#sorry spot... i just know that if i don't send them right away i probably won't upload them woops...

[ancha-aus]

Gifted drabble - New Age Au - The Eye of the Storm

Hey @spotaus !! I am back as I told you I would be because you gave me MORE brainworms! Remember us talking about the magic system? or me just yapping and rambling about it hahah.

And the thing you mentioned about how Geno would react to seeing Dust's storm? Yeah. Brainworms.

Either way. It can all still be changed as Spotaus and I discuss the magic system and how everything works.

So warning? ish? Deep intimacy by showing the soul. reference to past toxic relationship ship is DustedAfterDeath

This is them FAR beyond their toxic arc youall. They relationship is healthy and full of consent at this point :3

*---------------*

Dust frowns as he stares at the door.

It is fine.

It isn't that big of a deal.

Just get it over with.

Dust sighs as he rubs the soft cotton of his hoody. He is still in his casual wear for now. He had a few days off and he hardly ever wore his uniform on those days nowadays. Especially when Geno and Reaper visit.

He is still a bit unsure about this whole relationship between them. Dust wants to say he fully trusts them but... well... after...

It is hard.

Which is why Dust had decided to just make this jump. Fuck it. Show them the disgusting mess that is his soul and get it over with. They will see it. Be disgusted. Break off whatever this relationship is and be done with it.

Easy.

Dust takes another deep breath as he feels his storm around his soul rumble unhappily. He needs to remain calm. That will keep his storm calm enough to make it safe for them to look at it.

Dust does not want a repeat of the many times he zapped others with lightning. Even a tiny warning zap is stronger than a full blown lightning strike at this point. Dust frowns as he taps the doorknob. Maybe this isn't a good idea after all...

He may have enough control to form actual attacks but actually keeping it calm?

What if he hurts them? They will hate him...

Then again... if they see the mess that his soul is...

Or worse... Dust was right after all and Geno and Reaper just wanted to know how his storm works and it was all still fake. He was being blind again and falling for the exact same trick again.

Then again... they don't know how deeply connected to his soul it is. No one knows aside from Nightmare and his fellow Knights. They don't even speak about that out loud unless they are in a very secure room and know they are alone.

Even with all of Geno's past prodding and hinting Dust never told him that. Even if Dust knew that Geno wanted to know how he had such powerful magic. It was his secret. and Dust had been willing to take it to the grave with him...

Dust offered to show them his soul. Take the next step before they could move their relationship towards soulplay and other acts like it. They didn't know that they would find out the source of his magic...

Which brings him back to this exact point. Wouldn't it be better to just get it over with? If they really are still lying about everything... Wouldn't it be better to know it? To be able to let it go and move on?

Not that Dust thinks he can move on. If he could have he would have after the first mess that this relationship was.

But Dust is aparently an idiot because he is trying this again even if the chance it will hurt is much larger than the chance that this will be alright.

Okay that is not fair. They had been so much more honest about this whole relationship and Geno didn't even mention or ask about his magic since the mess that it had been. He also acutally paid attention to the few things Dust said now...

Then why did he still feel like a speciman? Like a project?

He doesn't like that... Feeling like that. It was why he was fine with being a crimelord before. Why he liked being a knight. No one looked at him with pity when he did either of those. Neither of those positions ever made people look at him like... like... some magical experiment...

His family had meant well... The mage who did this to save his life meant well... but it didn't change the way they looked at him... The worry he would just drop over and be gone. Then later the fear that the magic stabilizing him would just stop working... Then... Then the worry... after he started to cause damage.

Dust glares at the door. Fuck it. Either he is going to prove himself right that they really are still just after information and then he can finally bury these feelings and be done with it all. Or...

Or...

Dust shakes his skull as he pushes the hope down. Don't hope. That gets you hurt.

He knocks on the door and enters as soon as Reaper welcomes him in.

Reaper smiles brightly at him "Dust you are here already. How was your day off?"

Dust shrugs and mutters fine. He hadn't done that much today. Mostly spend time with the horses as he tried to not feel anxious about what he was about to do now.

Reaper keeps smiling "I am happy to hear this." He shoots his mate a look.

Geno looks terrible... mostly because he is obviously anxious and nervous, maybe even uncomfortable.

Dust huffs as he crosses his arms, feeling defensive "You can just say you aren't interested. It was just an idea." It had been Dust's idea after all.

Geno shakes his skull as he messes with soemthing in his lap. Some spell probably. Geno looks nervous "It isn't that i... don't want to... That isn't the issue... It is just... you never seemed comfortable with anything close to this... and then this?" he glances at Reaper.

Reaper picks up easily "Are you sure this is what you are comfortable with?"

Dust shrugs. He isn't. But it is best to get it over with. But the doubt either will like to hear that answer.

Reaper looks fond at him, it makes Dust's soul do this weird little flip thing it is unfair Reaper looks at him like that, "Can you please explain Dust? We wish to understand."

That is something that had surprised Dust. How much they want him to talk or tell them how he feels. Dust finds it unfair. Before Geno didn't even bother to listen to the few things Dust did talk about and now he pays attention? It is just so different. Dust isn't sure how to feel about it. It is nice but it also means he has to explain things he can't quite explain.

Dust searches for the right words "I want... you two to see... it." it. That is the best way to explain the storm.

Geno looks bothered as he loosk up "Why call your soul it?"

Dust shakes his skull. It isn't normal. It isn't healthy... This is dumb. They will both just be disgusted and then this little nice thing will be ruined forever.

Dust shrugs "It is hard to explain..." he decides to echo some words back "Open communication and honesty or something... Soul is not the... healthiest." there.

Reaper looks super worried as Geno looks slightly more horrified. Ugh. Yeah. that is what Dust figured. He tugs on his hood to enable himself to hide more. He wishes he still had his mask.

Reaper shakes his skull "No no love. Nothing against you... But is it safe for you then? To even summon and show your soul?" he looks worried. Geno keeps his mouth shut but he shoots both Dust and Reaper looks.

It is now or never.

Dust sighs as he takes a seat on the bed and shoots them both a look "Well?" and he waits. His hands feels the soft silky sheets on the bed. It calms him. The bed feels like the bed in his own room. Even though he prefers his cotten and woolen stuff. He keeps rubbing the sheets with his fingers as his two boyfriends take their own seats.

Both wait and share a look.

Geno grins a bit "Want me to show my soul first?"

Dust shakes his soul. He does not need to see a healthy soul before he shows his mangled one. Dust will just lose the nerve. Geno looks bothered but doesn't offer again.

Dsut takes another deep breath. Tugs his scarf higher and his hood closer around his skull before slowly tugging at this very core.

And there it is.

Dust always thought it was like a cloud. Just in a weird soul shape all around his actual soul. The tiny malnourished one that never was able to grow fully. The magic and his actual soul work well and seem to connect with tiny bolts of lightning. Dust doesn't even feel it anymore. So used to the constant zapping emitted to his very being... The zaps outwards obviously at much more harmful. as Dust can channel those into actual attacks.

He is not looking at either of them as he waits. Just because he is willing to hear it doesnt mean he wants to see the disgust and horror on their faces...

"It is beautiful..." Geno whispers and Dust can't help but snap up slightly to check. Geno is just staring with open awe at the mess that is his core. Geno doesn't even seem to notice it as he slowly reaches a hand out.

Dust moves the cloud away "Don't touch it!" he stresses it.

Geno blinks and looks confused before seeing his hand "oh shit! sorry. I didn't... i wasn't thinking... I swear i didn't... i wouldnt!" he looks anxious as he holds both arms behind his back.

Dust frowns as hekeeps looking at Geno "I mean it... I can't exactly... control it... It will zap you full force... I already fried Cross once and that was a non-lethal hit... I don't think it will like it if you get that close..."

Geno frowns but Reaper is the one who speaks "It? Why do you refer to the magic as an it?" He seems curious as he looks at the soul and spell. Seemingly enchanted.

Dust frowns as he looks at it "I... well... I tend to just call it my storm... as that is pretty much it..."

Geno seems nervous "I euh... Just so you know you can just tell me to stuff it... But... euh... why is there a very complex spell around your soul?" He looks at Dust and waits.

Dust frowns at him. He knows their question would come. It was to be expected. He looks at the spell and settles on telling the truth "It is my life support system."

Reaper jumps upright "What?" he glances at Geno "Is that normal?"

Geno looks horrified "No? Magic is too... unstable and unpredictable? Which mage... who would... why?" he sputters and seems shocked.

Dust feels more uncertain as he ducks his skull more into his scarf. It isn't that he is surprised but it still hurts... why does it still hurt so much? He knew this was going to happen.

He holds his storm closer as the rumbling in it intensifies with his own shaking emotions. This was a mistake. He recalls both and the soul and storm disappear.

That seems to snap Reaper and Geno out of their slight moment or horror and panic as they shoot him glances.

Geno inhales sharply as he reaches out "Wait! Sorry. Fuck I am sorry. I didn't mean anything negative i swear! I just don't understand. It is fine! It looked beautiful!" He smiles.

Dsut shrugs and mutters "It is fine... it is disgusting... i know..." He wants to leave. He wants to go to his room and cry a bunch... he tugs his scarf higher as he pushes back into his hood. He wants his mask. He wants to hide.

Geno shakes his skull "No. It really is gorgeous i swear! Like a geode!"

That causes him to pause and shoot Geno an disbelieving look "A geode?" the absolute absurb nature of that has to be commented on. A geode?!

Geno nods "Of course it does it is so obvious."

Dsut just raises a brow at him "Really?"

Geno nods with a stubborn tilt "summon it again! I will point it out." he holds up his hands "No touching! Just pointing."

Dust frowns but slowly brings the mess out again.

Geno grins as he scoots a bit closer before beginning to talk "Okay. It is really cool and pretty. Your soul itself is obviously the very center. Everything around it is like the geode itself protecting your soul. The crystalized minerals just barely touching your soul and that makes the colouring probably! The little crystals are all slightly differently forming and shaping and growing. Reforming new connections and growths." Geno points and motions towards the cloud nearest his soul "Around that sits the metaphorical layer of stone protecting it!" when he speaks about that he motions towards the very outer layer of his cloud.

Dust rolls his eye lights "How do you explain the zaps of electricity going outwards?" Like his storm knows waht he wants it makes a tiny zap.

Instead of looking confused Geno just gasps and stares "Holy that is beautiful... It is like... the start of anew crystal growing! It is so beautiful."

Reaper looks curiously at Dust "how do you see it?"

Dust looks to the side "You know... a storm cloud? obviously?" because it is? At least Dust thought that.

Reaper hums as he looks at it curiously "I can see both... though I think it looks more like..." and he stops.

Geno looks curiously at Reaper "what do you see?"

Reaper looks slightly embarrassed "Lets keep it at a gem and a beautiful cloud... that is much more romantic." and he smiles.

Dust tilts his skull "Come on. Tell."

Reaper sighs but stares at the soul and cloud around it with a gentle smile "It is... Sea urchin."

Geno snorts as Dust blinks confused. He had heard of those animals before but never actually seen one.

Reaper chuckles "Yes yes love. laugh it up." he looks amused.

Dust shoots him a look before looking at his soul and storm "why?"

Reaper hums and speaks slowly "Well... it is like a protective shell isn't it? Your soul is safely tugged away within the center. Where it is safe and protected by the larger shell around it." he motions towards the cloud before motioning towards the everlasting zaps "And the spines to protect the treasure that lays hidden."

Dust frowns at his soul. He never... He never thought about his soul as either of those things... His soul was just the mangled thing... while his storm was the thing powering him and keeping him whole.

Not the center of a crystal cluster thing... Not something that had a shield and spikes to protect it...

Geno scoots over and looks curiously "Why... why is that magic there? if you are okay with me knowing... It is okay if you are not..."

Dust frowns "I told you... life support..."

Reaper sits nearby "How came it to be like that?"

Dust shrugs as he messes with the magic around his soul. It doesn't harm him in the least "I wasn't exactly... healthy... When i was younger. Never was. Had no energy. Hardly any magic. I am pretty sure the doctors told my folks i wasn't even meant to survive for longer than a year... but I managed... until i was suposed to start puberty."

Geno frowns as he nods "It is when our magic and souls start to truly develop."

Dust nods "I don't.. I don't know exactly what was wrong. They never told me in details. I just know that suddenly it burned and hurt... turns out the magic that was starting to develop was kinda... burning my soul out. My soul was too weak to keep up wiht the growth it needed to help support me." He frowns "I remember many doctors and mages." them all prodding him and mentioning how it was a miracle he had even been alive as he had been. More interested in learning how his magic burned himself than anything. He thinks some of them even asked his parents if he could be a study case. "One of them had an idea... a complex web of spells to help center the magic or something and to use it to power my soul... That was at least how it was explained to me after i started to feel better."

Geno shoots upright "Wait! They didn't ask you?!"

Dust snorts "What could you expect? I was hardly awake as it was... Not like I could have given my agreement..." he shrugs "It saved my life..."

Reaper gently takes his hand and kisses it slowly. Dust can see how slow Reaper moves. Probably making sure his own magic doesn't react badly. "It is your soul love... Even if it saved your life it should still have been your choice. As it is your right."

Geno messes with his own hands "That is why... You didn't want to talk about your magic... it isn't a spell that is even meant to attack... It is your soul's whole support system... I am so sorry...." he looks away. ashamed "I know i apologised... before for pushing and everything... I am so sorry I was..." he laughs as he looks down shocked "Pretty much trying to force you to talk about your soul and show it to me? what the hell was wrong with me?"

Dust shrugs "You didn't know..." he tugs his soul back into his actual body and breaths a sigh of relieve.

Reaper frowns at him "Are you okay?"

Dust shrugs "I am fine... Just tired..." He gives a tired grin "It isn't just my suport system for my soul... My soul can't exactly make the magic and energy i need. It barely makes enough for my soul itself."

Geno stares in shock "Everythign... the spell pwoers everything about you? How..." he freezes and stops "Wait. Sorry. It isn't... it is interesting but you don't need to... I mean yes i want to know but." he glares down frustrated.

Reaper still holds his hand as he rubs the back of Dust's hand "I think what Geno means to ask is... How is it possible? How is the spell still there? In my experience spells don't last long. I know my magic is about momental protection. Not a constant force."

Dust looks at them for a moment. They don't... they don't stare at him like those mages and doctors. there is worry. but they also keep holding him. keep being near. They aren't afraid of him...

Dust figures if they haven't pulled away in disgust yet... All he risks now is his trust being betrayed which wouldn't be the first time.

Dust rubs his neck "From what i udnerstand... The weather powers it. Natural rain, hail, wind... actually everything connected to storms power it..."

Geno blinks in awe "Your storm... That is why you call it your storm and a cloud... because it is... wow..." he jsut continues to stare with open awe "It is powered by an outside constant force... adn that powers you..." he frowns "Should you be throwing lightning around then?"

Dust looks around confused "euh?"

Geno gives him a bit of a glare "I mean it. Is it even healthy for you to be throwing lightning around? Waht if you run out." more anxious and stress on his face.

Dust nods "It is fine... I before couldn't even pick when it happened. it just happened. At most i give it a target." he grins a tiny bit "there is a reason that Killer calls the spell i use 'fuck you lightning'... I don't exactly got a lot of other spells..."

Reaper chuckles and nuzzles Geno "Calm down love. trust him. He knows himself and his magic best. If he thinks it is fine it is fine."

Geno shoots Reaper a look but takes adeep rbeath and nods "right... right... sorry... i just... don't like how unpredictable it is. How will we know it will keep you safe and healthy if we aren't sure it will manage itself? That it will stop you from shooting to much lightning?" he rubs his hands "I also used to overuse my own magic. As magic rarely gives you a warning you are running out until you are almost completely out."

Dust just listens to the other. He... he isn't even asking about how he can control or replicate it. How he can use it. All geno is worried about is it somehow getting unbalanced...

The fear slowly disappears...

Which is when his body decides to make it very obvious it does not appreciate Dust removing his storm from his body. He yawns and feels his socket becoe heavier. Yeah. he expected as much.

Geno looks panicked as Reaper rubs his back "Are you alright?"

Dust shrugs as he rubs the sleep from his sockets "I am fine. Body doesn't appreciate me removing my soul for a long time. Just need to give it time to settle and calm down."

Reaper hums as he pulls Dust slowly against him "You can rest. thank you for trusting us with this love." a soft kiss to his skull as Dust lounges against Reaper. Reaper's clothes are always warm and brimmed with magic. reinforced to make sure Reaper's deadly magic doesn't get through if he is stressed. It makes for a very soft living pillow.

Geno meanwhile is muttering about maybe making a tiny sensor. Just to give Dust a warning signal in case his magic levels get dangerously low. Just as an extra warning and protection for him. Reaper chastises Geno gently but Dust isn't paying much attention.

He is exhausted. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. But it was worth it. Maybe he didn't have to be worried after all.

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Cold Jealousy

I am back once again with more Silco brain rot. Feeding all of you who need the content as well as myself.

Summary: Who knew jealousy was all it took for to have your first kiss with Silco?

He hates the coiling in his stomach that arises whenever you laugh at something a patron says. It sickens him, seeing you lean in so close to another man, your lips moving as you say something and then smile, causing the table to burst into laughter. He knows you're simply close friends with them, after all they are your childhood friends, people who grew up with you, so of course you'd act overly familiar with them but he can't stop his chest from tightening, his fingers twitching.

The nib of his pen pierces through the page he was writing on and he scowls angrily at the mess, trying to drown out your voice but it's intoxicating, a melody that snatches his attention away from the numbers in his notebook. Your laughter is like a drug, leaving him wanting more every time he hears it, and the thought that it's someone else eliciting it drives him insane.

"You alright there?" Vander slides him a glass of scotch, worry clear gentle grey eyes.

"I'm fine," Silco spits back, a little harsher than intended. Of course Vander would notice something was off, Vander knew him way too well. He turns back to his notebook, trying to suppress the whispers that begin to cloud his mind and stares at the numbers, willing them into his brain.

"You know they only have eyes for you right? They don't look at anyone the same way they look at you." Vander glances over at the table where you're currently playing a game of cards, and from the looks of it, losing.

"I know," Silco scowls, stabbing the page with his pen. Vander simply huffs and turns to attend to the customer who just pulled up at the counter. Silco rolls his eyes and closes the notebook, he's done for the night. There's no way he can continue concentrating when you laugh like that, when butterflies flutter in his chest and turn to stone as he remembers you're not laughing at something he said or did.

"I'm going to get some air," he grunts, slipping out the back door.

Out of habit, he makes his way to the rooftop, sitting at his usual spot and looks out at the sprawling underground city beneath. Neon lights flash from various stores like stars, illuminating figures as people walk past but the silhouettes disappear just as quickly, fading back into obscurity. It's the same pattern every night, he's memorised some of the figures already, knows the habits of certain individuals, and has noted the important ones. He spots the lady with twin brown hair buns who frequents the brothel opposite, the two enforcers who always sneak into the nearby drug store during their nightly patrol and nearly misses the sound of your footsteps.

"Hey." You take your seat next to him.

"Y/N." He barely spares you a glance before looking back at the city below. The night wind whistles through the air, sending shivers through his body and he curls up, hugging his knees to his chest. Dammit, he forgot his coat. The air here is chillier at this time of the year, being so far away from the hustle and bustle of the city's nightlife, but it brings a sense of peace that he treasures, especially when it's with you. Tonight, it just feels cold, probably from his lack of a coat, but there's a numbness he can't explain.

The clink of glass snaps him out of his thoughts and he glances up to see you produce a bottle of wine as well as two glasses.

"Sorry, I couldn't swipe a bottle of scotch so I grabbed the next best thing before anyone could catch me," you smile at him and pop the bottle open. The red liquid sloshes in the glass as you fill it up and hand it to him, "peace offering?"

He wrinkles his nose but takes the glass anyways, mumbling a thank you before letting the liquid slide down his throat. It doesn't have the same burn as scotch does, but there's still a pool of warmth that sits in his belly, although it does little to alleviate the chill he feels.

You smile and pour a glass for yourself, taking a sip, following the direction of his eyes. Silco swirls the red liquid around in his glass, biting his lip. The silence is awkward, but he won't be the first to break it, his pride won't let him. Fortunately, you shift closer to him and shrug your jacket off, wrapping it around his shoulders.

"Don't catch a cold on me."

He snorts in response, tugging your jacket tighter around himself. It smells nice, smells like you with a hint of his cigar's smoke. He can pick out the scent of wine, the smell of the soap you use to wash the jacket, the remnants of Piltover's smell from your afternoon stint and a small smile makes its way onto his face as he remembers the way you threw yourself at him, clutching a bag of freshly baked bread, laughing as you yelled at him to run for his life. The pool of warmth resting in his belly spreads to the rest of his body, sending tingles up his spine as he buries his face into the jacket's fabric. The fabric is worn but still maintains a certain level of softness, and it feels as nice as it smells.

He watches as you finish your glass and exchange it for the bottle, remembering his own unfinished glass and takes another sip. Scotch was still the best drink, a shame you didn't manage to filch a bottle of it. You down half the bottle in one go, sighing in satisfaction and gesture at his glass.

"You don't have to force yourself to finish it, you know?"

He scowls, and finishes the rest of his wine, all the while staring right at you. "As if I'll let you have any of mine."

You laugh, and he finds that your laughter sounds better when it's because of something he said than when it's because of something someone else said, besides, there's the added bonus of giddiness that fills him. He smiles, for the first time tonight and sets the glass down next to yours. The awkwardness has been broken, much to his relief and he feels as though he can breathe easier.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" You gesture towards the myriad of lights. "Piltover's lights can't compare to this."

"That's because most of their lights are the same colour," he snorts, "but yes…it is beautiful."

You beam, taking another swig from the bottle and set the bottle down, leaning back on your hands. The night breeze ruffles through your hair, playing with its strands and Silco watches as a couple of strands fall between your eyes, causing you to huff and puff at it until it falls off your face. The next gust of wind is stronger and you shiver, shifting closer to him. He shakes his head and throws the left half of your jacket over your shoulders so it covers the both of you.

"Don't you catch a cold on me either."

"Thank you for sharing my jacket." You roll your eyes, nudging his shoulder with your own. He nudges you back, the back and forth going on for a while until the jacket slips off your shoulder and he leans over to pull it back on. Electricity crackles from where his skin brushes against yours and he feels his heart leap into his throat when he looks up at you, realising how close the two of you are.

Sure, the both of you know how the other feels, knows the unspoken truth but continue to dance around each other, fearful of what acknowledging the feeling would bring, but tonight just feels right. He feels your hand intertwine with his and he leans in, throat bobbing as he swallows hard. You lean in as well and your lips meet for the first time.

The feeling is addicting, Silco quickly learns. The way your lips lock with his perfectly, the way you lean in as his fingers run through your hair, the way your free arm wraps around his waist, pulling him closer, all of this makes him wish this moment will never end. Unfortunately, the both of you need to breathe and so he reluctantly parts from you, pressing his forehead against yours. It feels natural, to feel your warmth, to hold you underneath your jacket, and from the way you're looking at him with such adoration in your eyes, you feel the same way.

It doesn't need to be said, nothing needs to be said, the only thing he needs to do is close the gap once more and taste the wine on your lips, savouring the sweetness of it all. This is the one time he will admit that wine tastes good, but he still prefers scotch.

Your hand gently cups his cheek and he finds himself leaning into the touch. Your thumb runs over his skin, brushing along his cheekbone and he sighs, surrendering to your warmth. A small smile graces your lips and he can't help but smile back, although his smile is rather lazy.

