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happyyyandcrazyyy · 2 months ago

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love and tattoos (kaz brekker x reader)

summary: in which jesper has a theory and kaz might be the matching tattoos kind of guy.

it’s two small words, a raven and a crow, a broken lock and a key, and a band around their ring finger.

“He has to be drunk, or high, or something, because there is absolutely no way he’s just seen a band of ink around Kaz’s ring finger.”

warnings: brief panic attack (not detailed), mentions of wounds and blood (not detailed, canon typical), set in the future, kaz has worked on his touch aversion

kaz taglist: @the-tpd-bau @ellievickstar @thestudiouswanderer | soc taglist: @ancientbeing10 (if you want to be added or removed from the taglist just dm me!)

a/n: here i am, once again, because apparently im incapable of stopping myself from writing for kaz brekker. i have so many wips but kaz always calls to me😭😭 this one was so much fun to write, it just flowed, and i hope you enjoy it just as much as i did!!

i. a band of ink around his ring finger, part one.

Jesper must be hallucinating, he has to be. He blinks once, twice, looks down at the drink in his hand, briefly wonders if it’s been laced with some sort of drug powerful enough to have his brain imagining things— because Jesper does not have the imagination to be making this up, he wishes he did —and then looks back up. The ink remains in place. Nope, no way. He shakes his head, presses his eyes shut. He has to be drunk, or high, or something, because there is absolutely no way he’s just seen a band of ink around Kaz’s ring finger.

It’s not the tattoo itself that shocks Jesper. Although, maybe it does freak him out a bit, a band around the ring finger can only mean one thing, and Jesper has never believed Kaz to be the marrying type. (Then again, he never thought him to be the matching tattoos kind of guy, and the last couple of months have had him discovering that Kaz very much could be.) No, what makes Jesper spiral is that he’s seen that exact same tattoo on (Y/N)’s own ring finger.

ii. you break, i mend.

Jesper has seen the tattoo on the inside of (Y/N)’s left wrist more times than he can count.

The word ‘mend’ in all lowercase, the typography delicate and elegant, the font somewhat rounded. Jesper has never asked what it means— because everyone in the Barrel has been branded, either by choice or against their will, and Jesper knows the black ink carries memories, promises and pain, he knows better than to ask —but he thinks it’s fitting for her, both the word and the style. Because (Y/N) is a gentle force, someone who provides emotional care to those close to her, a fixer. She loves proudly and deeply, and Jesper has never met someone in this wretched place that is so unafraid to be kind. He doesn’t know what she does to remain untainted, to keep her soul so pure in spite of their line of work. He envies it, sometimes. But then he’ll hear muted sobs through the thin walls, wake up at the sound of screams caused by nightmares, and he’ll wonder if feeling and caring that much is even worth it.

Jesper doesn’t think much about (Y/N)’s tattoo— it’s pretty and it suits her, and, yeah, he gets the desperate need to ask for a backstory whenever he catches a glimpse of it, but never does. There’s nothing more to it. That is until he spies a word on Kaz’s own wrist.

He only sees the tattoo because Kaz takes his gloves off. That doesn’t happen very often, if at all. But it’s the hottest day of summer they’ve had in Ketterdam in years, and they’ve been out in the sun all day, so Jesper is only mildly surprised when they reach Kaz’s office and he takes the black gloves off. What does take him completely off guard, however, is the inked word on his right wrist, partially hidden by the sleeves of his shirt.

‘BREAK’. In uppercase, with jagged and fragmented lettering. Jesper only catches a glimpse before Kaz twists away and the ink is completely sheltered by his clothes, but he’s almost sure the tattoo has some sort of optical effect, makes it seem like the words have been shattered, all sharp and angular lines.

Kaz is saying something and Inej is responding, and it’s probably important and he definitely should be paying attention, but Jesper’s mind is elsewhere because (Y/N)’s delicate tattoo suddenly comes to mind. The similarities are just right there and now all Jesper can think about is how odd of a coincidence it is that (Y/N) and Kaz have mirror tattoos. Same place, but opposite wrist. A single word, one neat and elegant, the other harsh and precise. Jesper does not believe in coincidences, but it can’t be anything else— because believing it to be something else would mean believing Kaz to be a matching tattoos type of person and Jesper would bet his guns against that —so he simply ponders over the possible coincidence, just for a quick second, before Kaz is directing questions towards him and Jesper is forced to shove the information in the back of his mind.

He ends up forgetting about it. Not forgetting forgetting, more so in the way he forgets his debts until there are collectors knocking on his door. The information is there, stored in some corner of his brain, ready to be brought back into his consciousness with just the right push.

The right push comes a Saturday night, two months after he first notices Kaz’s tattoo.

(Y/N) is out on a job. Jesper doesn’t know any of the details— not the target, nor the entry and exit routes, nothing at all —but he knows something is wrong because Kaz has been pacing for the last half hour.

“She should be back by now,” is all Kaz says when he asks. He doesn’t really need to say more. Jesper feels the way his chest constricts, panic slowly building. (Y/N) is never late.

Just as Jesper feels like he’s about to start pacing himself, the door of the Slat opens. She’s got her hood on, doesn’t look up from the floor when she walks in. There’s a certain drag in her limbs, something that tells Jesper that something is wrong, wrong, wrong.

“Where the fuck were you?” The words aren’t directed towards him, but Jesper cannot help but flinch. Kaz doesn’t get like this often, cold and harsh because he’s worried, so the job must’ve been important, high stakes, the type where survival isn’t assured.

(Y/N) looks up, and it’s only then that Jesper notices the blood. It’s everywhere. It drips down the slope of her nose, it trails down her lips. She walks closer and with the change of light he notices that it’s also embedded in her clothes. The most disturbing thing, however, are her eyes. Glassy, distant, unseeing. She’s shaking. Full body tremors.

By his side, Kaz deflates completely at the sight of her. He’s already moving towards her when she whispers brokenly, “I’m sorry.”

The apology goes ignored, “Where are you hurt?” Kaz asks. He reins his panic well enough, but Jesper can still taste the traces of it, they float around in the air.

(Y/N) doesn’t move, doesn’t acknowledge Kaz as he comes to stand right in front of her, trying his best to assess for injuries. It’s hard when all there is to see is blood.

“I’m not hurt,” she responds, and it’s like she’s in a trance, capable of responding but not truly present. Jesper furrows his brows, catches the concerned look on Kaz face. Does she not realize she’s covered in blood? She raises her hand to gesture at herself, and it’s only when she does so that Jesper notices the blade. She waves it around. It’s stained red, all the way to the handle. “Blood’s not mine.”

Jesper freezes. Kaz stops dead on his tracks, too.

Kaz looks back at him and understanding passes through them. She snapped. Something made her snap.

It seems like she’s just processing it, too, because a second after she mutters those words the knife falls from her hand and her knees wobble. It’s like Kaz had been expecting the sudden crash, because he’s quick to help her down. He grabs her by the sleeves of her tunic and sits her on the floor, back against the wall.

Her breathing begins to come out hard and labored, she clutches at her chest, hard.

“Look at me,” Kaz instructs, but she’s not here anymore. Jesper cannot help the way fear courses through him at the sight of her faraway eyes and the sound of her disordered breaths. He’s only ever seen (Y/N) like this once before, and even then, it hadn’t been this bad, she’d been responsive to Kaz, and very much able to breathe properly. Right now, not even Kaz’s words are cutting through the haze.

The wheezing becomes louder, more intense. The more she panics, the less she breathes, the more Jesper feels like he, himself, isn’t capable of getting air into his lungs. Kaz keeps talking, but she doesn’t seem to hear him.

“I can’t—” Her lips are slowly losing color.

Jesper is still frozen in place, and he can tell that Kaz is also beginning to panic by the way he grabs her clothed hand and presses it against his own chest.

“Breathe,” he orders. Insistent, firm. Kaz’s words leave no room for argument and (Y/N) reacts accordingly. Like it’s instinct to do as Kaz says, she takes in a deep breath, ragged.

“Good girl.” Kaz’s hand, the one that isn’t on top of (Y/N)’s own, pressed against his chest, hovers over her cheek. He ends up grabbing the end of the hood that still partially covers her face. “One more time.”

She repeats the action, another deep breath, interrupted by a brief coughing fit.

“You’re okay, match my breaths.” She nods weakly and does as best she can, eyes shut. The hand that is on Kaz’s chest has become a fist, rumpling his shirt. She holds onto him like a lifeline.

“I’ll get her water,” he finds himself saying.

Kaz doesn’t turn to look at him, “Bring a wet cloth, too.”

Jesper nods and slips out of the room and into the kitchen. He feels like he’s having an out of body experience, his body working automatically on pouring tap water in a glass, on finding a clean cloth. His mind is miles away.

Saints.

It’s disconcerting to see someone as serene and put together as (Y/N) so rattled and distraught. He feels disoriented, like the world has shifted off his feet. He’s never seen her snap so badly that she ends up spiraling into a panic attack. Jesper doesn’t know much about her past, but Kaz had once mentioned something about a complicated upbringing, about being raised as a weapon not a child. He doesn’t want to begin to imagine what he’d meant.

The soft murmur of words brings him back to reality, grounds him and guides him once again into his body.

“Are you with me?”

No response, but Jesper imagines that she must’ve nodded because he hears the soft sigh of relief that Kaz lets out.

It’s quiet for a little while, Jesper focuses on the sound of water flowing through the cloth in his hands, the feeling of it getting damper.

“I’m sorry.” The words come out soft, filled with emotion and embarrassment.

“None of that.”

“I didn’t mean to…”

“I know. It’s okay.”

The silence lingers before being filled by quiet noises. Jesper has heard her sobs through his wall enough times to identify them. His heart tightens painfully.

“It’s okay,” Kaz repeats, softer this time. It’s a tone Jesper has never heard him use with anyone else.

“There were children, Kaz,” Jesper has to strain to make out the words, they’re muffled by something, “little kids. And it just reminded me of… I couldn’t...”

“I know.”

A sniffle, “I’m sorry,” followed by a broken laugh, soft and sad. “I’m a mess.”

Jesper turns off the faucet, twists the cloths to remove any excess of water. He grabs the glass of water with one hand and the cloth with the other and then, just, waits. He knows this conversation is not one he should be present for, he doesn’t want to be present.

It’s a good thing, too, that he doesn’t make his way towards them, because he’s pretty sure he would’ve stumbled and dropped everything at the next words that fall out of Kaz’s mouth.

“If you break, I mend, remember?”

(mend

BREAK)

Jesper places the glass of water on the kitchen counter and blinks once, twice.

Saints be damned.

Kaz might be the matching tattoos type of person.

iii. a raven and a crow

The matching tattoo theory, as Jesper likes to refer to it, remains just that, a theory. Because Jesper has no real way of proving it, not unless he finds the will to ask (Y/N)— which he just can’t do, she’s so open about everything that prodding just feels unfair —or unless he brings his curiosity to Kaz— which might just end up with him losing a finger, and Jesper likes his limbs just as they are, thank you very much. So, for now, it’s merely speculation, something that could be played off as a coincidence. And he thinks it must be a coincidence, right? Matching tattoos are too sentimental for someone like Kaz. (Then again, he has always been different when it comes to (Y/N), so maybe Jesper shouldn’t be that surprised.) And they aren’t matching tattoos, not really, they are more like, well, mirror ones. It’s different. Probably nothing. He might be connecting dots where there’s absolutely nothing to connect.

He can’t help the way he begins to observe more, trying to find anything to sustain or disprove his theory. It’s only natural, he tells himself, Jesper is nothing if not a curious man.

It’s only because he becomes so attuned to them, and whatever that thing is that they have going on, that Jesper notices little things.

“Inej?”

“Good.”

Kaz keeps on making roll call, making sure all of them are there and unharmed.

“Jes?”

“Very much alive,” he grunts in response, letting himself flop into the haystack. His heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest, but at least it’s still beating. He cannot believe a blizzard of all things is what saved their lives.

He looks to his left. Even Inej looks slightly winded. She pats the pocket of her coat, sags in relief immediately after. Jesper does the same, touches his inner pocket, feels the edges of the glass key, and sighs.

The goods are safe.

“Nina?”

“Here.” Her cheeks are rosy. Jesper isn’t sure if it’s because of the dreadful cold or the exertion.

There’s silence after, the room filled by only harsh breaths. Jesper snaps up, looking around frantically, because Kaz is not calling (Y/N)’s name and that can only mean that she’s not there or she’s…

His mind quiets down when he takes in the sight in front of him.

Kaz is not calling (Y/N)’s name because he already has eyes on her. Probably always did.

And that’s when Jesper sees it, a little thing, something that tilts the scales in favor of his theory; the softness in (Y/N)’s face as she listens to Kaz.

(Y/N) is always kind— with battered gang members and hungry street urchins, with the loud customers and even with those who dare gamble against her —but Jesper is just now realizing that there’s a different gentleness when it comes to the way she takes Kaz in. The look in her eyes becomes quieter, more intimate, delicate. She says something, much too quiet for Jesper to hear, and smiles. Kaz shakes his head fondly, responds with a hushed whisper. It’s tender, precious, private. It makes Jesper feel like he’s intruding.

And then something Jesper has never seen before happens. Kaz takes (Y/N)’s chin with his gloved hand, thumb and index fingers holding her. He moves her face around, looking for any visible injury.

There goes another detail in favor of the matching tattoo theory.

Jesper thinks he might’ve just entered some sort of altered reality because what is he even looking at right now. He looks around but Inej and Nina aren’t paying them any mind, too engrossed in their own conversation.

Great, he’s all alone in trying to figure this thing out.

“I’m okay,” he hears (Y/N) reassure.

For the most part, Jesper thinks to himself, because he doesn’t miss the way she’s pressing her hand to her abdomen. Apparently, it hasn’t slipped past Kaz either, because he hums and raises his eyebrows, eyes pointedly trailing down to the wound.

She rolls her eyes at him, even that action looks fond, “It’s not deep.”

Kaz is more tactile with her, Jesper realizes with a start. It’s not a word he would ever use to describe Dirtyhands, but it’s the only one that comes to mind. (And Kaz has gotten better over the years, he has. It’s been gradual, and Jesper has no clue as to how or what he’s done, but he hasn’t missed the way Kaz doesn’t cringe away from the Crows anymore, how he doesn’t pale when someone brushes against him. He doesn’t seek touch, but he doesn’t lose all semblance of control at it either. Still, tactile is farther from what Kaz is, and this? This is huge. This is the greatest display of touch Jesper has ever seen him do.)

“You’ve got it?”

“Yeah, I’ll stitch it.”

His gloved thumb brushes her skin, briefly, before he taps the bottom of her chin gently, in approval, and lets her go.

“I can help you with that,” Nina pipes up.

Jesper turns around, immediately catches the look in the Heartrender’s eyes. Seems like he might not be the only one noticing things.

(Y/N) nods in agreement and Nina follows after her. Jesper decides, after taking only two seconds to ponder on the thought, to trail behind them. He wants to listen in— because he knows Nina won’t be able to keep herself from commenting or questioning and he’s aching to know —but he’s also hoping the Heartrender will take pity on him and heal some of his bruises.

“What do you want?” Nina asks him as they settle on a small corner of the stable. (Y/N) leans against a wooden post as she begins to undress, untucking her shirt.

Jesper simply points at the bruise he can already feel forming on his cheekbone, offering a cheeky smile.

“I’m not a nurse, Fahey.”

“You’re gonna stitch her up!” (Y/N) is watching with amusement and when Jesper points at her she raises one hand in surrender, the other still pressed against her wound.

“Yeah, well,” Nina shrugs, needle and thread in hand, “She’s my favorite.”

(Y/N) chuckles. There’s a broken-down iron chest and she sits on it as well as she can, leaning back so that Nina can work. She winks at him, “Privileges, Jes.”

He pouts.

“Saints,” Nina mutters when she catches a look of him. She’s decided that kneeling by (Y/N) side will be the most comfortable position for her to work. She cleans the wound, pours water over it, and doesn’t turn to him as she says, “If you stop doing that face I’ll see what I can do about the bruise.”

He smirks to himself, “You’ve got it, boss.”

Jesper can’t see it, but he’s sure she rolls her eyes at him.

“Try not to move,” she instructs (Y/N), voice gaining a softer, less teasing edge. The needle pricks the skin.

It’s not a deep wound, (Y/N) had been right about that. It bleeds, but the flow seems to be slowing down. It’s a little bit over her hipbone, but not quite on her abdomen. Judging by the injury, if Jesper had to guess, he would say it was probably caused by a straight back blade.

He had sort of expected Nina to immediately fire away, to start unabashedly questioning, but she doesn’t. She moves her hands in a repetitive motion, closing the skin. Then, she casually comments, “That’s not a crow.”

It’s only then that Jesper notices the ink; just over (Y/N)'s hipbone, only visible because she’d pulled her trousers a bit down to give Nina more skin to maneuver around.

“No, it isn’t,” (Y/N) confirms. She’s got her eyes closed, looks a lot more like she’s sleeping and not like she’s having her skin stitched back together. Either Nina has an amazing ability or she’s somehow managing to dissociate from the pain.

“A raven?”

“Yeah.”

Jesper leans away from the wall to get a better look at it. It’s small, simple, just the silhouette done in thin black lines. He has no idea how Nina managed to identify the bird.

Nina stays quiet for a split second, musing. She keeps her hands steady, thread pulling skin. Apparently, she decides she does not care about decorum— just like Jesper had expected —because she ends up stating, matter-of-factly, “Kaz calls you that.”

Jesper sort of forgets how to breathe. That’s why Nina hadn’t gone on a tangent regarding the touches and the glances, he realizes in that moment. She’d been distracted by something much more interesting.

And she hadn’t identified the bird, she’d just made an informed assumption. Because Kaz does call her that, raven, and sometimes, when he's feeling particularly fond, little raven. He uses it interchangeably with her name and often enough that when Jesper had initially joined the Dregs, all those years back, he’d assumed it to be her name. He’s not quite sure how Nina, who’s been with them for a shorter period of time, managed to make that connection quicker than him.

(Y/N) lets out a breathy laugh, “That he does.”

Instead of further grilling (Y/N) about the tattoo, as Jesper had expected, Nina changes the line of inquiry.

“Why?” She stops sewing and looks up at (Y/N), eyes filled with curiosity.

Oh, she’s insane, Jesper thinks to himself. He sort of wishes he’d have the audacity to ask such direct questions.

(Y/N) doesn’t seem bothered by the prodding, only mildly amused. She chuckles, “You would have to ask him that.”

Not even Nina is insane enough to dare do that. Probably. Nina is sort of a wild card, Jesper can never get a complete read on her.

She proves her sanity by taking the easier route, she whines and pouts, “C’mon. Tell us.”

(Y/N) laughs, louder this time. The reaction is immediate, the wound oozes more blood, and she flinches, moving her hand towards the injury and managing to stop herself millimeters before touching it. It makes Nina get back to stitching.

“You’re bold,” (Y/N) opens her eyes and looks straight at Jesper. There’s something in her eyes, a glimmer that passes quickly, like she knows something that Jesper doesn’t and it amuses her. “Jes would never dare ask.”

“Hey!” He pretends to be offended but isn’t really. She knows him too well.

“You know it’s true.”

He only grumbles in response, hates that she’s right.

Nina is suddenly tense, as if she isn’t quite sure if (Y/N)’s words are meant as a compliment or a reprimand. (Y/N) closes her eyes again, rests her head against the wall and reassures her, “I like that. Your boldness.”

And Nina preens, subtly, but she does. Jesper understands. (Y/N)’s approval somehow comes to mean everything to those around her. She’s like an older sister you’re always trying to impress.

Jesper thinks she won’t be saying anything more, but (Y/N) does.

“Ravens are softer than crows, more playful,” she mumbles quietly. Jesper, who isn’t even far from her, strains to hear, “Gentler, too.” And it’s like she knows exactly where the ink lays on her skin, like she has it memorized, because she manages to avoid Nina and the needle and trace the outline of the tattoo, eyes still closed, “And yet they manage to survive in the same brutal world that crows do.”

