder sister. She was jealous not only by my beauty but that I had more love from the King and Queen and the people.

"She made a deal with a demon! I saw it with my own eyes!"

"The Eldest Princess is right! I saw it too!"

Well, she was right about me with a demon, but if she only witnessed me being cursed by the demon, then it was a misunderstanding. I wanted to yell, scream, and plead with my old parents that I would never do such a thing. All I saw was the disgusted face.

Slash

I died at the age of 15.

●•○•●●•••○○○●●•○○••●•

If I knew this was just a dream, then I wouldn't have rested. In my second life, I was reborn as an ordinary citizen. The parents... they were not very affection. With what's going on, a century has passed after I died as a princess, and a war has been going on for years. My secondary parents wanted a boy who would join the military, you know, all that wanting a boy because it's better than a girl cliché.

"If you were a boy, we could have a better life."

"I wanted a son, not a dumb girl. Who's going to take my place as the war general? Just get out of my sight!"

I wanted to cry, but that would make it worse. As I grew up a bit, maybe at the age of 10, I decided to take my old man's place. I cut my hair to disguise myself to be more masculine and work out to build muscles. I didn't tell them I was going to war, so when was 13, I took most of the food, clothes, boots, and lastly, old man's weapon. Did I leave a note? Nah! I learned that if I gave a little affection to them, I might die in the next minute. I wanted to live to at least above 15 years old.

I joined the army not only to end the war but to feel what it is like to be alive. I was then again the top and strong soilder the military has ever seen. I received jealous stares from the other soldiers, which I didn't care about. The only person who welcomed me was a guy who admired my strength. Terrance? Jeffery? I can't remember his name. I thought I got rid of this feeling, but I couldn't help but fall in love with him. He was cute, reliable, and honest. We were sometimes paired sometimes for quests, so we were able to hang out secretly.

What came to my mind was as long as I didn't confess this 'feeling' to him to remain friends. To twsit the curse. I was wrong.

"####! WE HAVE TO LEAVE THIS TOWN!"

Screams everywhere around the small town. People were running to the exit as the enemy was almost approaching. My crush was running the opposite, trying to find a lost child who was separated from their mother. I reached out to him to tell him we had to leave. This can't happen..why? Why do you have such a kind heart?

"####... you were a good friend. I just want to see my love who is waiting for me up there in the sky. Thank you, ####"

BOOM

Not only I got friend-zone, I died again at the age of 15.

Again

__________________________________________________

They say that a third time is the charm. But I was almost losing my mind of this never-ending nightmare.

In my third life, the time period is more modern than the previous lives. So I started off with a new mom and dad, but this time, a twin brother. I didn't know what to feel since I had a bad relationship with my older sister in my first life. This time, I'm the older one than him.

"Lisa! Can we go to the park?"

"Sure thing, Haneul. Let me ask mom first."

I had to remind myself that if I showed or had real love affection, then my death will come for me.

As I thought, there was another war, which led to another dispared.

"Big sister!"

"Haneul!"

My memory was blury as I can only recall my twin brother being taken away from me as soldiers were kidnapping us when we were just children. As for the parents, I believe they were already dead.

Years passed since that incident, I managed to sneek to a cruise ship to escape to a different country.

It wasn't because I didn't like my home country, it was because I was almost turning 15 years old. I was scared.

When I arrived to another country, I thought I could be safe this time, though this time I was a girl,again, which makes things worse.

If it weren't for the person who stood out for me, Esméralda, I would have been dead already by those men.

"Are you alright, child?"

"Um...yes, t-thank you."

"Hmm...do you have a family looking for you? I can help you find them."

"...I don't have a family...not anymore."

"Well, now you do. I can simply adopt you. I'm already at a age where I'm supposed to start a family of my own. Would that be alright with you?"

"B-but...I'm..."

I didn't know how to tell them back then. Would they believe me if I was curse-

"I can help you lift off your curse."

"Eh?!"

So Esméralda took me to their house where its far away from cities. The house was indeed beautiful back to what I remember.

"What's your name, child?"

"I'm Lisa."

"Well then, Lisa. Can you tell me about your curse?"