"We should head back before Vander has to come and haul us away," you murmur and Silco reluctantly extracts himself from your touch.

"And before he closes the bar up so that we don't have to wash the glasses." He picks said glasses up, nudging the empty bottle towards you. "You are still going to throw the bottle away, I'm not touching that."

"Why? You were so eager to touch my saliva just moments ago," you tease, mirth decorating your features.

"I'm not about to deny you your responsibilities." He ducks out of the way as you try to shove the empty bottle into his arms, quickly making his way back into the bar before you can succeed in making your problem his. He hears your annoyed shouts behind him and laughs, sliding into the bar's counter.

Vander raises an eyebrow as Silco places the glasses in the sink and darts off, then shakes his head as you come barreling in, demanding that Silco help you as payment for the wine he drank. He grabs the both of you by your collars and drops you both at the sink. "I believe washing everything in the sink will suffice as payment for the bottle of wine."

You groan when you see the amount of empty cups in the sink and Silco laughs, turning on the water tap. At least you're trapped in this with him, the washing should go by faster.

As the both of you hunch over the sink, you give him a little nudge with your elbow. "Next time, if you're jealous, just step in. I'll leave with you, I promise."

"Jealous?" He splutters. "I wasn't jealous!"

"Sure you weren't, Mr 'angrily stabs an innocent piece of paper with his pen'. Keep trying."

He huffs, turning his attention back to the glass he's currently wiping dry. "I wasn't jealous."

"Yeah yeah, keep telling yourself that. I doubt that changes facts though."

"Nobody said that was a fact."

You lightly punch him in the shoulder with your damp fist and he mock glares at you, smacking your arm with the drying cloth but can't stop the smile that's forming on his face.

"Don't ever doubt yourself," you say softly. "You mean everything to me."

And you mean everything to me too.

[cloudstrky]

get the memo - r.c drabble

an; don't ask me what this is ok idk just go with it

warnings; scary man follows reader

There is nothing more inviting for a man than locking eyes with him for a split second. Unfortunately, you learned that the hard way. While you were looking around the room trying to spot your best friend Rafe, your eyes locked with a guy you've never seen before (or maybe you had, you weren't really paying attention to anyone else but Rafe).

As it turns out, in a man's brain that fleeting eye contact means you want him. So he slowly, but surely makes his way to you. You try not to look when you feel him close to you and you try to move through the crowd speedily.

You try to ignore the way his slimy hand makes an effort or two to grab onto yours and you try to ignore the way he's trying to grab your attention with even more slimy pet names.

You may be panicking.

You've dealt with people like him before enough times to know a simple no thank you or not interested, won't cut it.

You're definitely panicking.

You finally spot Rafe in the back of the crowded room, standing with a beer in his hand, chatting with some people. He's standing there looking perfect in his white button-down and his light-wash jeans and for a second you almost forget what you were running from in the first place.

A slimy hand on your shoulder reminds you.

"Slow down sweet thing," you hear a chuckle and his voice, along with its condescending tone sends you over the edge.

You make a beeline for Rafe.

It's safe to say he's startled when your hand grabs his shirt tightly, pulling him on you. "Hey I've been-"

"Kiss me." You say absent-mindedly, cutting him off.

"What?" He's shocked, his beer still in his right hand. He brings his left hand up, cupping yours that was still stiffly holding onto his neatly ironed linen shirt.

You peek over your shoulder to check if the guy is still hot on your steps and you find that he is. Because after all, Rafe might as well be your cousin. It's not in man's nature to take a hint.

"Kiss me." You say more desperately this time.

"Yn what's w-"

You don't allow him to continue his sentence and waste more time. Rafe is quick to follow when you yank him forward by his shirt, crashing your lips to his. If he was shocked he was hiding it well because he wastes no second, cupping your cheek with his free hand and pulling you closer.

You melt into the kiss and forget the reason you asked for it in the first place when he deepens it. His hand travels from your cheek to your neck and down to your waist, holding you closely, pressing you against him. Your hand drops from his shirt and finds the belt loop of his jeans, trying to pull him impossibly closer.

Rafe is the first to pull away and you find yourself chasing after him for a split second. His hand squeezes your waist and he keeps his head close to yours, looking down at you with lust-filled eyes.

You allow yourself to get lost in them for a second before peeking over your shoulder again. "He's gone."

"Yeah?" Rafe rasps and your knees almost buckle.

Holy shit you just kissed your best friend.

Without his consent.

"Wanna try explaining this, pretty girl?" His voice is soft and his hand is still holding onto your waist.

You try to take a step back, horrified by the thought that you probably ruined your friendship, but he doesn't let you.

"There was a guy following me," you mutter, looking up at him through your lashes.

Rafe's eyes darken as he looks behind your shoulder looking for anyone suspicious before returning his gaze to you.

"Maybe we should kiss again, just to make sure he got the memo."

Your eyes widen and you shake your head no. "I'm sorry, I just panicked." You explain and Rafe nods, dropping his hand from your waist.

There's a hint of disappointment in his eyes at your refusal to kiss him again but you don't catch it.

"Glad to be of service, pretty girl."

Avoiding your gaze he brings up his beer, taking a big sip.

"I'm sorry," You mutter reaching out for his hand, "It was stupid, I shouldn't have done it."

He looks down at you and for a second you worry you've ruined everything. His eyes search for something in yours before leaning down and kissing you. It's hard and passionate and deeper and it catches you off guard but you lean into it, you lean into him and let him take over as he backs you up against the nearest wall. His hand greedily finds its place on your waist once again and you think that this is what heaven must feel like.

He pulls away first again and chuckles when he sees your shocked features. A warm honey-like chuckle that causes you to smile. Maybe you hadn't ruined anything after all.

"Sorry, I panicked." He teases and you slap his chest.

He has you locked against the wall and he's staring at you like a starved man. You never thought you'd see Rafe like this, let alone be at the receiving end of that stare.

"How about," he whispers, tucking your hair behind your ear, "you get the memo?"

"What?" you ask.

"Don't torture me any longer and fucking be mine."

[mae-gi-writes]

let it be me | kuroo tetsurou (1)

In which you, as a new divorcée, can't help but crush on your 4-year-old's new PE Coach.

genre: singleparent!reader x coach! Kuroo, fluff, acquaintances-to-lovers

---- part one | next part >>>

You know Kuroo Tetsurou before you officially meet him.

Why? Because he's practically a legend to your current four-year-old who's been talking about him nonstop from the moment you've strapped her into the car on the way back home.

"Apparently he was a--a volleyball champ!" Sakura chimes from the back as you swerve into the right lane in the direction of your tiny flat, "he knows how to serve from faaaar away, and --and when he serves, it's like--kapow! and boom! and whoosh! like that!"

You can't help but laugh because seeing your daughter so excited about volleyball is something you hadn't been expecting, not when you have two left feet and a stamina of a tiny pet rat.

"I'm glad you enjoyed your first week back," you meet her eyes in the rearview mirror with a smile, "that's good isn't it? Better than last year then?"

"Yes! I love Kuroo sensei!"

It seems that this particular teacher has specifically changed Sakura's view on school, and you had made a mental note to thank him.

But all thoughts of thank-yous and praise had flown out of your head the moment you bump into the said PE teacher in the corridor leading up to Sakura's class the next morning.

"Oh I'm so sorry!" You cry out, bending down to help him pick up the stack of papers that are now flying about and scattering at your feet, "here, let me help you--"

"It's Kuroo sensei!" Sakura chirps suddenly, causing your eyes to snap up at him.

Oh. So that's the PE teacher she's been gushing about all week. You're quick to shove the papers into a messy pile before handing them out to him, "I'm really sorry about that," you say sheepishly.

"Nothing to worry about," his deep voice is what catches your attention at first, followed by his height as he straightens up so that you get a clear view of his facce; angular features, honey-golden eyes that blink slowly at you in a way that makes you want to squirm, and messy dark raven locks that looks like he's just rolled out of bed five minutes ago.

Not that you won't mind if he rolled out of your bed, you mind chanted without warning.

You stop it as soon as it surfaces, horror and panic crashing into you at the same time. This man is--what? Probably half your age?

"Kuroo sensei! Do we have class with you later?" Sakura, unknowing of all the tormenting thoughts flickering past your brain, seems all too excited to see her PE teacher.

He chuckles lightly before ruffling her short bangs, "not today, little munchkin," he leans down to see her face, "but I'm pretty certain that we have class tomorrow. How about that?"

"Oh really? Yay!" Sakura claps, beaming up at him like he's just put a new sun in her sky, and Kuroo grins before straightening up once more, gold eyes clashing against your dark maroon.

"I don't think we've met," his voice, it's so deep and gravelly that it makes you want to swoon. You snap out of it the moment you spot his outstretched hand, "I'm Kuroo Tetsurou, the new PE teacher."

"So you're the new teacher that Sakura's been talking about all this time," you send him a shy smile as you shake his hand, realizing that his palm practically dwarfs yours in comparison, "it's nice to meet you. I'm Sakura's mum. How are you enjoying the school?"

"It's been really great actually," his grin widens. He has a beautiful smile, one that will easily make all the ladies of staff fall at his feet, "I'm slowly finding my way around the timetable, but other than that it's been smooth-sailing till now."

You nod, "that's great. I'm glad to hear," and then turn to your daughter, "you know where your class is right?"

"Of course I know mum," Sakura folds her arms across her chest indignantly.

You laugh, ruffling her hair before ushering her onwards, "alright alright. Yes, you're a big now. Then off you go."

You both watch her teeter down the hall, sometimes almost falling off-balance due to her newly-acquired skill of running with the weight of her bag around her shoulders, and fondness explodes across your chest. It's sweet and bitter at the same time, watching your daughter grow day by day. She's always changing, you realize, every day is a new one, maybe her hair gets longer, or you find a new mole along her face. It's like she's growing so fast you barely have time to savour it.

"Cute kid you have there."

You realize you're not alone upon hearing the familiar scratchy alto, and quickly blink back to reality, "ah--thank you. She can be a handful when she wants. Sometimes."

"All kids are," Kuroo tilts his head towards you, a smile on his face, "but sometimes I think they know more than we do."

You can't help but chortle, "definitely. Sakura's practically a know-it-all. She's in the phase of correcting everything that I say."

"Ooh, a bit bossy huh?"

"Tell me about it."

It's then that the bell rings, disrupting any kind of moment you might have with the PE teacher.

"Anyway," you dip your head into a small bow, "thank you for taking care of Sakura."

"It's really no trouble, miss...?"

"It's Y/N. Y/N Kosuke."

"Y/N," his golden orbs locks on yours, swirling with a kind of playfulness, with a warmth that makes your heart stutter, "well, I shall see you around, Ms. Kosuke-san."

And with that, he swerves away with a small wave as you watch his broad back disappear down the hallway, wondering whether it's stupid to imagine whether he'd winked at you or not.

Probably not.

Because why would anyone be interested in a mom right?

-----

The second time you bump into Kuroo Tetsurou is during Sports Day.

You remember back when you were in high school, how you'd always find an excuse to skip out on the activities -- feigning your period or cramps just to get to the nurse's office and away from your classmates -- just so that you could sit and daydream about anything and just about everything. You weren't that popular in your cohort, making it easy for you to disappear whenever you wished. But despite that, you could count on your hands the number of times you'd replaced someone and failed to deliver, causing wave after wave of disappointment as you lost team points as a result.

But now, as a grown up responsible for a child and always accustomed to doing whatever they liked even if that meant bringing you unhappiness or shame, you were obliged to attend such events. Actually enjoyed being there and watching Sakura giving it her all despite her short limbs and her lack of talent in sports. From what you can see, she clearly hasn't taken from her dad's side. Every single flaw in physical movement comes down from your side of the family and at the thought, a smile curves at the edges of your lips as you proceed to clap even harder.

"Is Papa going to be there tomorrow?" asks your daughter the night before as you're tucking her into bed. Her wide eyes are staring up at you like you're the one who can change anything in her world. And yet, just the thought that you can't grant her this one wish makes your heart quake.

You press a soft kiss along her forehead before smoothing over her features, "i'm sorry honey. I'm not sure if he'll be able to come tomorrow."

"Why not?"

"He has work to do. But he promises to be there this weekend," you try to smile, though it's hard when Sakura's face doesn't light up like it usually does at the mention of her father. That's when you prod, "everything okay, Sakura?"

Your daughter merely turns away to hide her face against her pillow. Her mumble comes out soft and practically a whisper. But you can still hear her loud and clear.

"Why doesn't he ever come?"

Your heart drops to your stomach. You move to hug her, in hopes of appeasing the pain she feels. But she's right, you can't do anything about it. About this. It's a selfish act, the act of divorcing the one whom you thought would've been your lifelong partner till the day you die. And yet, you hadn't been strong enough for her sake.

And Sakura's the one victim to all consequences that follow.

Because how can you tell her? That her father has decided to choose someone else -- another woman, instead of staying by his family and taking on his responsibilities as he should? How could you tell her that her own father has abandoned her?

Sakura isn't stupid. She's well aware of everything that happens around her. But such words coming out of her own mouth causes your own eyes to burn with tears.

"Papa loves you. He's just--busy with work. But you know that he loves you so so much right?" you hope that your murmur is enough to appease her.

And it does, for now.

Sakura snuggles closer to your bosom, small fingers gripping your t-shirt as though she doesn't want you to leave, "will you stay with me until I fall asleep?" she murmurs through closed eyelids.

You nod, smooth one hand over her forehead, "yeah. Sleep now, okay? Tomorrow's a big day."

Hence the reason why you're here. Burning under the midday sun. Hat poised over your head, and a piece of stray paper from your office that you're using as a makeshift fan.

Until now, it's proven itself useless in response to the heat.

"Come on, Greens!"

That familiar alto. Raspy and velvet like chocolate. It makes your eyes swipe right to the source only to see none other than the PE coach.

Kuroo Tetsurou is bathed in sweat as he stands by the sidelines, cap over his messy hair and eyes never straying from the row of students balancing potatoes across their tiny spoons. His t-shirt is practically soaked through from the back, showing off his array of muscles twisting and twining like vines around a bark of a tree, and when he crosses his arms over his chest you take note of the swell of his biceps. Taunting, tantalizing.

He's a catch, is what your mind thinks.

You shut it down immediately. What's the point of daydreaming when you're not ready to commit to anything? Not even a fling?

No. You'd much rather stay alone. You know exactly how it feels like to be loved and to lose that love by someone whom you thought had your heart as much as you had his. And you weren't in a rush to fall into that trap once again.

It's finally Sakura's turn and almost subconsciously, you straighten up in the bleachers to get a better look at your daughter all decked in Blue. She's holding out her spoon, tongue sticking out in concentration just as a teacher places a potato right in the middle of it.

Catching your eye from where you sit, she gives you a wide beam, all teeth, and you grin back, doing a silly little wriggle of your fingers. You do the mistake of glancing back towards your right only to meet the PE coach's eyes by mistake.

He grins a Cheshire cat smile, as if he knows that he's been caught but he doesn't care, and your own smile turns shy, ducking your head and soon averting your eyes.

The whistle sounds. The race is on.

"C'mon Sakura!" You yell as loud as you can, watching your daughter waddle in what you hope is a straight line. She's second at this point, trying hard not to lose her potato as her classmate -- a red -- blunders right through without hesitation, "C'mon Sakura! You can do it!"

Your daughter all but wobbles, lips parted in concentration as another boy zooms past. You cup your lips using your hands and shout with all your might, "C'mon Sakura! Faster!"

She finishes in third place, not a bad start for her sports confidence, and comes running straight up to you so that you pick her up with a whoop.

"That's my girl!" You nuzzle into her sweaty hair, "aren't you a big champ?!"

"Did you see mum?! I'm third!" she flaps her arms around, "I'm third! Will I get a medal?!"

"You sure will," you pinch her cheek, "and you did great! I didn't know you were good at balancing potatoes!"

"Next time I'll come in first!"

"Then we'll have to practice at home," you chuckle.

It isn't until the end of the Sports day that Kuroo Tetsurou finds you amidst the horde of parents making their way to the parking lot.

"Hey," he calls out to you as you're opening your trunk. You wave at him, slightly embarrassed as you recall the way he'd locked eyes with you briefly on the field. You strive for nonchalance as you say, "how's it going, coach?"

"Not bad, how about you?" he walks straight up to the car, waving at Sakura from the backseat before turning his attention back on you. You and the multiple bags you're organizing, "what's this?"

"Oh it's for an event," you huff out and pull a bag up into the trunk.

"Here," Kuroo's hand reaches for the next one, "let me help."

"Oh--uhm--" you weren't expecting such chivalry. Heat rises to the back of your neck and you're glad it's a hot summer's day, for you're quite certain your cheeks are flaming, "thank you."

"No problem," he sets the last bag into the trunk, pushing it all the way so that it's secure, "what kind of event is it anyway?"

"It's a corporate event," you explain as he closes the trunk for you, "I'm an event planner."

Something lights up in his golden pupils. He whistles, "haven't heard of that one before," a small smile curves at his lips, "what's the weirdest event you'd had to plan?"

"Oh don't get me started on that," you shudder, "I once had a themed birthday party, but they wanted their party to be set in changing rooms, with the theme 'haunted toilets'."

"Wha--no way," Kuroo bursts out laughing. He has a very nice smile, and a laugh that is contagious. You can't help but grin at him, "is that even legal?"

"Well if they pay you to hire your changing rooms, wouldn't you do it?"

“I suppose so,” you snort, “as long as they pay me.”

He chuckles once more, the sound rumbling through his chest and almost making you swoon. God, he's attractive, even more so when he's all sweaty for some unknown reason.

You hurriedly try to end conversation when you feel your tummy tingle with those familiar butterflies, "well--It was nice meeting you again, Coach."

"Likewise," he tips his head towards you, "and I think you've got yourself a pro athlete back there."

That makes you chortle, "I'm not quite sure, Sakura's been graced with my lack of coordination."

"I wouldn't say so. She came in third, didn't she?"

"You're right," a small smile curves at your lips, "well anyway, thank you. For everything. You're probably exhausted."

"I am, but you're good company," he grins.

Butterflies erupt through your chest and you know without a doubt that this is your cue to leave, and quickly bow to him, "thanks again Coach, see you around."

"See you," a pause, before he adds, "get home safe."

These are simple words, won't that do't matter as much and can be said oh-so-politely. But still, it makes your heart beat so fast you feel it echoing through your chest. You try not to show him your blush as you slide into the driver's seat and watch him raise a hand in mid-wave as you pull out of the parking lot. Sakura waves back with as much excitement and you wonder briefly whether she likes him so much because of the lack of father figure in your household.

Your phone rings then and you scramble for it from the passenger seat, barely able to press down on the green button as you keep your eyes on the road.

"Hello," you place it on loudspeaker and drop it to your lap as you make a turn for the motorway, "hello?"

"Hey, it's me."

Oh.

"Papa!" Sakura's exclamation comes from the back, almost makes you skid off the road as you quickly right yourself with a silent curse. Why in the world is he calling now? It's almost like he knows you were having a good time.

"Aoi," your mumble spills out, "how are you?"

"Good, good." a small pause. "how was sports day?"

"Was great, you missed Sakura in her potato-run," you try not to let the bitterness affect your tone, though it's harder to manage than expected, "how was Cali?"

"Very nice actually, Sakura would've loved it. It's warm, with beaches, and people are always doing stuff. It's a nice city."

Of course it's nice when his new wife owns a mansion and no fees are to be paid for the household. Especially nice when his new wife's family has a multi-national jewelry business and a cash flow that seems neverending.

So you cut to the chase, "why'd you call?"

"Jeez y/n," he laughs, "so brutal. Can't I even ask you how you've been?"

"I've been well, so has Sakura," your patience is running thin, "so tell me, why'd you call? Isn't it like midnight over there?"

"Actually it's still morning," there's amusement in his tone, the kind that makes you want to hurl something at him, "but anyway, I was calling to let you know about the papers."

He doesn't have to mention which papers. You know exactly what he's talking about, "what about them?"

"I've already signed them and sent them your way. You should be receiving them by the end of the week."

"Yes, and?"

There's a bout of hesitation from his side, "and I'd appreciate it if you could sign it as quickly as possible."

Another needle to your gut, "that's fine but...why the rush?"

"Ah well," you don't have to see him to know that he's currently scratching the back of his neck, a nervous tick of his whenever he's unsure or nervous. You hate that you know that about him, "we're--we might be getting married in a few months."

You're so shocked you almost barrel straight into the vehicle in front of you.

-----

[ak319]

Dark J.M x fem!reader

-- ★ The Word of Claim

Syno: Word of claim, a tradition where a man fires his weapon outside a woman's home and speaks her name, and in that moment, she becomes his wife. Though long banned, deemed a crime, a taboo… who cares? Outlaws never follow laws, do they? Warnings/MDNI: forced marriage, angst, blackmailing, kidnapping, suggestive non-con, manhandling, in conclusion just men being shit as usual except Hosea-// I don't condone such behavior irl! ✰ -12.5K taglist: @shackspossum @nayykura @whalecage

"You ain't gonna run away this time, BOY!"

The words spurred him on, his pace quickening to a near sprint, even though his legs felt like jelly from the biting cold. He couldn't stop. Not now. Not ever.

Wait...what's that? There, a good hideout.

His heart pounded in his chest as the sound of galloping hooves grew louder behind him. Amateurs. They knew how to buy fine horses but didn't know the first thing about riding them right. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed it, the lawmen were dismounting, choosing to pursue him on foot instead.

John vaulted over fence after fence, each leap bringing him closer to the dark silhouette of his salvation.

A barn.

The doors were already ajar. Luck, or maybe fate, was on his side tonight. He wasted no time slipping inside, diving for the best hiding spot he could find amidst the shadows.

Outside, the world was alive with ominous noises, the muffled crunch of boots on frozen ground, the baying of dogs in the distance. The chill in the air seemed to seep straight into his bones, but the tension was far worse.

Dutch and Hosea are gonna kill me if I get caught tonight

After a tense stretch of silence, the barn door creaked open.

"Show yourself," a man's voice demanded, calm but laced with authority. "I know you're in here, I saw you from the porch. Come. Here."

John let out a quiet, defeated sigh. He had no other choice. Slowly, he emerged from his hiding spot, muscles taut with apprehension. His eyes landed on the figure of a man, no badge, no uniform. Just a regular man. Probably the owner.

"Sir--look, it was just a pickpocketing offense, I swear! Just let me stay here for the night--no, no, scratch that. J- Just give me some water, and I'll leave! But please, don't call them back, I-"

"You got nerves."

The man stepped closer, his gaze heavy and unforgiving.

"You come onto my property, and you think I’m gonna coddle your sorry ass? I've seen plenty of boys like you in my time, desperate, and reckless, they always end up worse than this."

John flinched, not just at the sharpness of the words but at the dull throb of his wounds from the earlier scuffle with the officers. His voice wavered, desperation bleeding through every syllable.

"Please...sir. Just--water... and I'll be out of your hair-"

The man didn’t even hesitate. Without a word, he struck John across the face, sending him sprawling onto the cold, hard floor. Stars danced in his vision, but before he could even register what had happened, the man grabbed him roughly, hauling him up like he weighed nothing.

John struggled, but it was no use. The man dragged him out of the barn, his grip like iron.

Outside, the officers were waiting by the gate, their grim expressions lit by the flicker of lantern light. John’s heart sank as the man shoved him forward, handing him over without a second thought.

"You wanted him? Here he is."