The words sink in. Jesper blinks once, twice, shifts on his feet, somewhat uncomfortable. It feels like he’s just gained insight on something much too private, into the feelings and thoughts of Kaz Brekker. Because what she just explained, vaguely and in simple words, has a much deeper meaning, and Jesper doesn’t miss that. It’s how Kaz sees her, an equal. Someone as strong as a crow, as fierce and resourceful and capable, but softer, gentler. That’s (Y/N) to him.

“That’s it?” Nina sounds perpetually unimpressed, but she doesn’t get it. She hasn’t been with the Crows long enough to understand.

(Y/N) smirks, like she knew the words wouldn’t mean much to her, and that tells Jesper something. There’s even more to the meaning of the nickname and she won’t be sharing.

“If you want more you can just ask Kaz.”

Nina huffs and pouts, pulls at the thread a bit harsher than necessary in retaliation. It probably doesn’t even sting, but (Y/N) plays along.

“Ow!?” The smirk remains on her face.

“Sorry,” Nina says, not sounding the least apologetic.

(Y/N) only chuckles, “I really do like your boldness.”

It isn’t until later that night, as Jesper sleeps in the haystack and shivers from the cold, hoping to the Saints that the smell of horse can be removed from his clothes, that realization strikes him. His eyes snap wide open.

The image of a letter R inked in Kaz’s forearm flashes through his mind.

A Raven.

No fucking way.

He has no evidence of it, no evidence that those tattoos might be complementary, but something in his gut tells him they are, and he decides to listen to his instincts.

Great, that’s yet another circumstantial piece of evidence in favor of his theory.

(Jesper doesn’t know, will never know, but he gets it both wrong and right. The letter R that is permanently etched on Kaz’s skin means something else entirely, but he does have the small silhouette of a crow, different from the one on his arm, over his ribs.)

iv. a broken lock and a key

Jesper and (Y/N) stay behind. It’s Jesper’s fault, he’d landed wrong when they jumped off the cliff, too busy on firing his guns to focus on the landing, and the resulting sprained ankle made it hard to keep up with the rest. (Maybe it was sort of Kaz’s fault, too, because who even decides on an exit route that includes free falling off a cliff. Jesper should be used to Kaz’s antics by now, but the man keeps on outdoing himself.)

(Y/N) had quickly offered to match his pace, to keep him company while the rest went ahead.

After a quick discussion Kaz had agreed to it. Jesper hadn’t missed the way they’d said goodbye. Their pinky fingers interlacing with one another.

He might not be completely sure about his matching tattoo theory— denial, really, he’s in denial, and he’s man enough to admit that to himself —but he has absolutely no doubt there is something going on between them. Jesper hasn’t put a name on it yet, he’s not even sure they have, but one would have to be blind to deny it.

Wylan had volunteered too, but Kaz needed him for the next phase of the plan, so he wasn’t really an option. A shame, really, Jesper would’ve enjoyed some alone time with his boyfriend, but he can’t complain, (Y/N) is good company. She doesn’t whine about how slow they’re going, doesn’t mention the fact that, by now, they’re probably two days behind. She keeps the air between them filled with light chatter and that makes it more bearable, makes him feel less of a burden.

On the third day of their journey Jesper wakes up alone. He’s not immediately filled by dread because he’s a light sleeper, he’s sure he would’ve woken up at the sound of any commotion, and he’s even more certain that (Y/N) would’ve had any attacker down on the floor with a gun to their temple before they even had the chance to breathe too close to them.

So, he’s not worried, but there’s something about not having (Y/N) within his line of sight that feels wrong, partly because he’s got no idea where she is, and mainly because Kaz had given him a cautionary glare when they’d ventured ahead, an easily interpreted warning to keep her safe or else.

It’s only when he begins to look around that Jesper notices her knapsack is also missing. He closes his eyes and focuses. Somewhere in the distance he can hear running water. He follows the sound before he can think too much, limping along the way.

Jesper finds her easily. He sort of wishes he hadn’t found her. Because she is showering in the lake and she is completely naked.

“Saints!” It’s a knee-jerk reaction to turn around, eyes screwed shut. “I am so sorry.”

(Y/N) snickers, unbothered, “Relax, Jes. It’s okay.”

And she’s saying that, but Jesper is pretty sure Kaz would gauge his eyes off is he found out he’s just seen her completely nude.

He shakes his head, over and over. Ah, Kaz is going to kill him. He is a dead man walking.

She must be watching him because she lets out a laugh.

“Oh, please.” There’s amusement in her tone, “Nothing you haven’t seen before,” she teases, and Jesper regrets every single thing he’s ever told her about his sexual encounters.

He huffs out a laugh. It’s got nothing to do with that, Jesper isn’t a prude, he’s just trying to process the fact that if Kaz ever finds out he will more than likely lose a finger, or his life. But he can’t say that, that’s a conversation he’s not ready to have, so he settles for, “You’re like my sister, it’s not the same.”

“Fair enough,” she responds. Jesper catches the affection in her voice. He doesn’t think he’s ever told her how she sees her as family and she must’ve known, their bond runs deep, it goes unspoken, but maybe it’s different to hear it out loud.

“It’s my fault anyways, I shouldn’t have left without telling you where I was going,” she disrupts his thoughts. “But you were finally sleeping.”

“Yeah,” he mumbles. Obviously it wouldn’t slip past her that in between the pain on his ankle and the cold of the night he’s been having a hard time falling asleep.

“You shouldn’t be standing for long,” she points out, and Jesper agrees. His leg is beginning to ache and if they’re going to travel long today, he must rest as much as he can. But the idea of walking back to camp and leaving her alone doesn’t sit right with him— even if he knows she’s capable of defending herself, she would probably do a better job than him, given his state —so he limps towards a big rock, back still towards her, and sits.

“You’re gonna keep me company?”

Jesper hums in response, “Talk so I know you haven’t suddenly been kidnapped.”

She doesn’t talk, instead she sings. It’s an old Kerch song, Jesper knows because of the mournful feel. It builds up slow and steady, flows with the morning air. She's got a nice voice. Jesper never gets tired of hearing her.

It’s as he listens, slowly being lulled into a peaceful mindset, that the memory of the ink flows through his mind. It’d been the thing his eyes had zeroed in, the black mark on the back of her neck.

Maybe it’s the soothing music, or maybe he’s slowly becoming more daring, but the words slip out of his mouth without thought, “Is it a key?”

(Y/N) stops midway through the bridge of the song.

“What?” she asks, confusion permeating the lone word.

“On the back of your neck,” Jesper clarifies, gesturing to his own neck.

There’s silence, long enough for Jesper to start thinking that maybe this wasn’t the best idea, before the air is filled with laughter. She chuckles as if he's just said the funniest thing.

She’s still giggling when she says, “I can’t believe you caught sight of it.”

He’s confused by her reaction and settles for responding with a teasing, “I’ve got a great vision.”

“That you do,” she replies. "It is a key," she confirms and then the singing starts again, more of a humming this time around, a much brighter song.

And Jesper must be really really losing the filter between his mouth and his brain— he blames the pain and the lack of sleep —because he finds himself asking, “Does Kaz have a lock, by any chance?”

He’s teasing, but not really. It’s a good enough question, not truly invasive. It gives her room to answer as she wishes.

To his surprise, she says, “Yes, he does.”

His head snaps towards her, momentarily forgetting that she’s naked and that Kaz will definitely kill him for seeing her naked twice. To his luck, (Y/N) is already getting dressed, water dripping down her hair and staining her shirt.

“What?”

There’s a sharp glint in her eyes, knowing, almost playful. A smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth, just enough hint of mischief to make Jesper doubt the truthfulness of her words.

“Yeah,” she repeats in mock seriousness, “he’s got a small lock around here,” she points the area around her collarbone, close to where her heart is. “It’s very pretty.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

(Y/N) snickers, “Maybe I am.” She ruffles his hair as she walks past him.

Weeks later Jesper realizes that she had been fucking with him, but not lying. Kaz’s shirt rips during a heist and Jesper catches the briefest glimpse of the image of a broken lock, inked right above his heart.

v. a band of ink around his ring finger, part two.

As if summoned by his thoughts, (Y/N) materializes by his side. She takes a look at his face, follows his line of sight, and snickers.

“Did you finally figure it out?”

He turns to her. Blinks once, twice.

“What?”

She looks highly entertained by the evident confusion on his face.

“I caught you staring at my tattoo sometimes,” Jesper follows the movement of her fingers, watches as she rubs the mend on her wrist absentmindedly. “And then you would get this constipated look on your face.”

Jesper sputters, “I do not look constipated.”

“Only when you’re thinking too hard,” she teases, her smile bright. “So, I figured, well…”

“That I might be losing my mind trying to figure out if Kaz is the matching tattoo kind of person?”

“Yep, something like that,” she takes a sip of her drink. “He is, by the way.” (Y/N)’s not looking at him anymore, her eyes have drifted. He follows her sight and isn’t surprised to find her looking at Kaz. She softens immediately. “All the tattoos were his idea.”

Jesper feels like he’s really entered some other reality. He can’t believe she’s just telling him all this. Does this mean that he could’ve known months ago if he’d just asked?

“And,” he dares ask, because apparently (Y/N) is in a sharing mood, and apparently he's grown bolder. It must be the alcohol. “You’re married?”

He doesn’t miss the way she rubs her thumb against her ring finger, the one that contains the exact same band of ink as Kaz’s.

“Yeah.”

“Actually?”

She pulls her necklace. A wedding band lies there. It’s anything but traditional. Black, probably forged from oxidized steel. Sleek, unadorned and somehow still elegant. There’s something engraved on the inside. Jesper just catches the letter R.

“Got the documents to prove it, too.”

Jesper sighs, astounded, “You never said a thing.”

“We didn’t really keep it a secret, just private.” It sounds like an apology somehow. “It's just, in a place like this," she gestures around, "some things you have to keep to yourself."

Jesper understands.

He shakes his head, still somehow feeling like he’s drugged.

Kaz Brekker, a matching tattoo and marriage type of person. Who would’ve guessed.

“Lovers, huh?”

(Y/N) smiles, before she slips away and makes her way towards Kaz, Jesper hears her whisper.

“‘Lovers’ feels too small a word for what we are.”

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likesomeoneinlovee · 2 months ago

Text

𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓’𝐒 𝐖𝐀𝐘

pairing: Arthur Morgan x F!reader

Summary: ( Based on the stranger mission: ''an artist's way,, in CH4 ) You run into Arthur while on an errand in Saint Denis while he invites you to come with him to Charles Châtenay's gallery. Afterwards you two go out for a drink, then eventually to a local hotel where you find out Arthur had been drawing you in Charles' "style"

Warnings: smut with plot HEAVILY based off the game's mission - Reader briefly mentioned to be a virgin, fingering, unprotected PIV sex, riding, creampie, oral sex M!receiving + F!receiving. Younger woman reader, Arthur's a big boy, canon that he grabs the headboard sorry not sorry.

WC: 10k

More and more you’ve found yourself becoming the gang’s “errand boy”.

This was often Arthur’s job, though he’s been gone more often now, either on bounty’s or doing the dirty work in the gang. So Dutch had you do the clean work. You’d say you didn’t mind it, the running around at least, after all it was one of your only excuses to get away from camp. You’d jump when Pearson needed more herbs or vegetables from the store or if Dutch needed some cigars. You usually went to Saint Denis most of the time, it was the closest to camp after all -and something about running these errands in the city made you feel right at home. The gang was a downgrade from growing up in the city of course, still not completely used to it: the running, it was as if every time you were comfortable everyone had to pack up and move to a whole new location. Hell, sometimes it means crossing states.

You had just walked back to your horse after buying some goods from the general store across the street, packing your purchases into the saddle bags of your hitched horse -some canned fruits and vegetables, cigarettes as per request from most of the people in camp, and some ammo Dutch asked for, just to stock up I suppose. As you worked on buttoning the flap to the saddle bag back down, making sure none of your goods would be seen by people walking by, after all you spent your hard earned -ahem, stolen money- on those things, you could’ve sworn you heard a man ask for directions, a man with a voice as familiar to you as you own.

You looked over your shoulder to see the man, the sandy brown locks under the gambling hat told you enough, why was Arthur in the city? You didn’t think Dutch had any chores for him today, thus why he asked you to go to the store. He held a small card in his hand, looking from the back of it before his gaze fell back on the woman passing, the one he had asked for directions. Once he got them he’d nod to the woman, eyes falling back onto the card as she walked off.

You’d pat your horse on the neck before walking onto the sidewalk where Arthur stood, he didn’t notice you til’ you tapped on his shoulder. “Arthur?” You were sure he nearly jumped out of his skin. If your voice wasn’t so familiar he probably would’ve elbowed you out of pure defense.

“Christ–! you tryin’ to kill me sneakin’ up on me like that?” He’d pause for a moment as if his brain finally processed that it was you. “The hell are you doing here anyway?”

“Good news, you’ve been replaced.”

“Wha–” His brows would furrow together as his mind cranked to figure out your meaning, that was until you pulled your little shopping list out from the satchel swung over your shoulder. “Oh, that.”

Of course he couldn’t care less about being ‘replaced’ in that department. It was usually a pain in his ass –And honestly you were a pain in his ass too. It’s not that he didn’t like you, you were just ultimately too spunky for his nature. He’d gladly admit you were a good shot, a good killer. So with that you made a good member for this gang. Personality wise he couldn’t help but wince at your jokes while others would laugh, the tiniest amount of attitude that laced each of your sentences. He wasn’t one to like immaturity, especially from someone who was an adult. Though, you were barely even that.

“Have fun runnin’ around with that list of yours then. Seems you’re really movin’ on up.” He’d scorn.

He’d look down at the card in his hands, then back up to look around his surroundings.

“Do you know where this is?”

He handed you the card, the finished paper now warm from him holding it for so long now against your fingertips. It was an address to one of the buildings on this street, you were surprised he hadn’t realized by now.

“That woman didn’t tell you? It’s right on this street.”

“No.” He’d roll his eyes. “She looked at me like I lost my mind.”

You’d snicker at that, now walking down the sidewalk with him, both of your boots clicking against the stone sidewalk. Then you stopped in front of the brick building. ”Here, I think.” You’d give that card one last look, noticing the name on the back of the card, you’d squint to see if you were reading it right -Charles Châtenay? you could’ve sworn I heard that name–

My eyes flicked up to the poster on the side of the brick, looks like it was what I thought after all. I usually pick up the paper when I go this route. The route of aimlessly following Dutch’s list as I walk or ride around the city, gives me something to read when I get back to Shady Belle. Seems the artist had an open gallery today. you couldn’t help but snort, the thought of you, Arthur Morgan going to an art gallery full of practically- well, pornography, now that just might be the funniest damn thing you’ve heard all week. -Your immaturity was truly striking.

“Mr. Morgan, Mr. Morgan.” You’d snark. Of course when Arthur wasn’t acting like the man he was -the same man with five-thousand dollars on his head alone, the same who’s murdered more than a person could fathom he was just your regular ol’ suck up.

“Don’t start with that now, I’m already annoyed I gotta go to this thing.” He tapped his boot onto the sidewalk, taking that card back from you and putting it back into his satchel. “Well, ‘less you wanna come in with me. You’d have a field day with this kinda thing. Châtenay seems like a man who’d entertain you anyway.”

You’d think it over for a moment, you could hear chatter already coming from the windows of the building that were open just a crack. Surely you’d find entertainment in it but you were also fond of the arts as well. Though paintings of women laid out nude wouldn’t strike something in you as it would in a man, you’d be surprised if you were the only woman in that building other than the ones on canvas. –At least this would bring some entertainment to your day.

“I’ll keep you company. Lead the way– or, shall I? Seeing you’re horrible with directions.”

“Up the stairs and to the right.” He’d recite the directions written on the back of that card. “I think I can remember that.”

You two walked into the building together, up the stairs and to the right and you were there. The first hall was filled with sculptures, beautiful paintings hung against the blue walls, the next room you two stepped in was Châtenay’s, you and Arthur’s gaze met with women’s breasts and men’s cocks painted with oils on the canvases. It surely was– something. Arthur tugged his collar to clear his throat.

The room had more of a variety of guests than you thought, actually more women than men which came as a shock up until you realized these women were actually the models conversing with the other models. They seemed quite proud of their work, respectably so. Arthur had spotted the french artist across the room chatting one of the models up, he wouldn’t want you to get mixed up in his own charades so Arthur would squeeze your shoulder for your attention just for a moment.

“Why don’t you stay here, pretend to be a model or sumthin’, princess. Wouldn’t want you to get your ear talked off by Charles.”

Your eyes fell on the french artist as he stood distracted across the room, you could barely hear nor understand the words that he was blabbering out through his thick french accent. Something told you maybe it was a good idea for Morgan to handle what he’s gotten himself into with this man before you were stuck talking to someone you could hardly understand, stuck replying with ‘mhm’s’ and ‘uh-huh’s’ as if you knew what he was saying. Although you’d feel a bit awkward standing there and staring at the intimate paintings of both men and women while standing in the same room as the people being portrayed in oil, it’d probably be best for you at least, you were only here to keep Arthur company and today you felt you’d be less of a nuisance to him by obeying his wishes.

“Sure thing.”

You watched as Arthur walked away from you all the way to the other side of the gallery leaving you alone with the model’s dressed in their elegant, expensive attire that you could only dream of owning. And unfortunately due to the paintings you now know what’s under the rich clothing.

– That evening only got more interesting from there on. It was quite ridiculous, you and Arthur couldn’t have been there for more than fifteen minutes before all hell started to break loose. The husbands and wives of the models had practically raided the building before shouting at their spouses, you couldn’t really tell what was happening between Châtenay being attacked by the men and the women, being hit with a variety of chairs, purses, and of course, fists. Before things could get out of hand with you in the mix Arthur came over to you. He had a wide smile on his face, could’ve sworn this was the first time you’ve seen him laugh so hard he had developed tears in the corners of his eyes.

“You should probably get outta here before you get in the mix of fists, sweetheart–” His voice quickly cut off by a crash as he escorted you out of the gallery. “Wait outside.” He’d pat your shoulder, leaving you standing at the top of the stairs as he left to go help the artist.

“Sure– thing.” It was like that turned into your only response.

You didn’t really have time to leave with a jest, or something more than two words, not to be a pussy but you really didn’t feel like being hit by a stray flying chair, so you just walked down the stairs and back outside. You’d laugh to yourself as you walked down the street and away from that brick building, of course the highlight of the day only lasted a short moment, it was quick and rushed, but really you didn’t need to stare at those paintings any longer than you already have. -You felt as if Charles or the gallery wouldn’t be mentioned or thought of again, at least in this moment. But you’d be wrong about that. -The sun was setting now, it looked beautiful against all the buildings that made up the city, you found a bench to sit on, figured you’d read that paper you got earlier while you waited for Arthur. Your eyes would skim the words but nothing would really register.

A little while had gone by and after the sun finally set, the stars scattered against the dark sky as you stayed patiently waiting on that wooden –and quite uncomfortable bench, constantly finding yourself adjusting and shifting to get more comfortable, ‘course it didn’t work . You heard footsteps, looking up from the newspaper you felt you read about a hundred times by now out of pure boredom you were relieved to see that it was Arthur.

“Jesus, I thought you’d never come back. Why’d you take so long?”

“Had to escort the dumbass home so he didn’t get killed. Seems he had a whore waiting for him an’ everythin’.”

You’d let out a short breath at that, not quite a laugh, you felt your body getting a bit tired but you quickly shook off the feeling, rubbing your eyes with the back of your palm before standing from the bench, leaving the paper behind you, you had a bit of a ride back to Shady Belle, wouldn’t want to fall asleep on the back of your horse. You also had to get all that food and goods you bought back to the camp –though you weren’t quite sure how urgent we needed the provision.

You and Arthur started walking down the sidewalk, side-by-side, the night air now nipping at your skin through the thin fabric of your blouse. It had been too long without a good tease from you to purposely annoy him, clearing your throat to prepare to speak.

“How do you know that artist anyway?”

He’d look down at you as he walked, that was a fair question to ask.

“I met him in the saloon –not the big one down the street here, the smaller one. Don’t know if you’ve ever been there.”

You’d shrug. “I’ve passed by it.”