I explain everything I can remember. I told them that a powerful demon placed this curse, which every time I felt true love either to family or lover, I die. I even told them I would die very soon by the time I aged to 15 years old.

"Lisa, remember this, I can only change a bit of this curse. Since this is a demon work, it would be difficult for me. Now, lay down on this couch."

"Okay."

I did what I was told. I lay down on the couch as 'she' did her 'magic'.

"Hac maledictione nova, antequam ad quadraginta annos perveneris, vives; Ut letalem hanc maledictionem frangas, te et socium verum amorem esse sentias. Si particeps tua idem sentiat, frangatur maledictio. Utrum corporis intimitas sit necne, libertatem senties."

("With this new curse, you shall thou live before you reach at the age of forty; To break this deadly curse, you and your partner must feel true love. If your partner feels the same way, the curse would be broken. Whether it's physical intimacy or ot, you shall feel freedom.")

_______________________

Back to the present time

Mizuki: And that's how we both meet

Mizuki was explaining to the Ramshackle residents such as their old friend Esmeralda or Esme, now known as Yueme. The trio ghosts who were complete shock, and as for grim was holding back his tears.

Mizuki: I think my curse is gone as I would have been reborn to a human again.

Yueme: So what are now?

Mizuki: Hmm...

Mizuki: The current mom side of the family were the first generation of early sirens, and my old man is a literal demon.

Yueme: ???

Grim: ???

Trio Ghosts: ???

Mizuki: Yeah, I know. I'm some kind of hybrid. But as time went by, the noble demons noticed my abilities. Chernabog, the demon king, gave me the title of the new sin of envy; Prince of the Deep Abyss, Mizuki Abyss.

Grim: Myaah! That's so cool!

Trio Ghosts: This Chernabog person seems to be the chill guy

Yueme: So, does that mean?

Mizuki: Yes, I got the materials for the dorm uniform!

And that is how your twst oc's old bestie join you in Twisted Wonderland.

One thing I need to mention is that I used to be in Obey Me fandom way back in...2019 or 2020?

I left that fandom for one good reason: my phone broke, and I forgot the password of my obey me account. I HAD AT LEAST TWO OR THREE UR CARDS THAT WERE LIMITED

I was not going to redo the whole family drama story again.

Also, I'm going to redo Mizuki's design bc I realize the deep sea creatures are dull colors. I had them with white hair with light blue highlights, so it wasn't going to make sense.

[veinsandknuckles]

Brad Bakshi x inexperienced reader?

This was a fun challenge, I haven't written an inexperienced reader insert in a long time! I chose to play it like the reader kind of gave up trying because of at least one not-so-great previous encounter but everything else and all the details are up for interpretation. Let me know what you think!

Oh, Wolfie (pt 1)

Brad Bakshi/f!reader Rated mature (for now) Not BETA'd Warnings: mentions of bad previous sexual experiences, slight D/S dynamics, Brad can be interpreted as being a decent person An office party is the perfect place to make some bad decisions and a Halloween costume is a wish your heart makes. --------- “And what are you supposed to be?”

“Brad from monetisation.”

The annual office halloween party was getting into full swing, you’d had a couple of drinks and they had convinced you it was a great idea to screw up your courage and finally try to catch Brad’s attention. You leaned (casually, you hoped) on the doorframe to his office where he’d spent most of the party behind his desk. The few times he’d had to leave to use the facilities or grab some coffee, he’d made a big show of how embarrassing this whole thing was. You knew, because your eyes always followed Brad.

“Not scary enough for you?” he asked and you shrugged, noncommittally. He certainly scared you, in the best possible way. “What about you?”

You looked down at your outfit. Wasn’t it obvious? You put the hood back up, just in case. “Little red riding hood.” You’d opted for safe rather than daring, but it was still pretty cute. The dress could have been longer. 

“Babe in the woods, huh?” Brad looked you up and down and you had to tense all over not to shrink away from him. “Yeah, I guess I can see it.”

You quickly raised the sticky single-use cup to your lips to hide your embarrassment. 

“So why are you bothering me?” he asked. “Shouldn’t you be out there getting into trouble?”

“I just wanted to check if you wanted anything.” Oh no, that was too broad a hint. You were really floundering here... “I don’t know. A drink or something.”