"What's going on outside?" you asked, placing the folded clothes your mother had handed you into the cupboard. Your expression mirrored her own as curiosity and concern flitted across her face. Without hesitation, both of you hurried to the porch to see what was causing the commotion in the distance.

"Make sure he learns his lesson. Boys like him should never go unpunished," your father’s voice carried stern authority, cutting through the cold night air.

The officer gripping John roughly by the arm nodded with a self-satisfied grin. "As if that’s even a question. This little shit’s been stealing from a lot of folks around here. Thanks for the help."

John, still reeling from your father’s earlier slap and the rough handling of the lawmen, struggled to stay on his feet. His breaths came in short gasps, his legs wobbling under him. From where he stood, his bruised gaze caught sight of two figures on the porch. Shadows obscured their faces, but there was no mistaking it.

You, a girl, around his age. Standing behind your mother.

A pang of something sharp, humiliation, resentment, or despair, stabbed through him.

"Tsk, kids these days," your mother muttered under her breath. She shook her head and ushered you back inside, the door closing firmly behind you, shutting out the scene.

It wasn’t long before your father joined you in the living room, his face stern as he explained what had happened. A boy of sixteen--three years older than you--tried to hide in the barn after looting folks and thought he could get away with it.

"This is why one should always stay alert," your mother sighed, sinking into her chair with a shake of her head.

Meanwhile, John sat in the cold, damp cell, shivering as time passed. He waited, days blending into one another, the monotony broken only by the gnawing ache in his stomach and the wish to escape.

Then Dutch came. Days later, the gang leader strode in and bailed him out, though not without delivering the most humiliating lecture John had ever endured.

"You think this is what it means to be a Van der Linde? You think crawling around barns like a whipped dog is what I taught you?! If you’re gonna live, you fight for it. You hear me, boy? You fight."

John clenched his jaw and bore it, but the sting of those words didn’t come close to the bitterness curdling inside him. He couldn't shake the memory of your father standing over him, cold and unrelenting. Denying him even the smallest shred of mercy.

Kindness, was that too much to ask for?

The years had been cruel, but this moment burned. He’d lived through enough to know that most people treated him like a piece of dirt under their boots. But this time, it was harder to swallow.

His words echoed in his mind.

"People like you don’t deserve kindness. You’re a lesson, boy, a warning to others."

John replayed it over and over as he rode back to camp. The fury in his chest smoldered alongside an ache he couldn’t explain. But what also stayed with him most was the fleeting glimpse of you, standing behind your mother on the porch.

Oh...he won't ever forget that night.

❀˖°

"Are you insane?! What are you, twelve?!" Hosea’s voice rose, his frustration nearing its peak and so was the urge to bang his head against a tree.

"I’m not a kid, and it’s about time you stopped treating me like one!"

Hosea’s eyes narrowed, the lines on his face deepening as his temper flared. "Look, John, this isn’t just about doing it! It’s about what happens after! Are you in your damn senses? You can barely take care of yourself, and here you are, standing there, demanding to do this shit like you’ve got it all figured out!"

John smirked, his chuckle low and mocking. "That’s exactly why I’m doing it, old man. To bring someone to care for me."

Hosea froze for a moment, disbelief washing over him before disgust replaced it. "You’ve lost it," he muttered under his breath. With a grimace, he stormed toward Dutch’s tent, muttering curses under his breath.

Dutch glanced up as Hosea approached, his ever-watchful gaze already settled on the scene. "No need to explain, Hosea," Dutch said calmly, snapping his book shut. "I heard it all."

John strolled in behind Hosea, with his usual casual swagger. He leaned lazily against the pole of Dutch’s tent, his smirk still in place.

"John," Dutch began, his voice low and measured. "You sure you know what you’re getting into? This ain’t some childish stunt."

"I know exactly what I’m doing, Dutch," John replied smoothly, though the fire in his eyes betrayed his calm facade. "It’s time I take something for myself."

"You are talking about a whole-ass human here!"

"I don’t see what’s wrong with it," Dutch drawled, a sly grin tugging at his lips. "Boy wants to marry... let the boy marry. Am I right?"

Hosea’s jaw dropped, his face a perfect picture of disbelief. "Dutch, don’t tell me you’ve lost your fucking mind too! You’re gonna let this little--God help me--this child pull some old tradition stunt?! What, are you trying to check off every damn crime we’ve missed on your list?"

Dutch let out a soft snort, clearly amused by Hosea’s exasperation. Without a word, he stood and moved to shut the flaps of the tent. Wouldn’t want Annabelle overhearing now, would he? No sense in tarnishing her view of him.

"Hosea, Hosea, Hosea. We’re outlaws, remember? And this-" he waved a hand toward John, who stood with his arms crossed, a stubborn set to his jaw, "this is nothing."

“Nothing?” Hosea’s voice cracked, raw with incredulity. “That’s a person, Dutch, not some goddamn prize you can pluck from a house like a trinket! And what happens when John realizes he’s too immature to handle this? Huh? What then?”

Dutch shrugged, unbothered, his calm exterior unshaken. “Then he can toss her aside. Send her back. Leave her somewhere if it comes to it. But why fret over what might happen when we’ve got a score to secure now?”

Hosea looked like he might combust on the spot. “Are you listening to yourself?! Toss her aside?” he repeated, his voice rising. "You want John to ruin someone’s life because he’s too stubborn to let go of a grudge?!”

“It's not that big of a deal."

Hosea scoffed and glared daggers at John. But Dutch continued.

"Besides," Dutch added, tilting his head toward John with a knowing look. "Didn’t you mention they’re loaded? That true, son?"

John nodded, his lips twitching into a half-smile. "Yeah… big house. Plenty of land too."

Dutch’s grin widened, "There you go, Hosea. A little risk, a big reward. Ain’t that what we’re all about?"

Hosea shook his head, exasperation dripping from every word. "So you’re gonna loot them too? Good Lord, have mercy. You’re gonna make that poor girl lose her mind in less than a day! Look... I think looting is a fine alright? So how bout' we just do that? Isn't that enough damage, John?"

"Oh yeah? And then what?! As if that's gonna affect his rich ass! That's not enough damage! Money comes and goes...but honor doesn't. I wanna strip him of his dignity! Men like him--rich snobby assholes--that's what they deserve! And this is what we are supposed to do! We are not some bunch of softies ol' man!"

"John but you are not-"

"I DON’T GIVE A FUCK!" John’s voice was raw with rage, his fists clenched tight at his sides. "Just like her daddy didn’t give a fuck about me! So why the hell should I, huh? Why should I!?"

"I’ve never seen a man so petty in my entire life. Grow the hell up, John! You’re twenty-three, for God’s sake, and you’re still hung up on something that happened years ago. Dutch! Tell him-"

"ENOUGH!" Dutch’s booming voice cut through the chaos, his towering form commanding silence as he paced the length of the tent.

"I allow it," Dutch declared, his tone final. "John...I give you my blessing." He glanced at Hosea, raising a brow. "Hosea, how do you think outlaws got married back in the day, huh? Even now, people loathe us and spit on us. And why? Because we don’t follow their precious rules. Well, guess what? We’re outlaws. We don’t play nice. But we ain’t that bad, are we? And we require some good cash for the move. This is a good opportunity, no doubt."

Hosea groaned, dragging a hand down his face, muttering something about losing his sanity.

But John didn’t hear any of it. Dutch’s words were all he needed. A smirk spread across his face as he turned and strode out of the tent, his mind already racing ahead to the moment he would face your father. The thrill of it burned in his chest, the prospect of taking the one thing that man must cherish above all else.

Just like he didn’t respect my dignity, I won’t respect his, John thought, his resolve hardening with every step.

He remembered the day he first laid eyes on you, properly, for the first time. It was at your sister's wedding, though he had only been a silent, distant observer. From the shadows of the tree line, he saw you, a vision of elegance and quiet beauty, entirely unaware of his presence. Pretty, he thought then, prettier than he had imagined.

Pretty enough to be taken, both from home and...

Your father would have loved seeing your pretty tears if he decided to go with that plan...

He could have made his move right then. Could have stepped out of the shadows, disrupted the festivities, and declared his claim in front of everyone. The laughter, and the music, all of it could have stopped on his word.

But he didn’t. He stayed hidden, watching you smile and dance, every moment searing itself into his memory. No, he thought. Not yet. This required precision. Patience.

Through his web of old connections and childhood companions, people who owed him favors or thrived on chaos, he kept tabs on you and your family. Quietly. He bided his time, gathering everything he needed to strike when the moment was right.

And now, that moment was near. Everything had fallen into place. All his waiting, all his planning, it had led to this. You would be his. Not because he could take you, but because you would have no choice. Neither will your father.

"Boys...let's go, my treat."

"Got the permission?" Javier glanced up from the fire.

John let out a low chuckle. Sean joined in, his wild energy spreading through the air like a spark.

“Permission? Your brother here got the 'Dutch' blessing.” Their laughter was like a haunting chorus as if they had no care for anything and anyone.

The three hooted, grinning to themselves, heading towards the stables. But just before John could mount his horse, a voice called out to him again.

"John..."

“What now?” John sighed with a hint of frustration. He didn't want to listen. He didn’t need to hear any more warnings, he had made up his mind.

“Just... what if you had a sister, and it happened to her, son?”

He gritted his teeth, and for a moment, his mind flashed to something else, something buried deep within.

Damn it, I know he's right, but my reason is more important than that. Throw her out? Destroy her life? The words replayed in his mind, loud and damning. A part of him bristled at the idea, hell, wasn’t that what he’d been dreaming about? Taking something back for himself, ruining your father's life? But another part, quieter yet sharper, whispered back. And then what? What kind of man does that make you, John?

Hell, John didn't know what would happen, how this would all play out. He didn't even know how he would make it through this, let alone anyone else involved. But in the moment, it felt too distant, too abstract to fully grasp.

No...

Why the fuck should I care?

It wasn’t his problem. His mind was made up. It wasn’t about what they would face, this is a matter of his honor and self-will. The kid never did learn to respect boundaries and to listen. And damn the consequences. For now, John just had to move forward. The rest could burn.

“Well, that’s why I don’t have one. Let’s go, boys.”

The words hung in the air, bitter and final. There was no turning back now. Hosea, standing off to the side, watched as John’s figure disappeared into the dusk with the others. The old man sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his years, and his regrets. He turned his gaze toward Dutch’s tent, where the gang leader sat, listening to music with an air of nonchalance.

If only… if only your father had shown him mercy that night. If only he had opened his door and shared a shred of kindness. Maybe then, he’d be a hidden guard dog for the family, ready to lay down his life for them.

But it was too late for that now.

❀˖°

"(Y/N)--Oh my God, this girl---HEY! Wake up!" Your mother’s sharp voice sliced through the morning quiet as she stormed into your room. You groaned, snatching the covers back over your head.

"Let me be!" you mumbled, burrowing deeper into the bed.

But your mother wasn’t having it. She yanked the covers off with a vengeance, ignoring your muffled protests. "You listen to me, young woman! Get up, have breakfast, and help with dinner! Or have you forgotten your sister is visiting this evening?"

You groaned dramatically, rolling onto your stomach. "What do we even have maids for?"

"They are doing other stuff, (Y/N)! Oh my God! Get your lazy ass up. I swear, your father’s coddling has turned you into a complete bum!" Your mother threw her hands up in frustration before softening her tone, just slightly. "I’m going to prepare your breakfast, honey, but you better be down to help with some things. You need to start learning this stuff someday. In fact, I’m telling your father to start looking for suitors soon-"

"HEY! HEY!" You leaped out of bed, cutting her off. "Woman, calm down! I swear, a hundred witches must’ve died for you to end up as my mother."

Undeterred, you leaned in, pinching her cheeks with a mischievous grin. "Like, c’mon, you’re so lucky to have birthed me and you are going to just send me away like that? No, not happening."

She swatted your hands away, her patience clearly wearing thin. "Are you done?"

"Not yet, " you teased, smirking. "Firstly, that day is far away--no--it's nonexistent. And secondly, even if it happens, tell Papa either he sends a servant with me as a marriage gift, or he makes sure there’s a line of them wherever he fixes the marriage which I think he sure will anyway. Otherwise, I’m perfectly fine staying here."

Your teasing tone only made her groan in frustration. "Tsk, get out of my way. You’ve already wasted my precious time. And make yourself presentable before coming down to wolf your food!"

You stretched your limbs with a lazy chuckle, savoring every second as you took your sweet time getting downstairs.

After finishing your breakfast, you placed the empty plate on the kitchen table and took a long sip of your coffee. "Mama, just tell me what I have to help with so I can get it done and go play."

Your mother turned to you with an incredulous look, hands already on her hips. "Excuse me? For God's sake, (S/N) and Leo are coming for the first time after the marriage. Can’t you skip your silly games just this once? I swear, (Y/N), grow up! You’re not five anymore. You and those girlfriends of yours!"

This was a familiar battleground between the two of you, and honestly, you enjoyed riling her up about it. What’s wrong with living your life and having some fun with your pals?

"Mama, don’t be pouty just because you didn’t get to enjoy your youth, alright?" you teased with a grin. "Besides, we play right out on the lawn! Maybe they can even help us with dinner-"

"NO!" she cut you off sharply. "The last time you brought them into the kitchen just to get water, my whole crockery set was broken! Keep them far away from my kitchen!"

You rolled your eyes and muttered under your breath, "Jeez… you’re a totally different person when guests are about to come."

"What did you say?" she snapped, making you jump slightly.

"Nothing! Nothing....." Please don't start again. With a sigh, you began assisting, grumbling internally about how overly dramatic and anxious she always got before any visitors showed up.

❀˖°

You were setting the table, having just come back from the lawn after instructing Mateo, the gardener, to move some pots around.

"My lovely daughter looks as lovely as always," your father said warmly, patting your head before joining you to help with the table.

You grinned and leaned closer, whispering with a giggle, "Your wife really knackered me today, Mr. (L/N)."

That earned a wheezy laugh from him. "Now you know what it’s like to deal with her every day, kid."

"Papa," you whined, playfully dragging out the word. "I hate when she brings up those stupid marriage talks! I swear, she’s going to ambush you about it next. So when she does, just dodge it. Okay?"

Your father paused, turning to you with a softer, more thoughtful look. "For how long, though, (Y/N)? Isn't it gonna happen someda-"

"Shush!" you cut him off, placing your hand firmly over his face.

He chuckled at your antics as you grinned mischievously. "No, no, no. You’re supposed to be on my side and say, ‘Of course, dear.’"

"Alright, alright, as you wish. Of course, dear. I’ll ignore her."

"Ignore who? Hm?"

Both of you jumped, startled, as your mother appeared in the doorway, balancing a tray of glasses, her focus seemingly on the task but her tone suspicious.

"Nothing," you both said in perfect unison, struggling to keep straight faces.

Your mother rolled her eyes, clearly unconvinced, and glanced pointedly at the grandfather clock ticking away in the corner. "Where is (S/N) anyway? They’re running late, aren’t they?"

"Relax darling, they might be here by 7. Let's all relax for a while." Just as you all three sat down on the living room couch, loud hooves could be heard. But it didn't sound like just a single horse carrying your brother-in-law and sister, it sounded more than that. "They came in a carriage or something?" You asked giddily and your father got up.

"I'll go check."

Outside, the night seemed unnaturally quiet, save for the restless shifting of hooves on gravel. The stillness in the air was unsettling, as though the world itself was holding its breath. Then came the sound, the sharp reports of gunshots cutting through the silence.

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

Then the sixth...

“(Y/N) (L/N)!”

Your name was like a chilling punctuation that seemed to freeze time.

It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t a call. It sounded like a declaration, a command that seemed to cut through the very air around you. You had no idea what was happening or what the hell even was that. But for your parents, it was a blow to their very core.

“Wh-at-what was that? Who-” Your words caught in your throat as you turned to your parents.

Your mother’s face drained of color, her hands trembling as she reached for you. “Upstairs. Now.”

“Mama, what’s happening?”

“(M/N), get her out of here,” your father said, his tone low but brimming with an intensity that made your stomach twist. He hadn’t even turned to look at you; his eyes were locked on the door, his jaw tight.

“Will someone tell me-”

“I said GO!” His voice boomed now, reverberating through the walls.

Your mother didn’t hesitate. Her fingers dug into your arm as she dragged you toward the staircase, her steps hurried and uneven. The panic in her movements was more terrifying than the voice outside.

You stumbled up the stairs, half-dragged, half-running. At the top, your mother shoved you into your bedroom and spun around, shutting the door behind you with a force that rattled the walls.

“Mama! What’s going on?!”

Her hand hovered over the handle, shaking, but she didn’t turn back. “Stay here,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

The door clicked shut, the lock turning with a dull finality.

Downstairs, the scene was entirely different as your father swung open the door,. The guard stationed at the gate was on the ground. Dead? Stabbed? Knocked out? (F/N) couldn't tell because his attention was on the four men standing rigidly by their horses. The one in the center, who had fired the shots moments ago, stood with his hands clasped in front of him, the barrel of his gun still gripped tightly in one hand. His smile, wide and disturbingly sweet, suggested he thought he’d done something worthy of praise, though the horror in your father’s chest told a different story entirely.

Sick--sick--sick bastard.

"What the hell you guys want?! Get off my property before I report the authorities!"

"Mr. (L/N), same as before...." John stalked closer, his gait confident and casual.

"I think I made it very clear what I came here for didn't I? Right boys?" Your father's jaw ticked as he heard agreeing grunts and snorts, even a whistle. “I said the word and you know the rules.”

"You sick--don't you fucking know what you are doing is a crime!? Now get off my property-" John didn't even have to say anything as your father halted his words when he heard the three other rifles click on him.

The cold, metallic clicks of the rifles were louder than they should have been, echoing in the oppressive silence of the night. Your father froze, his fists clenching at his sides, but his eyes remained defiant, locked on the man in front of him.

John tilted his head slightly, the smile on his face never faltering. “Crime?” he echoed, almost lazily, like he found the very word amusing. “Well now, that’s rich, coming from a man like you. Don’t act like you’re any holier than me, Mr. (L/N).”

“You don’t know a damn thing about me!"

“Oh, but I do,” John said smoothly, taking another step forward. The moonlight glinted off his gun, still hanging casually in his hand, though the threat it carried was anything but casual. “I know plenty. Enough to know you’re not in any position to lecture me about morals. Besides…” His eyes flicked up toward the mansion, lingering somewhere around the second floor. “I didn’t come for you.”

Your father’s breath hitched, and for a moment, his composure cracked, just slightly. “You’re not taking her.”

John’s grin widened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. They were sharp, cold, and calculating. “Is that so?” he drawled, almost teasing. “Well, you see, that’s where you’re wrong. I’ve said the fucking word. Everyone here heard me, and you know what that means.”

“You think anyone cares about your outdated, backwoods tradition!?”

John’s smile disappeared in an instant, replaced by a cold, hard glare. “Tradition or not, I’m here to collect. And I don’t like repeating myself, old man. Now, you go bring her down, or...I'll do it myself."

One of the other men chuckled darkly, breaking the tension just enough to make your father’s stomach churn. “Might wanna think carefully about this, Mr. (L/N),” Sean said, his rifle trained steady.

Your father’s mind raced. He could see the resolve in John’s stance, the ruthlessness in his eyes. Negotiation wasn’t an option. His hands twitched at his sides, itching for the revolver in the drawer near the door, but the odds weren’t in his favor. Four men, three rifles aimed at him, and you upstairs, unaware of the danger that had come knocking.

John’s expression softened into something almost mocking, a twisted version of pity. “You should’ve thought about that before, Mr. (L/N). Actions have consequences. You taught me that yourself, didn’t you?”

"You...tha---don't tell me...you-"

"Yes, the boy you threw like garbage to the lawmen. Here, have a good look. All grown up now, and what did you say that day? Yeah, turned out worse than you thought, didn’t I? Guess being in jail doesn’t always change a person."

(F/N) staggered back, his entire body flooding with dread. Cold sweat ran down his back, but he had to remain composed. He had to stay strong, for you.

"Look, kid," your father finally said, voice trembling but laced with fury. "You got a problem with me... take me, kill me if you want, but don’t drag an innocent into this. She has nothing to do with it!"

John’s eyes gleamed with dark amusement. "Ooooh, you don’t get it, do you? It’s not about her. It’s about you, and your suffering, ol' man. Damn, I’ve been waiting for this day. I ain’t going empty-handed. Call the whole damn battalion if you want." His voice darkened, a promise of violence lingering in his words. "But don’t worry... I’ll take care of the sweet thing."

"You son of a bitch!" (F/N) shouted, his anger surging. But before he could land a punch on John, he was thrown him aside with a swift, brutal smack, sending him crashing to the ground, just crossing the threshold.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” your father hissed, his voice trembling with barely restrained rage. “You’re destroying her life. For what? Some petty revenge? SOME SICK GAME!?” The complaints went ignored, however.

John, followed by Javier and Sean, strode into the house as if it were his own, moving with lethal purpose. Bill stood at the door, guarding the entrance, his rifle trained on (F/N). The threat in his eyes was unmistakable, any movement, any protest, and there would be hell to pay.

As soon as John stepped inside, he waved off Javier and Sean with a flick of his wrist, a signal that they were free to do what they came for. Javier grinned darkly and immediately went to work, tearing through the house with an almost practiced ease. Drawers were flung open, cupboards ransacked, and anything of value that could be carried away was seized. Sean, equally quick and eager, followed suit, stuffing pockets with anything that caught his eye, silverware, jewelry, anything shiny or expensive.

Down the hallway, John’s attention was solely on the task at hand. He had no need for material things, what he was after was far more precious to him. He knew where you would be, locked away in your room, hiding from the chaos, just as your parents had hoped. The door was already locked, but that didn’t slow him down. With a single harsh kick, the door splintered open, the wood buckling under the force of the impact.

Inside, you and your mother froze at the sudden intrusion. Your heart slammed in your chest as your eyes met John’s, and your mother quickly moved to shield you. But she wasn’t fast enough.

"Shhh, don’t make this harder than it has to be," John said with a twisted smile, his voice dark, almost too calm.

"DON'T TOUCH HER! PLEASE!"

He moved towards you with purpose, and before you could react, he grabbed your arm, yanking you toward him with an iron grip. Your mother reached out, but John shoved her aside with a cold sneer, not even sparing her a glance.

"MAMA! HEY-"

His hand clamped over your mouth, silencing you. His grip was too strong, too unrelenting. With a swift motion, he spun you around and threw you to the floor, your limbs twisting beneath you in a desperate attempt to break free.

"LEAVE MY DAUGHTER ALONE!"

“Stop squirming,” he hissed as he quickly bound your wrists and ankles together. The rope was tight, biting into your skin as he hogtied you with practiced precision. You could feel the coldness of his touch as he tightened the knot, making sure it was secure.

"LET ME GO YOU INSANE BASTARD! YOU LUNATIC-" Your screams got muffled as he tied the rope around your face too. Your mother hits on his body doing nothing to help.

Your heart pounded in your chest, but there was nothing you could do. You were helpless. Your mother’s cries echoed through the room, but John only chuckled darkly as he hoisted you up, dragging you toward the door.

“You’re coming with me, sweetheart,” John murmured into your ear, his breath hot and threatening against your skin. “And I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Your mother lunged forward again, but her efforts were futile as John simply shoved her away, his strength overwhelming. He pulled you out of the room, your body flailing helplessly as he dragged you down the hallway.

You could see your father still struggling with Bill, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t stop what was already set in motion.

John paused just outside the door, glancing back at the mess his men had made of the house. The walls were littered with broken vases and frames, drawers pulled open and their contents spilled across the floor. But none of it mattered to him now. He had what he wanted.