Arthur would nod. “Met him in there and somehow he convinced me to go to that little show. Gave one of his–” He'd stop his words looking down at you before shaking his head.

“Nevermind”

Charles gave him one of his many artworks, a nude woman, an illustration that he embarrassingly kept safely in his satchel since. And now he’d especially not want to tell you, you were already amused that he even went to the damn show which he himself had more fun that he should’ve. Though, to mention, he didn’t start having fun til’ Châtenay was getting his ass handed to him.

You on the other hand were now dying to know what he gave Arthur, –can’t just start a sentence without finishing it. You had a feeling begging him for the answer wouldn’t work of course, you’d try anyway.

“Oh come onnnnnn.” You sneered. “M’sick of you doing that, you’ve been on this earth long enough to realize you can’t just start a sentence without finishing.”

‘N’ I’ve known you long enough to know I shouldn’t be givin’ you any more reasons to laugh at me.”

“I don’t– laugh,” You’d scoff. “Five months isn’t long either, you barely know me.”

Morgan let out a sigh, tying to think of a good excuse to kinda brush away what he said. Something to finish the sentence he started. “He gave me some money, paid me to go to that exhibit. Don’t want you goin’ around thinkin’ I’m a pervert who went for a good time.”

You’d look up to him after he said that. If that’s all it was –money. “I wasn’t thinkin’ that.”

Well, maybe it crossed your mind once or twice. But then again why would he stop himself from saying that? Right now you couldn’t bother to make sense of it, you just shrugged it off. –Now the walk was silent for the most part, there wasn’t really anything to say. Once you got to your horse you’d pat the saddle bag, feeling that your goods hadn’t been stolen, letting out a sigh before turning back to Arthur.

“We should both get back to camp before someone gets worried.”

Really, you didn’t know who would get worried, you’ve stayed the night at a hotel in the city more times than you could count just so you could sleep in a comfortable bed ‘stead of your worn, hard cot.

“No one will be worried. Come on I’m the one who made you stay out here longer than you intended, I’ll buy you a whiskey or sumthin’.”

You’d look at him, almost surprised to hear the offer. It was rare for him to be sweet, if that was the right word for offering you a drink. It sounded good, the thought alone of the cool alcohol burning down your throat already waking you up a bit more than you were.

“That’d– that’d be nice.”

Not too long after those words were shared you and Morgan had made it into the saloon, the faint playing of the piano heard from across the street now loud along with the chatter between people sitting and eating at their tables to the men around their table playing poker. Since it was a bit later in the day –the night now fully taking its course, it was like a signal for men and women alike to flood the saloon. You and Arthur had found a booth to be separated from the crowd at least a little bit. You both set your satchels down on the corners of your seats, Arthur’s finger tapping against the finished wood that made up the table before he took out a cigarette from his satchel along with his lighter, flicking the flame before holding it against his cigarette to light it, Adjusting to stuff the lighter conveniently into the pocket of his pants, inhaling the tobacco into his lungs before blowing the smoke away from the booth.

“I’ll get up, get us some drinks.”

“Mhm.” You’d hum as you watched him shift out of the booth, walking away to go to the bar. You’d notice something in his empty space, a piece of paper had fallen out of his satchel. You didn’t think anything of it of course, didn’t bother reaching over to put it back in for him. Curiosity killed the cat.

A few minutes later Arthur came back with a couple bottles, sitting back down into the leather seats of the booth with a sigh, the bottles clinking against the table as he placed them down.

“Thanks.” You'd nod, popping the cork out the bottle with your thumb.

“Just two beers, don’t wanna get too drunk, not here.”

Boy, was he wrong.

After those two beers Arthur had gotten up again to get another. Once beers were out he went to whiskey. One whiskey was out he grabbed any alcohol they had at that bar. Two turned into four. Four turned into six, –eight… Ten.. Fuck.

To be fair you didn’t have as many drinks as Arthur deciding to play responsible tonight, but it was still enough.

The once clean table turned into a mess of empty bottles, glasses, Arthur’s cigarettes and the ashes from made a mess of the ashtray pushed to the side of the table. Random splashes of golden liquid dripped on the table. Now piss drunk in a booth with an also piss drunk Morgan was… Actually a real fuckin’ good time. A peep could escape your lips and Arthur could double over the table with laughter, same with you.

One idiotic conversation after another you finally thought of it again even through your drunken haze –whatever that artist ‘gave him’ to persuade him into going to the gallery. Why was it clawing at you so much? You usually weren’t so interested in him or his life. Maybe it was because you knew he was blatantly lying to you.

“Now– you tell me the hell that– that artist gave you– remember?”

Finishing the sentence with a hiccup you’d look back at Arthur. Now since you both were a couple more shots away from passing out onto the sea of glasses that made up the table, both of your tongues were loose, of course.

He let out a laugh, shaking his head as he reached into his satchel. “Goddamn, guess you know how to loosen a man up–” He pulled out that piece of paper that was earlier peeking out from the top of the leather. “--Gave me this pretty little drawin’. Ain’t she a fuckin’ ‘beaut, eh?”

The picture he slid over to you from the other side of the table was a photograph of a nude woman of course, her bare breasts on a perfect display as she perched on a chair. You couldn’t help but laugh, was he really carrying this around all this time? Sure– that creep of a man could truly draw, but Arthur wasn’t one to keep aimless gifts close to him, definitely not directly in his satchel for safe keepings –though you couldn’t imagine what he was actually doing with this picture. If it’s what you thought that would be pretty damn pathetic.

“He surely can draw– that man–” You’d slur, sliding the illustration back to Arthur, wasn’t something you really needed to study. “--Now, you don’t–” You’d clear your throat “Surely you don’t–”

“Now princess, I’d need a lot more than a sketch for that.”

You’d laugh, his words melted right off his tongue from the alcohol. Right now you couldn’t even force yourself to think anything of the words he was saying, and anyway, the thought of a man –even Arthur jerking off to a measly sketch of a woman sounded more unappealing than something that’d get you going. Why would it anyway? Arthur was– well, he was Arthur. You’d often be cautious to even call him a friend of yours. Though right about now in the haze of booze that clouded your brain and same his, he’d most definitely call you his friend as an introduction at least.

The music, the chatter, the yelling and hollering in the saloon was echoing through your head. You were sure the pianist practically banging on the keys of the piano would split your ears open if you stayed in that place any longer –you’d ignore it for now, hell maybe even another drink would solve that problem.

“...I didn’t need to know that information.” You’d finally get past your lips with another giggle, slouching over the table with that damned empty bottle still in your grasp, being swung around to enunciate all your sentences.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, he couldn’t help the grin that pulled at his lips –blame the brandy for that. He leaned back into the leather seats of the booth, his arm lazily draped onto the table, tapping his finger against the glass bottle he held –completely empty.

“You asked.”

He shrugged, taking a long sip from the glass bottle, savoring the feeling of the cool liquid slipping down his throat, feeling unnecessarily in love with the burning. You’d pout, tap your finger against the bottle you held, but the corners of your lips betrayed you, a smirk quickly replaced how your bottom lip would stick out from your top.

“Didn't expect an answer– not like that–” hic “–not from you.”

“What are you– drawin’ these types of things too? Psh– maybe you needed the reference.” You’d mock him, that brought a scoff from his lips as if you just said something so fucking absurd, he shook his head, slamming his bottle back down onto the wooden table as you swirled your empty bottle around the table. His gaze was seemingly stuck on the table as if he was examining the grooves and knots in the wood, running his finger along the imperfections.

“No, I–” His voice was conveniently cut off by a bang coming from one of the tables, more loud hollering, yelling –looks like someone won a poker game at least, the table surrounded by wasted men, all a bit too excited to be here tonight. Arthur was clearly getting antsy and the alcohol was even clouding your vision.

Imagine a radio overlapping ten different songs over each other and now replace the songs with the not-so pleasant sounds of men who’d been guzzling booze all night screaming over losing their money by their own stupid and idiotic decisions, women cackling over the city’s pointless gossip– that damn piano! You were ready to smash your beer bottle over the pianist’s head–

You tried to take a swig from your empty bottle before tossing it onto the table with the others. With a groan Arthur buried his face into his worked palms, he seemed just as sick of it as well.

“Goddamn–” He’d groan. His hands pressing harder into his face as if he was desperately trying to wipe away the noise. “Fuck. Fuck…”

You two just couldn’t stand it anymore.

So, why stand it?

You and Morgan made it out of the bar successfully without beating someone with one of the bottles from the mess you had carelessly left on the table –you two getting out of there in time for the bartender to say anything. Swinging your satchels over your shoulders you two left the godforsaken noisebox that saloon had turned on, now all the ‘’hootin’ ‘N’ hollerin’,, was a faint sound heard from the distance as you walked down the sidewalk.

You rubbed your temple with the pad of your thumb, feeling a little better now without all the over fucking excitement.

“Gah– fuck.” Arthur would lean up against the brick building beside him, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand before looking forward, noticing the lit sign for the hotel in the distance. It was quite obvious you two wouldn’t want to be riding your horse back to camp right now. Morgan checked his pocket watch, the arms of the clock pointing to 11:35. ‘Kay, not too late.

“You don’t wanna ride all the way to camp right now, do ya?” His voice deeper than normal from all the drinking, the slurring.

“Not particularly,”

With a pause your head turned to the sign of the hotel, it’d be better just to go right straight there, once again you might’ve gone it anyway tonight just for that comfortable bed that comes with the deal –Hell, two dollars could get you a bed with two rooms if you’re lucky enough.

A hum escaped your throat as you nodded. “I–”

“Dont– don’t worry I’ll be payin’”

As if you didn’t have two dollars to spare you perked up a bit at that. Guess it was all you needed to hear.

No more excuses, you’d be spending the night with this drunken fool.

You two both were wobbly on your feet, of course with the amount of shots and bottles practically swallowed whole you could go figure that. You walked into the front doors as you tried to adjust your clothes, Arthur pushed his hat up so it wouldn’t be slouched over his eyes.

“Ah, may I help you two?” The clerk at the front desk had one of those fake overexaggerated smiles on his face.

“Just lookin’ for a room to stay the night. Nothin’ special.” He’d clear his throat, trying to shake off the drunken slur that was making his voice. “Two beds.”

Of course he had to clarify that– er, it only made sense anyway. It’d be really awkward if you and Arthur had to share a–

“Sorry, we don’t have rooms with two beds here.”

Shit.

Well it was logical at least, why would they? Let’s think. Who actually gets hotel rooms – commonly it’s men who’ve bought themselves a whore for the night or someone looking for a place to rest on their ventures. Not often you have two drunken outlaws stumbling in asking for two beds.

“Fine. M’That’s just– fine.”

Arthur would pass some money over the desk to the man behind, in exchange he received a key to the room.

“Upstairs, first room to your left, enjoy the stay folks.”

Jesus, you could’ve sworn that smile was melting off that clerk’s face as he spoke. You’d rub your temple again as you and Arthur just said a quick ‘’thank you,, in unison.

Both of your boots would stomp heavily up the stairs. – upstairs first room to your left. Once there you turned to it, Arthur put the key in, turned it, opened the door. The rusted hinges creaked as it opened, though despite that sound the door opened to reveal a very nice looking hotel room. The bed was made, a thick quilt and were those– satin pillows?

Surely this was paradise.

Arthur’s eyes looked around the room, other than the bed, a dresser in front, couple nightstands and an oil lamp to give the room a nice warm light –there was an arm chair pushed to the side of the room.

“I’ll take the chair.”

He groaned as he shimmied his coat off of his shoulders, lazily throwing it onto the arm of the chair. Now with this action he also removed his satchel, it hit the nightstand by the bed, narrowly missing the lamp and hitting the edge before his palms met with his forehead again.

“M’gonna try to find a bathroom in this place–”

You’d let a scowl cross your mouth as he said that, watching as he stumbled out the door, closing it behind him.

Well, at least you could get some peace and quiet– is what you would say if there wasn’t the sound of the bed creaking clearly from rocking back and forth and a quick pace wasn’t coming from behind the drywall of your own room. Whatever, somehow that could be easily ignored by you.

You did notice something more interesting than that though –something you couldn’t seemed to ignore: Arthur’s satchel had fallen from where he had thrown it, landing onto the floor as all his things fell all of it –a mess of papers and money, a couple packs of cigarettes too. You’d click your tongue as you went to pick it up, noticing his journal had fallen out too.

You crouched down to start putting his things back into the leather bag, the money, the cigarettes, though your hands lingered on the worn leather back of his journal for a bit longer than they should’ve.

No, you shouldn’t.

But what if you just– one peak wouldn’t hurt.

Arthur would probably take a while anyway figuring he went to presumably empty his body of all the alcohol he had drank in just one evening.

Though as you looked more at the mess on the ground below your knees you’d notice the papers more, one was right side up but underneath the journal, so you’d lift it. Doing so revealed the full drawing done in pencil–

A sketch of a nude woman much like one Châtenay had drawn. But this one– it seemed different. There was more detail, more fluidity to the art, it looked all the more real. Down to the freckles drawn down the valley of her breasts.

You flipped over another stray paper, this one of the same. A naked woman, her breasts on full display, detailed. You’d flip another

And then another.

You’d open his journal.

Flipping through the pages where he’s drawn various things, trees, animals, beautiful scenery of places he’s traveled with the locations written in the corners, some pages filled with chicken scratch of his thoughts– you’d pay no mind to those. You started to notice the pages that were ripped out from his journal yet kept in, more drawings.

Were you going crazy or did these drawings turn from your average woman with long wavy locks and bright eyes to– you…?

You felt a coil in your gut as you looked down at the images, not the bad kind of coil that you’d get while you’re being chased by an armed man or the kinda coil you’d get as a kid when your parents caught you stealing from the cookie jar– no, you could tell it wasn’t that kind from the additional heat that pooled in your tummy.

Your breathing would pick up, your eyebrows knitted closely as you looked down at these drawings. Your eyes. Your lips. Your nose. Quite obviously your hair too–

Fuck. You were beginning to hear footsteps stumbling down the hallway. You’d quickly shove the contents of his satchel back in, you surely didn't have time to worry about where everything went– if it’d just fall out again, if he’d notice it had been ran and rummaged through. Once it was all in there you quickly latched the button and placed it back on the nightstand, quickly standing from your knees as soon as he opened the door.

“Hi–”

How could a two letter greeting sound guilty as ever?

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as a grunt escaped the back of his throat, though now looking at him maybe you didn’t wish you were as drunk as him right now –even if it probably meant you’d be forgetting about those drawings by now, maybe you’d just brush it off.

He closed the door behind him as he coughed into his fist, gently guiding you out of the way so he could get to the satchel on the nightstand–

Fuck.

As he undid the button he reached in to grab a packet of cigarettes when he noticed one of them was missing.

“You take one of these?”

He’d say, popping the last one of the packet actually still in his satchel between his lips before lighting it.

“What– no! No– I don’t smoke…”

He’d look at you with his half-lidded gaze he’s had since the saloon, furrowing his brows at your reaction, frazzled for no good reason.

“Christ, girl. You don’t take your liquor well.”

That was funny, you’d think it was the other way around.

“I think it’s quite the opposite, Arthur.”

You’d see his gaze shift to the floor as he looked around, where could’ve that pack gone? He was sure he had a second one– no, he knew he had a second one since he just went out and bought it earlier in the day and– Ah, there it was. Halfway to being pushed completely under the bed Arthur bent to pick it back up. He was too delirious to think of why it even got there.

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you looked at him, his body– those fingers that you now knew were once holding a pencil to paper, sketching you, what he imagined to be underneath those pretty blouses you wore, those skirts that stopped at your ankles.

This was killing you. Even though you hadn’t said a word to him you still felt like you were lying to him, deceiving him. You never had a problem with that before anyway, why start now?

You knew what else you always were –that damn loud, snarky girl he always hated to be around. The one who’d let any words leave her mouth without a thought and now you’re here, standing in silence, you’d think your mouth was sewn shut.

Under the shadow of the bed Arthur saw something else– a paper.

Shit.

He tapped his boot on top of it and dragged it out, the sound of the paper sliding across the wooden floor heightened your senses again. Course it was one of those drawings, those drawings. It was his turn for his heart to rapidly thump against his ribs.

“Fuck.” You’d hear him groan as he bent down to pick up that paper now, looking it over, it wasn’t one of the drawings of you, one of the quick sketches of a woman he hadn’t named.

“You didn’t–”

…

“I did.”

The room fell silently quickly after that, how could it not? There was no point of you mustering up a flustered, messy defense in a long drawn out blabber that’d escape your lips so you’d just admit it. It wasn’t nothing you did wrong anyway. Arthur sighed, rubbing his hand over his face once more as he shoved the drawing back into his satchel, easily frustrated now he’d just crump it up into a ball before getting it into the leather bag. He braced his hands on the edge of the night stand, taking in a deep long breath before letting out an even deeper and even longer breath out.

You should say something– say something so he could look you in the eye.

“I– didn’t ask for those.”

“I know.” He’d breathe.

“I didn’t even realize you considered us friendly– I had no clue you–”

“I know.”

Your fingers would twitch at your sides, swallowing hard.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me…”

At first in his head those words sounded– like they could be angry, it might’ve been his brain telling him that. Then he heard that tone– that almost breathless tone in your voice. He finally got the courage back to look you in the eyes, his fingers peeling away from the edge of that nightstand, if his nails dug into the finished wood any harder he would’ve left indents.

“You should be angry with me.”

“I’m not. I mean– I couldn’t be farther from that.”

You’d stop a moment, his breathing was heavy and so was yours. Arthur would push and twist his cigarette into the ashtray to put it out, blowing out the rest of the smoke through his nostrils with a suppressed, small cough.

“What are you then, princess?’

The name he had been calling you all day now sounding completely different in this heavy tone. You knew exactly what you were. Voicing that would be a little difficult. You felt if you did end up blurting something out it’d either kill the moment or kill him. His voice still had a slur to it from the alcohol, his tongue felt heavy in his mouth. Your own throat ran dry as you flicked your eyes to his plump, pink lips.

A man like Morgan knew what that look you gave meant, he’s had his own fair share of whores over the years, working girls were his usual go-to after Mary at least, before too. I mean, Christ, the man had himself a son once he knew what your eyes alone were saying.

“Why don’t you find out…” You’d finally blurt.

His boots clicked against the ground as he walked close to you, his hand reaching out to cup the nape of your neck.

The way his face slowly, so carefully slowly moved towards yours you’d think he was going in for a slow, gentle capture of your lips– not quite.

His face twitched– leaving you with a brief flash of micro emotion before he would collide his lips against your own, his fingers curling and tangling in your locks of hair.

His tongue delved into your mouth before your own body got the chance to respond, your arms quickly wrapping around his neck as you moaned into the kiss. His hands slid down your shoulders, arms, the curve of your waist, hips, all the way down to your thighs, hands moving to the back of them to hoist you up against his body, his palms laid flat against your ass.

Your legs locked around his hips, finding difficulty to find a place to settle your hands as his tongue fucked your mouth, his shoulders? His arms? You’d eventually give them a home on his vest-covered chest, your fingernails digging into the black leather.

He could feel the denim of his pants stretch around his growing cock, he hoisted you higher, your clothed breasts practically at his lips now, those lips quickly parted from your lips to move down your neck, sucking at your pulse point.

You would never consider yourself noisy, not ever. Your life so far had never called for sex, sure men had given you their eyes, licking their lips seemingly to grab your attention but they never did, failing miserably instead of getting what they wanted from you. Playing with yourself was a lost cause but you’d count it as experience, the frustrated pumps of your own fingers into your pussy weren’t enough to draw pleasure, relieve the ache in your stomach, it only made it tighter.

Arthur had sucked a hickey into your skin, he made sure it’d be hidden by your hair since it was so far up on your neck. His roughened hands still would squeeze your ass cheeks, fingers working you like dough before giving it a quick, hard spank. Almost just muscle memory for him.

With a grunt he’d lower you two down onto the bed, his mouth quickly returned to yours with the same –nearly violent pace. The bulk of his muscles pressing into your more so petite form. His hand roamed your body – your legs, thighs, stomach, moving up to cup then squeeze your soft breast, the pad of his thumb teasing your budded nipple through the thin fabric of your blouse rewarding him with a moan from your sweet lips.