Brad gave a little laugh. “Right. Well, I have a drink.” He lifted his mug of coffee. “Thanks, though.”

You did your best not to look too disappointed and nodded to him. “Alright then, I’ll... let you get back to work. Maybe I’ll see you later.”

Brad watched you with an amused look and gave a lazy wave as you turned to leave.

It had been worth a shot. Up until just now, you’d kept your little crush a careful secret and since you never really had to interact much around the office, Brad had probably barely noticed you. Silly to think you could entice him to join the crowd with just a word.

 You knew it was for the best and tried to let that be some comfort. When Brad took an interest in anybody it usually didn’t do them any favours... but he was so handsome, so confident and so self contained. Whenever he was within your arm’s reach, you felt weak and lightheaded every time. You couldn’t help thinking a few bruises could be worth it if they came from him. --------

There was a stairway to the roof. No one was supposed to come up here, but you’d been let in on it a few weeks ago as the perfect spot for a quiet lunch break or a hideaway when work got a little too intense. Someone had gone through the trouble of carrying up a mismatched set of of lawn furniture and a couple of old flowerpots to use as ashtrays. A part of the jutting roof protected the seats from the worst of the weather and tonight, a string of lanterns were wound around the railing, competing with the stars and the city lights for twinkling beauty. This little spot was fast becoming a very open secret - after tonight, it probably wouldn’t be much of a secret at all. When you’d opened the door and stepped out here to cool off, you’d caught two lovebirds almost in the act and tactfully turned your head to let them slip away unrecognised. 

You leaned on the railing now and looked out at the skyline. Right now, it felt less lonesome to view the world from a distance than to see people up close - it was just turning into that kind of party. Your coworkers were fine, most of them were as kind and well adjusted as people ever got but you couldn’t help suspecting that if you stayed up here all evening, none of them would notice your absence.

Logic reminded you there were lots of lonely souls out there, but tonight you weren’t in the mood to be comforted by logic. It wasn’t just your impatience talking, it was disillusionment as well. Honestly, you didn’t want to date around and learn to settle, you didn’t want something grounded and reasonable, you didn’t want someone safe and normal, you wanted... oh, it was silly. 

The sound of the door swinging open behind you nearly made you jump out of your skin. As if in answer to your wish, Brad stepped quietly onto the roof and sauntered over to stand beside you. His smile was almost warm. 

“Nice view up here,” he said without taking his eyes off you. 

It might mean nothing or it might be a joke he didn’t want you to be in on, but you couldn’t stop the longing from welling up inside you. You probably couldn’t help it from showing, either. 

It had been such a long time since someone had touched you and the few times it had happened, the experience had left you so empty and rotten you felt as if you could happily go the rest of your life without it. But it couldn’t always be that bad, else why did anyone ever bother? With someone you really wanted...  You hoped despite yourself. So, let him see it. 

“Hey, Brad.” You cleared your throat. “I didn’t expect to see you outside of your office.”

He shrugged, then leaned on the railing and joined you in watching the city. Whatever reason had brought him up here, he seemed to be in no hurry. 

Eventually, you just had to ask. “If you hate these parties so much, why do you still show up?” 

Brad looked over at you and smiled again. “Why do you think we host them?”

“I don’t know. To keep up morale, bring people together, let them blow off steam...”

“That’s one way to look at it.”

“What’s your way?”

“The way I see it, you’ve got a whole building full of people who spend all day every day driving each other crazy - I can guarantee you that every single person down there has at least one coworker they obsessively fantasise about killing. Or fucking, or both. We know that, and we still let them back in after hours, dim the lights and ply them with alcohol.” Well, at least Brad didn’t seem to have any trouble being honest with you. That was something, although you weren’t sure what. He went on, sounding pleased. “The last thing you want from an employee is a clear sense of boundaries.”

You wondered who Brad fantasised about fucking and/or killing. You might have assumed he was above it, but it didn’t sound as if he was really above anything. “But why do you show up in person? Is it just to watch the carnage?”

He shrugged. “If you wanna get dirt on your colleagues, there’s no better time than an office party.” 

Another characteristically cynical take. Did he ever think about anything else? You scratched some of the paint off of the railing and watched the flakes float down like confetti. “You’re not going to find much dirt up here.”