The sound of hooves thundered outside, and moments later, (S/N) and her husband Leo appeared on the porch, rushing toward the house. Their expressions shifted from confusion to horror as John stepped through the door, carrying you in his arms, your wrists bound tightly, your face streaked with tears.

“Stop! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!? Let her go!” (S/N) screamed, her voice cracking as she surged forward. But Bill stepped in her way, his broad form blocking the door as her fists pounded uselessly against him.

John stood back, watching the chaos unfold with a cruel sense of satisfaction. "Nice to meet y'all, I am your younger brother-in-law as of today," he said, a wicked smile on his lips. "I wish I could join the lovely dinner. But got business to take care of..."

Leo moved to intervene, but Javier’s rifle cracked across his head, and he crumpled to the ground. (S/N)’s cries turned frantic as she struggled against Bill, who merely smirked at her attempts.

John’s voice cut through the chaos, smooth and mocking. “Ah, family reunions are so sweet, aren’t they?” He didn’t stop walking, his grip on you firm as he crossed the yard to his horse. He glanced over his shoulder at (S/N), his grin sharp and cruel. “Don’t worry. Your sister will be well cared for! Better than she ever was here.”

“LET HER GO!” (S/N)'s scream was shrill, desperate. “You can’t do this! Please!”

John chuckled darkly, tossing you up onto his horse like you weighed nothing. “Oh, I can. And I will. Your father should’ve thought twice before crossing me."

As they mounted their horses, victorious gunshots and howling filled the air, echoing into the night.

Your father’s voice boomed as he followed with his gun, his words filled with desperation. “You sons of a bitches! I’ll kill you! Let her go, she has nothing to do with this!

John chuckled and took off with a speed, remaining at the front while the others covered his back. You could hear shots being fired by your father and shouts of the lawmen too but nothing could stop what was happening. Your own panic was palpable by your muffled noises and panicked breath amidst the ongoing chaos.

This has got to be a fucking nightmare.

The group of four rode off into the night, leaving the house and the shattered remains of your family behind. John smirked at your muffled noises and looked over his shoulder speeding up. "Ain't you a loudmouth. But don’t ya' worry, sweetheart. I’m taking care of everything. I’ll show you a life you’ll never forget.”

❀˖°

The air was thick with tension as he rode through the night, his mare's hooves striking the ground with rhythmic, almost predatory steps. Behind him, you, his new wife, slumped over the back of his horse, bound and silent. You had no choice. No voice. So different...it felt so fucking different from the bounties he hunted.

Which made the familiar guilt bloom again in his chest but he pushed it aside like a fly out of milk.

John couldn’t bring himself to care about your struggles. No, in his mind, this was necessary. This was what he deserved. What they both deserved.

As they neared the camp, the flickering fires grew larger, their warm glow contrasting against the coldness that had settled in John’s chest. This wasn’t just about you, or this stupid tradition, this was about proving something to the others. Proving that he could do it, that he had control.

John’s boots crunched against the dry earth, his grip firm on his captive as he dragged her toward the large tent. The men watched him, their curiosity piqued, but no one dared to speak. They all knew what this meant.

John didn’t waste time. He entered the tent without hesitation and laid you, if you call throwing: laying, in front of Dutch. Your hands were still bound and your throat was in pain from all the screaming. You had lost the strength at this point.

“Well, well. Looks like we have a new addition to the family,”

Dutch sat up in his chair, his eyes flicking from John to your form on the ground. His lips curled into a slow smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Javier, Sean, and Bill, carrying the spoils of their work, approached, and John gave a small nod, acknowledging their effort.

“Well, well, look at that… Damn, John. Good job, son.”

Dutch handed over a heavy bag of gold to John, who accepted it with a slow, deliberate motion, his fingers tightening around the weight of it.

"Thanks...Dutch."

“This gold’s yours. Wouldn't want your newlywed bride to be empty-handed now, would we?” Dutch’s smile was sharp, a predator's grin, as he pressed the bag into John’s hands.

John didn’t smile back, his eyes darting to you, the girl who had been claimed, bound, and dragged here. His grip tightened on the bag, his expression unreadable...

'What did you gain John....? You destroyed a girl's life to feed your own ego?'

His eyes met with Hosea's whose expression seemed to concur with his own thoughts.

'This is how you gonna treat her? You already failed as a man.'

You heard it all, the words, the taunting, the lecherous laughs. Each syllable felt like another crack in your heart, another layer of your dignity stripped away. These men, every one of them, were complicit in this. In what John had done. In what they all were willing to let happen.

Dutch’s voice broke through your spiraling thoughts again, though it wasn’t directed at John this time. Instead, he crouched down in front of you, his voice low, almost mocking in its softness. “Now, you listen here, Missy,” he began, his words dripping with false kindness. “We’re good people here, alright? And in time, you’ll understand that. I raised this boy in front of me, so rest assured.”

The bile rose in your throat as he spoke, and if it weren’t for the ropes binding you, you’d surely be sick. You held it down, the nausea gnawing at you, but you refused to show any more weakness than you already had.

“No doing anything silly here, to anyone else, or even yourself. Also, I wouldn’t suggest running back, ‘cause…” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t think a woman being taken by a hoard of men and then returning home would be labeled with any honorable name.”

Is...this it? You can't escape this? Not after what had happened?...Ever? The words, these horrible words...no...

"And John?" Dutch's voice brought him back to his senses. "You gotta behave responsibly now...got it? Cuz' I assure you, marriage ain't a kid's game. Right, Hosea?" The latter ignored Dutch's joke and stormed off, fed up with this nonsense.

John’s hand found you again, roughly pulling you up, dragging you away from Dutch’s feet. The fact that he was your “husband” now sent a chill down your spine.

Dutch called after him with a final, taunting word, “Get her settled, boy. And congratulations!”

John pushed past the flaps of the tent, you felt your body being thrown down onto the ground again, a soft thud as you hit the dusty floor. The tent was dim, but you could make out the faint outline of bedding and supplies.

John stood over you for a moment, his shadow dark and looming in the light of the flickering fire outside. He was silent, staring down at you, his expression unreadable. The ropes around your wrists burned, but you didn’t try to move. What was the point?

His voice was low when it came, like a command more than a suggestion. “You stay here. Don’t make me come back and remind you why you’re here.”

And with that, he left, the flap of the tent snapping behind him as he went. You were alone now, but not really. The weight of the men’s presence lingered in the air, suffocating, even as they all carried on with their laughter and celebrations outside.

The only sound was the rustle of the tent in the wind and the faint murmurs of the men as they settled into camp. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you could feel the burden of this new life, of your new reality, pressing down on you.

Mama...Papa...(S/N)..

God...why you? Why--just why?!

You didn't know how long you stayed there, or how many times you panicked and even fainted once. Then he came again...

"Listen--I... I’m going to take the ropes off, and you better stay quiet, alright?"

For a moment, his words almost felt like a plea. What the hell was this? The same man who had torn everything apart now seemed... pathetic. The man who had taken you, who had stolen your life, now sounded like he was afraid. His shaky voice didn't make you feel sympathy, it only fueled your hatred.

As soon as your hands were free, you didn’t hesitate. You swung with all the anger you’d been holding in for what felt like an eternity. Your hand collided with his face, not once, but twice. The sharp slap echoed in the air, and John staggered back, his face flashing with surprise.

“You wanted revenge, right?! YOU GOT IT! YOU MADE MY DAD SUFFER, SO NOW KILL ME! DO IT. I DON’T WANNA LIVE WITH YOUR SORRY PATHETIC ASS! JUST LOOK AT YOURSELF! Nothing, fucking nothing screams HUMAN about you! YOU DUMBFUCK!”

He didn’t react at first, standing still, his mouth tight. His mind seemed to stall, his eyes betraying a flicker of confusion. Maybe he thought you’d just... accept it.

"You listen-" He started, his voice suddenly more commanding, trying to regain control. But you weren’t going to let him.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" You screamed, your palm crashing into his face again, hard enough to make him step back. “Either take me back or kill me!”

John recoiled, blinking hard, but he didn’t speak for a moment. You saw him swallow, like he was struggling with something.

"STOP WITH THE KILLING TALK! I DON'T KILL WOMEN!"

You sneered, your blood boiling with disgust. "OH YEAH!? BUT YOU SNATCH THEM, HOW FUCKING NOBLE!"

His eyes were still locked on yours, but now there was something else there, something resembling frustration, even confusion. He didn’t know how to deal with you, didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to do now. His whole plan had been thrown off.

You saw it in the way he stood there, shifting uneasily, the cracks in his control finally starting to show.

"Take me back or kill me, you son of a bitch!" You shouted, your chest heaving with raw emotion, your hands still clenched in fists at your sides. You were done begging. "You are nothing but a coward! All of you here are nothing but cowards, not men-"

That's it.

His grip was unforgiving, forcing your head up, his fingers digging into your chin with such force that it hurt. The pressure was unbearable, and your neck strained under the weight of it, but there was no escaping him. His eyes were cold, hard, and unblinking as he stared down at you, his breath hot against your skin.

"No," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You will fucking listen, got it?" He shook you violently with every word, the anger seeping from his tone. "I ain’t always gonna deal with these temper tantrums like your daddy. I am your husband now. Yeah, get that," he spat the words, venom in every syllable. "Get that fucking imprinted in your head. You gonna come to terms with it, whether you like it or not."

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you felt the tears, those damned pathetic tears, begin to form again. You tried to speak, to shout, to do anything to make him stop, but your mouth was clamped shut under his forceful grip. You could barely breathe, could barely move. His words hit you like a punch to the gut, making everything inside you twist with dread. The world around you felt like it was crumbling, the horror of what was happening suffocating you in a way you hadn’t experienced before.

"Please..."

The single word you managed to croak out hung in the air, fragile and desperate. It caught his attention, just long enough for him to look away, his jaw tight, his eyes shifting in something close to irritation. And then, with a sudden motion, he released you. The force of his grip pulled away so quickly that you tumbled backward, crashing onto the cot with a jarring thud.

"Just fucking stop! I said NO!" he repeated as if your resistance was some kind of insult to him, a challenge to his authority that he couldn't let slide. "And take this..."

He tossed the pouch at you. It landed on the cot with a soft clink. You froze for a second, blinking at the pouch. When your trembling hands slowly reached for it, you realized what it was, your mother’s gold jewelry.

Inside, there was more than just that, the gleaming gold pieces and the precious gems were accompanied by something much more sentimental. Your grandmother's necklace, an heirloom that had been passed down for generations, was nestled carefully within the folds of the fabric. You could almost hear your mother’s voice, her warmth in every memory attached to the jewelry. As you held it in your trembling hands, you couldn’t help but feel a strange relief.

At least this wasn’t taken from you.

You tried a different approach, your voice trembling with desperation, hoping, praying, that perhaps this might reach him.

“Y-you’re… going to do all this?” Your words broke with hiccups, but you pressed on, your desperation giving you courage. “Call someone your wife, k-kidnap them?... Someone who will hate you for eternity? You’re going to live with that? How do you people...sleep at night... hm? H-how?”

“You think I care how I sleep at night?” His voice was low, rough like splintered wood, and it made you flinch. “You think I don’t know what this is? What I’ve done?”

He took a step closer, his boots heavy against the ground, and you instinctively shrank back.

“Listen to me,” he spat, pointing a finger at you, his hand trembling just enough for you to notice. “I don’t want your damn hate, but if that’s all you’ve got, fine. Hate me. Curse me. Throw whatever you want my way. But don’t think for one second I’ll let you run. That won't have good consequences...remember that. Especially for your family. Whether you run to them or elsewhere. Imma' take my anger out on them either way."

Your breath hitched, but he wasn’t finished. He crouched down to your level, his face inches from yours, his words colder now.

“You think guilt’s gonna stop me? You think your tears are gonna make me let you go? No. You’re staying here. You’ll learn, one way or another, how this is gonna work.”

“I’m not proud of this,” he muttered, more to himself than you, his tone quieter now, though no less firm. “But it’s done. And you better start figuring out how to live with it. Because I ain’t letting you go.”

You stared at him in horror, tears streaking your cheeks. There was no reasoning with him, no way to break through his own guilt and stubbornness. He stood abruptly, towering over you once more.

“You’ll learn to live with it...you’ll understand. Eventually. You will have to for your own sake."

The tent flap shifted as Susan entered, carrying a bowl of food. She said nothing, her expression unreadable as she handed the bowl to John. For a brief moment, her gaze flickered toward you, a glance heavy with something you couldn’t quite place. Pity? Disdain? You couldn’t tell.

Then she turned and left, the fabric of the tent swaying shut behind her, leaving you alone with him once more.

John sat down, the bowl in his hands. The air between you crackled with tension as he placed it firmly on the makeshift table beside him.

“Now eat,” he ordered, his voice low and sharp.

You shook your head, your body trembling as you choked on your sobs.

His jaw tightened, and his gaze darkened, the softness from earlier entirely gone. He stood, leaning over you, his presence oppressive and inescapable.

“Don’t make me say it again,” he growled. “I’m not asking. Eat.”

Still, you shook your head, tears spilling freely down your face.

John’s patience snapped. He grabbed the bowl and held it up as a threat, his tone cold and unwavering. “You think I’m playing with you? I swear to God, if you don’t eat, I’ll force it down your throat. I. Said. Eat.”

His words cut through the air like a whip, leaving no room for argument. You flinched, staring at the bowl with wide, tear-filled eyes, knowing you had no choice. Your hands trembled as you reached for the spoon, your stomach churning with dread.

“Good,” he muttered, backing away just enough to let you breathe but keeping his eyes fixed on you. “About time you started listening.”

The minutes dragged on, each one more dreadful than the last, as you mindlessly forced the stew down, barely aware of its taste. When you finally pushed the bowl away, too sick with fear and despair to continue, he grabbed it and set it aside with an air of finality.

Then, without warning, John reached for the pouch of jewelry your mother had so carefully saved. He yanked it open, spilling its contents with no regard for the sentiment or sanctity they held. Your heart clenched as you watched his calloused fingers sift through the delicate gold pieces, his touch desecrating what was meant to symbolize joy and love.

"Here," he said, holding up the bangles, his tone commanding and without patience. "Wear these."

You instinctively backed away, clutching your hands to your chest as if shielding the last remnants of your dignity. The urge to snatch the precious jewelry from his sinful hands burned hot inside you, but the fear of his reaction held you in place.

"I said, wear em'."

Before you could think to resist, his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist in a bruising grip. You winced but didn’t dare cry out, not wanting to provoke him further.

With a brutal kind of carelessness, he forced the gold bangles onto your trembling wrists, each one slipping over your hand with a sharp jingle that felt like the sound of shackles locking into place.

"There," he muttered admiring his work as if he’d achieved something. “Now you look the part.”

John’s gaze lingered on you as you sat there, your shoulders hunched and trembling, every ounce of defiance beaten down into quiet submission. You didn’t dare look at him, your hands resting on your lap, fidgeting with the edge of your dress as if trying to distract yourself from the weight of his presence. His earlier words of gruesome threats, and fear for your family still echoing in your mind.

The golden bangles on your wrist caught the dim light, gleaming against your soft, trembling skin. His eyes drifted to your face, the softness of your features now marred by fear. There was something about the way you sat there, quiet but unyielding, that made him feel like he won something precious.

Precious indeed.

“Look at you,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. His voice was low, almost reverent, though it carried a jagged edge. “All quiet now, huh? Guess you’re finally startin’ to get it.”

You didn’t respond, didn’t even flinch, but he noticed the way your shoulders tensed under his gaze. It was enough to make him smirk, though the satisfaction in it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts, John suddenly pushed himself to his feet. The movement was abrupt, startling you enough to glance at him before quickly looking away again. He stood there for a moment, towering over you, his arms crossed as he regarded you with an unreadable expression.

“Listen,” he began, his tone gruff, “I ain’t sleepin’ here tonight.” For a moment, relief flickered across your face, so brief he almost missed it. Almost.

“But,” he continued, “come tomorrow, you’d best start makin’ some space. ‘Cause this is my tent. Got it?”

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching as his words settled over you like a suffocating weight. He waited, watching for a reaction, for some acknowledgment that you understood. When none came, he gave a low, humorless chuckle and shook his head.

“Silent treatment, huh? Fine. You’ll come around.” His voice softened, but the undertone was still sharp enough to cut. “You’ll see. This ain’t as bad as you’re makin’ it out to be.”

With that, he grabbed his hat from the table and left the tent, the flap snapping shut behind him.

❀˖°

The second night fell heavier than the first, the air in the tent still and suffocating. You hadn’t moved much throughout the day, just sat there, staring blankly at the tent walls, every sound outside making you flinch. Food had been brought and taken away untouched. No one had come to check on you, not that you’d wanted them to. The isolation wrapped around you, heavy and unrelenting.

When the flap of the tent rustled, your heart leapt in panic. He stepped inside like he had every right to be there, his figure casting a shadow across the space. John’s hat was off, his coat slung carelessly over his arm. He moved with an air of certainty, his boots scuffing against the ground as he set his belongings on the small table by the cot.

“You’ve been quiet. Guess that means you’re learning.”

You didn’t respond, your arms wrapping around yourself protectively. His eyes landed on you, taking in your hunched posture, the way your face turned away from him. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. The silence stretched between you, tense and unbroken.

He walked closer, and every step made your breath hitch. When he finally stood over you, his shadow loomed large, swallowing you in its weight. “Scoot over,” he ordered, his voice calm but firm.

You froze, shaking your head before you could stop yourself. The fight was small, but it was all you could manage.

His jaw tightened, his lips pressing into a thin line as he crouched down to your level. “Didn’t think I’d have to remind you how things are. But I will if I need to.”

You shrank back, but there was nowhere to go. He sighed, straightening up and running a hand through his hair. “I ain’t here to fight with you, but you’re makin’ it real damn hard.”

Without another word, he sat on the cot beside you. The mattress dipped under his weight, and you shifted as far away as you could, your back pressed against the tent wall. He didn’t seem to care, leaning back and kicking his boots off as if this were just another night.

“I told you last night. You’re gonna have to get used to this. To me.” His gaze flickered to you, lingering for a moment. “The sooner you do, the better.

You wanted to shout, to tell him how much you hated this, how much you hated him, but the words were stuck in your throat. You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, paralyzed by fear, by helplessness.

“No,” you whispered, your voice cracking as the tightness in your chest made it hard to breathe. You said it again, louder this time. “No.”

His lips curled into a mocking smile, barely visible in the dim light. “Mhm... funny.”

He stretched out, reclining with one arm behind his head, and the weight of his presence filled the space between you like a physical force. Your body instinctively flinched as he purposefully spread his legs into your space, a quiet challenge in his movements.

“Go to sleep,” he muttered, his eyes half-lidded as if he were already drifting off. “We’ve got a long road ahead tomorrow, and you’ll need your rest.”

You barely had time to process his words before your mind went racing. Where!? Where were they taking you? Even more far from your family...what if they never will be able to find you?!

“W-where...?” You managed to croak, confusion creeping into your voice.

"Far, far away... to mountains and caves,” he said with an exaggerated flourish, his eyes twinkling as he gestured through the air. The dramatic gesture made you freeze, eyes wide with a mix of fear and disbelief.

He burst into a laugh, the sound echoing through the tent, thick with derision. “I’m just kidding, Princess. But it’s still gonna be far.”

His laughter faded as he leaned back on the cot, his casual tone not fading, he wanted to see the reaction again. “Though, if you really wanna go home,” he added with a shrug, his lips curling into a mocking smile, “you’re welcome to ask. Hell, I’ll even walk you to the edge of the camp myself. Let you find your way back. You’ll be easy pickings out there, though. Lots of nasty things in these woods, not all of them human. It’s just you and the big, wide world. Wolves , bears… maybe worse as in...bandits." His voice dipped lower, soft and dark, almost a whisper.

The insinuation hit you like a punch to the stomach, your throat tightening as panic crept in. He watched your reaction closely, his smirk widening as fear flickered across your face. “But maybe you’re braver than you look and stronger,” he said, almost teasing. “So, what’s it gonna be? Want me to toss you out right now? C'mon then, get up.” He grabbed your wrist which you instantly flinched away from.

You shook your head quickly, your voice breaking as you stammered, “No... no...please.."

“Good answer,” he drawled, reclining again, satisfied. “Smart girl.”

Your chest started heaving as you fought to steady your breathing. The tears came suddenly, hot and uncontrollable, spilling down your cheeks as you sat there, trembling. Another blow of his cruelty crashed into you, and you couldn’t hold it in anymore. Sobs wracked your body, sharp and desperate, as your chest heaved with the weight of it all.

“Please…stop, s-top it,” you whispered between sobs, your hands shaking as they gripped your hair as if you were going insane, Hell you already had. “I-I can’t...I just wanna go ho-me...ple-ase.”

Inside, something twisted painfully in his chest. He hated it, seeing you like this, fragile and terrified because of him.

Fuck fuck fuck--Just what the fuck is wrong with me?!

"Alright, alright," he muttered, his tone softer now. "No need to get all worked up. I...was jus'...I was jus' messing around."

Was I? Or was I about to do that?

You didn’t move and kept weeping and he felt that unfamiliar pang again. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Look, don’t cry, alright?" he said gruffly, almost annoyed with himself for caring. "I’m not gonna... leave you out here or.... anywhere."

When you still didn’t move, sobbing quietly, he muttered a curse under his breath.

"Lay down," he ordered, his voice low but not unkind.

"C'mon, jus' lay down, I...am sorry," he repeated, softer this time and gently, he eased you down onto the bedroll, your sobs still trembling through your body. He tugged the blanket over you, his hands lingering awkwardly before he sat back, watching you silently for a moment.

His jaw tightened as he listened to your broken sobs. The sound tormented him, louder than any scream, worse than any wound. What the hell was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he stop himself from hurting you, only to hate himself when he did?

❀˖°

The long journey had ended, and the camp settled into its usual rhythm, dust hung in the air, mingling with the acrid scent of campfires and the distant rustle of wind through the brush. You sat by the tent, legs pulled tightly to your chest, trying to steady your breath. Every bone in your body ached from the relentless days of riding, your wrists still red and raw from how he'd gripped them during the trip. The journey had been brutal, with no rest, no kindness, only his clipped orders and the suffocating silence that surrounded you. Yet, there had been moments, brief and fleeting like the time on a cold morning, when he had given you one of his warmer coats, the thick leather lined with fur, his gruff voice commanding you to put it on. You had hesitated at first, but had no choice but to obey.

“Get up and go fetch me some coffee,” he ordered without even looking in your direction.

You didn’t respond right away. Your hands gripped the edge of the crate, your heart pounding in your chest. The idea of getting up, moving, doing anything for him was unbearable. You knew the drill, he could force you to do anything, but right now, in this moment, you wanted to pretend you had control over something, anything.

“No,” you retorted sharply, your voice hoarse.

"Excuse me?"

"I am not...your maid."

The next thing you knew, you were yanked off the crate, your body jerking against his iron grip. He dragged you by the arm, unceremoniously. The camp was alive with activity, and you felt every pair of eyes land on you. His grip tightened, making it impossible to escape, his voice low and cold in your ear.

"You think you get to refuse me? I don't think you understand, sweetheart. This is your life now."

He tugged you toward the large stew pot, where a man was stirring it. He looked up as you approached, and John gave a single, dismissive wave of his hand. "She’ll be working here, Pearson. You got it?"