Just the feeling of his clothing rubbing against his body was driving him mad, ‘’uncomfortable,, couldn’t even express it anymore, it was hell. His hands reluctantly pulled away from you, at a quick pace his thick fingers undid the buttons of his heavy vest, when that was gone, quickly discarded to the floor he finally felt like he was gaining - at least some - of his breath back, now it was a matter of his shirt, quickly undoing the buttons of that next. Fuck, he needed you.

He needed you right fucking now.

He shimmied the shirt off of his shoulders, down the muscles of his arms before it dropped to the floor behind him –he was on top of you again. His hips bucked into yours quick and hard. Grinding. Rubbing.

Your hair would splay behind you on the bed, always thought in moments like this your eyes should be closed, that seemed like common knowledge, your half-lidded eyes still refused to fully close, especially now that his shirt was off. You’ve of course seen Morgan with his shirt off before, tending to his wounds, his cuts, bathing in the lake out by camp– close up like this it was different. His biceps pulsing as his hands braced on either side of your head, fingers curling into the blanket. Puffs of hard breaths would escape him, it was almost like a pattern before he’d grab you by the sides of your thighs tight.

Arthur would let himself fall back against the pillows that piled against the bed frame, dragging your body right onto his lap –now it was obvious how hard he was, that mass between his legs pulsating against your ass, your back pressed against his chest as he snaked an arm around you, quickly so fucking fast. He’d begin unbuttoning your blouse, tugging it right off of you, you were surprised he didn’t tear the fabric off of your pretty little body. His hands moved up, groping and squeezing your tits from behind, one of his hands moved down your body, down your sternum, stomach, and past the hem of your skirt, dripping your hand under it before his thick fingers found your panties.

Fucking hell you were soaked.

“Jesus christ… Fuckin’ hell you’re soaked…”

He’d grunt, he hadn’t spoken in a while, so focused on his movements, breathing. This was something he couldn’t ignore. He placed a kiss on your nape before his fingers would slide past your wet underwear, his hips involuntarily thrusting into your ass, squeezing your tit harder as he pushed two of his big fingers into your hot cunt. Your head lolled back against his shoulder as you practically squealed.

“Arthur–!”

Your mouth was wide open, sharp, sinful moans escaping from you as his fingers curled inside you, fuck. If you couldn’t even handle his fingers how would you handle his cock. You can only imagine how fucking big it was. Big hands, muscles, body, it’d be one of god’s greatest jokes if it didn’t live up to the rest of his body.

Your cunt would clench around his fingers- it had been this whole time. His fingernail scraped across the tip of your erect nipple again, you’d squirm in his arms, your own fingers digging into his massive biceps, the tip of your finger tracing the vein that ran down it, his muscle would twitch.

With a wet squelch from your tight pussy Arthur would withdraw his fingers from your walls, you weren’t finished. Wasn’t his concern. The coil in your gut felt like it’d burst any second, your cunt left throbbing, empty without the fill of his fingers.

He was gonna give you something better than his fingers.

“Lift up…”

His mouth was pressed against your ear feeling the hot breath fan onto your lobe. His hands gripped onto your hips, pulling that pretty dark skirt right down the length of your legs, you could hear the clinking of his belt behind you, making your ears perk.

“Up.”

Another command escaped his lips, you’d nod as you shakily got off of him, kneeled onto the bed. Arthur blew out the oil lamp on the bedside table, the room now lit by the paleness of the moonlight that shone through the windows, the curtains spread. It wasn’t like people would see anyway, though it’d be a good show.

Once he had unbuckled his belt he threw it to the ground– Arthur didn’t wear briefs, why would he? They caused him more discomfort, an extra layer of tightness to his balls and shaft. One tug of his work-pants and his hard, thick cock sprung from the confines of the black denim, the light from the window reflecting on the bead of precum that beaded off his cockhole. His size was impressive, sending a signal through your body– you couldn’t control yourself anymore. You ripped your underwear right off of that poor bundle of nerves that it protected, tossing the wet lace down onto the floor.

You practically crawled to him, his hands reached for your hips before pulling you on top of him, walking on your knees over him, his cock shooting straight up as it twitched with your pussy like it was fucking magnetic. You’d sink your body down onto the thickness, moaning his name as you sheathed him into your pulsating cunt. His hand wrapped around the headboard, gripping it for dear life as he pumped his way into you–

“Fuck!” Your hands braced on either one of his hips before one trailed up to his chest.

“That’s it– that’s fuckin’ it, princess.”

His thrusts quickened, his back arching up with each fast pound of his pelvis. His cock slipping deeper into your gummy walls with each snap. His dick curved inside of you, the head of his shaft kissing your g-spot, he felt so painfully good, your teeth bit into your thumb to try to muffle the sounds escaping your mouth, your body shaking.

You didn’t want to let yourself be this –a mess on top of him. Riding him. You had to gain some control even with his cock slapping inside of your sore hole. His eyes opening up, releasing the headboard to trail back to your breasts, those scarred, calloused hands - once again - giving the tender mounds another generous groping. Your hands would run to rest on top of his own big ones, the size of him consuming every sense –not only his dick, his hands, his body. Looking down and seeing the muscles in his stomach tense and twitch, his head arching backwards into the comfortable pillows behind. He was close. Surely you were too.

His hand ran to the small of your back as he helped you a bit, pushing himself up against the headboard so his body was lazily sat up now, your hips rolling back and forth into his as you ground down, making a loud, throaty moan release from the back of his throat, his balls slapped against your ass, now you’ve got it. Bouncing up and down on his cock leaving him with no mercy.

“You’re gonna make me cum, princess– you’re’mmmm–”

His eyes locked onto the sight of your perfect tits bouncing up and down as you took his cock, he felt his sack tighten up, that unbearable sensation deep in his gut, he was gonna cum. He needed to cum. Though you were still chasing that high as his fingers dug into your waist, your skin there raw and pink from the tight hold. The base of his cock rubbed against your clit, the coarse hair crowning it scratched against the sensitive, swollen bud, the sensation making you lose every bit of yourself to him.

With one more curved thrust from him you’d climax, your body collapsing over top of his as you did. Making sure to cry right into his ear. Your trembling fingers clawing and digging into the broad, tense muscles of his shoulders. His eyes rolling back into his skull as his orgasm followed yours, strings of hot semen coating your inner walls as he fucked it into you, making your pussy milk out every hot, thick rope of cum, his head falling foreward between the valley of those pretty tits he’d been admiring all night.

“Oh fuck, princess.”

His voice wavered as he tried desperately to catch his breath back though it seemed it’d all been stolen from his lungs.

“Oh, Arthur…”

That desperate whine squeaked from your lips. A kiss was planted on your clavicle before he’d guide you so you were underneath him again, careful not to jar you too much after all he was well aware of how hard he had just fucked that tight little hole of yours. He’d pull his shaft out from those walls that were spasmed around him just a second ago, watching all that access, hot seed spill out from your pink petals.

Did you think that was it? Surely you had to return the favor.

Arthur had a cigarette lit and hanging from his lips that were wet with his own salvia, your head between his legs bobbing up and down on that thick cock that was still coated with your own juice. His fingers tangled up in your hair, fucking your mouth with the same force as he had with your cunt just moments ago. The cigarette in his hot mouth was the only thing suppressing his noises, taking it between his fingertips just to let out a loud long moan.

You’d gag when his swollen tip hit the back of your throat unexpectedly, your hands digging into his thighs as your eyes held close so fucking tight tears welled up in them, making your vision blurry as you looked up at Arthur, eyes closed, puffing on that cigarette. Your left hand went to wrap around your base as you pulled him nearly completely out of your mouth, your lips still wrapped around his cockhead, your tongue tracing his hole.

“Goooooood fuckin’ girl… Keep going–”

Your hand jerked him off now as your abused throat got to catch a break, though it’d still need to be put up to work, hm? You hopped onto his thigh as your hand now caressed his chest, trickling your fingers down his thick chest hair that covered the tan skin. Your thumb teased his red hot tip, before you kept rolling your hand up and down –he was close, you now leaned to tell when that vein that ran down his low stomach all the way down to the middle of his shaft began to twitch and pump you’d get to milk the man dry a second time. A mix of your drool and his precum dripping down his length.

Your fist tightened around him as your mouth locked with his as he held the smoking cigarette between his forefinger and his middle, his hand wrapping in your hand to the nape of your neck, hips bucking into your palm, he cums again. Hard. Right into your fist.

Arthur was panting like a damn dog, you had jerked him off just right to get his legs to tremble as they spread for you. He broke away from your mouth to catch his breath that you stole from him. You trailed a kiss to his neck, he had been marking you all night you thought it was only fair to give him some too, sucking a purple mark into his skin before trailing your mouth down.

“Good girl— good fuckin’ girl…” He was a mess.

His praise was always a godsend to you, ringing through your ears, you craved it. Your tongue ran down his collar, his shoulder, then down his arm, those pulsing muscles that were smooth to the touch, glistening with his sweat. The way his chest began heaving heavily as you traced the thick vein that ran down his bicep with your tongue.

Receiving was something that his body needed. But giving was something that he craved. Just hearing the sweet moans and cries from a woman’s mouth as it hung agape was something that could get him off more times at just the thought of than a blowy.

–Though now your legs were on his shoulders as he pumped his tongue into your walls, running it up and down your slit as he - messily - ate your pussy, he was starving for it after all. Your back was arching upwards but his hands were too occupied holding your ankles to the dips of his shoulders to touch you anywhere else, his nose pressed against your clit –even his nose could find work. Your pants were hot and labored, all you can let out those sharp, gorgeous whines of his name, the one you’ve grown so accustomed to.

“Arthur!”

Again.

“Fuck- fuck, Arthur–!”

His name learned to roll off your tongue like honey, it seemed to be becoming the thing that came natural to you in life. He loved it, his mouth sucking feverishly at your clit, he knew all those sweet-spots, you weren’t a religious girl, - if you were you wouldn’t be in your right mind to let Arthur do these truly sinful things to you - but you’d thank god to every whore, every woman that taught him these tricks.

Your thighs would squeeze his head til’ it was about ready to pop, though that’s just what Arthur wanted, mumbling praise into your sweet, slick folds as his fingers moved into the mix too, forcing your body to that high you’d been desperately chasing, the pad of his finger pressing against one of your soft spots.

You’d cum hard on his face, your glistening climax now coated his beard as he removed his face from your thighs, looking at your heaving, shaking body now beneath him. Resting your legs down he’d slowly lower himself back onto you, his lips kissing from your navel to your lips, his body - and yours, of course - finally feeling a bit heavy.

“You’re too good f’me, girl…”

At the moment there was not enough oxygen in your lungs to give him a vocal response, you’d just nod, your cheeks flushed a pale pink. His hand moved to brush some hair away from your face, strands stuck to your cheeks, forehead, it was a sight for him. He’d pick you up, pulling you to sit in his lap as he held you to a tight embrace, nipping and kissing at your neck. He was so needy for you.

The night had settled, only a bit. You found yourself tucked in Arthur’s arm with the warm quilt thrown on the hotel bed covering your bodies, both sore and spent.

Arthur had been flipping through the pages of his journal now, it only felt right to shamelessly show you the works he’s done of you now, of course those were only a couple.

“I stopped doin’ them for a while now… Most of them was from when I was drunk. Foolish.”

He’d explain, though it didn’t seem like it needed an explanation anymore, you didn’t care after all though you appreciated it. Your hand would reach out to touch the page, feeling the rough paper beneath your fingertips.

“I don’t mind…”

“Yeah well, maybe now you can model f’me, hm?… I’m always better working with a reference.”

You couldn’t help but giggle.

“It's a date then.”

You two had both fallen asleep shortly after, his sweet praises in your ear til your body was limp against his own, his fingers combing through your hair —a moment of intimacy and peace like this after he had fucked you so thorough. Not a thought of worry in your pretty little head.

'Cept maybe how the ride back was gonna feel on that soreness between your legs–

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ak319 · 2 months ago

Text

─⋆⋅𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦⋅⋆ ─

Definition: a tradition as cruel as it is final. A gunshot outside a woman’s door, her name spoken into the cold night air, and with it, her freedom is gone. There is no consent, no ceremony, only the sharp assertion of power masked as ritual. A crime? A sin? A violation of all that is decent? A taboo that civilized folk shun?. Perhaps. But outlaws don’t concern themselves with decency. Outlaws don’t ask. They take...

𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴: "Redrum - 21 savage" 0:22 ━━━━●───── 04:26ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ↻

This masterlist contains ✮Chapters I✮Scenarios I✮Extras

───AN: This masterlist is only for Arthur and John. No other VDL members. It is made solely for this concept; abbrev: WOC. While sending me asks/requests, do make it clear that you want it for this concept by mentioning it. Do read the rules too.

───Warnings/MDNI: fem reader, forced marriages, kidnapping, manhandling, suggestive dub/non-con themes , angst, abuse, fluff, forced pregnancy, honour fluctuations (high--mid-- low), basically you are in 1800's // I don't condone such behaviour irl!

───Req/asks status: closed for now.

─── main rdr2 m.list

───Arthur's Version

──Chapters

⋆ 01 ⋆02 ⋆03 ⋆04

───John's Version

──Chapters

One-shot ── Scenarios gonna be based on this

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lanawinterscigarettes · 3 months ago

Note

Can you do “do any of the clothes you’re wearing belong to you?!” from the poly prompts with the reader and non judging breakfast club ?

sure thing! thanks for the poly njbc request btw <3

(original prompt list can be found here btw in case y'all wanna request something)

Sharing Is Caring (poly Non-Judging Breakfast Club x gn reader)

Warnings: makeout session between the reader and Chuck, offscreen sex/implied smut, hickeys mentioned, fluff other than that

It wasn't always easy being in a polycule, especially one with four of the most well-known Upper East Siders there ever were, but if there was one perk to the chaos of it all it was you never had to worry about running out of clothing.

Take now, for example. You couldn't find any of your own clothes, so naturally you just scouted around the shared penthouse for something, anything to wear before heading out for the day. You were meeting Dan for coffee and didn't want to end up being late.

After what seemed like forever, you were finally able to get together enough articles of clothing to make an outfit, and with that you were off, not bothering to check who the clothes belonged to before leaving. You were sure your partners wouldn't mind if you borrowed their stuff. They never did, because to them it was just further proof you were theirs.

"Hey," you greeted Dan in a slightly breathless voice, having rushed out of the penthouse to the coffee shop so you'd make it on time. "Sorry, my alarm didn't go off. What's up?"

"Well, I see the maid forgot to get your laundry done this morning," he quipped dryly while his eyes flickered along your form, noting the mismatched clothing. Nate's pants, Blair's shirt, Serena's scarf, Chuck's jacket... "As a matter of fact, do any of the clothes you're wearing belong to you?"

"Haha, Dan. Very funny." You rolled your eyes lightheartedly at the question, though you took the moment to glance down at your outfit before realizing he was right. "Um... my underwear is mine, I think. Maybe, I don't know. I didn't really check before putting clothes on."

"Ew," he responded as his nose wrinkled up in disgust. "That was a little bit more information than I needed to know."

"Hey, you asked. I was just answering your question," you gave a casual, unbothered shrug as you replied.

"Whatever. I didn't meet up with you so I could talk about whether the underwear you have on is yours or not," he said before changing the subject to something else. The two of you chatted for a good hour or so, starting to walk down the streets together after getting your coffee. You were just about to point out the time when a limo pulled up alongside the sidewalk. It didn't take a genius to realize who it belonged to.

Dan rolled his eyes while muttering something about unnecessary wealth, which you just ignored. The window to the backseat rolled down, revealing none other than Chuck. "I was in the area and figured you may need a ride given how cold it is," he spoke in that smooth baritone of his before you could ask what he was doing there.

This time it was your turn to roll your eyes. As if he didn't already know about you meeting up with Dan from Serena. You knew you couldn't trust her to keep her mouth shut. "Oh, I'm sure you were just 'in the area'," you said as he got out, holding the door open for you while shooting Dan a smug look that said "I get to have more time with them than you do".

"I guess I'll just catch up with you later, then," Dan grumbled as he watched you disappear into the back of the limo, clearly not too pleased about his meet-up with you getting cut short.

"Bye, Dan," you called out once Chuck got back in and the limo started to pull away, putting the window back up so the car wouldn't be affected by the cold chill in the air. You spoke again after a moment or so. "We need to stop by the penthouse before lunch so I can change."

"Why do you need to change? I think you look absolutely delectable in what you're wearing," Chuck purred out as his eyes flickered hungrily up and down your body where you sat in the backseat, taking in your choice of clothing.

"Nothing that I'm wearing is mine, Chuck. None of it matches, either," you began, your next sentence getting cut off by a squeal of surprise as he pulled you into his lap.

"You don't need to change. You look fine," he insisted as his hands held onto your hips, keeping you in his lap as he pulled you in for a needy kiss. "Besides, I'm sure the others would agree with me."

"Blair wouldn't. She'd think I look like an unorganized mess," you pointed out between kisses, instinctively tilting your head to the side as he started to trail his mouth down your jaw to your neck.

"Well, she's just going to have to deal with it, because we're not stopping." Chuck was a man of his word. Rather than taking you back to the penthouse so you could get changed, he took you in the backseat instead before you met with the rest of your partners for lunch.

Ever the gentleman, he opened the door for you once you got there and wrapped an arm snugly around your waist so your legs wouldn't give out, knowing how weak they currently were from your earlier activities. You were just happy the scarf you had on was hiding the fresh hickeys on your neck.

Everyone had the expected response to seeing you wear their clothes. Serena thought you looked amazing regardless, Blair questioned your taste minus the shirt you had on (and that was only because it belonged to her), and Nate had to be told who's clothes they were by Serena after commenting on how familiar they looked.

"Why couldn't you just put on your own clothes this morning?" Nate questioned in confusion, his head tilted slightly to the side in a way that you all agreed made him look like a puppy dog. A golden retriever, to be exact.

"Because I couldn't find any this morning when I looked, and I didn't want to be late to meet Dan." Noticing the scowl on Chuck's face at your words, you added, "Oh, relax. And unclench your jaw before you crack a tooth."

Serena giggled at the interaction before reaching her hand across the table to rest on top of yours. "Well, I think our stuff looks good on you. After all, sharing is caring, right?"

You couldn't argue with her there. Sharing was caring, especially in your case. And given just how much you loved your partners and the dynamic you shared with them, you wouldn't have it any other way.

End notes: I know there wasn't a big section with the actual njbc but I'm always eager to write more for them if y'all want!

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated | requests are currently open

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insidekatmind · 3 days ago

Text

A Secret Between Us-Virgil Van Dijk

Request:yes!

The first time you saw Virgil van Dijk was in an upscale bar in Los Angeles. It wasn’t a random encounter, but it wasn’t something you had planned either. He was there with some teammates, you were out with your friends, and for some reason, your eyes met several times. In the end, he was the one who approached you, with that confident yet kind smile.

"Are you planning to keep looking at me all night, or would you like to join me?" he said, his Dutch accent lacing his words with a certain charm.

He made you smile, and before you even realized it, the conversation between you two flowed naturally. There was something about him that made you feel safe, even though you knew perfectly well who he was.

One week. That was how long he had before Liverpool left the city. And yet, in those seven days, you lived something that felt too much like a dream.

It wasn’t just physical attraction. It was the way he searched for you in a crowded room, the way he laughed at your jokes, the way he truly listened when you spoke. Every night of his stay in the city, you spent together—dinners in small restaurants far from the paparazzi, late-night walks on the beach, moments of pure intimacy that made you believe that maybe…

But then, the end came.

Virgil showed up at your door, his face serious, his lips pressed together as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t.

“I have to sign an NDA,” he finally said. “It means we can’t talk anymore, or see each other.”

Your heart stopped. “What? Why?”

“It’s about privacy, image. It’s not my choice.” His voice was firm, but his eyes were filled with regret. “If I break the agreement, I risk serious consequences with the club.”

You felt yourself breaking. You had never asked Virgil for anything, never even considered asking him to stay, but hearing that you couldn’t even keep in touch was too much.

“Are you just going to forget about me?” you whispered, trying to keep the pain out of your voice.