“No?” Brad seemed to be watching you carefully. “There’s no one you’d like to... introduce to the copying machine?”

You met his gaze and held it. When you replied, your voice sounded very small. “Maybe there’s someone.”

He wasn’t going to break away either - your nerve held out another couple of seconds, then you lowered your gaze and took another sip of your drink.

“...how many of those have you had?” he asked and his voice was lower now, too. You thought you heard a promise there.

“It’s just water,” you replied. 

“Still...” he seemed to deliberate. “Are you sure you know what you're asking?”

“Please, Brad,” you whispered. It slipped out before you’d had a chance to think it through. 

He could deny you, that was fine, but you just couldn’t let him believe you didn’t mean it. You had no power around here, nothing he could want to use. What you did have, he was welcome to. As long as he knew that, right now nothing else seemed to matter and you just couldn’t make yourself care whether things got awkward or whether or not he’d treat you right. 

Your hand trailed across the railing and found his, slim and strong and warm. He took yours and his thumb traced a lazy pattern across your palm. That was enough to make you shiver, and Brad laughed.

“Wow, you’ve got it bad...” He tugged on your wrist, and you took a step closer. His voice was almost a whisper. Perhaps he was speaking more to himself than to you. “Yeah, I could have fun playing with you.”

You gasped. “Please...”

“You said that already.” Brad slipped an arm around your waist and pulled you close, then brushed his nose against yours to make you look up at him. 

It was a wonder you didn’t fall to a puddle at his feet. That wasn’t just your attraction to him, although that was strong enough. He was older, he was gorgeous, he was cruel, he had no reason to care enough to be gentle or patient with you, and you’d never expected this little hope of yours to stand a chance - how could you ever keep up with him? How was it not painfully obvious you didn’t know what you were doing?

Before you could warn him, he leaned in and kissed you, soft and teasing, once, twice, until you let yourself go soft and pliant in his arms and parted your lips to let him in. When his tongue grazed yours, you moaned, a weak and needy little sound. That seemed to do it for him because he pressed you against the metal bars and his next kiss was rough. Whatever you’d stirred in him, you liked it and prayed he wouldn’t reign it in too much. After a moment or two, Brad pulled away to let you breathe and his teeth raked across your bottom lip. 

“Oh God,” you gasped. Even with both hands clinging to his clothes, you felt in danger of collapsing. 

Brad tangled his fingers in your hair and pulled back, slow but hard. It didn’t even cross your mind to complain or resist, you just whimpered and bared your throat. He grinned at that and it looked beautiful. And then you felt his other hand, hot and greedy, trailing up your leg and slipping under your skirt and you gasped again, shivering all over. 

It was too much, too soon. At least, it would be if you didn’t tell him, not because you were scared but because you wanted it so badly and you needed him to know what it meant. Being honest with him would make you vulnerable, and you wanted to be vulnerable. You wanted him to hold all the cards, take charge, lead you and know exactly what he was doing to you. The small part of you that was still thinking somewhat clearly also reminded you that he might be frustrated with your inexperience - or even worse, he might be into it in a way you couldn’t be comfortable with. 

You had to know. Better to know now than later. 

You grabbed his wrist and held him in place.

“Brad, I’ve got to tell you something.”

He leaned out and eyed you apprehensively. “...What?”

“I... I haven’t really...” God, what a time to become tongue tied. 

“You’re not about to tell me you’re a virgin, are you?”

“No. I mean... no, not technically.”

Something in his look softened a little. “Alright, I get the picture.” He sighed and watched you, trying to gauge what you meant and what you wanted. Either he was being more of a gentleman than you’d ever expected him to be or, more likely, he was recalculating the odds of you becoming clingy afterwards.

“I know this is just for tonight,” you insisted. “I’m happy with that, just...”

“You want me to go slow and make an effort.” He snorted, but didn’t seem annoyed. “Yeah, I can do that.”

[random-genshin-things]

Savior (Childe x Medic Reader) Ch 9

Link to Ch 8

Link to Ch 1

.