Your stomach churned as you were forced to stand beside the stew pot, the acrid scent of boiled meat and thin broth filling the air. Your mind drifted, traitorously pulling you back to unreachable memories of a life far removed from this. Memories of sitting at a polished table, sunlight streaming through wide-open windows, and more than one dish laid out before you for breakfast alone, fluffy eggs, fresh fruit, steaming tea, and pastries you could barely finish.

Now, the single, unappetizing pot seemed almost mocking, its contents a reminder of how far you’d fallen. You blinked hard, willing the tears away, but they pricked at your eyes nonetheless, a lump forming in your throat

Everything here is going to taste nothing but broken dreams and grief to you.

"Now," he ordered, pushing you toward the cooking wagon. "Get used to the smell. Get used to the work. You want to know where you're going to spend most of your time Princess? This...right fucking here."

But John wasn’t done. He moved again, dragging you along with him to the laundry area.

"And here, you’ll wash the clothes. See how nice it looks? This is your world now, little by little. I don't care if you're tired. I don't care if you're angry. Nobody does. You’ll do what I tell you, or it’ll be worse for you."

His words were venomous, and they stung deeper than you cared to admit. The powerlessness of it all seemed to suffocate you, leaving you with nothing but the grinding reality of your situation.

He let go of your arm then, but still hovered over you.

"You can stay here and sulk if you want, but just know this," he added, his voice cold again. "You’re part of this family and there is a limit to where I and Dutch will tolerate your moodiness. He can be pissed too when he wants to be so don't embarrass me in front of others. And I don’t take kindly to disobedience. Not from you. Daddy must have spoiled you but here none of that shit happens."

You didn’t respond, but the pit in your stomach grew heavier. The space around you, the smell of the stew, the relentless noise of the camp, it all felt suffocating. You felt like you were drowning, your heart aching with every passing second.

"John! Stop it!" Sharp with panic, a voice broke through the suffocating fog of confusion that had clouded your mind. You turned, eyes blurry with tears, just in time to see Annabelle rush to your side. Her presence was like a shield, her arms wrapping around you as she positioned herself between you and him. "As if you already hadn't disappointed me enough! Get fuckin' lost right now!."

Their argument became muffled as you stood there, breath shallow, heart pounding. Everything that had happened, everything you had lost, overwhelmed you. You thought back to that final day with your family, the day that now felt like a distant, unreachable dream.

Why had you taken everything for granted? The simple comforts, the warmth of your home, the sound of your mother’s scolding, your father’s jokes, their laughter that filled the air. How you longed to hear those things again, to feel their embrace, to be wrapped in the safety of your old life.

You closed your eyes, letting the memories flood your mind. Mama… The name escaped your lips in a breathless whimper, and you clutched at Annabelle desperately, as though she could somehow give you back everything you had lost.

Annabelle's arms tightened around you, her face hardening with a scowl as she glared at John. She didn’t need to say anything. The fury in her eyes spoke volumes. But in that moment, you felt like you were in a world of your own, lost in the painful yearning for a life that no longer existed.

"I can’t," you whispered, the words barely a sound. "I can’t… be here. I want to go home. I beg you.."

Annabelle’s grip on you softened slightly, but she didn't let go. She didn’t have the words to ease the ache in your chest, but she had the strength to offer you something, a shield, a comfort, even if it wasn’t enough to erase the crushing weight of your new life.

John stood there, a silent observer for now, but you knew the storm was far from over. Every moment with him felt like a battle, and you were too broken, too tired, to fight anymore. You thought yourself crumbling once again.

Annabelle whispered something to you, comforting words, but they were lost in the haze of your thoughts.

God, this is heart breaking to watch, why can't it be just a piece of cake? Why are you making it so hard?

But John knew it wasn't your fault, not in the slightest. He couldn't take it anymore so he turned, his boots heavy against the dirt floor of the camp and walked away with a grumble, disappearing into the shadows of the camp, leaving you behind in the dimming light, holding onto whatever remnants of dignity you had left.

Annabelle, still by your side, squeezed you tighter, her expression hardened as she watched John leave. Her voice was a whisper, a promise, as she comforted you in the only way she knew how. "I am here, alright. Don't be afraid. We’ll get through this... together."

❀˖°

John lay on his back in the dimly lit tent, the muted crackle of the campfire outside casting faint, flickering shadows across the canvas walls. He knew you were awake. His gaze shifted downward, catching on your hands where they rested near your chest. The bangles on your wrists glinted faintly in the low light, the same ones you hadn’t been allowed to remove. But it wasn’t the jewelry that held his attention. It was the raw, chapped skin of your fingers under the shadow of the blanket, evidence of the cold and the endless work you’d been made to do. Not to mention your shivering...

With a quiet sigh, John sat up, the bedroll creaking under his weight. He stood, the night air slipping into the tent as he stepped outside. A few moments later, he returned, a spare blanket draped over one arm. Without a word, he leaned over, laying it carefully across you.

He laid back down with a soft huff, his hands laced behind his head as he stared at the canvas ceiling above. Silence stretched between you, but it didn’t last.

"I know," he murmured, his voice low but steady. "It’s probably a nightmare for you. Not exactly the fairytale you might’ve dreamed of...I mean...I would be the last person you would even imagine yourself to be with..." He chuckled, the sound bitter and humorless. "But it’s real. And it’s done. There’s nothing that can be done about it now."

His head turned slightly, enough that you could feel the weight of his gaze even though you couldn't see it. "What do you want? For me to throw you out? To let you go back? You think that’s an option? Because it’s not. Believe it or not but...it ain't some tradition...it's a commitment and... I’ve taken on a responsibility, and I’m willing to see it through. But not if you keep acting like this."

The cycle was obvious to him now.

He gets gentle with you, just for a moment, and you start acting up, that defiant spark in your eyes resurfacing. Then he gets pissed, and you get scared. And that fear? Those tears? They make him more fucking pissed.

Your tense back beside him seemed to beckon, and he found himself turning toward you, his hand hovering hesitantly. His fingers twitched, itching to close the space between you, but for a fleeting second, something strange held him back. Fear? Doubt? Is he doing this then? He brushed the thought aside, refusing to examine it further.

When his hand finally settled on your waist, you immediately swatted it away, which he both expected and loathed. He placed it back, this time firmer, pulling you against him.

"Listen here,” he muttered, his voice low, close to your ear. “If you start to accept it, this, us, I might even take you to see your family...” He let the words out, unsure himself if they were a genuine promise or just another thread of control. But right now, it didn’t matter. He just wanted to feel the soft warmth of you against him, to revel in the fleeting sense of peace it gave him. He wanted to test all of this out...unravel this sweet chaos he had caused.

Damn, the warmth, the softness, the scent. Mhm. Not...bad... I could get used to this.

“Got it?” he whispered, his lips almost brushing your ear. You didn’t answer, only buried your face into the pillow with a shaky nod. A smirk tugged at his lips, satisfaction blooming in his chest and e tightened his arm around you.

"Good, that's what I thought, Princess." This time, his voice lacked its usual taunting edge, carrying a note of unexpected softness instead.

"Or should I say, Mrs. Marston.."

He buried his face into your hair and neck, sighing at the softness, and his mind, as if on its own, pictured it almost too vividly...even when he tried to stop himself.

Children with your eyes but his resolve running through the camp, the echoes of their laughter filling the space he once thought too hollow to hold anything but emptiness.

He always wanted a family, a real one. Something steady, something lasting. What he craved for himself as a kid. And maybe if he had that, people would finally start to see him as more than some reckless kid. As a man. A mature, responsible man.

Responsibility... That was what he needed, wasn’t it? Something to ground him. A driving force to keep him steady, to give all of this chaos some kind of meaning.

His legacy, carved into this broken world. Something that wouldn’t burn away with the next heist or the next score.

And when he came back from dangerous jobs, when the blood and the dirt weighed heavy on his shoulders, what then? A man’s eyes needed to see somethin’ peaceful after all that. Not just poker cards and stolen loot. No, he’d need somethin’ better. Like....you, rocking his kids to sleep in your arms. Their tiny fists clutching at your shirt, your voice humming low to calm them.

You’d resist at first, of course, you would, and damn it, that only made the thought burn brighter. He could see it so clearly, the defiance in your eyes softening with time, with understanding. And then, after a while, you wouldn’t be able to fight it anymore.

He swallowed hard, the image filling his mind. The thought of you, his woman, his wife, with his child.

He smirked in the dim light, his grip tightening and his chest rumbling with a hum, " You'd make a fine mother. Yeah...they’d be beautiful. Tough, too. With my grit and your… well, everything else.”

Your body stiffened instantly in disgust and terror. The thought sent a cold wave of dread through you, the very idea of this made you sick to your stomach. “No way in hell,” you hissed, your voice sharper than you intended.

John stilled for a moment, the smile slipping from his face. The quiet that followed was dangerous. Then, slowly, he shifted, propping himself up on one elbow to overtop you.

"Say that again." His voice was quiet, too quiet, but the simmering anger beneath it was impossible to miss.

"I said, no way in hell. No. I’m not… I won’t…you are insane to think-"

His hand slid to your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "You think you get a say in this, Princess?"

You tried to turn your face away, but his hold tightened just enough to make you freeze. He leaned closer, his voice dropping into a dangerous whisper. "I’ll make you see it my way, one way or another. You’ll thank me for it one day when they’re calling you Mama and lookin’ up at you like you hung the fuckin' stars."

He let go of your chin harshly. Turning back onto his side, he muttered under his breath.

"Might be the only thing that keeps your mind away from your home. A family. My family."

(AN: Do yall want an Arthur version for this concept?👀 Also to be in the taglist , just comment down below. )

[abbeym28]

Clarisse La Rue - I'm Your Man

Clarisse x gn! reader from any cabin but Hermes and Ares

An- This is my first PJO fanfic and it took me like a week to write this lol and I don't know if I really like it?? Pls tell me if you catch any mistakes or anything, you guys don't even want to know how many words I couldn't write. But there are about 3,000 words!!! Images aren't mine

Also, I think I will open request, so if anyone want me to write another PJO fanfic pls just send a request!!!!

Warnings!!- Kissing near the end, a weird amount of Chris and Luke, they are like your besties but they are also weird??? One swear, some fights and foreshadowing and stuff, I hope that's it

You hit the ground hard after you had tripped into the boundary that separated your new camp from the outside world. The stayr that had led you here ran past you and yelled a lot of words that somehow your ears couldn't pick up on.

The monster that had been chasing you previously roared and tried to reach out for you, but the force field (or whatever it was) protect you as you watched from the ground. Farther away, there seemed to be more shouts and loud noises.

“There you go, up up up up,” Two different hands gripped onto your biceps and loosened slightly when they had both pulled you up to your feet. They quickly tighten again though once you started to sway forwards.

“Woah, what happened to you?” You blinked and tried to turn to look at the person who had said that, but more shouting and loud thumps plus the strain on your neck caused the shocking feeling of probably the worst migraine of your life stopped you from doing anything.

“Let's take them to the infirmary. Some Apollo kid can take a look at them and then we can show them around once they feel better.”

At that point, the world was started to spin and you felt like you were being moved, but it was hard to tell. You were pretty sure that everything had turned black after a shout of victory filled the air.

You were starting to wish that you were still unconscious on the infirmary bed.

You were following to guys around, Chris and Luke, and they claimed that they were the ones that had help you get to the infirmary in the first place. They were bringing you around the camp, making sure to point out the bizarre and magical things. Like the pegasus.

“And over here, this is where we train. Luke is the best sword fighter in the camp.”

“Don't brag about me like that, it's weird.” Chris laughed and Luke punched him in the arm. They moved out of the taller grass to go towards the more compacted dirt area where other campers were shooting arrows and swinging swords.

You stood still in your spot, watching them. You missed your home and old normal life.

“Move it.” A shoulder bumped into your own, and you don’t know if it was pain or something more, but your whole arm felt as if it was touched by electricity. You jerked back, and the girl that had bumped into you raised an eyebrow. She was facing you now, and two other kids who you assumed were her siblings found a place behind her, as if they were some sort of shoulder pads.

“Well?” She tilted her head to the side, and you mirrored her.

“Is something wrong?” Your question made her two goons snort.

“You’re the newbie, right? Well, it was your monster that gave me this scar. I can hardly wield my spear now!” She pointed to her arm, which you only then realized was set in a cast. You must have been too busy paying attention to how beautiful her hair looked.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn't know you were the one fighting it. Thank you.” You nodded and turned away to go back over to Chris and Luke as Clarisse looked a bit confused and surprised.

Well, this might get interesting.

“How is she so pretty?” Your chin sat on the palm of your hand as you continued to stare at Clarisse as she twirled her spear and took the final blow against her opponent, being some kid from the Apollo cabin. Sweat glistened down the side of her face as the sun casted the perfect lighting to cast upon her smirk of victory. A towel was thrown onto your face, blinding you of the surrounding scenery.

“Gods, you kind of disgust me sometimes. No one looks good when they sweat like that.”  Chris shrugged as he whipped his face with a towel of his own.

You scoffed and got up off of the bench that you were sitting on. Training like this was never easy, especially at camp half blood, aka the camp of the Greek demigods. But, it did come with its separate perks.

“But Clarisse does. You shouldn't project on other people just because you aren’t fond of how you look after these battles.” Another towel was thrown at you as you giggled.

“She doesn't even like you that much, even after all of these years. Maybe you should give up trying to get closer to her. Did you see what she tried to do to Per-”

“Clarisse still isn’t really someone you want to interact with. Their are better people at this camp to get along with.” Luke interrupted Chris and handed the two of you cold bottles filled with what you assumed to be water. Chris started drinking it right away, while you sat it down on the bench along with your towel. Chris and Luke had shown you around the camp when you had just arrived, but even back a few years ago, there was just something you knew you needed to be wary of.

Even if Clarisse doesn’t like you the same way you like her, being around her has taught you some things about trusting others. And tips of how to weild a spear.

"As a head counselor, don't you think you should support relationships?” Luke rolled his eyes.

“Your not apart of my cabin, and neither is Clarrise, but I can still be worried about a friend, right?” You hummed and turned to head back up to the dining hall, or maybe your cabin. Anywhere more secluded would be nice at the least.

“Hey! You forgot all of your stuff!”

“A water bottle and towel aren’t stuff, Luke,  I’m good.”

The dining hall became less and less secluded the more the minutes passed. It wasn't really getting late, but teenage campers did find themselves to be very hungry after training and various other activities.

Closing your eyes, you leaned against the wooden pillar behind you and tried to let your mind calm a bit. You couldn't quite shake the bad feeling that seemed to loom over your shoulders.

Did you choose the right group to hang out with? The weight of friendship bracelets weighed down on your wrist. Time and time again, Chris and Luke, and also Clarisse, have proven themselves to be good and trustworthy people. So why did something always feel wrong? Why can’t you just trust them? And what do these feelings say about the future?

The bump of a shoulder against yours made you shake out of your thoughts and forced you to open your eyes.

“What’s wrong with you?” Clarisse stood in front of you, slight worry lines creased between her eyebrows. Suddenly the world didn’t seem so dark, and the evil didn’t seem too bad.

You grinned at her and she backed away, letting you take a place by her side. She was carrying some food on a lunch tray in her left hand while her right still clenched around her spear.

“You scared me there!” She hummed as she sat down at a table in the back that no one else was near or sitting at. You sat next to her.

“Don’t you want to go get food?” she focused her attention on placing her spear in a safe position, so she missed the smile that seemed to glow like the moon on your face. She was worrying about you! After a minute passed and with you not answering, she turned towards you with a raised eyebrow.

“Well?” You snapped out of the seemingly lovestruck way you were to answer what she had asked.

“Oh, I’m not too hungry. You don't need to worry about me one bit!” She turned away and picked up her fork to eat the still warm meat and mashed potatoes.

“I wasn’t.” she grumbled. The rest of the lunch was silent, with Clarisse eating and you picking at the peeling paint that still somehow coated the wooden table. The minute she was done shoveling all of the food into her mouth she got up and grabbed her spear. You jumped up after her, following as she returned the tray and left the dining hall.

“What are we gonna do now?”

“Spar. But you don't have to join.” Clarisse’s words sounded firm, but despite the seeming protest against you, she did want to spar with you. You had made great progress since you had first gotten to camp, progress that had made the daughter of the god of war and many others as jealous as it did make them proud. In time, Clarisse found that it might just benefit her to keep you around. You treated her nicely, and you could challenge her abilities while not being upset when she lashes out. You weren’t someone who would just come into her life at any time, but you were more like an anchor that grounded her. Feelings she had never even dreamed of feeling seemed to grow stronger each minute she's next to you.

She was just really terrible at showing it.

The two of you spent the rest of the day up until nightfall fighting. You called it quits first, the want and ache for food and a nice shower were starting to over take the feeling of needing to be around Clarrise.

She walked back with you to the showers, and you had to resist the twitching in your hand that reached to hold Clarisse’s.

With your hair still dripping wet, you made the short walk of going to the dining hall for a snack and then to your cabin. It was the laughter that rang out in the night air and the shadow of Clarisse’s silhouette that made you pause.

“So you don’t really like them, right? Why let them stay close to you like you do?” More questions seemed to arise, all from people you could recognize to be from the Ares cabin.

“We understand that they are useful to you. When it comes to them, it doesn't seem hard to please them either. The way they follow you around just kind of reminds me of a dog, ya’ know?”

Laughter seemed to get louder as the world around seemed to stop and spin faster at the same time. There were calls of your name, or maybe not, who knew? There seemed to be more sounds that sounded like fighting, sounds that remind you of when you had first crash landed at camp.

But all you really seemed to know was the maybe Luke and Chris were right, and that maybe the ground was getting closer, and maybe there were footsteps coming towards you, and maybe-

- You passed out. Chris was pacing back and forth in front of the bed you were laying in. You groaned and moved to sit up.

“Chris, what are yo-”

“OH MY GODS, YOU’RE AWAKE!!!??? ‘Kay, how many fingers am I holding up??” A hand was pushed right in your face but you groaned and paused his hand away and messaged your temple.

"What time is it?”

“It’s noon. You were out for, like, a solid day.” The refermery door opened quickly, making it slam a bit into the wood wall. You winced.

There was no way that your headache was going to go away any time soon.

Both Clarisse and Luke walked in, and there seemed to be some sort of angry tension between them. But they both seemed to loosen up a bit once they both saw you sitting up and watching them. Luke said your name in relief, but then Clarisse pushed past him in urgency.

“Come on, let's go somewhere else,” she grabbed your hand and tried to pull you up, but you did your best to put all of your weight in staying down.

“Clarisse, they just woke up. They need more rest, or at least some food-”

“That doesn’t matter right now, I need to talk to them about something, Luke.'' They were shooting daggers at each other through their eyes. Clarisse sighed and said your name. “Come on, we need to go-”

“Clarisse, I’m staying here.” You could feel the look of shock that she was giving you, but you focused on staring at the white bed sheets that you were fiddling with.

“Your cabin mates were right, and I think I don’t want to be your dog anymore. You don’t have to pretend anything anymore just to make sure you can keep me around, because I don't know if I want to be around you anymore.” The silence that followed your words was deafening. You peeked up through your eyelashes, and it seemed as if Clarisse was literally fuming.

“My cabin mates have no idea about anything they said. You are not a dog, and you have always been-”

“Clarisse, that's enough. They don't want to be near you anymore, so you should leave.” Clarisse glared at Luke, then looked back at you, staring for a long moment. She let out an angered huff.

“Fine, but you better watch your back from now on, Castellan.” And with that, she spun around and stomped out the door, slamming it hard enough that the whole cabin shook and a little vase full of flowers that was sitting on a windowsill fell and shattered into hundreds of pieces. In a strange way, it felt as if your heart could relate to it.

For the next week and a half, Clarisse was the one following you around.

Well, for the most part.

You would catch her staring from a distance while you practice archery with Luke, or when you did swimming lessons with the younger kids and Chris. You knew that she tried to get closer a few times, but with how close Chris and Luke stuck by your side, you could see that this whole situation was frustrating her to no end.

“You guys know you don't have to follow me around like that, right?” you set your lunch tray down on the table and Luke set his food down next to you and Chris sat across from you.

“We have to make sure our favorite camper is safe, right?” Luke patted you on the back as he took a bit of his food and you rolled your eyes.

That night, you snuck away from your cabin and down to the lake. Being out anywhere in camp after dark makes you feel paranoid, but almost nothing could compare to the serene scenery. You sat down on the edge of the lake, where the sand wasn’t that wet and the water's small waves could just barely touch your toes.

You brought your knees up to your chest and sighed and buried your head in them. Why didn’t anything feel right? Was taking a step back from Clarisse really the right answer?

A twig snapped from somewhere behind you and you sprung up and squinted towards the forest. Gods, please let it not be a harpy. But it wasn’t. It was Clarisse.

“What are you doing here?” You questioned her immediately as she walked closer towards you.

“Following you. What are you doing here?”

You stayed quiet and sunk back onto the sand. Clarisse silently sat down next to you, farther away than what you really wanted, but close enough so you could feel the heat of her, the heat that all of Ares’s kids seemed to have.

“I'm here to think. Clarisse, have I- have I been stupid?” The question came out more desperate than how you first wanted it to.

“Yes.” You laughed a bit at how quick her response came. But even with that, tears felt like they were coming into your eyes, and you angled your head to look at her. She was once again already looking at you, her gorgeous brown eyes slightly lidded and a small smile graced her lips.

“I care about you, Clarisse. Like, a lot.” You blurted the words out, and you almost regretted them. Almost, but then Clarisse scotched just a little bit closer to you.

Clarisse whispered your name and brought her hand up to your cheek. Your ears felt hot, and so did the spot that the girl in front of you was softly caressing.

“Why did you push me away like that?”

“Because… you don’t feel the way that I feel for you, and I've known that for years, Clarisse. And, your cabin mates, like, hate me. I just… didn't want to put myself through anything I wasn't prepared for, I guess.” The waves lapping away at the shore was the white noise that saved you from quite literally going crazy.

Clarisse just stared at you.

“Look, I don’t really have… the best relationships with other people, but I know that I care about you too. Also, I beat up siblings for saying all of that shit, so please stop using it as an excuse. ” Clarisse pulled you a little bit closer, as if she was asking a question. You answered it by letting her pull you towards her, and it was you who leaned in first.

The kiss was like a spark, with your lips on hers and with her hands moving to sit on your hips, gripping at them in a way that grounded the both of you just a bit. Your hands went to tangle in her curls, pulling on them gently as the kiss dragged on. You pulled away first, taking deep breaths and looking at Clarisse with wide eyes.

“I’ve been waiting to do that,” She went back in for another kiss, but you put your hands on her chest to make sure she stayed a bit away.

“Clarisse!” you whisper shouted as she blinked at you.

“What?”

“Should we really be, you know-”

She lightly grabbed the fabric of your shirt and pulled you back into her. Your second kiss was just as passionate as the first one, but the second one seemed to tell you so much more.

“I’m in love with you. I want to be yours, and I wish that you could be mine.”

You were taken aback by her words, but they made you weak in your knees and you could swear you were melting.

“I’m in love with you too. Iv'e been yours “

And then with the moonlight illuminating you both, you kissed Clarisse for the third that evening, which was most definitely not going to be the last one before the harpies could find you.