“No,” he answered, with a certainty that shook you. “I never could.”

But in the end, he did. Or at least, that’s what you thought.

---

Six months passed...

Nausea had become a constant companion. You ignored the first signs, blaming stress, fatigue, anything but the most obvious possibility. But when you saw the pregnancy test with two clear, undeniable lines, reality hit you like a speeding train.

You were pregnant with Virgil van Dijk’s child.

And he didn’t know. You had no way to tell him. The number he had used to text you was deactivated. His social media was impossible to reach. And then there was the damn NDA. Even if you managed to contact him, what could you do? Risk his career just to tell him he had a child?

In the end, you decided to go through it alone. It wasn’t easy, but as the months passed, you learned to accept your new reality.

Then, one day, fate decided to change everything.

You were in a park somewhere in Europe, far from the California coast where it all began. Your son, a little boy with dark curls and curious eyes, was playing on a small swing while you watched him with a tender smile.

You didn’t notice the presence behind you—not until you heard a deep, familiar voice call your name.

You turned around so fast your heart almost stopped. And there, just a few steps away, was Virgil.

It was as if time had frozen. His eyes scanned you with disbelief, confusion turning into something deeper as his gaze dropped to the child.

He looked at him. Then he looked at you. Then back at the boy.And you knew that he knew.

“Oh my god…” he murmured, stepping forward slowly. “Is he…?”

You couldn’t speak. You wanted to say something, to explain, to justify, but nothing came out.

He didn’t need an answer. The little boy turned, and in that moment, Virgil saw everything—himself in that small face.

His breath caught in his throat. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Finally, you found your voice, though it was weak. “How? Your number didn’t exist anymore. Your contract prevented me from reaching out. What was I supposed to do?”

Virgil ran a hand over his face, still overwhelmed. Then, painfully slow, he knelt down in front of the child. He didn’t know what to say, how to act. He was a big, strong man, but right now, he seemed fragile, completely unarmed.

The boy looked at him curiously, then did something that left both of you speechless. He reached out his small hand toward him and smiled.

Virgil, his eyes glistening, took it with the utmost care.

And in that moment, the entire world seemed to shrink down to just the three of you.

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ddivilove · 1 year ago

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─────── MY DRUG IS MY BABY. . .

━━━━ izek van omerta. manhwa. how to get my husband on my side.

‣ yandere. mentions of blood, chained up reader, threats! . ୨:୧

‣ masterlist . recent works . how to get my husband on my side. ━━━━

“See? the more you comply to my wishes, you receive good things.”

Izek's words could only make you shudder now that you are at his mercy and his alone. No one can save you from him. They tried, but they couldn't. How could they anyway? Izek is greatly known for terrifying even the elder nobles.

You shudder as his fingers move to a caress against your bare skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. His crimson eyes remain on yours, the corner of his lips tugging into a smirk

"Come now, darling. Can't you humor me with a conversation for once?" His fingers move to your chin as he tightly grasps it. "Speak."

Your continuous silence makes him frown. But then he realizes the reason and chuckles. "Silly me, of course you can't speak. You're gagged." He grins as he lifts the cloth that was in your mouth.

Finally, you could breathe even if it's only for a second. "Don't you have something you want to tell me?" He asks, raising an eyebrow.

You'd look up and mumble. "Thank you.." He smiles triumphantly at the sound of your voice thanking him. Well done.

"Good girl." He lets go of your chin as his form moves away from yours and to your side. His arm slithers around your waist as he holds you close protectively, or rather possessively.

Your eyes frantically look to the floor, crimson painted those walls. You remember the reason vividly. Earlier today Izek had not been pleased by a maid's attempt to give her some kind of later, he was furious and flew into a rage so much so that he killed the poor girl.

And you were there, chained and helpless. Your eyes shut and you could still see the body that lay in that exact spot, the maid's lifeless eyes and her bleeding body.

The memory makes you disgusted with yourself. You couldn't do anything and that made you inferior. She was reliant on you to make her feel safe, and now she's dead.

Your husband leans over and buried his face in your neck as he caresses your waist. "What's on your mind, sweet thing?" He asks softly, acting as though his behavior earlier never happened.

"Nothing.." You're obligated to respond, otherwise he'll find it suspicious.

"Hm." He only says as he continues to do what he'd previously been doing and that was clinging to you like there was no tomorrow.

In the morning, you writhe out of his grasp and go to the bathroom, this wakes him quickly and he frowns. "Sweet thing?" He was anxious now, thinking you'd escape. You wouldn't do that, would you?

He is relieved when he finds you coming out of the bathroom. "C'mere." He wraps hie arms around you. "Do not do that again, you understand? Wake me up and ask permission before doing so."

You know better than to argue so you only nod. He knows what's best for you. You must be reminded of that. This is normal. Your eyes shut and you fall into a deep slumber in the arms of your psychopathic husband.

#{ ♡ heartstrings — fics }#manhwa #manhwa x reader #how to get my husband on my side #how to get my husband on my side x reader #htgmhoms #htgmhoms x reader #izek van omerta #izek van omerta x reader #izek x reader #x reader #x female reader #x fem!reader #x f!reader #x y/n #male yandere x reader

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ediewentmissing · 2 years ago

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NEW BTS

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dixons-sunshine · 2 months ago

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⋆✮⋆ I’ll keep on adding as I write.

Fluff—❤️ | Angst—💔 | Suggestive—👀 | Smut—🔥 | Platonic—💜

Girl Of My Dreams 💔❤️

#krys writes .ೃ࿐#krys’ masterlists ★#van x fem!reader #van x fem reader #van x reader #van fanfiction #van floating #van (floating) x reader

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raz-writes-the-thing · 1 year ago

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Passing The Baton (Six of Crows One-Shot)

Kaz Brekker x Fem!Reader / requests are open and encouraged

Summary: To your knowledge, your crush on Kaz is unrequited. Apparently this is not the case.

CW: Kaz is dumb but we love him

SAB/SOC Tag List: (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

Kaz ‘Dirtyhands’ Brekker. Bastard of The Barrel. Also- your unrequited love. Kaz had caught your eye just as he had caught everyone else’s. Everyone knew not to mess with the Dregs, and that was thanks to Kaz. Before he’d risen through the ranks of the club, the Dregs had been no one. Quite literally the dregs of society- and while, yes, that was where the name came from, it was quite the rise to fame as the Dregs started getting more and more popular, and more and more dangerous.

Even the Crow Club was starting to become a real pain in the other clubs’ asses.

But Kaz? He’d fascinated you well before any of this. You’d been working at the Crow Club as a serving girl since before Kaz arrived. Not long, mind, but long enough before that you got to experience both sides of the Dregs’ fortune.

Kaz hadn’t seemed to take much notice of you at first- and why would he? Weren’t you just another serving girl being groped by the drunk patrons? Anything to make a few Kruge. But he did take notice when you threatened to cut the balls off a patron when said patron got a little too handsy one day.

He’d taken you back into his office and thwacked his cane on the table hard enough to scratch the varnish and told you rather harshly to never do that again. To come to him next time there was an issue like that and he’d deal with it… discretely.

What that had meant was clear only to Kaz, and that was fine by you. But that was when your little crush had really taken off. What could you say? You liked a bad boy. Someone who could handle his own and Kaz could definitely handle his own. Cane or no.

Despite telling you off, Kaz had clearly taken note that you weren’t afraid to get your hands a little dirty either, something he had an appreciation and mutual respect for. And so you went from lowly serving girl to, well, still a serving girl, but a serving girl who also took jobs for Dirtyhands and worked with him to secure patronage for the club, and Kruge for his and your own pockets. And for Per Haskell’s pockets as well, you supposed. Lazy bastard.

But you longed for more.

You longed for Kaz’s touch, for his lips on your skin. You longed for his affections as much as you longed for his approval. It was a dangerous combination.

As far as you could tell, he did not feel the same way. But then again, would you have ever known otherwise? Kaz kept his cards close to his chest- as he should.

Today seemed different though. You’d barely made it back from a job and Kaz seemed… angry, to put it lightly. You had no idea why, though, considering you got what he wanted, and made it out alive, too. Win-win.

Inej may have had to save you, but that was beside the point.

“You need to be careful,” he said, mouth pursed angrily. “You can’t be making reckless choices and silly mistakes. This is The Barrel. I can’t afford mistakes.”

You met his harsh gaze head-on and shoved the ledger he’d asked for into his chest with vigour. Kaz didn’t even break the gaze between you, just reached with one gloved hand to take the ledger off you.

“I got what you wanted, didn’t I?”

A muscle in Kaz’s jaw twinged.

“That is not the point.”

You let out an exasperated scoff, removing your hand from his chest with another soft shove. Surprisingly, Kaz lets the action move him.

“Then what is the point?” You ask, frustration evident in your features.

“The point is- oh, for Saints’ sake,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We could have lost you. I could have lost you.”

Your eyebrows practically disappeared into your hairline.

“You could have lost me…” you trail off, echoing his words, feeling them out for hidden meanings.

“You’re a good investment. I don’t like to lose investments.”

Oh. Okay. An investment. You should have known that that was all you were to him. That’s all you were ever going to be to Kaz no matter how much you wished differently. Ridiculous.

“Of course,” you reply, turning to walk away. “Your investment needs a dri-hey!”

Kaz’s gloved hand snatches at your forearm and yanks you back towards him. You re-balance yourself and glare at him, looking between the tight grip he has on your arm and his heated glare.

“Stop,” he says before forcing his features to soften. “I’m not one for feelings.” He practically shudders through the word. “You’re more than that. An investment, I mean.”

You stay quiet, not giving him anything to work with here, but you’re surprised he can’t hear the uptick in your heartbeat.

“Look,” his grip loosens. “I don’t want to lose you. Purely selfish reasons. Not because you’re an investment, but-” Kaz clears his throat and avoids eye contact. “I care for your wellbeing.”

It’s not an outright declaration of love, but it’s about as close to it as someone like Kaz would give. He’d bared his soul to you here. All the fractured, broken pieces of it. He’d bared his heart for you to treasure or smash into bitty little pieces.

You sucked in a breath.

“Are you saying you have feelings for me?”

Kaz grunts and lets go of your arm. You brush your fingers over where he’d just touched you.

“I suppose so, yes,” he said, eyes flitting to the door like he was thinking about making a run for it.

“Don’t suppose it would interest you to know I felt the same way, would it?”

And there it was. Passing the baton back to Kaz. Passing your heart in return for his. Now it was he who held the power to treasure or smash you into pieces.

Kaz finally met your gaze, and his lips ticked up into a small smirk.

“Oh, I knew that.”

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aoioozora · 3 months ago

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Alive

Character: Kieran Duffy (Red Dead Redemption 2) Content: K.D x Fem reader, fluff, mild depictions of violence, very minimal cursing, mild angst Word count: 4.1k Photo credit: @risenfromagrave Note: Saving Kieran here because his death UPSET me and he didn't deserve to die the way he did.

You grumbled, looking over your shoulder to see if deputies were still at your heels.

Being paired with Micah for a mission wasn't fun, and though for once the mission went smoothly without any hiccups, it all went to shit when the two of you stepped into a saloon for a drink to unwind after the work. An especially angry drunk challenged Micah to a fight, and all hell broke loose. First, an exchange of angry words, then an exchange of punches, and then an exchange of bullets, all loud and noisy enough to wake the dead, and the law enforcement which came running. Not wanting to be caught up in more trouble than you ought, you had to grab Micah by the back of his collar and get running and galloping.

"Dutch tells us to lay low and you do the exact opposite! Can't have any damn peace with you around," you scolded as both of your horses relaxed and began to trot down the dirt roads back to Shady Belle.

"Can't blame me, Miss. That feller started it. I was in for a nice, peaceful time until he came along to ruin it," he complained, clearing his throat loudly and spitting on the ground.

You didn't hear a word he said. A quiet rustle in the woodland caught your attention, and you caught a glimpse of a rider on a horse. He was dressed in black and gray, having his hat down low over his eyes. He rode away from both of you down another dirt trail, not seeming to have noticed your presence. Micah was still talking your ears off and you hushed him.

"Shut it, Micah. I see an O'Driscoll."

He immediately stopped. "Where?" he whispered eagerly, craning his neck and peering forward to look in the same direction as you. When he spotted the fellow, he smirked.

Your eyes remained trained on the O'Driscoll, and you flicked your chin towards him. "Let's follow him."

And so the two of you did, keeping a safe distance and acting inconspicuously. Micah took the rear, not wanting to be recognized as he was seen before with Dutch by the wretches. You urged your horse forward to cover him and rode ahead.

The O'Driscoll took a winding route into the woods --a lesser known dirt trail-- and the two of you followed on behind him slowly, using the bushes, foliage, and dappled shadows for cover. The Sun, situated at the apex of the sky, shone down bright, making beads of sweat drip down your face even under the shade.

The O'Driscoll neared a run-down log cabin and hitched his horse right outside. The moss-covered cabin was shaded by the tall trees and the outsides of it were littered with broken bottles. It looked nothing like a proper O'Driscoll settlement, but rather a temporary dwelling. Only five horses were hitched outside the cabin, indicating only a few.

"He's dismounting," you whispered to Micah as the two of you stopped your horses at a safe distance.

Just as both of you dismounted, a blood-curdling scream erupted from within the cabin. You stopped in your tracks and looked at Micah with wide eyes. He looked back at you, not particularly perturbed. The scream seemed to make even the leaves of the trees tremble in fear.

"Stop! Please!" came the cry of a very familiar voice.

"Kieran!" you exclaimed under your breath. "Come on, we have to save him!"

Before Micah even said anything, you took the rifle off your back and began to stalk towards the cabin as fast and as unnoticed as you could. Micah followed behind you.

Crawling behind a crate, you asked Micah as you peeked out, "What do you think about shootin' up some O'Driscolls today?"

"Nothing makes me happier."

You grunted in response. "For once we agree."

It took you everything to not lose your cool at the shrieks echoing in the woods. You longed to burst into the cabin and shoot them all until they turned into a well-loved rag filled with holes, but you knew better than to be a fool.

Slinking away from the crate, the two of you continued to stalk towards the rundown cabin, careful not to jostle the broken bottles. You could hear the sounds of Kieran being punched, talked down to, and kicked around. Your stomach churned in anger as you ducked under the window and pressed your back against the wall next to the door. Micah positioned himself on the other side of the door, holding his guns up.

"You really thought you could escape us, huh?!" you heard one of the O'Driscolls yell from inside.

A loud thud and a groan of pain followed. "Please stop..." came Kieran's pathetic sounding wail.

You bit your lip and put your hand on the knob, trying to twist it open. It resisted.

"If you thought your Van Der Lindes would come and save you, you're dead wrong. It don't look like they care too much about scum like you," another O'Driscoll spoke. Another thud, followed by coughing and hacking.

"But don't you worry. We'll treat you real fine and head you back to them as a gift of the long standing friendship between us all," assured another O'Driscoll, laughing aloud.

You heard the rustle and scrub of cloth and wood creaking. Kieran begged, "No, no, no! Please don't!"

From within, the distinct scrape and clinking of knives was audible. Your heart was in your throat.

"I'll break this door open and you open fire," you hastily whispered to Micah, and he nodded, pushing himself off the wall and clenching his guns.

Kieran was starting to shriek. Lifting the butt of your rifle, you rammed it straight down on the doorknob, knocking it off. The door broke open from the impact and Micah sprung into action.

You followed immediately. Pulling the trigger, your first target was the head of the wretch who held his knife against Kieran's neck. He fell down, limp.

"Van Der Lindes at your fucking service, boys!" you roared.

Micah laughed aloud at your roar, pleased by your enthusiasm as he fired his bullets. "That's my girl!" he exclaimed snidely, "Finally you ain't so polite about your killin'."

"Shut your damned mouth and keep shootin'!"

There were more O'Driscolls in the cabin than you anticipated; about ten. But it was no hard task for two of the gang's most formidable gunslingers. Micah gleefully shot away, throwing down tables and using them for cover while Kieran was cowering in the corner of the room, hands and feet bound tightly in ropes. Finding an empty wardrobe next to him, you pushed it down on its side and rushed behind it.

"You okay, Kieran?!" you exclaimed as you exchanged fire.

"I-I-I'm okay!" he squeaked, hunching over his knees and trying to lay as flat as he could behind the defense of the wardrobe.

Your momentary distraction afforded a shot to the arm, but with adrenaline rushing in your blood, you felt no pain. You'd slaughter every last one of them for even daring to touch Kieran.

Finally, the last one fell, shot by Micah. The two of you breathed heavily from the exertion and Micah rose to his feet from behind the makeshift rampart, scanning the cabin once more. With a sigh, he returned his guns to their holsters. "Not enough of these fellers for me to kill," he quipped, disappointed.

You turned to Kieran, finally having the time to properly look at him. His pathetic face was red and bloodied from all the punches he took. His clothes were torn and soiled, bearing boot prints from being stepped on. Cuts were all over his arms and his neck, some shallow, some deep. Pulling out your knife, you cut off the ropes that bound him.

"You look like a mess..." you sighed, trying to keep calm for his sake, "What on earth did they do to you?"

Kieran grimaced as he explained the abuse he underwent the past two days. Sleep deprivation, starvation, beating, kicking, threatening, lashing, and so much worse else that he struggled to express. As you pulled out some clean cloth to wrap around the wounds on his neck, you felt your chest tighten with guilt that you couldn't come for him sooner.

You rose to your feet and held out your hand to him. He shakily raised his arm, taking it and rising to his feet with a pained groan. He held his back and his hip, still groaning.

"Y-You came at the right time," he said, quivering, "They was ready to cut my head off just when you entered."

Your eyes widened and you clenched your teeth. "God damn them bastards," you growled under your breath, not even meaning it vainly.

The three of you only had these few moments to breathe when more gunshots from behind the cabin-- all distant-- vibrated the quiet air. You started, looking at the rear windows of the dilapidated building.

"They must've heard our gunshots!" you exclaimed.

Micah grinned, instantly slinging his guns out of the holsters. "Leave them to me," he said, sauntering towards the windows and ramming the butt of his gun against the glass, shattering it.

"They look like too many to take alone" you said, joining him and standing by the other window. Turning to Kieran, you pulled out your Cattleman and handed it to him. "Here, use this. We're a bit outnumbered."

The roar of O'Driscolls over their gunfire was loud, but you and Micah held them back. Kieran struggled with all his aches and pains, but managed to shoot a few himself. It was a tense few minutes of heated exchange, but with the last one falling, silence immediately settled in.

Rising immediately, you said, "Let's get out of here before more O'Driscolls come."

After quickly looting the sparse cabin and the bodies, the three of you mounted your horses and rode out. Kieran sat behind you, quietly whimpering in pain as the horse rode along the rugged paths. Micah seemed to be addressing Kieran about something, but it was all muffled by your thoughts.

The thought of Kieran suffering worse than how you found him sickened you. Your stomach churned at the image of his neck sliced and his life blood spurting out. And knowing how ruthless the O'Driscolls could be, they definitely would've done significantly worse things to his dead body. You may have had a questionable relationship with the Lord Almighty, but you sure thanked Him that Kieran's warm hands still held fast to you.

It was a relief to see the familiar surroundings of Shady Belle bathed in the descending sunlight, and as soon as the three of you arrived, the sight of Kieran after his disappearance stirred excitement in the camp.

"You found him!" Mary-Beth, running up to you, exclaimed first as you dismounted and helped Kieran down.

"Those damn O'Driscolls caught him!" you roared for everyone in the gang to hear, and then told them all how you and Micah slaughtered every last one of them.

The other gang members praised you, and reluctantly praised Micah for the rare occasion of him taking part in saving a fellow gang member. As always, he was full of pompous words about how he "killed more than the little Miss".

You had no time to be offended. You and Mary-Beth helped Kieran into a room in the mansion where Ms. Grimshaw would treat his wounds.

"I do hope he'll be okay," Mary-Beth said worriedly, holding your arm.

"He'll live. That much I know."

Feeling weary, you pulled out of her grasp and headed downstairs. She followed you into the parlour of the mansion and watched as you sat down with a sigh. You begged her for a cup of water, which she promptly brought to you. As she took another chair and sat down next to you, she watched you relish the cool drink.