The trip back from Guili Plains was a blur and you honestly don't remember much of it. Tartaglia kept glancing at you as if making sure you were still there, even though he had a firm grip on your hand. When you two had finally let go of each other and made the decision to return to Liyue Harbor Tartaglia had offered his hand to help you up and couldn't bring himself to let go. Your scream kept replaying in his mind like a broken record. Along with all of the thoughts of what could have happened to you that plagued his mind.

He could have actually lost you.

That thought struck real fear into the heart of the battle hungry trained warrior. Fear was something Tartaglia hadn't felt in a long time. The feeling only served to reinforce the inkling that he had grown fond of you and attached to you. In the back of his mind, Tartaglia knew how he felt. La Signora had scoffed at him and told him to let it go. Scaramouche had laughed at his efforts to find you. But Tartaglia knew the moment he woke up in Mondstadt.

He was absolutely in love with you.

There were so many things he wanted to experience with you. He couldn't lose you now or ever. He hadn't had the chance to take you to dinner, just the two of you; or walk along the harbor at night and look at the stars. He hadn't had the chance to show you all of the fun places he'd found in Liyue. He hadn't taken you to Snezhnaya!

You still needed to experience a Snezhnayan winter and meet his family. Tartaglia could picture it perfectly. The two of you, sitting drinking warm sbiten after a snowball fight with his siblings. His siblings would adore you. Teucer would be so excited to meet you and play in the snow. Tonia and Мамочка (Mamachka) would fawn over you, excited to welcome another daughter and sister into the family. They would be especially excited to teach you how to cook traditional Snezhnayan dishes. Tartaglia would also get the chance to cook dinner for you. He wanted to show you that he could be a good partner. He wanted you to know that he would take care of you, provide for you, and love you with everything he was worth.

Your voice broke Tartaglia out of his daydream. "Thank you for saving me... I guess this means we're even huh." You kicked a rock along the path and watched it bounce in front of you.

Tartaglia smiled slightly. "It was never about that." As his soft words reached your ears you lifted your head giving him a clear view of the confusion on your face.

"Everything I've done wasn't an effort to repay you... It's because I want to be with you."

Tartaglia clarified. He was laying bare his inner thoughts for you to understand.

He watched your face morph into utter shock as you mumbled his statement back at him

"You... want to be with me...." Your voice trailed off as the realisation really began to set in. The true meaning behind his actions washed over you as he spoke his next words.

"You don't have to give an answer right now. But I plan to court you until you tell me to stop."

.…….

You were in absolute shock as Tartaglia let you in on his innermost thoughts. He had been courting you the whole time and that reality was only just now sinking in.

"I want to be with you."

"I plan to court you..."

He was in love with you. You felt a warm feeling wash over you at his confession. A smile was pulling at your cheeks and you couldn't stop it if you tried. How could a few words make your entire body feel so tingly? Was this what people meant when they talked about butterflies in their stomachs? It must have been. What shocked you almost more than his words was how delighted they made you feel. Maybe Anya was right.

You had fallen for Tartaglia.

You were grateful that he was giving you time to sort through your thoughts and feelings. While one part of you undeniably wanted to throw your arms back around him, your more rational side knew it wasn't that simple. Anya had already expressed her dislike and hesitation. And you knew Monika and Jean-Pierre would be even harsher. Not to mention to truly love him you had to accept all sides of him. That meant loving the man who was a Harbinger with a penchant for fighting, not just the sweet family man who loved children and was showing you around Liyue Harbour. There was a lot to consider and likely many things that would come up later that you hadn't even thought of yet. Love and life were rarely ever simple. But one thing was certain in your mind: you wanted to keep seeing him.

You gave Tartaglia's hand a squeeze. "I can't give you a complete answer... But I like you. A lot." It was the best response you could give at the present moment and you hoped it would portray your wishes to keep seeing him and getting to know him more.

Tartaglia's whole face lit up as if your words had given him a hope he'd rarely allowed himself to even dream of. He gave you a dazzling smile and squeezed your hand in return.

"That's enough for me. I'll just have to try harder to make you fall for me completely so you can tell me confidently that you want to be with me too."  His words were full of confidence and he laughed as he finished speaking. It was a playful laugh full of pure joy.

.……

It was dark by the time you returned to Liyue Harbor. The harbour is beautiful at night when the buildings are lit up and the lights bounce on the water. Tartaglia walked you back to your inn where Anya was waiting outside for you. She looked down at your intertwined fingers before locking eyes with you.