[satoruxx]

sorry to go feral in your inbox but ghostface!miguel who is crazy about you (in a good way I promise) and does everything in his power to protect you and keep those horrible college guys from your classes away from you but you only know him as the mysterious gravelly voice who calls you every night that you’ve grown fond of as your personal lullaby-

pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!reader | 1.5k words summary: ghostface!miguel, stalking, possessive miguel, violence, death, killing, obsessive behavior, suggestive, killer miguel ofc, reader is WAY too trusting, miggy just loves you so much !! rheya’s note: NONNIE BABES YOU GENIUS !! he absolutely would oh my fucking god. i am so normal about this (going feral) i was literally squealing while writing this it was rough. why is this concept hot? do i need therapy? probably. anyways he's a creep in this but in a good way? (the way this ask literally got me inspired to draw ghostface!miguel UGH) anyways ENJOY !!

miguel isn't a bad guy. he's not. he's one of the good guys actually, a hero. he's always been a hero.

it's not his fault that there are some assholes in the world that are fucked up, preying on innocent people who just want to live their lives.

sweet, innocent people like you.

how a girl as sweet and precious as you managed to get yourself surrounded by such horrible people is beyond him. and you're so nice too, always assuming that nobody has it out for you or that everyone has some good in them. with that mindset, you were just asking to be put in danger.

so, being the hero that he is, it's his obligation to look out for you, right?

it starts off quietly. he doesn't make an effort to connect with you, choosing to watch you from the shadows as he silently tracks your day. miguel is nothing if not observant, mentally noting every single person you interact with or looks your way. and if they get a little too close, a little too comfortable? well, then he'd just have to take care of that for you, wouldn't he?

he hates that one flirty coworker of yours, always leaning a little too close to you and chatting like he's your fucking boyfriend. miguel can see the little crease of discomfort in your brows whenever that coworker is nearby, and he decides that he hates that expression on you. but you feel fine afterwards, because when your coworker goes missing the next day, you send a quick thank you to the heavens, trying to push down your guilt.

he finds out that you try to make some extra money by tutoring a guy at your school. and when miguel watches the two of you through the windows of the library he feels hatred like no other run through his veins because he doesn't like how this guy looks at you. that asshole probably didn't even need tutoring to begin with, using it as a pathetic excuse to get close to you. what a fucking joke. but you don't have to stress about tutoring anymore because the next day you get a text saying the kid has transferred schools. you never hear from him again.

oh but the worst ones are the ones who ask you out on dates. they don't even know how lucky they are, getting to see you all dolled up and pretty for them, only to absolutely destroy your hopes for a good time. it makes miguel so angry he sees red. every fucking time one of those losers makes a comment that has your shoulders slumping with disappointment, a miserable frown on your pretty lips by the end of the night, he feels sick to his stomach. but he hopes that when you see your date's body on the news the next morning, you won't be so disappointed anymore.

only after watching over you for a while does miguel decide to finally talk to you, finding the perfect hiding spot to watch you through your window as you pick up your ringing phone. he has to stop himself from groaning because your voice sounds so much sweeter when it's in his ear, smooth and precious as you ask who it is. and he can't resist playing with you, dying to hear more as he sighs behind his mask.

"tell me your name and maybe i'll tell you mine." miguel answers, gravelly voice practically purring through the speaker. he can see the confusion on your face as you pace your kitchen, reaching for a bag of chips before walking back to your couch and settling in to watch a movie. he hears the screams from the tv and bites his lip. "what's that noise?"

"a movie." you reply, the expression on your face getting less guarded as you listen to his voice.

"a scary movie?" he asks, leaning against the edge of the roof so that he's got the perfect view of you. you take a chip and pop it in your mouth, chewing quietly, and he follows the movement of your lips with eager eyes.

"mhm," you nod, and miguel thinks it's so fucking cute the way you move your head even though you think he can't see you.

"you like scary movies?" he asks with a hum, and you voice out a yes. his eyes remain hooded and attentive as he effortlessly continues the conversation. "you got a favorite, sweetheart?"

he catches the way you melt under his sweet words, and miguel decides then and there that he's never letting you go. he listens to your answers with a grin, tucking his knife away and watching you animatedly talk to him for the remainder of the night.

and the rest is history.

you tell him about a guy who's bothering you? he'll bury him. someone made you cry? he'll break their legs. your date stood you up? he'll stab them so many times he loses count. and then after all of that, he'll call you like he always does, rumbling honeylike words into his phone as he casually watches you from behind his mask.

"and how was your day today, sweetheart?" he'll drawl out, late at night as he perches on the neighboring roof to your apartment. with the way he's angled he can perfectly see the innocent little smile on your face as you settle in bed, talking on the phone like you're not scared of him at all.

and you shouldn't be, because he'd never hurt you, of course.

some nights you'll giddily tell him about the most exciting parts of your day, smiling and giggling until you fall asleep without a care in the world. but on the nights when you complain or whine about somebody that's made you upset, wronged you, or god forbid, showed interest in you? well, those are the nights miguel has to grit his teeth and clench his fists, trying to control the flare of pure rage that courses through him. he lulls you to sleep with sweet words, trying to keep his cool but still vibrating with anger because who the fuck do they think they are, getting near you like that?

"don't worry, pretty girl," he sighs into the phone, twirling his knife between his fingers. "i'm sure they'll stop bothering you soon enough."

and they do. but you being the precious oblivious little thing you are, assume that you're just lucky. a guardian angel, you had said, was watching over you. miguel had just chuckled into the phone, deep and rich as he smirked at you from the roof once again.

"guardian angel? well lucky you, huh?" he had asked, feeling all too pleased with himself. you agreed with a nod.

well, if that's what you wanted to see him as he had no problem playing guardian angel for you.

and no he doesn't even want you to find out, because the last thing he wants to do is scare you. no no, he'd much rather protect you from the shadows, eliminating every single threat could ever harm a hair on your pretty little head. his reward comes in the form of you living your life, carefree smiles and all.

and granted he feels much more rewarded when he calls you late at night, deep voice teasing with an underlying sense of possessiveness as he speaks to you about anything and everything. he doesn't understand why and how you decided that he was safe to talk to, but you do, laughing and sighing into the phone until you've dozed off.

and if you've accidentally left your windows open, well of course being the gentleman he is, miguel will close them for you. but not before he stands at your bedside, raising his mask to watch you sleep peacefully. such a pretty little thing, so sweet and gentle. and after pulling himself away from your sleeping form, he quietly shuts the window behind him, yanking his mask back down with a smirk because he doesn't want anyone else to see you all vulnerable like that.

you were too trusting to begin with, but you trusting him is alright. after all he's the only one who's been looking out for you. anyone else tries to get near you and he'll have no choice but to tear their limbs off. they could be a threat to you, right?

but that's why he'll never let you out of his sight.

you're his after all.

[ariathelamia]

Hellhound HRT - Day -???

Little note at the start: Hellhound HRT is being written by Arynia, who is a alter... the only alter in this system ^^ Since she is unable to front so far, we decided to have her write the story~ well she tells me what to write and i do that~ Don't worry, Lamia HRT is going to continue! It's just a bit of a drawing rut on my end^^..

Thank you @dawning-mars for the cameo and help writing this~ it was a lot of fun working with you!! Anyway~ on to the story!!

“That FUCKING asshole!” 

I shout while kicking the empty can of soda down the alleyway, hitting a trash can and accidentally spooking the Racoon that was currently inside of it away..

I just happened to leave the clinic of this gigantic egotistical asshole doctor Erian, my tail all the way along my back and fur all over the place. Shit, getting ahead of myself here.

‘Sup, Names Arynia, but people just call me Nia. I’ve been on Wolf HRT for a while… probably what.. 4 to 5 months now? Well let me just paint a picture. Think about an average height punk girl, with a body mostly covered in a mix of orange and gray fur… Got a nice long undercut for hair, and an otherwise still pretty human face, if you discount the slight elongation that would become my snout one day.  Got me a pretty neat tail though! Doctor was quite surprised when he saw it, usually they don’t get that tall so quickly? I guess I lucked out on that one. Legs are still humanoid though… no signs of paws yet… they do ache a little but i guess i traded the Tail growth for the leg restructuring.. Well none of this matters now cause that fucker just cut me off the meds anyway because i accidentally let slip that “being a normal wolf might not be as fulfilling as i thought… that i wanted something a little… extra.”... Guess that was enough for that idiot asshole bastard to say “If you are not happy with the current progress then continuing from here on out won’t be in your best interest.” And something about coming back when i know what i actually want and if this is the right thing and- URGH!! I should have kept my mouth shut but that's just not my style… 

Anyway back to the here and now. Feeling kinda bad for the Racoon… well can’t say sorry now that it’s gone. But what the fuck do i do now? Well first things first, checking the messages… Lot’s o’ new people sending in their first dosage posts… pretty neat. Some new faces joined the support group-... ah shit gotta make the news that i probably gotta leave now.. since i don’t really have an ongoing prescription anymore… ACTUALLY- maybe someone has an idea what to do… yeah thats a better outlook, after all that asshole Theodore isn’t the only doc around. 

I ended up sending a lengthy text in the vent section about my situation.. At first people sent some pleasantries but then also some neat ideas on where to go. I did mention my wish for something more… extravagant and low and behold, someone heard of a library in Hypercity that I should check out. Something about a Mysterious worker there that spooked some customers away with her… “monstry aura”? Sounds neat. Just gotta find the place.

Good thing the Maps app on the phone works in Hyper City.. otherwise this place would become a maze… It’s been neat just exploring new areas though, seeing all kinds of people on different stages in their HRT. Cats… Bats… a freaking DRAGON… pretty sure saw some cyborg too but not sure if that’s HRT or just them wearing prosthetics.. either way looked pretty neat. Ever since this stuff hit the market, and more people managed to grab the formula and distribute it, new kinda therians pop out by the day. Good thing I got a spot in that support group when they still had any. Although things do be a bit hectic in the chats.. but that’s alright. Anything major and important is learned in the group sessions anyway.

After another half an hour of walking and listening to the instructions on my phone, I finally made it to the library…  Pretty normal looking place from the outside if you think about the worker here that everyone is making mysteries of is apparently supposed to be some kinda… space monster.. though the descriptions do shift from mention to mention. Anyway I decided it’s enough waiting around… time to go in.

The SECOND I stepped into the lobby, my instincts fired alarm signals. I don’t know how to interpret that but god damn, my fur was standing upright and my ears clenched backwards. What the fuck is going on? Despite my body telling me to run, I go forward… this wolf ain’t no quitter i tell you that! My hand slowly reaches for the bell at the reception, after three deep breaths I finally manage to ring it. The body is making one last attempt to try to make me run away, now that I have given away my position to whatever predator it was so afraid of. But I won't. I gotta know what the hell this place is about now.

As the bell rings, the library quickly goes cold. The lights seem to be weaker, trying to fight against a layer of darkness that wasn’t present before the ring. The air is heavy and the sounds of footsteps can be heard from book stacks. Through the Darkness emit 5 bright eyes, their pinkish purple hues fluctuate and pulse. 

“Hello Deary, Welcome to the Thayer Library. My name is Mars, how can I help you?” 

Her voice vibrates with an unnatural distortion. Emerging into view is a 7 foot tall creature. Her skin is an unsaturated purple that resembles that of a shark's skin. She wears a black 50’s style dress with a ribbon tied at her waist. A large black sun hat covers a portion of her feature lacking face.

Quite the contrast in style compared to my black tank top, skinny jeans with ripped sides and black and white sneakers…

Mars passes me, walking back to the front desk. She looks down and gives me a monstrously happy grin. 

I take a moment to take in this surreal sight… I’ve seen my fair share of therians and otherkin before… Hell, one of my friends is a freakin’ Lamia… but THIS?! This is something entirely different. Feel like I just got transported into a whole different world, even though my actual position did not change…

“Uhm- name’s Arynia.. I was told this place could help me out with a predicament I found myself in. You see i uh-... just got cut off from my HRT for wanting something more… “Special” than a normal wolf and uh-... yeah-... here I am. Is there anyone you can introduce me to? Or how does this work?...” 

I stop myself from just babbling on and wait with baited breath for the answer of Mars. Trying to figure out WHAT kind of otherkin she is…

“Hm, what exactly do you mean by ‘special’?” She asked, looking me over and giving an inquisitive glare. She didn’t have pupils to track, but the way her brows shifted and glared. I felt myself being scrutinized, like I was being dissected. I struggled to find the words, the eye on her forehead looked deeper than the rest. It’s unblinking resolve pierces through me to my very being. I felt afraid, angered, lost. She must’ve noticed how I felt as she reached to the lid of her hat and pulled it down to cover the fifth eye.

I looked at her with an unsure expression… What DID i mean by that? God, his words about being not sure what I even wanted came back to my head… I didn’t want to be just a wolf… although being a Wolf isn’t bad I just needed something more… “... demonic…”

I suddenly said quietly.. my own thoughts bubbling out of my mouth involuntarily.

“Not… like a demon-demon but like… I don't know… a Demon Wolf? Fur that is almost like smoke but also… solid? ... heat that burns in my chest…

That kinda special…”

Mars' expression changes and sits down at her computer. As her attention turned to the screen I felt a weight ease off me. I nervously watched as the being before me tapped away on her computer. As she typed up something she looked up.

“I think I understand” 

Mars says, not looking up from the computer screen.

“There are ways to be… ethereal, cosmic, existing both in the mortal realm and the outer realms. Technically speaking, what you’re asking fits the description of the Abrahamic Hellhound. But I feel that’s not what you're looking for. It’s hard to explain the unexplainable… trust me..”

Mars hits the enter button as she looks back up at me. A kinder smile on her face as she looked for my response. The pressure of her presence once more weighed down on me as I stumbled to respond.

I scratch the back of my head and nod. 

“Y-yeah. Kinda hard to find something that describes the kind of thing I am looking for. A Hellhound sounds not bad, maybe some kinda different version! Maybe something with a bit more… fur hehe.. I guess you would know what it’s like. I don’t want to sound mean but I have never seen anything like you either.”

“Well my transition is a bit… different than the rest.. it’s hard to explain and it’s harder to understand. Frankly I’m still trying to figure out what I am and what’s going on…”

I notice her grab something from behind their desk. She looks down as I hear her scribble something out before standing up once more.

“I think I have something of interest to you, within the archives we have a selection of old reproductions from the Library of Alexandria. It was there where I found a way to become what I am. I believe I know something in the vault that might help you”.

She walked past me, her back appendages stretching outward and then falling back to a rest state. Her tail sways as she walks past the stacks and to a glass door saying ‘Employees Only’.

“Stay here and I’ll have the item brought down for you, feel free to look around while I’m gone.”

It was then that I first noticed how freaking exhausted I was from all the tension that was constantly in my body. I slumped against the desk and felt like I could breathe normally for the first time in my life, even when I didn't notice me breathing abnormally before. This entire situation is beginning to make me feel… somewhat… no… not somewhat.. REALLY excited! When I first started my transition into a Wolf, I felt a slight excitement with it.. not nearly as strong as it is now.  I was sure, this is it! I am at the right place, whatever comes next is what I really wanted!! 

I didn’t start looking around, my feet were almost stuck to the ground, my body still somewhat on edge. My fur definitely needed a brush now with how much it keeps shifting from the adrenaline that keeps shooting through my body in waves. I can’t wait to see what Mars is going to bring back from that employee section… figures that the good stuff is being held back from the general public but hey, who am i to complain. It’s not like the things are not being used for others outside of the employees, guess there is a genuine reason.. if it is able to “produce” beings like Mars, maybe that’s for the better to keep it somewhat detained.

There’s a ding from behind the door and the sound of something rolling. As the employee door unlocks Mars steps out, pushing along a small cart. The second she’s within eyesight I feel her presence once more as I find myself frozen with anxiety. 

“Here we are, the Alexandria Chronicles.”

She says with a pleased chirp. She sets the book between two angled pieces of foam. She gently flips through the pages, being extra careful with her sharpened talons. She settles on a page with incantation circles and text written in some ancient language. She moves her head and runs her claw along the text before turning back to me.

“Arynia, what I have here is a book that contains the remnants of the Library to Alexandria. Within these pages contain the history of the old gods, the ones who continue to influence us in secret. If you want to be like me, you will be made aware of these old ones. You will endure immeasurable pain and psychosis. I say this not to scare you, but to warn you.. to prepare you..”

Mars ushers me forward with her hand. I feel myself walk towards her, but not on my own volition. I approach the book, seeing the inscriptions up close and find the page overwhelming with information. 

“Do you have any questions?”

I take a long look at the writing. Nothing I could ever understand… but still i feel the weight of Mars’s words on my entire body. “I was ready for the pain of the HRT. I saw how much it weighed down on people I care about so that point I am sure is not going to hold me back. As for these old ones…” I took a determined look at Mars, as much as I felt afraid when simply in her presence… There was also the resolve to continue.

“I guess my only question would be when we can start. I can worry about the rest later. Right now my heart tells me that this is the right thing for me.”

Mars smiles and gestures back to the book, her clawed finger gently pointing at a scribble written in the margins. The blurb appears to be an old attempt at translating the chant. The combination of consonants and vowels made it difficult to read. 

“If you need assistance, never be shy to reach out. With that said, let’s begin”.

I nod, but then raise an eyebrow. “So-  I just read out the stuff written on the page?”

“We’ll need to set up a ritual circle, but try reciting this till you feel confident. I’ll get the circle set up.”

Mars steps back and walks to the front door. I hear the latching of the front doors and her footsteps walking to the front desk. I turn my attention back to the few lines of translated text. I reread the text a few times working on the exotic letter combinations. Once confident I try saying it out loud in a hush tone. Tripping over a few words but finding it not as difficult as I initially thought. 

Would have never thought I would end up in a library, practicing ancient texts in order to get some medicine that turns me into a hellhound! Not to mention this being connected to eldritch gods? Wonder if i should give this maybe some more thought… but then again.. it’s this or going to that asshole Erian and beg him to put me back on the hrt… yeah no this is definitely the better option. 

I ended up practicing for, what felt like an hour, managing to no longer stumble over the words. I pick up the book, still mumbling the text while walking to where Mars is probably either still setting up, or is waiting for me. 

I reached a clearing and found a large summoning circle matching the one from the book. Another circle filled the center as well as a ring of the ancient language. She smiled at me as she stood and handed me a candle. 

“Set this where you like and light it. Once that’s done we’ll be ready”.

I nodded and turned away as I was handed a candle and a match. My mind raced with thoughts and feelings. I couldn’t stop contemplating if this was the right choice. If this would truly make me a hellhound. I felt drawn to a certain part of the circle and placed the candle. As I lit it I felt the air shift, my breath could be seen and as I turned back Mars sat just outside the circle with the book. She ushered me forward and like earlier I felt myself moving at her command. I kneeled next to her and looked at the book, sweat racing down my cheek as Mars placed a hand on my shoulder.

“It’s ok hun, I’ll be here to help you”.

I felt comforted by that and gave a gentle smile. I turned down to the book, nervously grabbing the edges and looking back at the translation. I grew worried that I would mess this up, that I flub the pronunciation. I felt like I was drowning and gasped for the biggest breath I’ve ever taken. And then, I began reading.

“Ph’nglui Mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh.. Wgah’nagl fhta-“

I felt a pit in my stomach, the last syllable seemed impossible to say, the ease and confidence was gone. Now I fought against some external force to finish the words.

“FHTAGN!!!!”

Then there was a flash, my eyes began to tear up as I felt a rush of surging energy. The circle illuminated, the ground shook, I felt my face being pulled in all directions. I wanted to shut my eyes but I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything but witness waves of images and voices. My vision began to split, I could see more than just the library. I could see pillars, a cracking moon, a hall draped with yellow banners. These images flooded my mind and soul and then nothing. I was floating in a vast void, I felt a moment of ease before the realm began splitting, an eye larger than anything I’ve ever witnessed glared at me… through me? I tried avoiding its gaze, but I wasn't able to… I tried to speak up but my instincts clenched my mouth shut. 

I felt another rush as I was pulled away and then, finally, I blinked. My eyes celebrated the release of the tension as they began to refocus. I felt control regain in my mind and arms as I reached up and wiped the tears. I took a moment to recover, my mind still reeling from what I witnessed.

“Harsh, isn’t it?”

I turned to see Mars who looked relieved. She smiled and placed a hand on my shoulder. 

“You seemed to handle that very well. It’s something to have every sense we have to be overwhelmed. It’s crippling, and when we have that control it feels so foreign..”

Mars reached for the now closed book and took it in her arms. She cradled it like a child and stood up and offered me a hand. I wasn’t sure I could stand yet, my legs felt like they were still trembling. I could tell Mars read my expression as she pulled her hand away. 

“Sorry, why don’t you relax a bit while I get this all cleaned up.”

I nod to the best of my ability. Still trying to come to terms with what just happened. My eyes went from Mars towards the ground as my mind tried to make sure that I was back on earth… and not in whatever place I was before… It is at this very moment I start to realize what I just signed myself up for. And the fact settles in that this is not going to be the last time my very foundation of reality is going to be shaken. I look up at Mars one more time.

“Di-” I cough.. damn spit must have gotten in my throat at some point…

“Did it work?”

Mars turns her attention to the center of the circle and sees a small orange bottle. And smiles and turns back to me and nods.

“It did, welcome to family”

I looked back to the center of the circle when Mars did, turning back shortly after with a smile. 

“Thanks~ I guess I’ll be visiting this place more often now~” 

I slowly stand up, my legs still shaking from the ordeal and pick up that small orange pill bottle. It has my name on it… hades-lupusitine… bit on the nose name but hey, ain’t gonna complain as long as it does the job. The name of the prescribing doc was left blank though… then again that makes sense… don’t think you can fit whatever that eyeball's name was on the small tag of a pill bottle… IF that was the one that heard my call from the ritual… 1-0-1… so guess two of them a day… mornings and evenings huh?

I turn back to Mars with a smile as big as I can manage, and a wagging tail swishing behind me.. 

“Thank you so goddamn much for all of this Mars!” She smiled back at me. No more words needed to be spoken… not that I was really able to speak much after that mental strain anyway.. She kindly walked me out of the Library after putting the book back where it was safe. We waved each other goodbye, promising to stay in touch. I took my walk home, caressing the small pill bottle in my Jeans pocket and just itching to take the first pill in the evening. I just hope the next cosmic horrors at least knock first…  

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

Next

Definitely check out Mars's Eldritch HRT series!!

[stevieharringtonwifeguy]

Trans Femme-Stevie where she transitions after graduating, so when Eddie holds the broken bottle in her face in the boathouse, he doesn’t recognise her right away…

oh my god!!! thanks for the prompt- this is a great idea!!!!! behold:

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

Eddie isn't thinking when someone enters the boathouse he's hiding in. He isn't listening to what they're saying to each other, can't even hear over the pounding of his own heart and his shallow breaths that sound about twenty times louder than they actually are. And when something digs into his side, prodding at him under the tarp he's hid himself under, he definitely doesn't think as he leaps out of his hiding spot, pinning his attacker to the wall with a broken bottle to their throat.

Her throat. His attacker is a girl, apparently, with soft shoulder-length brown waves and pink lip gloss and big, scared-looking doe eyes. Great, he's on the run from people who will definitely think he murdered one sweet, defenceless girl (she was so sweet, and she didn't deserve to go like that), and the first thing he does is threaten another one.

He's still not thinking, really, when he vaguely registers someone else talking, a familiar voice- Henderson? The kid is saying something, something about trusting them, about how they're not here to hurt him- "I swear on my mother, Eddie."

The girl under his hands nods as best as she can with the bottle still pressed to her throat. "Yeah, swear on- swear on Dustin's mom," she says, voice strained and slightly familiar in a way Eddie doesn't have the brainspace to figure out right now.