"I'm sure glad Kieran is back," she said softly, lacing her fingers over her lap.

You nodded vigorously, placing the empty cup on your thigh. "So am I. You wouldn't believe our luck. He would've... He would've gotten his head lopped off if we were a moment too late." You wiped your hand down your face, sighing shakily. "Thank the Lord we found him before they did."

Mary-Beth wrapped her arms around you, letting you rest your head in the crook of her neck as she rubbed your back. Your body eased against your friend's and you sighed again.

"You did a real good job, my dear," she whispered, lovingly stroking your hair.

The security tightened around the camp after this incident. More gang members stood on the perimeters of Shady Belle, vigilant. Not only was the gang up on their guard, but the general attitude towards Kieran changed too. Some of the more rougher gang members who bullied him previously seemed to express some concern for his wellbeing and recovery.

The camp was in no celebratory mood after learning that Kieran was whisked away during the party for Jack. It remained lively as it always was, but the perpetual shadow was cast by the O'Driscolls caused the heavy drinkers to sober up and keep their vigil, and Dutch to withdraw to himself to consider where to go next before they risked another kidnapping or attack.

In the meantime, you made sure to tend to Kieran in any way you could, visiting him and talking to him to distract him from the pain. Sometimes Mary-Beth and Arthur would take your place when you weren't around.

Speaking of Arthur, he was especially upset about the whole thing.

"Damn O'Driscolls," he shook his head as he lit the cigarette between his lips, "I'm tired of this feud Colm and Dutch are having. When will it end?"

"I reckon it will go on till kingdom come," you answered resignedly. This was the first time since joining the gang that you witnessed O'Driscoll brutality firsthand after only knowing it in theory.

Arthur grumbled, taking a drag of the cigarette. "That aside, I'm surprised Micah cooperated. You know how he is. Kills more people than he saves."

You shrugged. "True. I guess he happily jumped right in because it was O'Driscolls we was dealing with. He gets to satisfy that damn itch in his hands and we get to cut down their forces."

"Hm." He nodded silently, staring at the ground of the porch he was standing on. "I'm glad Kieran is okay, though. You did well." He gave you a gentle pat on your shoulder in gratitude.

Though Arthur didn't show it, you could see the relief written all over his face. How distraught he would've been if the man that saved his life was killed like a dog with nobody to save him.

It was an especially quiet night and like usual, you sat in Kieran's room by the window, polishing your Cattleman to pass your time as you kept him company. His room was small, but sufficiently spaced for him to move about. After all the nights he spent sleeping outside, you were glad that he was given a roof over his head.

The camp was mostly quiet and relaxed, and conversations around the fire rose in the air in soft murmurs. You watched the night with alertness, and your rifle remained on your back. Kieran, seated on his humble bed, preferred to watch you.

"I-I cannot thank you enough for saving my life, Miss," he blurted. He'd been saying that everyday since.

You looked at him and smiled, shaking your head. "Are you going to thank me for the rest of your life?" you asked lightheartedly.

"I sure will. It's my life you saved, after all." He twiddled with his thumbs nervously.

You paused, looking at his slouched posture, his scruffy appearance, messy black hair and all the bandages wrapped around his arms and his neck. Your eyes softened at his plight, and you felt a surge of affection for him. "I'm glad you're back, Kieran. I missed you," you admitted softly.

An embarrassed flush bloomed on his cheeks at your loving address. "You did?" he asked, surprised. "I didn't think I was... visible enough in camp to be noticed, let alone missed."

"Well, Mary-Beth was the first to notice you was gone," you told him, "and you know the rest." But sensing the insecurity and vulnerability in his voice, you said, "Kieran, I don't know to what extent the camp as a whole trusts and likes you, but just know that I'll always trust you, like you, and miss you when you're gone."

You felt your cheeks flush a little, wondering if your speech betrayed your true feelings. But he smiled, feeling reassured.

"Thank you, Miss. I'm glad, really," he looked down at his feet on the floor, "I-I try so hard to be of use in the gang. I like it here better than with them O'Driscolls," his voice quieted as if in fear of even uttering the accursed name. "They're terrifying, but you all are nicer. And- And I want to prove myself that I-I ain't an O'Driscoll no more."

"Oh, Kieran," you shook your head, "You ain't an O'Driscoll no more, no matter what any of us say. You're one of us, a Van Der Linde." You rose to your feet and moved towards his bed. Situating yourself right next to him, you took his hand in yours and squeezed it, now saying in a soft whisper, "You'll never be an O'Driscoll again."

He nodded slowly, taking in the words. You looked at him. His eyes were fixed to the starry night outside the window, distant and thoughtful. You wondered if he thought of his time with the former gang. Your heart ached for what he had to go through with them, both now and in the past and to always be in fear of them, near or away.

"If they dare touch a single strand of your hair ever again, I promise I'll do worse things to them than what they planned to do to you," you declared, squeezing his hand again.

Kieran's eyes widened, alarmed by the extent of your harshness. He put his other hand on yours, clasping it. "Please, dear Miss, you don't have to go so far just for me," he begged.

"Why not?" you demanded, "They hurt you! I won't stand for that!"

"But-But the O'Driscolls ain't the sweetest people, you know... what if you get hurt because of me? I wouldn't want that."

Your brows furrowed, and Kieran feared he angered you. He shrunk a little, pulling his hand away from yours reluctantly. Noticing this, the anger on your face melted away.

"I... well," you stammered, "It ain't fair, Kieran. You're a nice guy. You've had a rough life even before them O'Driscolls. You take care of our horses and do your best around camp. You're an honest and innocent feller unlike the rest of us and I like that about you. It ain't fair or right that they can just whisk you away and not get the consequences of their actions for it!"

Your praise made his heart soar. He didn't think you thought so highly of him.

"And I know you ain't much a fighter," you continued, "And I ain't the best and showing people I care. Protecting you is the least I can do."

Kieran was both flattered and ashamed. Protecting was his job as a man. It didn't sit right with him that you took the dominant role when it was simply your right and privilege as a woman to be cared for and protected. But he didn't say it. He knew his limitations for the moment, but vowed to himself that he'd try and get stronger and braver so that he could one day protect you.

Afraid as he was to admit it, he admired you greatly. You were strong, hardy, beautiful, and brave. You knew your way around weapons and you were smart. He'd always looked on you with a certain awe and even jealousy that he wasn't anywhere near as impressive as you were. And to think that someone so amazing would condescend to be so attentive to him at this moment was both humbling and heart-fluttering.

"I could not have asked for a better friend than you, Miss," he smiled shyly. No sooner had the words come of his mouth, he worried if he took it too far by calling you a friend.

But the grin on your lovely, weathered face eased him. "I'm happy you think so, Kieran," you said gently, looking down at your lap.

He caught a hint of shyness in your face as you looked away, and his heart jumped. You, shy? He never saw this before.

Silence filled the room. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, and from your straight posture and how you clenched the sides of the bed, you looked like you had something more to say. Kieran shifted in his seat.

"Are you okay? You look a little... tense," he finally asked.

"Yeah, I'm okay. I just... I just wanted to tell you something important."

"Of course," he encouraged, turning himself to face you.

"I- I love you, Kieran," you blurted with many blushes.

He stared at you with wide eyes, stunned and speechless. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

"I've fancied you ever since we was in Horseshoe Outlook," you admitted, "and I thought you was real sweet... even though we didn't really trust you. But I liked you."

He still stared, completely bewildered by this point. He never imagined anyone would ever like him, pathetic as he was.

"Me? A-Are you sure you do?" he sputtered.

"Of course I do. No doubt about it."

"But why me? I ain't impressive like Arthur or like Charles or-- I don't know-- John... Why me?"

"It's because you're kind," you explained in earnest, "and you're genuine. You're impressive in your own way. You work so hard to earn our trust. If nobody appreciates you for it, I do. And I even love you for it."

Nothing more could be said. He sat silent for a while, taking in your words. You watched him, worrying he'd not feel the same. You longed to ask him what he thought, but you waited for him to speak first.

"It's amazing that you'd choose me, my dear Miss, a pathetic O'Driscoll boy..."

You frowned. "You ain't an O'Driscoll boy. You're Kieran Duffy," you said firmly, "I could never love no O'Driscoll boy. But Kieran Duffy? I would."

He smiled abashedly. Though you scolded him, he couldn't help but feel so utterly over the moon. He just couldn't get enough of your repeated declarations of love. His smile dispelled your momentary annoyance, and your eyes softened, feeling the weight of your affection for him rest heavy on your heart.

His trembling hand ventured bravely to touch yours and your hand instinctively leaned into his light touch. Feeling encouraged, he wrapped his hand around yours, holding it gently. Both the touch and the confirmation of his feelings sent strong flutters and sparks flying all over inside you.

"I've always admired you," he admitted, "You're really purty, and strong. Always thought you was an amazing woman." His hand squeezed yours, and you squeezed back, "I-I really do love you too, my dear Miss."

Your lip trembled as you felt an overflow of emotions. "I'm sure glad you're alive, Kieran," you said breathlessly, "I don't know what I would've done if you was gone and I didn't never get to tell you how much I love you."

He moved closer, pressing his shoulder against yours. Without thinking, you leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. His heart jumped again, but he sat still.

"It's because of you I'm alive," he whispered, affectionately rubbing his thumb over your knuckles as he pressed his cheek against your head, "And I'm glad too." His voice cracked, "I'm glad to be alive to hear you say you love me."

You couldn't take it anymore. You wrapped your arms around his waist and hugged him, something you've been desperate to do since you brought him back alive. His surprise only lasted for a moment before he responded by wrapping one arm around your waist and the other around your shoulders.

"I'm sorry to be so bold, Kieran, but I ain't never lettin' you go."

He smiled, burying his face in your neck. He could never be offended by your boldness; it was one of the many things he loved about you.

"And I ain't goin' nowhere."

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lookwhatyoumademedohaha · 2 years ago

Text

And that kids, is how I met your mother! Chapter 1 - Until I Found You

I would never fall in love again until I found her I said, "I would never fall unless it's you I fall into" I was lost within the darkness, but then I found her I found you

Summary: Nikolai Lantsov is a falling in love with you. But do you feel the same way about him?

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x Reader, Nikolai Lantsov x Six of Crows Reader, Kaz Brekker x Reader.

Warnings: Pure fluff, angst and comfort, humor, unrequited love, pining.

A/N: Hi everyone! This is my first Nikolai Lantsov fic so I hope that I did Nikolai’s character justice! I am thinking of making this a series and writing another part to this because this is not the end but the beginning! Let me know your thoughts and comments on my work because it means a lot to me! I love you all! Happy reading!

Chapter 2 - Labyrinth

Chapter 3 - Call it what you want

Chapter 4 - Someone to Stay

Chapter 5 - Cornelia Street

Nikolai Lantsov did not believe in love at sight. Nikolai was raised in a gleaming palace where love didn’t have a place in his life. He was raised and believed that love was not an option for a Lantsov son and the King of Ravka whose reason for marriage should be to forge political connections and produce heirs.

But then you had stormed into his life. And the moment Nikolai had seen you, he had been absolutely enchanted by you and there was no going back.

You had arrived into Ravkan Court a few weeks ago from Ketterdam with Nina Zenik who had come to visit Zoya and help her with training Grisha for a few months. Initially Nikolai had been informed that Nina would be arriving alone but he was pleasantly surprised when after Nina, you had stepped out of the carriage in wonder and amazement of a girl who was in a dream. Nina had introduced you to Nikolai, Zoya, David and Genya as part of the Crows in Ketterdam.

Nikolai couldn’t help falling in love with you. He knew it was silly to fall in love with you when he didn’t even know you properly but he loved the curve of your lips when you smiled at his jokes. He loved how you held yourself with a careless elegance as if you didn’t care what anyone else thought of you. He loved how your eyes would twinkle in love for your friends as you gave warm hugs to them and the joy that shined on your face whenever you sent letters to the Crows in Ketterdam. He loved how you treated everyone from Duke to servant with respect and kindness. He loved you on the days you were silent and reserved, lost in your myriad of thoughts. He loved your fierce scowl directed at him whenever he teased you and your blazing furious glare whenever you saw anyone hurt others. He loved the mischief and amusement that shone in you as you talked with children being childlike yourself making them giggle.

But there was a problem.

Your heart was set on someone far away in Ketterdam.

Nikolai had slyly poked around and investigated with a little help from Genya and Zoya whether you were single because he was aching with hope that you wouldn’t be in love with someone else. After torturing Nina who had kept her mouth shut for an impressively long time, he found out that you were in love with Kaz Brekker but he was not in love with you. You had set your hopeful heart in the hands of the Bastard of the Barrel who had used all of its love for a heist by making you play a role of his wife in a fake marriage for months. Everyone knew that you had agreed because you loved Kaz but as time passed, all the Crows thought Kaz had fallen in love with you because of different, sweet and soft - hearted, his heart in his eyes when he was around you. Nina had heard his heart for you and was certain Kaz reciprocated your feelings.

But after the scheme, the heist was over, Kaz has pushed you away and thrown you away with a disregard for your feelings as he crushed your heart into broken glass between his bloody claws. Kaz refused to acknowledge your love for him and face his feelings for you and he stayed stubborn no matter how hard the Crows tried to persuade him. So finally Nina who had enough of seeing you miserable and broken - hearted decided to bring you to Ravka because she believed a lot of distance, good food and a nice change of scenery would cheer you up.

A fake marriage with real feelings. Nikolai understood the feeling all too well. After all, Alina who had been engaged to him had chosen Mal but Nikolai’s heart had been crushed because he had liked Alina and wondered what was wrong with him. He never wanted anyone to feel such a pain and thinking of you suffering in silence, quietly trying to piece your broken heart pained him. He had noticed and wondered about the dark circles under your eyes, the glossy far away distant look in your eyes, the excitement fading when you finished looking through your letters you received from your friend as if there was one missing, the way you looked wistfully and sadly at lovers dancing in court and the quiet unhappiness you hid behind your forced smile when anyone mentioned Kaz Brekker.

Now Nikolai knew why and though he considered Kaz Brekker to be a mutual friend, he had an urge to punch Brekker in the face because why couldn’t he see you were beautiful and wonderful in every way? Why did he break you heart?

Nikolai knew that the smart option would be to give up and walk away from you because there was no chance you would ever return his love. But he was a fool when it came to you. The feelings he had for Alina seemed insignificant compared to the enormity and significance of the feelings he had for you. The moment Nikolai had seen you, he felt familiarity and the feeling of coming home bloom warmly within his heart as he felt alive for the very first time. Nikolai understood every poem about soulmates in that moment as he knew you were his great and beautiful love that only came once in a lifetime and could never be replaced and forgotten. Nikolai felt his heart whisper that you were the one every time you smiled at him and felt forever surround him whenever he held a conversation with you. You were a dream, a comet in the night sky.

And Nikolai knew that if he didn’t fight for you, fight for the love that he could have with you, he would be damned to regret and misery for the rest of his lifetime wondering what could have happened between them if he had faced his feelings and let you know that he loved you. Nikolai knew that even if you didn’t return his affections, he would never love anyone the way he loved you.

So he began trying to woo you. Nikolai complimented you, teased you endlessly receiving annoyed and amused glares from you, joked with you mischievously, asked you questions, spent his leisure time with you, found excuses to spend time with you and talked with you nervously stuttering and blushing and listening attentively to you because he was entranced by you. But in all his attempts to show you that he loved you, you would push him away with brushing off his compliments, gestures and comments with sarcastic remarks and the remarkable roll of your eyes and your guarded demeanor when you realized he was opening his heart to you.

Nikolai remembered the first time he had complimented you flirtatiously when he had seen you in the training grounds “Y/N, you look beautiful as a field of honeysuckle blooming in a spring afternoon.”

Nikolai relished the shock and surprise flushing in your face as your eyes grew guarded “I’m not interested. Save your sweet words for some princess.”

Nikolai appreciated how straightforward you were with him despite how it cut him deep to the bone as he had retorted cheekily “You are a princess to me.”

Nikolai had seen you shake your head in exasperation and walk away when Nikolai yelled out loud “I am going to marry you one day and make you the happiest princess in the world, mark my words Y/N! You’ll be my princess madly in love with me and we’ll live happily ever after!”

Zoya who had been with Nikolai had muttered something about being subtle but Nikolai whose heart was full of you and knew that if he said he was going to marry you one day, he probably would. His attention was only on you who had frozen mid step and then turned around toward him with a completely surprised and exasperated expression “Keep dreaming, Lantsov.”’

Nikolai still was utterly entranced and enchanted by you as he grinned widely, his eyes twinkling with mischief “I got eyes only for you.”

Nikolai saw you roll your eyes sarcastically in exasperation and annoyance at him but he had seen a faint hint of a smile curve on your face as you had walked away, giving him hope.

Genya thought Nikolai’s crush and attempts to show it were cute. Nina found this hilarious and amusing, encouraging this just to see Nikolai fail. Zoya rolled her eyes calling Nikolai a silly school boy falling over his knees pulling the pigtails of a little girl just to get your attention.

Nikolai who was lost in his thoughts about you as he took a stroll in the grounds felt depressed and exhausted by the work and the thought of you loving someone who didn’t appreciate you. He was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t see you as he bumped into you and both of you fell down.

Nikolai’s eyes widened in apology as he stuttered nervously trying to help you up “I apologize, Y/N. Are you hurt?”

“Oh, I’ve been in worse situations.” you replied cheerfully as you helped him up and looked at him with a cheerful smile that grew into a concerned expression as you observed the exhaustion written in his hazel eyes from ruling Ravka which he gave everything to.

Nikolai froze in surprise when you hugged him gently but he felt himself relax and loosen in your arms as he felt the heavy weight of duty begin to unfold as you whispered softly “Nikolai... just let it all go.”

Nikolai dropped his head on your shoulder feeling the burden of exhaustion throughout the months he had been carrying silently begin to fade away as tears sprang into his eyes and he choked out a sob because it was hard to be the King of Ravka. It was so hard to fight each day for his people, to nod and agree and disagree with his ministers who had plenty of plans and proposals, to keep an eye out for the number of enemies he was surrounded by and to smile and keep everything together so that Ravka could stand strong and unshaken. He didn’t have time to let go and be himself until you had come along. He didn’t even know it was so lonely and painful until he was in your arms, salty tears running down his cheeks as your arms embraced him warmly and your fingers threading through his blonde hair granting him comfort and peace.

Peace. He had not tasted it for a very long time.

Nikolai didn’t know how long he had cried in your arms but it felt like forever when he raised his head to look into your quiet and kind eyes.

He felt ashamed for being such a baby as he tried to move away and apologized “I am sorry. I have never wanted you to see me like this and burden you with my worries. I apologize for ruining your evening.”

“You do realize you are human?” you inquired sassily but there was utmost gentleness in it “And when are you going to realize that you are not alone? That you have friends around you who love you and want to share your burdens?”

Nikolai was taken aback in surprise at your kindness as he blinked back his tears but you took his hand in yours tentatively and gently “You’re allowed to have very bad days and cry and scream and throw a tantrum about it. You are not alone. I’m your friend, Nikolai and that means you share your burdens and worries with me and I’m going to be there for you. You don’t have to pretend around me.”

Nikolai felt a small smile curve on his face as a spark of comfort spouted in him “That means a great deal to me but I don’t want you to worry about me.”

“You worry about everyone but who worries about you? I’m going to worry about you because I want to and you can’t order me not to!” you exclaimed passionately with a fierce scowl that made Nikolai smile widely in amusement as you tossed your hair.

“You’d get tired of it eventually. And I hate seeing your lovely smile replaced by that fierce frown.” teased Nikolai with a grin as his heart thudded with amazement at how worried you were for him and his heart fluttered as he realized you were still holding onto his hand and hadn’t let go.

“I don’t have a fierce frown.” you retorted frowning fiercely making Nikolai huff in laughter and you shook your head at him in exasperation “And I don’t think I can ever get tired of you.”

Nikolai felt his heart flutter happily as he blushed nervously and shyly and you smiled at him softly “Honestly if anyone would get tired of a person, it would be me. People think of me as cool at first but then they sick of me eventually and want someone new around. You’ll be the same.”