"So... where have you two been?" Anya's voice mimicked that of an accusatory father. Oh boy. You weren't getting out of this one.

"We went to Bubu Pharmacy then I headed towards Guili Plains to find you." You knew your words sounded like a sad excuse but it was also the truth.

Anya raised a brow. "But you didn't make it to Guili Plains, did you?" Her voice made it clearly had a thing or two she'd like to ask you.

"I ran into a ruin guard... Childe saved my life." You replied, tightening your hold on said man's hand. You didn't want her thinking the worst of him when he'd saved you.

Your statement shocked Anya. She let out a gasp and her tone immediately changed. "Oh my Archons. Are you alright?" She looked you over like a concerned mother checking for injuries.

"I'm fine thanks to Childe. Just exhausted." The rush and fall of adrenaline had taken a toll on your energy.

"Then I guess it's time for me to say good night. I'll see you tomorrow." Tartaglia gave a kiss to the side of your temple before letting go of your hand.

"Goodnight Childe." You watched as he turned to leave until Anya stopped him.

"Wait." Anya let out a sigh clearly swallowing up some of her pride. "Thank you for saving (Y/N)'s life... but don't get too comfortable." Anya crossed her arms over her chest and stared down Tartaglia.

Tartaglia let out a laugh, seeming completely unfazed by Anya's frosty words. "Good night to you both." Then he left with a wave. Once he was out of sight Anya turned to you.

"You have a lot of explaining to do. First, what was that?" She asked, propping her hands on her hips.

You gave Anya a sheepish smile. "Would you like to talk inside?"

Anya rolled her eyes but followed you to your room. Once inside, Anya crossed her arms over her chest and gave you a bored look.

"Now spill. Why were you holding hands with the Harbinger? And why is he kissing you good night?" Anya wasn't about to let you get away without explaining. You could feel yourself cringe.

You were never going to live this down.

"Well we've been spending a fair amount of time together..." Your reply trailed off as you tried to find a way to lessen the tension.

Anya's expression hardened. "You've known him for forty eight hours. You can't possibly form a relationship that quickly." Anya's reply was straight to the point and no nonsense just like she was.

"We're not in a relationship." You tried to defend yourself from the onslaught of your friend, but Anya gave you a knowing look. She knew that wasn't the whole story. You sighed in defeat.

"He told me he wants to be with me." You dejectedly admitted.

"So I was right. He's in love with you. If you don't set this straight he's never going to leave-" You cut Anya off.

"What if... what if I don't want him to leave." Your eyes darted anywhere except Anya. You didn't want to see your friend's disappointment.

Anya was silent for a moment. "Are you serious?" Her tone was more shocked than anything else. It was if she was trying to process this new information that hadn't been a part of her previous calculations.

You nodded your head slowly. "He's so sweet to me, Anya. And he fought to save me. I know why you have reservations and I'm sure Monika and Pierre will be even more upset. But I really do like him. When he confessed, I felt so excited; I was shocked by how strongly I felt. I'm not quite ready for a relationship. I do want to get to know him more. But I can't just walk away... when I might actually be in love with him." Your words came out in a hurried, jumbled mess as you tried to defend the way you were acting and feeling. But you needed Anya to understand where you were coming from.

Anya listened intently and sighed, bringing a hand to rest across her face. "I knew he'd be a problem... But if you really, truly... like him... I'll support you... I only want you to be happy. You're my closest friend. It would pain me greatly to see you hurt." She looked you straight in the eye as she spoke. Truly all she wanted was for her friend to be safe and happy.

You smiled in relief. "Thank you for understanding." You offered her a hug with your words.

Anya returned your hug and smile. "If he hurts you I'm making his life a living nightmare." She said before letting you go. You laughed as your friend bid you goodnight leaving you alone.

You were incredibly grateful for Anya's support knowing that even if your feelings continue to grow your other friends will not be so easily swayed. You could only hope that somehow they would come to respect your judgment and decision. But those were issues for another time. That night you fell asleep still thinking about Tartaglia's warm embrace and the soft kiss he'd left you with.

.

Link to Ch 10