Eddie looks to Dustin (and is that Band Buckley behind him? And his neighbour? He didn't even know they knew each other), his eyes wide and sincere. And he backs up from the girl. She immediately doubles over, clutching at her neck with a gasp of relief that has Eddie feeling even worse than he already did.

He sends an apologetic look to the girl as he curls back up into himself, mutters a sorry that has the girl waving him off. She shoots him a reassuring smile and a shrug like hey, been there. It would probably work better if she wasn't still rubbing her neck, and if Buckley wasn't patting her shoulder and sending Eddie a death glare over it.

"You're okay, Eddie, it's just me, it's Dustin- and you remember Max, right? Lucas's girlfriend? And that's Robin and Stevie, remember I told you about them? They're my babysitters. Well, Stevie is, Robin's just like, her... I don't know, helper?"

Buckley- Robin rolls her eyes at Dustin, which Eddie can sympathise with. Like, what the fuck, Henderson, he has literally never cared less about who is or isn't his babysitter. Eddie has no idea who Stevie even is, which is weird now that he thinks about it. She's got to be around Eddie's age, and there's only one high school in Hawkins, so he must have seen her at some point. And she is kind of familiar, but Eddie feels like he'd definitely remember seeing this girl around. She's really pretty, soft golden skin dotted with moles, and her shoulders had been firm with muscle when he'd felt them, like she did softball or something.

Actually. Eddie squinted at her a moment. Golden skin. Moles. Droopy, hazel eyes. Muscles. Stevie.

"Wait, Harrington???"

Stevie freezes up again, the same fear returning to her eyes that she'd had when he held a bottle to her throat. Robin glares at him even harder, Max joining in, and even Henderson seems a little defensive.

"Stevie, yeah," she says, voice cool. "Problem?"

Holy shit. "No! I mean- me too! But, uh, opposite."

Stevie's eyes light up, and everyone's jaws drop. "What, really? But- you've always been-"

Eddie nods. "Yeah, since middle school. Remember? I'd just moved to town and I had that buzzcut? My uncle was letting me, like, be a dude and I kind of overcompensated. Worst haircut of my life."

"Holy shit," Stevie whispers, voice full of awe. Eddie can relate.

They both sit for a moment, revelling in the mutual wonder of finally meeting someone even a little bit like them.

And then Dustin ruins it.

"So what happened with Chrissy, Eddie?"

Oh, yeah. He'd almost forgotten this was the worst day of his life.

[scarletwinterxx]

lee and lily - haechan dad scenario

hello!! just wanted to write a quick haechan fluff. haechan as a girl dad, i just know he'll be the most gentle and caring and whipped dad 🥺😭

if you have a request or scenario you want me to do, just send me a message I'll see what I can do😊💌

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

and if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2023 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

"Honey, I'm home! oh what are you doing there, angelbug?"

Haechan stops by the doorway when he spots his daughter sitting on the bottom step with her arms crossed and a frown on her cute little face

"Time out" his daughter answers with a pout, Haechan had to hold back his laugh just in case you're around watching. He tries not to get in your way whenever you discipline your 4 year-old daughter, he did it once and he ended up in trouble with you too.

You always tell him she's too spoiled, how can he not spoil her though?

Lee Nari, you and Haechan's first born. Baby girl was born on June 06, yes the same day as your husband. The two of you were enjoying his birthday dinner at home with his family when it happened, it was to say the least a very dramatic way of entering the world. Little Nari knew how to announce her entrance, a few hours later she was born.

Since then she's been yours and Haechan's world. You can control yourself when it comes to giving her what she wants and teaching her how the real world works but her father is a whole another story.

If Haechan could, he'd give Nari the world on a silver platter. When she was a newborn, she would make the slightest little baby noise and Haechan would be on his feet checking on her.

You adore it. You love how he loves his daughter. There's no doubt she'll have one man loving her truly for the rest of her life. As long as Haechan is around, Nari would be loved and cared for and protected.

Walking towards his daughter before crouching down to meet her eyes,

"Did you do something that you weren't suppose to?" he asks

"She drew on the wall with markers, then when I asked her if she did it she said Uju did" this time Haechan let out a chuckle when he heard your explanation, looking up the staircase to see you standing with a rag and bottlespray in your hands. Probably cleaning up the mess little Nari made.

"Who knew our dog was an artist" he jokes, he stands up before cupping his hand over Nari's ears "How long has it been?" referring to her being on time out

"Like 5 minutes, atleast talk to her Hyuck. She's getting cheekier and cheekier by the day, and you're not helping" you told your husband, walking down the stair

"I do help" "Yeah, help her with getting away with things" you counter

"Okay, you're not wrong. Not my fault I can't say no to our baby, she can do no wrong in my eyes" he says, you give him a pointed look. One he understood even without words.

"I'll talk to her" he tells you before looking down to Nari

"Let's go, Nari. We'll help mommy clean up, okay?" he says as he picks up his daughter in his arms.

Before the two Lee's make their way upstairs, Haechan speaks again

"Now, what do we say to mommy?" he asks Nari who is currently playing with the button on his shirt

"Sorry, mommy" Nari mumbles

"Doesn't count if you don't look in her eyes. Now try again" he tells her gently.

You don't talk, just stood beside the daddy and daughter duo. Haechan has always been the energetic, all-out type of person. But when he's with his little girl, he's the most gentle man.

The little Lee looks up and look at you with a small pout on her lips, "Sorry, mommy"

Haechan looks at you, waiting for you to succumb under her powers just like he always do. Like he had when he first held her in his arms. Like how he'll always be for the rest of his life.

"Don't do it again okay, and don't lie to mommy when I ask you. I forgive you" you tell her with a small smile. Leaning over to give her a kiss on the head

"Hey, where's my kiss?" Haechan says, earning an eye roll from you but you comply nonetheless.

After all, Nari isn't the only Lee who has you wrapped around their finger.

Giving Haechan a quick kiss on the lips before passing the rag and spray bottle to him. "Goodluck, love you" you tease him, lightly pushing him upstairs.

"You see angellove, there's this thing in your playroom. The coloring books and canvass I got you, you can paint and draw on them all day so that you and I don't have to clean. And mommy won't get mad, she's scary when she's mad"

"Lee Donghyuck!"

[whatwooshkai]

Ooh, if you haven’t done 13 for the ask game, that is my favorite number!

"What's that?"

"Hm?"

Blades turns his head to look back over his shoulder, to where Cody is standing on the floor, pointing at his back.

Oh, and he knows what he's pointing at. Tucked innocently under his rotors is an ugly scar, stretching nearly the width of his back at such an angle that he's not surprised it took Cody this long to notice.

Blades remembers getting that scar. But mostly, he remembers the aftermath.

The wound has permanently damaged the nerves and cables in his protofrom, and he remembers First Aid massaging around it in a desperate attempt to sooth the pain for all of them.

"I'm putting in a request for more painblockers," Streetwise had groaned, draped over a chair. Groove makes an affirmative noise from somewhere just outside his vision.

"Can't," First Aid grits out, and both he and Blades wince in time as he presses a little too hard on the welds. "He's had too many already."

Blades is about to make a rebuttal, something about not talking about him as if he isn't there, but whatever words were in his vocalizer are lost as they short out to a staticky whimper, which causes First Aid's servo to slip, and hit him right into center of the weld, prompting a shout from all five of them.

"Shit," Hot Spot grumbles from the floor. "Can you stop?"

"And those painblockers," Streetwise pipes back up. "I never said anything about giving them to Blades-"

"No." First Aid hisses, and Hot Spot makes an affirmative noise.

"We suffer together," he agrees, sounding very much like he doesn't want to. Upon another uncomfortable press of First Aid's digits, he groans. "On second thought, scratch that, this is stupid and I'm putting in the call."

"Seconding that!" Streetwise calls.

"Yup," Groove mumbles. "No one's fault but your own, Blades."

First Aid sighs. "Once you're feeling better we've gotta get back to training bond control, Blades. This can't keep happening. And no, Hotspot, I can't give you guys painblockers, it's really all in your heads-"

"-you in there? Blaaaaaaaaaaades!"

Blades suddenly snaps out of the memory, his vision snapping down to where Cody is knocking against his leg, looking up at him with concern. Blades tries his best at a reassuring smile.

"I'm sorry," he says, phantom pains sending a shiver down his spinal strut. "Just... lost in thought."

"About how you got the scar?" Cody prompts, and Blades gives him a quick shake of his head.

"About after," he says softly. "With my gestalt."

"Your... gestalt?"

Oh boy. Mistake. "Nevermind," Blades mutters, turning away. "Forget I said anything."

"No, no, wait!" Cody follows him best he can, jumping up to try and tug at his rotors, which Blades flicks out of his reach. "I want to know, if you'll tell me-"

I don't need to tell him. I need to forget them. I have a new family now.

...But we're not sparkbonded.

Probably for the best, honestly. I don't think we could handle how often Heatwave hurts himself.

"Blades?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Blades snaps, his rotors flicking angrily.

Cody flinches away at his tone, one hand raised in an aborted gesture.

Blades pushes the gaping hole threatening to reopen in his chest down as far as it'll go. He knows he shouldn't, he hears Hotspot's voice in his processor telling him it's bad for him, but Primus, he's dead. They're all dead.

It doesn't matter anymore.

[coffeexafterxmidnight]

The Token Human - Part 3

Hi y'all, me again back with part 3 of this... adventure, let's call it that. Sorry for not posting this yesterday but I had a random Depression Day and couldn't get much done. I seem to be doing better though so, let's hope I don't have another one of those days for a week or so.

Part 1 Part 2 CW: nothing too bad this time! Just Wally having no sense of personal space, and stalking. And memory alteration, too. [what does it say about this fic that this stuff is 'not too bad'?]

You couldn't help it, you were a little jealous…

From your spot under a friendly tree, you watched Eddie on his daily route. He looked up from the envelopes in his hand. With a smile, he waved at you. You waved back. 

Eddie was a good guy, a friend of yours for sure. It wasn't his fault, not at all.

No, it was no one's fault, probably…

But as Eddie so stopped by Julie's house, three letters in hand, you had to look away. Something bitter chewed at you.

Why didn't you get any letters?

Seemed like everyone in the neighborhood got them. Family members and distant friends, pen pals from far away, even each other. But your mailbox remained only full of dust and longing.

Hard to think of who you'd want to get a letter from though. Your own family… you didn't want to think about that, for some reason that made you sad. Old friends… that made you sad, too.

You sighed and leaned against the tree, messing with the friendship bracelet Wally gave you. He made them with Barnaby and gave one to everyone. He even put yours on himself because you couldn't figure it out. The memory of his little nimble fingers brushing against your wrist still stuck out at you. Why did you always remember the weird stuff?

Wally wasn't around right now. You glance towards Home, in the center of town. Wally was busy inside his Home. Wally hadn't talked to you in a few days, really deep in painting. You wondered before if he was angry with you, but you hadn't done anything, not on that day or any other. Baking cookies with Poppy wasn't a bad thing. You'd even offered him some…

Wally was busy inside his Home. Everyone was having fun on their own.

I'm going to write a letter, you thought, and stood. That sounds like the absolute most.

Humming a cheery little song as you walked down the street to your house, you thought about who you'd send a letter to. Your parents? You didn't know their address. Some distant friend? You didn't know any of those either. Someone in town? You chuckle at the thought. Wouldn't that be funny, sending a letter to someone you saw every day.

In your house you found both paper and envelopes. You couldn't really remember when you got them - did someone bring them over for crafts? Were they part of Howdy's welcome to Home gift basket? Hard to say…

But you found paper and envelopes and stamps and a pen. You sat at your favorite desk, your only desk, and hovered the pen over the page.

Pause for a second. What were you going to say? What were you going to tell this person, someone you hadn't even decided on? Someone you might not even know. Someone… outside of Home…

It's a long shot, you thought. Your fingers clutched the pen until your hand shook. Such a long shot. If you screwed this up, you'd probably not get another chance.

It was a long shot but maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

You clutched at the memories with all your might. There had to be someone who remembered you, even if you didn't remember them. There had to be someone who could help you, out there.

The picture formed in your mind's eye, so clear, so perfect, the person you wanted to talk to more than anyone else…

Two arms locked around your body, pinning your arms to your sides. Cold sweat broke out on your forehead.

"You think too loud, neighbor," Wally said into your ear. "I could hear you from inside my Home."

He rested a fuzzy cheek on your shoulder and sighed.

"You were thinking of leaving again, weren't you?" He said.

You didn't speak, the words locked up in your throat. 

"I don't like it when my friends leave. At least, I think I don't. It's never happened before. Isn't that silly? Home is such a nice place, nobody who comes here ever wants to leave…"

The grip on you tightened.

"Except for you." 

The name slipped from your mouth. 

"Wally…"

"I think," Wally said, pressing up against the back of the chair, "You don't really understand. Home is great! Home is safe, and fun, and happy. Don't you want to be happy?"

A hand, too large, too long, gripped your chin.

"We could be happy here forever, and ever, and ever. You and me and all our friends. Why don't you want that? Why don't you want to stay with me?"

A felt finger traced the line around your lips, and your stomach churned, you squirmed in discomfort.

"There's nowhere to go, anyway. Silly, silly."

He pressed his cheek against yours. Your eyes watered.

"I'm all there is now," Wally said, "I made sure of it."

Your eyes went wide.

"What - what did you-"

His hand covered your mouth. The felt was soft. His grip was too, too strong. You struggled. A memory washed over you, Wally singing as he dragged you down a dark hall, Home creaking, squeaking, as you struggled struggled struggled struggled

"Wake up!"

Your eyes snapped open. Julie let out a cheer and wrapped her arms around your disoriented self. You raised a hand to your head, blinking in the sunlight. You were under your favorite tree, Julie and Frank on either side of you, Julie hugging you still, Frank adjusting his tie the way he did when he was composing himself.

"What happened?" You looked around.

"You were having a nightmare!" Julie said. "You fell asleep under the tree again!"

"I did?" You looked at your two small friends. "That was silly of me."

"What were you dreaming about?" Frank asked.

You stopped, thought about it. What were you dreaming about, that got you all scared like you were…?

"... I don't remember," you lied. "The last thing I remember thinking about was writing a letter to someone…"

"That's a great idea!" Julie shouted. "We can all write letters to each other."

"Tomorrow," Frank interrupted. "Some of us like to get sleep when it's dark."

As the two continued to bicker, you looked up towards the street. There he stood, your best friend Wally. He smiled at you. You tried to smile back, even as your pulse tripped and quickened in your body. 

Wally isn't your friend, where did you hear that from? Wally isn't your friend, but he'd never hurt you. Wally isn't your friend… but if he wasn't, then what was he?

He blinked at you, and you blinked back. What were you thinking about again?

After you left, walking Frank and Julie down the street, Wally threw himself down in the spot you'd been in before. It didn't smell like you. It didn't smell like much of anything but grass and dirt, and fresh leaves, but that was okay. He knew what you smelled like better than you did. And it was just the absolute most, just like you were.

He smiled. Thinking about you made him warm inside, happier than anyone ever had before. When he closed his eyes, he could see you so easily, around town, with your friends, in your bed, fast asleep and safe from the world. He liked those little moments best, when it was just you and him. When you shivered under the covers, he tucked you in. When your eyes flooded like little faucets, he wiped the water away. He sat next to you for hours and hours, never bored, not once. And when he had to go, he kissed your forehead, just like family did, before heading back Home again.

Oh, Wally wasn't stupid. He'd done a bad thing. But maybe, it was okay to do something bad, if it meant something good would come out of it?

And Wally - Wally loved you so much. So much more than anyone you knew back there. How to show it, he didn't know. How to make you feel it, he wasn't sure either. But there had to be a way, right? Someday you'd love him too, just as much as he loved you.

He had to keep telling himself that. If he didn't, he might do something scary. Something bad. And he couldn't eat your memories away for good, not like the others. He could eat and eat and eat, but yours always, always, came back.

Wally thought about the look on your face, how you trembled and your eyes got all wet and scared. He smiled, even though it was sad. Maybe that was his fault. Maybe he didn't want you to forget. It was wrong but… he liked it, when you were scared. Your fear tasted so, so good…

The sun slipped down the sky and you would crawl into bed after everyone else did. And when you did, he would be waiting. 

[wannabanauthor]

BuckTommy Angst Idea:

What if the first time Buck hear's from Tommy is a text asking when they can exchange the stuff they kept at each other's homes?

Buck is probably baking/cooking in the 118 kitchen, and this is the first text he's received from Tommy since they broke up.

He'd probably be devastated, maybe holding back tears. He'd sit down and just silently staring at his phone, praying that his eyes are playing a trick on him.

He blinks his eyes and rubs them super hard, but the message remains the same.

Another text comes through:

Sorry that was insensitive of me. I'd understand if you wouldn't want to see me even to exchange stuff, so I'll just send yours via package, and you can do the same with my stuff.

Buck can barely read it because the tears start flooding. He lets out a chocked gasp and starts sobbing uncontrollably.

Eddie races up the stairs to his side and reads the texts and winces.

"Damn, I expected better than this from him," Eddie mumbles and takes Buck's phone.

He uses it to call Tommy, and Buck can barely focus on what Eddie is saying. He makes out a few curse words and the word "coward" and "dick" before he hangs up angrily.

"Just sit here for the rest of the shift. I need to have a talk with your boyfriend," Eddie says. Buck reaches out for his phone but Eddie keeps it out of reach.

"Yeah, no, you don't need this right now. Look, shift will be over in a couple hours. Just stay here, okay?"

Buck nods numbly and just stares at the floor.

Eddie almost falters when he sees how broken Buck is, but he's not about to let Tommy screw up the best relationship Buck has ever been in.

~

Eddie shows up at Harbor Station, thanks to some PTO Bobby let him use to help Buck out.

He finds Tommy at a desk doing paperwork and sits down in a chair across from him.

"Buck kissed me," Eddie says when Tommy refuses to acknowledge his presence.

Tommy pauses his writing, and Eddie smirks when he sees the pen in Tommy's hand snap in half.

"After you ended things with him, he was a mess and needed some comforting. One thing led to another, and-"

Eddie pauses when he sees how red and angry Tommy gets, and the glare directed his way looks deadly.

"I'm going to fucking kill you," Tommy says and stands up.

Eddie shrugs. "Go ahead, just know that you're not the last guy Buck slept with. It's not really my thing, but it made him feel better."

Lucy manages to spot the chaos about to unfold and puts a hand on Tommy's shoulder. "Everything alright here?"

Eddie gives her a big smile, which only makes Tommy ball up his fists.

"I'm just letting him know what he's missing out on now that he ended things with Buck. Chimney and Maddie are already setting up dates for him. By the time you come to your senses, he'll be with someone else who isn't scared of falling in love."

"You should leave," Lucy tells Eddie. "I'll handle him." She scowls at Tommy.

Eddie grins. "Thanks, in the meantime, I might give it another go with Buck. I mean, he really knows how to-" a clipboard sails past his head missing him by an inch. He cackles to himself as he walks away.

Lucy turns to Tommy" You know he's lying, right? But it serves you right. Buck can be an ass at times, and he's not perfect, but did he really deserve what you did to him?"

"I'm not talking about this with you."

"Fine, do whatever you want. Remember, I know that Buckley is an excellent kisser, and he's not going to be single for long," she said with a bit of a hum."

"I'll talk to him," Tommy says through gritted teeth and sits down. He places his head in his hands and tries to calm himself down.

Fuck, this whole thing was worse than he expected.

[hockybish]

She's Done With Him

l hughes!sister au l lola hughes l masterlist l

Jack had been making more of a conscious effort to be better to Lola. He still hadn't said sorry for the years of teasing, he wouldn't even know where to begin.

But he was willing to put everything on the line with their relationship when he got a phone call from Mason about this guy named Robbie who Lola was seeing. He couldn't help it, the older protective brother came out when he heard that the douche bag was cheating on her.

"Now you're positive it was Robbie who you saw?" Jack confirmed with the Ducks' player over the phone. It was late in New Jersey and he was tired after a hard fought game.

"Yes, Jack. Even ask Z he was there too."

That was enough for him. Trying to keep his anger in check, he took the number from Mason, promising he would take care of the problem. He wasn't going to do much, maybe just give the kid a little call, and talk.

"Hi Robbie, this is Jack." He paused for a second, waiting for the man on the other end to acknowledge him, but he could heat the hesitancy when Robbie didn't answer "Hughes, Lola's older brother?"

"Oh, you're the one who hates her right?" Jack could feel him smirking through the phone, irking him even more.

"I don't hate her, you know what I don't have to explain myself to you. I know what you've been doing. The girls and the drinking? Especially when she was injured in December."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't done anything wrong. I really like her." Robbie stuttered, a lame attempt at covering his tracks.

"Hm, yeah okay. Tell me was she just one of your side pieces?" Jack asked not believing a thing he was being told by this so called boyfriend. "That's what I thought."

"I didn't, I'm not"

"Break up with her"

"What"

"I said break up with her, or else"

"Or else what? There's nothing you can do to scare me"

"Robbie, there are at least four hockey teams plus countless others who will not hesitate to end you when they hear what you're doing. So break up with her or I'll let them know what you did" Jack threatened.

"You're bluffing"

"Try me. These guys can get really scary. And I'd hate for anything to happen to you."

A few days later Robbie did what Jack told him to do, he broke up with Lola. He didn't tell her why he was or that her brother was practically forcing him to. If he wanted to twist the knife even further, he could have said something. But she was already heartbroken and secretly Robbie was still a little worried Jack was going to send a goon after him.

Lola cried for a couple of days, this wasn't like when she had broken up with Matty, that was more of a mutual decision since they were going in opposite directions and they were better as friends. This break up took her by surprise, she thought they were in a good place, but apparently they weren't.

It hurt and she honestly kind of wanted Buggy her old stuffy from when she was younger. She really considered calling Jack and seeing if he still had it, but she thought better, knowing he probably would have made some snide remark about it, even though lately they had been doing better.

Lola called for an emergency sibling night with Quinn, which helped a lot, but she still swiped the bottle of tequila hidden away and found her way into her previous roommates bed.

After a week of moping around, she picked herself, brushed off the dirt and got back to her life. She worked harder in practice and even spent more time with her friends. Things were really looking up until late in the evening on February 29th.

The Ducks' had gotten in late that evening after playing in San Jose. Lola needed to make a quick run into the store to get something for Ellen that she had forget all the way back in Michigan.

Lola was only going to be a few minutes, but she spotted the one person she never really wanted to see again. She tried to ignore him the best she could, it was Robbie who walked up to her and was the one to start talking. They made pleasant small talk, but she had a nagging question she wanted to ask.

"Can I ask you something real quick? Why did you break up with me?"

"Oh Jack didn't tell you?" Robbie raised his eyebrows in feign shock. "Jack forced me to break up. He threatened that if I didn't, I was gonna get beat up."

Of course Jack had a hand it. Lola should have expected that. Jack ruins everything.

The ride back home was a little quieter. She had some things to think about before she saw her brother later that day.

After the game the Hughes clan were planning on getting dinner at a nice restaurant before Luke and Jack jetted off to the next destination. Lola was going to give them a ride. As soon as she saw Luke she gave him a hug and glared at the other one before making her move.

"What the fuck?" Jack's face stung as Lola's palm hit him on the cheek.

"You told him to break up with me? I how could you? I was happy. Why couldn't you let me be happy for once? You always mess everything up!"

"Clem you can be mad at me all you want, I was just trying to protect you."

"Don't you dare call me that. You don't have that right anymore. because I hate you. I hate you Jack." She spat in his direction.