Nikolai saw the sad smile you wore as you said this, the unhappiness in your eyes and felt something fierce and painful clench his heart at the thought of you believing that anyone would be tired of having you around “Tell me... tell me who made you believe that your presence, your very kind and beautiful presence would tire a soul lucky enough to be in your presence?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me. It matters to me because I hate seeing you hate yourself because people were absolute fools who couldn’t see how wonderful you are.” replied Nikolai fiercely and protectively as he held your hands tightly in his, looking earnestly at you. “The next time you think that I will get sick of you... remember that I’m Nikolai Lantsov and that I absolutely adore your friendly smile, your warm hugs, the way you wrinkle your nose and roll your eyes at me when I tease you, and the small things you say that I replay in my head after you are gone. Remember that I want to annoy you forever and I don’t say that about anyone else.”

To Nikolai’s pleasure, you giggled and blushed as you looked at him with something unreadable as you shook your head “I’ll try to believe it. But sometimes... it gets hard to believe everything you told me. It’s hard to believe that I’m someone people will love.”

“I understand how you feel. I - I know the feeling too.” said Nikolai quietly with a vulnerable expression, defenseless and unguarded as he looked at you after a long moment. “I understand how you feel but it’s not true.”

Nikolai saw your eyes widen in surprise and curiosity “But you’re Nikolai! Everybody loves you!”

Nikolai and you had sat on the grassy ground near the lake as he ran his hand through his hair wanting to hide his greatest fears and insecurities but as he stared into your gentle and quiet eyes, he found himself saying “I know... but it’s not the love I want. I don’t feel loved. I don’t believe I’m loved... I’ve never known real love... my father and mother had a marriage of duty and political arrangement. My mother suffered years of heartless neglect at the hands of my father who was too busy abusing young women. And well, my brother... I don’t think he ever cared about me even though I looked up to him when I was young.”

“And Alina... well, you know how that ended. It was a fake marriage with real feelings. I had feelings for her but her heart belonged to someone else and in the end, she chose someone else over me.” stated Nikolai softly with an air of unguarded vulnerability he had never shown anyone else because he was the King who could not afford to be weak. But sitting here on the grass with you, in your presence, he felt like the boy with fears and insecurities who had to carry on and didn’t have to pretend to be anyone as he cracked a grin “So you see... I’m not very lovable.”

Your eyes were heavy with quiet contemplation and thoughtfulness as Nikolai saw you stare at him and scoffed “You can laugh. Go on, laugh at me.”

You looked at him thoughtfully and quietly, with a protective glint in your eyes “Why would I laugh? I was just thinking about making a time machine so I can go back in time and make everyone who ever made you feel unloved and unlovable regret each moment of their pathetic lives.”

Nikolai let out a huff of laughter, as a smile appeared on his face without a thought feeling happy and taken aback in pleasant surprise “I didn’t know you cared so much about me.”

“You are loud, laugh a lot, tell silly jokes and have a heart full of hope in a world that won’t change easily. You’re exactly the kind of person I would scoff at and yet I find myself feeling quite protective over you and worrying about you.” you confided quietly and softly as your fingers twisted nervously, your beautiful eyes looking into his with something undecipherable “You’re nonsensical but I’ve grown to quite like you.”

Nikolai felt something surprising and warm rush through him, engulfing him in tidal waves as he suddenly felt conscious of being the object of your earnest and sincere gaze. He felt something that he had always strived and worked hard to be in everyone’s eyes... he felt special and extraordinary, seen and loved. This feeling felt all too consuming and yet he wanted more of it as he basked in its golden radiance and new sweetness that he was experiencing for the first time.

“Well... coming from you, it means a great deal.” whispered Nikolai, his foolish heart blooming with hope and adoration as whispers of the feeling that perhaps you could come to care for him in time crowded him and then smiled widely “It certainly is an improvement in our relationship from the last time where you called me an annoying, idiotic, lousy pig and pushed me into the lake.”

You laughed in amusement, your cheeks flushing a bright pink as your eyes sparkled in mirth and nervousness “Saints! I - I don’t know what I was thinking! I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I was in need of a good swim.” joked Nikolai with an amused grin as he felt happy at being the person who made you laugh in joy and sparkle in happiness.

You laughed and Nikolai swore that he would walk through hell just to hear you laugh so freely, so merrily as you shook your head at him with an apologetic look in your eyes “I - I mean, I wasn’t myself that day. I was having a really bad day and I was angry and hurt and when you said all those - when you said all those really sweet things to tease me - I just felt nothing but rage and I took it out on you. I am truly sorry.”

“You’re always forgiven.” said Nikolai softly and gently as he looked at you mindlessly picking flowers growing on the ground “Why were you angry that day? What’s your story?”

“Fake marriage with real feelings but it ended in heartbreak.” you replied with a wide grin but there was sadness and pain written all over your face “It’s not very happy.”

“Well I have all the time in the world for you, so go ahead, I’m listening.”

Nikolai smiled when you cracked a smile and watched you twist your fingers nervously and hug your knees “It’s the same story. It feels like a long time ago but I honestly thought I would never fall in love because its silly and stupid. But when I first met the enigmatic, mysterious and clever devil by the name of Kaz Brekker.”

“Just imagine it. An impressionable, young girl, new to Ketterdam and suddenly the Bastard of the Barrel drops into my life and he is clever, infamous, dangerous, kinder to me than anyone in my life has been, appreciates every little thing about me. He made me feel important and seen. Imagine what that does to a lonely girl.” you said softly and quietly, your voice trembling with sadness and heartbreak, with a trembling weak smile.

“I fell in love with him before I even knew it. He asked me to pretend to be his wife and because I was so stupid, I agreed because I loved him. And I thought as time passed, that it wasn’t an act on his part because it felt like he genuinely loved me back too. That there could be a chance for a happy ending. But people like me never get happy endings because Kaz Brekker never loved me, I was just an investment, a means to an end to achieve his goals.” you told Nikolai with tears of pain and heartbreak glimmering and falling down your cheeks as you choked back on a sob “And I didn’t expect it to hurt this much... but my heart is broken, and everything hurts so much.”

Nikolai’s heart wrenched in despair and distress as you let out a sob of heartache and heartbreak “And I hate him! I hate him so much! But I hate myself because I let myself believe that he loved me too! Because I loved him through everything, through his worst but he never chose me me at all. Kaz was using me and I was a fool to think I could ever be loved!”

Nikolai couldn’t bear your grief any longer as he wrapped his arms around you comforting you as he let you cry into his chest, your sobs racking your body with grief and heartbreak as you held onto him for dear life. Nikolai stroked your hair gently and rubbed your back soothingly, whispering soft and comforting words of solace and truth that you were loved more because he couldn’t bear your cries of pain, anger, hate and heartbreak that had been bottled up for so long. It physically hurt him to see you so broken but he held you in his arms because he wanted to be the person to hold you up and stand by you through your darkest times.

Nikolai gazed at your tear stained face as he gently brushed away the tears from your cheeks “Kaz Brekker is an idiot. He’s a fool not to fall in love with you.”

“Why are you crying?” you asked Nikolai in curiosity and Nikolai realized that he had been crying too.

“I don’t know. I felt your pain, your heartbreak and if I could take it and make it all mine, I would. I hate to see you in such pain, I hate to seeing you cry even though you are really pretty when you cry.” said Nikolai confessing shyly blushing faintly as you smiled up at him in surprise and then sighed as he confessed sincerely to you who was looking at him curiously “The truth is life as the King is not easy for me. In fact, it has been hard and there are days when my pain and exhaustion threatens to sink me into the quicksand. But I guess my life is much easier and lighter when I share my burdens with you.”

You smiled through your tears as you sniffed “I’m sorry I - I’m really sorry I cried and put all of this on you. You have enough on your plate -”

“I like worrying about you.” said Nikolai immediately as his fingers brushed gently across your cheek wiping away your tears, his skin tingling at the contact with your soft skin “I want to worry about you because I like you more than anyone in this world.”

Nikolai was delighted to see the faint blush coloring your cheeks but your eyes were still full of heartbreak of sadness and pain as your voice cracked as you placed your hand on your chest “This hurts like hell... Everyone close to me in my life is in a happy relationship and now... and I thought I could have happiness and love too. But I’m beginning to think that I don’t have my happy ending”

“No! That is not true. Take it from the Lantsov Prince who has been dumped by the Sun Summoner and suffered crushed feelings... it’s not true.” replied Nikolai immediately with reassurance and honesty as he placed his hand on your shoulder gently and comfortingly and he saw you crack a small faint smile.

“It just feels like this pain is eternal and infinite... it’s never going to end.” you replied your voice trembling with aching pain and hurt as you let out a small sob and sniffed looking at Nikolai whose face was etched with gentleness and adoration.

“Well, that’s what I said about being shot for the first time in the war, exiling my parents and having my heart crushed by a Saint but the pain did and will end.” replied Nikolai quietly in a matter - of - fact tone that exuded simple honesty and reassurance as he looked at you sincerely with vulnerability and affection and felt shy as he saw you gaze at him curiously in concern and admiration.

“Now... the thing is you have such bravery and strength to be vulnerable and open your heart to compassion and love. You feel your emotions deeply and even though it hurts you, it’s a good thing because so many people numb themselves on feeling and miss out on the good things in life.” said Nikolai sincerely and truthfully as he gazed at you, honesty and kindness gleaming in his hazel eyes as you held your breath listening to him. “

Nikolai’s hand dropped to your hand and tentatively sought permission to hold it and he felt electric when you tentatively and gently intertwined your fingers with his as he squeezed your hand comfortingly “You are right now nursing a broken heart but I believe you will heal, rise through the ashes and walk to the other side stronger than ever. Don’t close your heart to love and pain. The joy is worth the pain.”

You looked at him through the tears in your eyes, feeling grateful for his warm and charming presence surprised by his wisdom he hid behind the charming façade of a boy king “It just - I don’t understand. Why doesn’t Kaz love me back? What’s so wrong with me that he won’t love me back?”

“Nothing! Nothing is wrong with you! Saints, you are perfect!” exclaimed Nikolai in honesty and sincerity feeling disbelief and hurt at the thought of you thinking that you were short of perfection when you were the most beautiful, wonderful person he had ever met.

“You’re just saying that because you are always nice to me.” you retorted sharply and sassily as you shook your head in doubt and self - loathing. “You don’t even know me.”

“You’re right... I don’t know you.” said Nikolai quietly and thoughtfully because that hurt. It hurt Nikolai deeply that you didn’t see how Nikolai saw every crook and crevice of you when no one else cared to look at the little things that made you special “I don’t pay attention to anything you do.”

“I don’t know that you love Nina like your own sister and though you argue with each other, you want her to be proud of you. I don’t know that you lend a helping hand to the servants and comfort and listen to little children who look up to you with gentleness, mischief and the sweets you steal from the kitchen. I don’t know that when someone suggests something stupid and ignorant, you roll your eyes at them and speak your mind wisely and intelligently with a rather sharp tongue.” said Nikolai knowingly and passionately with a soft and affectionate glint in his hazel eyes as he gazed at you intensely full of adoration for you as your eyes widened in surprise “I don’t know that you love dancing and music but you don’t dance unless you are asked properly. I don’t know that you pretend to scoff pretty dresses but you are secretly thrilled at wearing them. I don’t know that you like reading romance, history and crime thrillers in the library until Genya has to drag you away from the library. I don’t know that you always listen patiently to David, not out of pity but sincerely because you are curious and consider him a friend. I don’t know that you are the only one who can get Zoya to eat a decent meal and have a nap.”

“And even though, I will say that I’m fine and try to make you leave me, you are going to walk me to my chambers and make sure I’m alright. Because that’s exactly the kind of person you are.” finished Nikolai honestly and sincerely as he gazed at you softly and gently, his heart full of love and passion only for you.

Your eyes had widened in surprise and you were certain your jaw had dropped as you felt paralyzed in shock and amazement at being seen by Nikolai of all people. You had thought his teasing was an infatuation, a silly game he liked to play to impress every girl but as you felt him gaze at you sincerely and intensely, you felt vulnerable and seen for who you truly were and the little things you thought no one noticed.

You threw your arms around him as you hugged him tightly because you were so scared that for the first time someone had noticed the small, ordinary, little things about you and cared to remember them. It terrified you that Nikolai cared so much about you because you didn’t feel the same about him. It was a new uncharted path that felt terrifying and yet you didn’t want to let Nikolai go. You wanted to hold onto him, hold onto the only person who terrified you with these new feelings, saw the parts of you that no one else did and made it easy to be vulnerable in a world where everyone and everything was cruelest to the weak.

“Nikolai...” you whispered, blinking back your tears of disbelief and amazement because it felt like you had been drowning for ages and now this beautiful boy had pulled you up and you could finally breathe.

“One day, you’ll find someone who loves you heart and soul and all this pain and tears and heartbreak will be just a memory.” whispered Nikolai as he held you tenderly as if you were the most precious, beautiful, fragile person he had the privilege of holding and you felt his silent reassuring promise that he would always be there for you.

“Promise?”

“I solemnly swear on my life and kingdom. In fact, I’ll bet my mother’s diamond necklace on it!” said Nikolai honestly with a bright and sincere smile as he lightly touched your cheek, breathless by your beauty “You’re smart, funny, kind, sharp and the best person I know. You can declare me right, wise, smart, kind, and handsome of all men in Ravka in your speech as bride when the day comes.”

You laughed in amusement as you leaned your head on Nikolai’s shoulder unaware that he was having a fit of fluttering butterflies in his stomach as he internally screamed like a little girl and you replied with a smile “I haven’t even thought of it. My wedding. What will it be like, do you think? Will you be there?”

“Of course, love. The groom can’t miss his own ceremony, now can he? It’s my solemn duty to take your breath away and take you as my lovely wife with a beautiful diamond -” replied Nikolai, his lips curving into a good natured grin as his heart beat a little faster at the thought of you marrying him.

He groaned with a laugh as you punched him in the arm but you were laughing “Can you be serious for once?”

“I can only do five minutes but for you I’ll try my best.” said Nikolai with a wink making you shake your head at him in amused exasperation.

“You are an idiot.” you replied fondly.

“And yet, you still hold my hand.” said Nikolai in a teasing manner but he felt a burst of warmth and shyness within him, because holding your hand in his felt like heaven on earth.

Nikolai expected you to remove your hand away from his but his heart swelled with surprise and hope when you squeezed his hand tightly with a warm smile as you looked at him fondly “And yet, I still hold your hand.”

And as both of you walked to the castle, Nikolai looked at you and knew that you were his one true great love and there was no going back from this moment. Your eyes sparkled with liveliness and you talked animatedly laughing good naturedly and Nikolai wondered if you knew that he was falling... falling deeply, madly, completely and utterly in love with you with no way out.

He had been told hope was dangerous. But the way you looked at him as you left him at his chambers, gave him a semblance of hope that he was not alone in his feelings and this could be the beginning of an adventure that came with a breathtaking view.

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ak319 · 3 months ago

Text

Dark J.M x fem!reader

-- ★ The Word of Claim ── Oneshot

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

I concept m.list

"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!

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."

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lanawinterscigarettes · 3 months ago

Note

kind of a weird request but...gossip girl characters reacting to you telling them when drunk or whatever that you wish they were gay so you could make out/hook up? (the idea being here that you're the same gender as they are, so like fem r for the girls and male r for the boys)

I actually really love this idea! hope you like it <3 (I might do another version with jenny, eric, and georgina later on)

Telling the Gossip Girl characters "I wish you were gay so we could makeout" while drunk

Characters included: Serena, Blair, Nate, Chuck, Dan

Warnings: drinking (possibly underaged depending on which season you envision this being set), fem reader for fem characters and male reader for male characters (basically this is for the gays and the gays alone lmao), some implied internalized homophobia, swearing, casual makeouts/hookups that lead into actual relationships

Serena van der Woodsen

Serena is known as a lot of things, among them being the ultimate party girl, so it's no surprise that she's made out with several people before when drunk, both guys and other girls

As soon as she hears you slur out those words, she immediately perks up, no matter how much drugs or alcohol is in her system, and her lips meet yours quicker than you can even react to what's going on

You said you wished she was gay so you could makeout? Well, who said she wasn't? (And she's quite eager to prove to you that your gender doesn't matter to her as long as you're hot)

If you don't feel comfortable going further than making out, she'll reluctantly pull away, making you promise to finish what she started once you're both sober enough for it, and that's something she'll hold you to, whether you want to remember the kiss or not

She's known to have a lot of casual hook-ups, but with you it feels different, like she actually might want something more (even if she does still sleep with the occasional person on the side whoops)

She'll gladly kiss you or hold your hand in public after that, not caring what other people think even if you are both girls. Her mom will just have to deal with having two gay kids instead of one

Blair Waldorf

Unlike her on-again off-again bestie, Blair hasn't made out with girls casually the same way she has (though I wouldn't put it past her to try kissing Serena to experiment while they were both tipsy or something)

Her cheeks would probably heat up at your words, but she'd quickly try to hide how flustered she was by letting out a scoff followed by an eye roll, muttering something defensively under her breath over how she isn't gay

Even if she secretly wants to kiss you, she won't do it unless you're both a reasonable amount of drunk to where she can deny it ever happened if you try to bring it up again

When your lips finally touch, she wants so badly to forget about everything else and just focus on you, trying not to think about how nice it feels getting to touch you like that and how much she kind of wishes you were a guy so she wouldn't have to worry about the feeling of shame swirling deep within her

She'll probably avoid you afterwards, even if she claims to not remember what happened. She'll absolutely deny it if you or anyone else brings it up, and might even threaten them with sending in a tip to gossip girl

Alas, she can't hide the truth forever, and will eventually be forced to face the real feelings she has towards you, even if she'd rather they just go away. You'll have to be patient with her when it comes to bringing you as a plus one to events and such, but she'll gladly give you all of her affection when the two of you are alone

Nate Archibald

Bless his heart, Nate is such a himbo I don't think he'd get what you mean at first, especially if he was also drunk at the time you asked the question ("Makeout with me? But we're both guys?? What do you mean???")

That being said, I don't think he'd necessarily be against it, but he'd definitely be a bit hesitant since he's never kissed another guy before. I feel like he'd probably inwardly panic a little and worry about how to go about it exactly

Should he approach the situation the same way he would if you were a girl, or would that be weird and should he treat you a little different? Or would it be weirder for him to treat you differently just because you're a guy? etc.

Honestly, if you want him to kiss you the best way for it to happen is for you to take the initiative and make the first move because he's never going to do it if you don't lmao

Things would be passionate but sweet when you had sex, and he'd constantly check up on you to see if you were comfortable and okay with what was going on

It's possible he might try to ignore his feelings for you at first, but I couldn't see that lasting for very long before he decides to ask you out for real, knowing that he wants to be with you regardless of whether you're a guy or not

Chuck Bass

Chuck would find it so amusing that you said that, the smug bastard that he is. He'd probably chuckle and reply with "Sorry, but I'm not that kind of girl" all sarcastic like (if you understand which episode/scene I'm referencing you win a free cookie)

Truth is, he does like guys, he just doesn't flaunt his guy hook-ups the same way he does it with his girl ones. Whether that's because of deep-seated shame or just him being an asshole is up to you

Definitely skirts around the topic and teases you a bunch just to see you get all frustrated with him before finally kissing you, then going right back to the teasing once he's done

I don't think he'd mind a hook-up, but you'd have to really worm your way into his heart to expect something more than that from him, like how he slept with Blair and unexpectedly ended up catching feelings for her after that

If by some miracle he did start to actually like you, you're certainly in for it. He'd be jealous no matter who he saw you hanging out with, whether that be girls or other guys

He tries to act all nonchalant and like he doesn't even care but it's pretty obvious to everyone that he does, and when he finally asks you out on an actual date that seals the deal for him. You're no longer ever allowed to have anyone touch you the same way he has ever again

Dan Humphrey

Dan would be pretty surprised, but it'd probably be more of a mix between "wait you're gay??" and "you like me of all people??" rather than just the first one

I feel he actually has kissed a few guys before you. Rufus and Alison don't strike me as the type of people to be overly judgmental or care about whether one of their kids is gay (and knowing them they probably experimented some themselves when they were younger)

After getting over his initial shock, he'd definitely be up for it, but only if you were sober enough to consent properly. If not, then he'd table the conversation for another time when you weren't under the influence of something

He wouldn't treat you any different after finding out you liked guys, though again he would question what you saw in him of all people (especially if you were from the Upper East Side)

Unlike some other people here, he wouldn't try to hide his relationship with you when it began to develop into something real or make excuses about why you're constantly hanging out all the time. He'd simply be upfront about it and say, "this is my boyfriend, and I don't care if you have a problem with it or not because we're happy and that's all that matters"

End notes: yeah I know the gif doesn't really match but eh whatever

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gorgeousgust · 10 months ago

Text

I HAVE NO HEART. (NI WEH SESH) -K.B

Pairings: (Kaz Brekker x heartrender!reader)

A/N: Hello beautiful people! This fiction is based off clearly the season two, episode six from the Shadow & Bone series. There are some exact quotes from the episode because for the plot of the storyline. As a reminder, I don’t own Y/N and other characters and all rights go to beautiful Leigh Bardugo… I just love the write fanfics! Anyways, this is the only way I would write touching scenes with Kaz. And I loved watching that episode, it was amazing. The way the actors played very well… And I thought why wouldn’t Y/N be in it? Hope you enjoy it! Have a nice reading!