After what seemed like years of her older brother hating her for apparent reason Lola had had enough of it and was completely done with Jack. Wanting nothing more to do with her older brother, this is when she decided to cut him out of her life, even if it meant she was going to have to cut Quinn and Luke out too.

"You don't mean that. Clem -" Jack knew he had taken it too far this time, but all he had been trying to do was protect his sister. And sometimes that made him the bad guy.

Lola gave him a look that ultimately broke his heart because he knew she meant it. She truly hated him, but he would rather her hate him, than see her with a broken heart over a guy who couldn't keep it in his pants.

"Lola. I'm sorry. Please take it back." Jack pleaded. He looked back at Luke and Quinn for help, but he was on his own with this.

"No, Jack. I mean it this time."

"Lola." She slapped him again and was getting ready to do it again. She wasn't one to hit or attack anyone, but tonight she couldn't help herself with her anger.

"Jack. I think you need to leave." Trevor pushed Lola behind him towards Jamie and Mason, putting himself in between the two siblings. Similarly Luke tried to grab ahold of jack's arm and pull him away.

The drive from the Honda Center to their shared home wasn't long, but playing a big game and the emotions from her argument took its toll and Lola fell asleep on the ride home. Mason didn't want to wake her, he opted to carry her in instead placing her in her bed and throwing her favorite blankets on top.

"Stay." Lola reached out, grabbing onto Mason's wrist, effectively stopping him in his tracks. "I don't want to be alone. Please Mason?"

The older boy obliged, he sighed crawling into the bed next to her. Lola flipped around to face him, she reached out for his face and ran her thumb across his face as they fell asleep.

[mashiraostail]

Found you through your BG3 stuff and it’s so good I’m foaming at the mouth

Could I request soft dom Karlach with a fem reader, maybe with a bit of praise thrown in if that’s alright?

Thank you I owe u my life

omg ask and u shall receive and it wont be self serving to me at all even a little!

I love Karlach and I love women this was sooo epic

NSFW under the cut :3

"Oh stop it-" Karlach is cringing as Shadowheart quite literally wrings blood from her hair, "you'll make me sick!'

"I can hardly help it, I'm always in the splash zone when I go into a fight with you." Shadowheart doesn't look happy about the situation either, but what must be done must be done.

"You certainly wouldn't hear me complaining, though I do like a more...direct method of delivery." Astarion some how came out the other side fairly clean.

"Oh come on, enough with the blood and guts stuff." Karlach groans, "so gross."

"What, are you trying to save your appetite?" Shadowheart laughs and flicks her hair over her shoulder, sending a small splatter of blood onto Astarion's arm. The two of them made a terribly snarky, gossipy duo. Karlach was just glad they had made friends.

"So what if I am?" Karlach crosses her arms, "I've already been denied ten years why should I be any longer? Especially at the expense of your grimy hair."

Astarion laughs at that, "no, you're right. All the power to you my friend." He looks around a moment, "say where is your favorite midnight snack?"

Karlach whirls around too, "oh shit, have we lost her?"

"She is a slippery one." Shadowheart nods.

"Kalrach would know." Astarion agrees. Karlach guffaws, shoves him. There were plenty of good things about getting her tune up, the kissing, the sex, the cuddling, and the knocking the wind out of Astarion every time he said something gross, odd, or rude.

"Cut it out." She tries to wipe the warmth off her face, being on fire was hot enough, why be embarrassed too.

"Hey! You left without me?!" You're appearing over a small hill, a new, heavy looking bag on your shoulder, "did I take that long?"

"We thought you ran away." Astarion shakes his head, "you took forever."

"Gale asked me to pick up some things." You hike the bag up your shoulder, "camp isn't far though, I guess we picked a good spot with this little market so close and all. What'd you all get into?" You stop once you've joined the group, "oh Shadowheart you smell awful-"

"Imps. Imps and goblins." Shadowheart mutters, "it's always imps and goblins."

"Together?"

"No."

"Sorry I missed it then." You laugh a little. Karlach takes the bag off your shoulder. "Oh you've probably been fighting all afternoon I can-"

"Don't worry about it, make up for leaving you behind. I always carry the stuff."

"I told you to go on without me, I guess I didn't think you actually would though." You laugh a bit.

"Well in your absence Karlach has told us all about how, when she does get you to herself you always-"

"Stop!" She shoves Astarion hard enough to make him stumble, "oh I should light you up." Shadowheart is just snickering to herself.

"I didn't-" She addresses your horrified look, "I didn't tell them anything I swear." She holds her hands up, "and even if I had, which I didn't! It's nothing to be embarrassed about, you're killer in bed. Probably just make them jealous, that's why I don't say anything."

You will the color out of your face at her comment and make the short walk back to camp with silly but comfortable conversation flowing between your little group. The sun's set in the sky by now so you're glad to be so close to camp, otherwise it may have been difficult to find your way back.

When you do make it back Gale looks excited to see you all, "did they have everything?"

"Uh...dunno, I'm just the mule." Karlach shrugs, and holds the bag out, "you'll wanna talk to the manager." She jabs a thumb to you, his gaze follows.

"They did I just- Karlach!" You brush the bag over the Gale and hold her wrist, "look! You're all cut up!"

"Oh am I?" She looks down at her arm, sure enough there were a myriad of claw marks on her forearm, "aw shit, look at that. Didn't even notice, little buggers. Enjoy your stuff Gale I've gotta patch up." You follow her away without finishing your afterthought for Gale.

"Halsin's left for the day, he said he had some friends in the area who may have information for us." You frown, "how's Shadowheart?"

"She needs to rest up before she can use anymore healing magic." Karlach shakes her head, "they're barely some scrapes, I'll be fine for now, I'll go clean up, then well...I dunno I'm yours."

"Let me help, it will be easier with two." You look hopefully up at her, "there's a river close by, we can clean you off and patch you up." She's grinning.

"Come on, you're not worried about a few little scrapes are you? Do you know who I am?" She looks delighted despite her words.

"I'm very familiar, that's why I want to help."

"You're worried? About little old me?" She's squeezing your shoulders as you walk together, "or do you just want to play nurse?"

"Maybe both." You glance up at her, she's practically buzzing.

"Don't tease me." She warns, "you'll ruin my night."

Of course you'd never do a thing like that. Though cleaning her up does take precedent, despite her groaning and whining.

"We need to make sure it's clean, then we can wrap it up." You hand her a shirt to tear up into some makeshift bandages. She uses her free hand and her teeth to do so, she certainly notices you shift and avert your gaze.

"What are you all shy about?" She laughs at the color on your face.

"You know." You tut and frown at her, though it's not very believable.

"What? Is it me?" She watches you use one piece of the shirt to wipe the blood, "Am I making you act all shy?"

"You're always so mean to me-"

"Its me isn't it? You like me, don't you?"

"Oh stop." You press a damp hand to you cheek, trying to cool off.

"What? Tell me all about it! Do you fantasize about me? Have dreams about me?" She's leaning towards you, her voice teasing. You use another piece of cloth the wipe her arm off with some water.

You scoff and look away from her, it just makes her laugh.

"Your silence speaks volumes! Tell me!"

"No!" You use three strips of thicker fabric to wrap her arm up, "I won't!"

"So you don't deny it!" She catches you by your waist, "tell me, or you are not getting a single thing from me tonight-"

"You're evil! You should know how it feels to be denied! Have a heart!"

"Oh I've got one, wanna see?" She's laughing, nosing at your jaw, of course you tilt your head for her, you could never deny her, despite yourself. "Come on, just give me a little taste."

"I don't have anything to tell you!" The crimson engulfing your face said otherwise.

"Uh-huh." Karlach wraps her arms around your back, "can I have a kiss?"

You indulge her without saying anything else about the subject, she seems contended with it for now. You have a feeling you aren't quite out of the woods though.

"You look so pretty when you're embarrassed." She holds you by your chin, "I can't help myself." Her hands are tugging at your shirt, you help her slide it off. She takes in the sight of you with as much enthusiasm as always you can practically hear her brain knocking around in her skull, every thud screaming with excitement, 'TITS!!!!'

"I'm so fucking lucky-" She's giddy with it, kissing down your neck and shoulders, probably planning her attack on your chest. "You're such a sweet thing, gods, I don't know how I have it in me to behave all day knowing this is the sight hiding under all that armor you wear."

You gladly clamber into her lap, she's ducking down into your chest, her hands exploring the newly exposed flesh unabashedly. "You're really very pretty, you know?" She says it into your sternum, you're trying desperately to undress her, eventually she takes pity on you and helps it along. When she stands to shake the last of her clothes off all you can do is drop to your knees, she laughs.

"Well I wasn't gonna boss you around or anything." She's grinning at you and gods you love her, it's all you can think about, you're kissing at her stomach rubbing your face into her warm skin, she just laughs some more.

"Aw look't you, so sweet. What is it? You wanna take care of me?" You make a choked off noise at that, nodding and pulling her closer, it's a frantic nod though, rushed and almost desperate.

"Alright, alright, don't start crying now." She pulls you away to look at you for a moment, "you aren't off the hook, but I'll take a detour." She slings a leg over your shoulder and her hand tangled in your hair on impulse and you close your eyes, if only to hide how far back your eyes roll into your skull. Occasionally you feel her nails scrape the nape of your neck. You were pressing your lips to her, running long strokes over her with your tongue and thumbing at the the wetness whenever you needed to catch your breath. Karlach hadn't taken her eyes off you, she was practically singing you praises and it made your stomach knot up desperately.

She uses her grip on your hair to guide you along but she doesn't need to do much, you already know what to do. She pays extra care to pull all your hair off your face to get the best look at you she can.

"Gods, look't you, pretty girl, just like that, 's perfect." Even her moans are perfect, it's obscene. If anyone asked you she should be locked up, wearing a big flashing warning sign. All you can do is moan, hold onto her thighs, beg to be impossibly closer.

"What're you moaning at?" She's grinning devilishly, "you just like the sound of my voice don't you?"

"Yes, yes I do-" The way she tugs on your hair pulls a perfectly lovely moan out of you, and it makes her laugh in a warm, fond sort of way that makes you want to lay down and spread your legs open for her.

"Alright then, lucky for you I love talking to pretty girls." By the grace of some god you find it in you to play a bit coy with her.

"You think I'm pretty?" You're looking up at her with perfect blown out pupils, and swollen red lips wearing her cum like lipgloss, matter of fact it's spread out pretty evenly over your cheeks and chin too.

"Oh fuck-" She drops her head against the tree she's been leaning on, "I'll blow my fucking lid, cut that out. You wouldn't be able to survive the things you're making me want to do to you."

"I'd try, for you." If she had something to say to that you don't let her get it out. You realized your mouth had been too far away for far too long. You missed the feeling of her tugging at your hair, pushing and pulling you to her own accord.

"Oh gods- dammnit-" She's bucking her hips into your face, her hold on your head especially tight, she groans, it's from her chest, low and thankful. You feel her stutter with the orgasm rolling over her and she pushes you away. Her chest heaving.

"You're a dream, you know?" She's pulling you to your feet, she laughs when she has to steady you a bit, then she kisses you. "Taking such good care of me all night. Looking so pretty while you do."

You feel her hands on between your shoulder blades, she's kissing down your jaw and neck, you're putty in her hands, waiting to be put where she wanted you.

"Come on," She's picking you up, wrapping your legs around her middle, "tell me, before I could touch you like this, and you had to take care of yourself. Tell me what you thought of. I'll tell you mine."

"It's so embarrassing-" You honest to god whine at her, if she were a stronger woman she'd be able to suppress the shudder it sent up her spine.

"Tell me, I'll give you whatever you want, all night if you do."

"It was just you-" You groan as she sets you down on your back and crawls on top of you, "your voice, I could hear it in my head so clearly." She's grinning from ear to ear, impish and coy.

"What was I saying? Was I bossing you around?" She laughed a little because gods you were an idiot, all she had to do was lay you down and you were spreading your legs for her.

"Sometimes-" Your chest was stuttering.

"Oh?" She pushes the syllable through pursed, curious lips, "what about the other times?"

"You're moaning," you're bucking your hips, searching for pay off, something anything the heat was unbearable. "Saying I'm good, calling me pretty-" You couldn't help the hand you brought down to rub over yourself, it was just something else for Karlach to look at.

"You like when I call you pretty?" She's attacking your chest with kisses that leave a burning trail in their wake, "you touch yourself and imagine me watching, calling you pretty?" She laughs that laugh again, the one that makes you wanna lay face down for her. "Maybe you're just as far gone as I am."

"I definitely am." You're practically begging her to touch, after 10 years of holding back she finds it almost impossible to deny you.

"Wanna see if it's as good as when you dreamed about it?" She's pulling you up, turning you over, you go because you're so stupid for her when you get like this, she could walk you off a cliff if she wanted.

" Are you gonna make yourself cum for me?"

This was overwhelming, you felt drunk, your emotions were running so high, you were so horny you could sob, "I'd do whatever you want-" She  was kissing at the backs of your thighs, you could feel her breath on your desperate fingers.

"Oh, careful pretty girl you're giving me too much power." She's laughing, her voice was low against your skin and it made you shudder. "I might not be so nice next time."

"No, no, you can do whatever you want to me Karlach- fuck-" You gasp, feeling her thumb brush against you.

"Whatever I want?" You can hear the grin in her voice, impishly charming.

"Yeah, anything-"

"I could tie you up?" She nipped at your skin and that paired with the thought of it alone could get you to cum, "yes please-" Your eyes were glossed over, you were pushing your hips back into her, begging for a firmer touch.

"Oh gods, you've gotten yourself into trouble now. And here I thought you were a nice girl." One of her hands pulls your upper thigh, right were it meets your ass, to get a better look at you.

"You know," Her other hand joins, taking the other thigh, you can feel her nails pressing your skin, "really I can't think of anything else to say but pretty. You are so pretty for me. I can't blame myself for thinking you were a good girl, how could anyone so pretty be bad?"

All you can do is moan, practically cry at it.

"You know it's everything too, not just this." Her thumb brushes you again and you actually think you feel your soul leave your body. "The noises you make, and that pretty red blush you get every time you look up at me. Like I'm deflowering you every time I touch you. Ravishing you, scandalizing you."

"Karlach, please-" She hadn't asked you to beg, that was all on your own accord.

She makes a pouting noise, faux sympathy, "alright, I'll give in. Tell me where you want me, pretty girl. I can't say no to face like your's."

You don't know where to start, you want it all honestly. Lucky for you she's started, replacing your hand with her own then slipping her fingers into you. You were melting into the ground below letting out a desperate warbling moan mixed with a handful of profanities.

"Good or bad-" She cautions and you shake your head, the momentary loss of friction makes your eyes water desperately.

"Good! Good, Karlach, please, fuck-"

You were whining and moaning into your arm, which had been previously holding your chest off the ground. Your eyebrows turn up at it, "oh fuck-"

You were acutely aware of how well she knew your body at this point. Every stroke into you had you moaning, rumbling from your chest, the momentum she'd picked up carrying with a bounce in your cries.

For a split second she was gone, stopping to wrap her arm around your front, as quickly as the touch was gone it was back. Then her free hand was in your hair dragging you up to press your back against her chest and fuck it hurt a little but in a way that made your spine tingle and ripped the most beautiful fucking moan Karlach had ever heard out of you.

"Oh sweetheart-" She moans it into your neck, "you'll kill me at this rate." Her arm wraps around your middle and you grip her forearm with your hand, the other coming around your back to hold onto her there.

She picked back up to pace quickly with you against her chest, bounding forward with unrelenting force that hit you so hard she could hear it in your voice.

"That's it, you pretty thing, just like that, huh? That's perfect." She's cooing into the crook of your neck, "good, good job."

"Fuck-" Your nails dig into her arm, "fuck me, Karlach-"

"The mouth on you lovely girl," She groans into your neck, pulling you into a sloppy but stupidly hot kiss.

"When it was me, waiting to finally touch you, this is what I thought about." You can feel her breath behind your ear when she speaks, "all the different ways I could completely undo you, how good you'd be for me while I did, how you would beg for me to do it. I'd never make you worry about anything, no." She tsks, "I thought about how much fun it would be, taking care of you. I got off thinking about your pretty, empty head, getting railed by me. How'd I do?"

"I'm gonna cum-" You somehow manage to choke it out, "'m gonna- fuck!" Your eyebrows knit together and of course she grins.

"Go 'head, I wanna see it." She was kissing your shoulders a hand coming down to thumb at your clit, you keen loud and still bouncing, "wanna hear it-" She murmured into your skin, "I definitely wanna feel it too."

"Oh fuck-" You gasp, your eyes roll back from the shock of it. Thank god she can't see your face because you must have been drooling. The jerking tenseness of your hips and the way you called out her name like she was an angel would drive her insane for months to come all she can do is sink her teeth into your shoulder.

If it wasn't for her arm around you you'd have slumped to the ground.

"That good?" She laughs and you nod.

"Come on, let's clean you up." She lays you down and takes the extra pieces of cloth you had on hand to wipe you clean, "are you alright?" You only nod again and she chuckles,

"and she was too stunned to speak. Another knock out performance by Karlach."

That gets a snort out of you and you shove her arm, "come off it, K."

"Uh oh, someone sounds tired." Her hand rubs your stomach, you're purring like a cat.

"No I'm not." You drag your hand down her stomach, obviously downwards and she laughs.

"Easy there solider, I think the others are expecting to do a least a little adventuring tomorrow. You look ready to pass out anyway." She gathers your clothes up, then you where you'd crumpled into the floor.

"Come on solider." She hoists you over her shoulder, "let's go to bed, I'll get you all tucked in nice and warm in my tent."

"Yeah, okay....good idea K." You were content to dangle over her shoulder, "K, I love you."

"OH I know you do, pretty." She pats your backside, "but I love you more."

You gasp as she drops you onto her bedroll, "no way!"

"Yes way." She's kissing and nuzzling your neck while you laugh, "admit it before I have to ravish you right here in this tent to prove it!"

For as delightful as your touch was your laugh was just as intoxicating, you nodded desperately trying to squirm away from the ticklish kisses and bites.

"Lay down." Karlach pulls away, smiling, "I don't think there's anyone on the planet who's ever loved anyone as much as I love you." She thumbs at your bottom lip, "and I don't think there's anyone in the world half as a pretty as you are. Sleep tight knowing that." You preen at her words as she settles down into bed with you.

"Let's go to sleep, we haven't go much nighttime left, no thanks to you."

[twistedroseytoesy]

I really love your mere mc headcanons that got me thinking.

What about the mere mc being a blu whale. the oceans gently giants if I was correct blu whales don't eat octopus or eal but mostly krill.

How tall would they be in human form though that I don't know.

I got inspired by this art.

OOOOO! yea! Gentle giants are my JAM! thank you for this beautiful idea! I'm going to just share how the octavinelle fellas react to you as this mer, but if you wanted other characters please feel free to send in another ask!

Also, a slight warning that you are referenced to have a large and plush body form, in case it makes any of you upset at that.

Description

Honestly, the picture provided is a beautiful and perfect blue whale mer. With the white underbelly and the dark skin contrast. The small barnacles and other tiny creatures happily living on the side or back of the whale. Would be about 70 ft tall from head to tail. The average person is about the size of a small action figure to you. You mostly feed on small schools of fish and krill. You do have to surface for air every 20 minutes or so.

Your human form is very tall and fairly soft. A slightly more rounded body type but still very healthy. about 8ft. (sorry anyone who prefers cm). You have deep blue hair with small white speckles that resemble barnacles. you also have many similar markings along your face and shoulders, like freckles! your teeth are practically the opposite of the eel twins' shark-like teeth. you have very flat and large teeth. Many stay away from you due to your large height and many small incidents when someone tried to fight you and you just batted them 20-40ft away with one backhanded smack. You're incredibly strong but never use your full strength.

Octavinelle

Azul: Oh no not another tall one... When he noticed how often you bump your head on things hell offer a contract to make it so you can walk comfortably around the school. Aka take some of your impressive height away. You are one of his best customers due to just how much you order and eat at the lounge, kinda a nightmare for ordering stuff but your happy face at getting to eat 20 lbs of small fish is worth it. Tried to hire you as a bouncer since you could easily carry and kick people out if they were causing trouble. Finds your fairly relaxed and kind personality nice. He knew right away that you were a mer, the blue hair and the markings and barnical-like spots were a dead giveaway.

When you invited him to swim with you, he was rather shy about being in his mer form, but he knew you would be nice to him, and probably too big to notice his insecurities due to his weight in that form. Was a bit floored at just how BIG you were, he knew blue whales were big but you were huge! Despite your giant size, you were very careful and kind, gently holding his 10ft long frame in your hands like one would with a baby kitten. He practically melted into your warm embrace and shyly asked if you could go swimming again. You do wonders for his self-confidence. Especially knowing you would defend and protect him from others and his own harsh thoughts. His favorite memory is when you needed to go for air one night and you brought him with you to look at the galaxy sparkling above you both.

Jade: Finds Azul's and Floyd's reactions to your height very amusing. Also can't help but chuckle when you knock your head into the ceiling and have to crawl or awkwardly crouch around the school's halls. Helps you find some other ways around the campus that uses fewer overhangs when possible. He was amazed at how strong yet gentle you were. You treated others with so much love and gentleness that it reminded Jade of how he tends to his mushrooms. Also amazed at how much you eat a day. in your human form, it's about 40-60 lbs of fish/shrimp/krill a day! Asks you many questions and why you don't use your intense strength to make others do as you say. He asks a lot of questions because he likes to hear your gentle yet loud voice. He headcanons that your voice is the voice mountains would have.

Another one who was a bit surprised at your invitation to sim in your true forms. You knew when to invite them since all merfolk need to stretch their fins every once in a while. Can easily keep up with you and swims around your arms. Acts and is the size of a small boa to you. he likes wrapping around your right arm as you swim around. Enjoys the speed you travel as he relaxes against your soft blubber. Does tickle you every once in a while by lightly knawing on said blubber. it doesn't hurt you so you're fine with it. Might fling him away if you get too ticklish though. He would just chuckle and tease you about being ticklish. Always follows you to the surface when you need to breath.

Floyd: Dang it! now he's not even the tallest in the Octavinelle dorm anymore! Saw how large you were and the blue of your hair and called you "Bluey" "Whaley" or just "blue whale", depending on his mood. Loves how you allow him to squeeze you, kinda awkward as he squeezes as hard as he can around your middle since his head only reaches your chest level. Loves to bury himself into your plush form. Also sometimes will just latch onto your back like a crazy backpack. You just chuckle and continue until he gets bored. Whenever he's in a bad mood you always find a way to cheer him up. Tried to challenge you to an eating contest when he saw how much you ate each day. He lost and got all grouchy and whiney cause now his tummy hurt.

Was SO excited when you invited him to go swimming in your merforms. Zoomed around your whole form cause he was that excited. Likes to wrap around your left arm and stick his tongue out and say in the current as you swim at high speeds. Asked you to launch him with your tail out of the water and screamed with joy as he went. Demanded to do it again a bunch more times, very much like an excited kid. If he's not around your arm, he's like a little scarf/choker. Bites you so often, mostly to just get your attention since you don't get hurt by his impressive chompers. He says you don't taste very good. But loves the feeling of biting into your blubber, and he likes your loud and gentle laughter as you say that tickles. Also has taken a nap on your back when you were both near the surface.

All three love to be around you and your calming aura. Azul likes to be held by you or nestled in your hair or on your back when you go swimming. Jade and Floyd enjoy being around your arms or swimming beside you. All in all, they love you and how you treat them all so well and bring out a much softer side of themselves they didn't even know was there.