Word Count: 4.540

Warnings: Violence, poison, and no hates to Zoya, I love her but in the story, it is a bit different.

“There is something in the air!” Tolya said it with a haze of a worry. As all of you looked at the ceiling, you saw a red powder spreading across the room. “This is how we die?” Jesper exclaimed anxiously.

Suddenly a strong cough filled your throat. Your lungs were filling with the poisonous powder, when you turned your head to your side, you saw Jesper as he blacked out and collapsed into the floor. As you backed away, still coughing like the others, you leaned on the ground and put your hands on your heart.

As Tolya and you shared a glance, both of you were stabilizing your heartbeats. You glanced to Inej as she passed out and a loud thump came out from Kaz, as you looked at him he fell on the floor harshly. You feared that this moment might be all of your death.

The Slat was quiet unusually. You scoot over from Nina’s side and sit down on the high chair. You were eating some breakfast, as you felt growling inside your empty stomach.

While you were eating, two person came inside to the Slat. As you looked at them, the man had a strong physique and wore off-shoulder leather coat. He looked mighty. As you turned to the girl he was with, she looked oddly familiar. Had dark brown eyes match with her dark brown hairs. Her expressions were cold and still. While the guy looked rather cheerful. He was a Shu also. Then as you examined the girl further you realized it was Zoya. Zoya Nazyalensky.

As they beelined to the Kaz’s office, you exchanged a look with Nina. “Why is Zoya doing in here?” She asked confused. “I have no idea.” You looked confused too, but you waited patiently for Kaz to come to the table you and Nina sat.

After several minutes, Kaz walked downstairs following with Zoya and that Shu guy. As they walked to the table you two were sitting, Kaz informed briefly why they were here. The Shu man, introduced himself as you learned his name was Tolya, he explained further about why they wanted your assistance on this plan.

As you listened patiently, Nina spat in disbelief. “The Neshyenyer? Sankta Neyar's blade?” Zoya looked at her reproachful. “So, you haven't forgotten what you were taught at the Little Palace.” She said teasingly. “Just your loyalty to Ravka.“ She turned to her glances to you too while she was talking with Nina.

You haven’t bothered to answer her as Nina jumped in. “Ravka? Or Kirigan? It didn't take him destroying a city for me to question my loyalty.“ She said a little louder.

As Jesper intervened to ask the payment, Tolya answered and Zoya explained further for Nina’s questions.

After Kaz finished the conversation with an agreement, you looked at Kaz briefly then turned your attention back to Zoya while she eyed you with a straight expression.

That was it, a new business, going to help the sun summoner to destroying the fold, in return got a paycheck of thousands of kruges. You went to your own room and packed a small bag for your tools. As Kaz secured your passports, you went to meet them outside the Slat.

It was going to be an extremely dangerous quest. A difficult one, you were feeling it.

Before all of this happened, you were a heartrender, learning to control your abilities and studying small science in Little Palace. As soon as you were studying and under commands of General Kirigan, you realized that this place is degenerated.

You were friends with Nina, back then. As you two were both heartrenders, she was like a big sister for you. She supported you through everything you dealt about the Little Palace.

One day, you decided to tell her your plans. You were going to escape the Palace, you relied on Nina so much that you were so sure about that she wasn’t going to turn you in, as you went to her, you realized she was also making her escape plan too.

You two escaped the palace but unfortunately you grew apart as you found yourself in Ketterdam your dock sailed in. As that time, you and Kaz’s paths crossed. He found who you were and what was your abilities, then he offered you a salaried position. Because you were useful. Also, you needed money so you agreed his offer and worked for him.

After everything happened and your way’s crossed again with Nina, you were more than happy to see a friend.

As all of you finally docked in Shu Han, you looked at the crowd. The place looked beautiful. The crowd wore nice and unique clothes, the bazaar looked lively and relaxed, you turned to your head to Tolya as he lowered onto his knees, there was a thin candle in his hand as he looked at the statue decored with flowers and fruits. He was speaking in Shu language as you watched him.

You were standing next to Kaz and Wylan. Watching the scene as Inej lowered to her knees next to him, praying to herself. While Zoya and Nina did the same. As they began to speak to each other, you gazed through the colored fibers. It was too noise-full and the crowd looked messy.

Then Tolya got up and walked to where you all stood. There were flutes playing through. “Just so you know, it's bad luck not to honor the dead during Suntsa Sar.” He said it as he was eating walnuts and turned his gaze to the statue. Kaz side eyed the man as he was standing and looked pissed. Jesper scoffed and looked at Tolya.

“If I believed in luck, I'd be in less debt.“ Jesper said and you turned your gaze to Tolya. Kaz turned his face to his side and looked at Tolya coldy. He then said, “And I’m more concerned with the living.” You smirked to yourself hearing Kaz’s words. Always has a remark, you thought to yourself.

After Kaz said the tea shop should be open by now, he reviewed the plan one more time. Inside of your mind, deeply, you wanted to take Nina’s role. Pretending to be Kaz’s wife, for a brief selfish moment you wanted to feel it.

He wasn’t sentimental, how could he? If you are living in the Barrel you can’t have those ‘weak sentiments’ Kaz said always. It was a cruel joke to you, because you loved that man.

Over the time as your acquaintanceship bloomed into a friendship, you caught feelings for the very man who deprived himself from it. Despite he was denying the little feelings he has, you heard his heart.

After you two become friends, it wasn’t confirmed by him but it was there, you understood it, you subconsciously let yourself hear his heartbeat. It was impossible to not hear it. Whenever you met his dark eyes, you felt the heartbeats of his paced faster.

Or whenever he was in his office, writing things on papers or reading some books and planning heists, listening his heartbeat calmed your heart too.

But there were ups and downs. Whenever someone mentioned Pekka Rollins’s name or the nightmares he was having, you were the only one who knew about it, you heard his heartbeat got extremely fast which was worried you so much.

You wanted to help him, at those moments when you were near to him, those anxious feelings eased after seconds. He knew it was your doing. He never confronted you about it but sometimes it really did help him. You two never talked about any of this but Kaz was in fact, grateful.

They say the eyes are the mirror of the heart, maybe Kaz hid his true views by training himself but his heart was never hiding himself to you.

But most of the time, he hated it. How you can able to hear his heartbeat, his pulse, it was giving him away to you, he wanted to keep the disguise. Because disguise is always a self portrait.

Nina was pretending to be his wife, Inej was on the roofs for following Ohval and you were left to stuck with Zoya.

After what happened in that tea shop, all of you sat into a place and talked about what happened. Kaz explained about how Ohval was the Disciple and Nina said how she was able to control her own heartbeat. Kaz explained further.

Then Kaz began to explain the plan. He glanced at Nina briefly. “While she's out of the house, Nina will tail her to make sure she stays out of the house.“ Then she looked at you for a moment. “The rest of us will grab the blade. “ He said.

Zoya intervened in quickly and looked at Kaz with an annoyed expression. “You don't seriously expect me to break into this woman's house.“ Jesper looked at her unbelievably then he joined the conversation. Uh, why do you think we're here?“ He said it confusedly.

Zoya looked at Jesper, “I'm a soldier, not a thief. Why else would I need you criminals?” She said it with an arrogance in her face visible.

You looked at her as you rolled your eyes. “Well, sorry to disappoint you Zoya but there is not much of a difference between them than you think.” You looked at her with coldness as Nina chuckled to ease the tension. “Says the girl who ran away from her country.” Zoya said as you were about to reply back to her, Zoya turned to Kaz. “I’ll go with Nina.”

Nina coughed while she was eating some walnuts. “Are you sure you don’t need me?” She said to Kaz. “I mean, Zoya can tail Ohval.” You watched Nina as you grinned. Kaz was done with the silly arguments you two had with Zoya. “Nina and Zoya will wait for Ohval at the apothecary. Follow her. If she starts heading home, buy us some time. Distract her.” With that Kaz put an end into that conversation, again.

Now it was the time for the plan. You and the others walked to the outside of Ohval’s house. The building looked very much traditional, as you were thinking like that, Tolya voiced your thought. You looked briefly at Kaz. You were wondering what he was thinking.

As Jesper approached to Wylan’s side, you heard a faint heartbeat. Tolya must’ve heard it too, he and you shared a glance. He said there was a faint heartbeat and you agreed.

When the doors opened you, Kaz, Inej, Tolya and Jesper entered inside whilst Wylan was standing outside for all of you. As you heard a click sound, you turned to your back and look at the door.

Inej and Tolya both tried to open the door with their hands after it was no use, they kicked the door and it was useless. You heard a groan from them. Then as Inej tried to stabbed the wallpaper but it was no use, it was impenetrable and then you looked at Kaz. “Kaz what do we do?” You whispered to him.

Kaz, as he clanged his cane into the door he looked at you then Jesper. “The frames are made of metal.” As he said it Jesper looked relieved for a moment. “They are Durast made.”

As you heard another click sound, “There is something in the air!” Tolya said it with a haze of a worry.

You tried, you tried too hard to stay awake. You were yelling Wylan’s name but it was no use, it felt like your voice sounded mere whisper. You looked at Tolya which he tried to also yell for Wylan.

Then as you turned your glance towards Kaz and saw him laying there unconsciously, your vision got blurred and the next thing you felt the dizziness and the pain in your head.

You found yourself back in the Crow Club. You looked around… it was empty. There were no heartbeats you could feel. A slight worry took you over as you hurriedly walked to Kaz’s office.

You opened it without knocking. When you entered the inside of his office, there was only a dim light, lightening his desk.

“Hello, Y/N.” You heard Kaz’s crooked voice. How could that be possible? You haven’t heard his heartbeat and you still couldn’t. “Kaz?” You looked at him as your eyebrows furrowed. He was wearing a white shirt, very unusual for him.. He would only wear black outfits. He looked too angelic to be true, as you drank his appearance.

His faint skin looked brighter as he wore white shirt, his hair disheveled and his gloves… As he approached to your side, he was slowly getting rid of his gloves. “What are you doing?” You whispered worriedly. You knew he had an aversion to touch and you felt anxious as he was taking his gloves off.

“Can I?” He was asking for your consent to touch you, as his hand raised to side of your cheek, you didn’t understand what was happening but before your mind could protest, the feelings inside of you thought different. “Yes.” You found yourself saying.

Kaz’s hand slowly caressed your cheek and you closed your eyes for a brief moment. It was so strange yet so familiar to you, feeling his touch, it was a feeling that you wanted to bottle and drink away.

Then you opened your eyes and looked at him. His gaze never left yours as you looked at him. “I… want you, Y/N.” As your bodies pressed together, you looked at him with tears forming in your eyes.

“Kaz…” You whispered softly. “I, I-“ You felt shattered as his nose touched with yours. You closed your eyes and felt your lips be touched by his. It blossomed flowers inside your chest as you felt the foreign feeling. It was new but something happened through the haze of love, you coughed.

You looked at him as your eyebrows crossed in a confused glance. “You are not Kaz.” You said as you looked at your environment. This place wasn’t his office anymore, suddenly you found yourself in Little Palace, in Kirigan’s room. “How’s my little heartrender doing?” Kirigan said it smoothly as he looked at you devilishly. “What is happening?” You sounded afraid.

He then approached to your side. “Did you miss me, Y/N?” He smirked. Then he grabbed your hand. “Let go of me!” You resisted but it was no use, he was strong and you became that girl. That little girl who was yanked away from their family and trapped in Kirigan’s arms. “You cannot escape from me, Y/N, you know it.”

You tried to yank your hand away from him. To use your heartrender abilities to get him down but it was no use. “Maybe, you want this huh?” He looked at you as feelings of betrayal crossed his eyes. Then he let go of you and pulled his hand in the air as Kaz appeared in the door. “I’m going to destroy him!” Kirigan said.

“No!” You yelled as the time you put your hands up and waved it in the air, Kirigan’s shadow cut already killed Kaz, you were late.

“Y/N!”

You heard a voice.

“Y/N! Come on, wake up!”

Inej was the first one to wake up from the nightmare of the poison, she could able to reach Wylan and as Wylan could explode a small hole in the wall, he gave Inej butterflies.

Inej, as she ate the butterfly as Wylan said it, she felt disgusted. Nearly she was going to throw up however after a few seconds, she felt better. “Wylan..” She whimpered. “We need four more.” She said it in pain.

Inej put the butterfly in Tolya’s mouth as she forcefully made him chew the butterfly. As Tolya woke up with a disgusting taste in his mouth, Inej went to Wylan’s side and took one more butterfly from him.

Then she gave it to Tolya. “Tolya, Jesper. Put it in his mouth.” As Inej said it, she went away and took one more butterfly from Wylan’s hand.

She hurriedly scoot over the Y/N’s side and opened her mouth with her hand. “Come on, Y/N, eat.” As she forcefully tried to made her eat the butterfly, “Y/N, Come on, wake up!” Inej yelled and tears formed in her eyes, after several seconds, you woke up and met Inej’s face. “Inej?” You looked at her confused and you turned your gaze to the room.

You weren’t there inside the Little Palace, it was the poison. Then Inej got up from your side and took the last butterfly and approached to the Kaz’s side, as your eyes followed Inej, she forcefully tried to put the butterfly into Kaz’s mouth, but it was no use.

Something was keeping him from there and he was too tense to eat the butterfly. You looked at Kaz as tears brimmed in your eyes, you closed your eyes for a second as you remembered the cut, you opened and rushed to Inej. “Let me try,” You said desperately.

When Inej gave you the butterfly, you looked at Kaz’s closed eyes. “Don’t leave me, please.” You whispered to yourself. You opened Kaz’s mouth and tried to make him eat the butterfly, it was hard and he was struggling to eat it. “Kaz, Come on!” Your voice was dangerously loud as a tears dropped from your eyes. “I’m not gonna lose you, not today!”

You yelled to him as you tried to make him eat the butterfly.

“Who are you without your vengeance?” Jordie screamed at Kaz as his face looked too pale and there were inflammation marks all over Jordie’s face. “What is the worth of life if you have no one left to fight for?” Jordie said it with sadness, after completing his sentence the anger inside of him came back and his eyes light up with fire.

He drowned Kaz into the water again and Kaz’s felt the utter pain inside his body all over again. The feeling of his lungs feeling with water, utterly panicked him.

Then he heard a voice. It was not Jordie’s. Muffled but not his. It was a girl voice. “Kaz, come on!” She yelled, then as the hands pulled him back, he looked at the very face of Y/N.

The way her eyes looked too worried for him, the way her touch calmed his heart and as the way she pulled him, he looked so relieved to see her.

“Kaz, I’m so sorry,” She said as Kaz’s eyes opened. For a moment, Kaz didn’t feel Y/N’s touch on his face as his eyes met with hers, a sincere relief could be seen by anyone.

But Kaz remembered. The feeling of wet dead bodies flashed into his mind and suddenly he struggled under Y/N’s touch, Y/N hurriedly backed away from him and closed her eyes.

“Is anyone alive?” You heard Wylan’s worried voice. After Tolya and Inej briefly talked, you got up and avoided to look at Kaz. His back was turned from all of you. You got up slowly and looked at Inej. “Did anyone else get lulled into a comforting sense of joy?” Jesper said as his voice cracked, his eyes got teary.

“I didn’t see anything.” Kaz said it coldly as you looked at him. He breathed heavily then Inej briefly glanced at him. “Neither did I.” You didn’t comment on what you saw, you just dodged the question.

“Alright, what’s the plan?” Tolya said.

After Kaz came up with a plan, Ohval walked in and all of you laid down and pretend to be unconscious. She opened the door and looked at all of you. Inej, was on the ceiling and she landed silently. While she was about to pull her knife, Ohval kicked her to the backyard.

Inej got up and pulled her knives. She threw them into Ohval but as Ohval put her hand up, she pushed the knives to the ground. Inej looked at Ohval with a terrified look.

Then all of you got up from the ground. Tolya, Jesper and you hurriedly ran to the backyard as Kaz went inside of the house. Inej threw several knives into Ohval but she was too quick to dodge Inej’s knives.

As Tolya, you and Jesper went to Inej’s side, Jesper and Tolya raised his gun to Ohval, you put your hands up waiting.

Ohval threw Tolya’s gun only a movement of her hand, then she looked at Jesper and warped Jesper’s guns.

When you saw what happened, you curled your hands and showed it to Ohval. Trying to slower her heartbeat into a dangerous rhythm. Tolya also raised his hands to join you but Ohval raised her hands and pulled all the knives in Inej’s waistcoat. She turned the weapons into your way.

It was too quick.

Tolya grunts, all of you dodged the knives. “Seriously offside.” Jesper said as he was very pissed about Ohval’s movements. She threw her hair accessory to Jesper’s neck as she tried to chock him with it. Tolya approached to Ohval’s side and he pulled a punch towards her but she defended herself too quickly. She punched Tolya’s arm while Inej also did a counter on Ohval. Ohval pulled away from Inej’s fist and turned to both of them.

As both Tolya and Inej tried to takedown Ohval, Jesper was still trying to not choke. You raised your hands quickly and curled it to target Ohval. As you were trying to air out of her lungs, she quickly punched both of them to the ground and raised her hands to you.

The next minute you knew, you were choking from loss of air, inside of your lungs. Your vision got blurry, Tolya and Inej looked at you briefly then they attacked Ohval again. As you felt ease, you breathe again. It was deep and, you were hurting.

But she was too strong. She kicked Tolya down and Inej threw her kick into hers but Ohval took her leg and threw her to the wall. You got up and tried to punch Ohval but she quickly dodged the punch and kicked you to the ground.

Inej took her knife as Ohval took one of hers. She tried to stab Inej but, Inej was able to dodge them. As she fought back to Ohval, it was no use. Ohval took her down and tried to stab the knife into Inej’s chest. She was resisting but she couldn’t hold it forever.

Tolya got up slowly as he begged for Inej’s life.

Then suddenly there was an explosion.

Zoya, Wylan and Nina came in just in time. Zoya curled her hands up and hit it Ohval with it. Ohval fell on the ground as all of you got up and and looked at Ohval.

You and Nina were giving Ohval a hard time. You two were trying to stop her heartbeat. But she was powerful, as she moved her hands to the side, all of you chocked.

Zoya gasped and all of you fell down with a movement of Ohval. “This is taking longer than I’d like… Perhaps, we end it.” Ohval said with a harshness in her voice. As she curled her hands, you felt your heart quickened. Your organs were hurting and your vision got blurry. You can only feel the pain and fear. You tried to resist it but she was too powerful.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?” Ohval said with a smirk. “The amount of trace metal there is in the body. Iron, for instance in the blood.”

As she was killing all of you, the sound of an old man came into the backyard. Ohval put her hands down as she released all of you.

You slowly got up from the ground, you saw Kaz. You felt shocked as you heard from Kaz that the Disciple was the man, not her.

Kaz smirked as he looked at Ohval. When the man in chair revealed he stole the Neshyenyer for her and that it belonged to her in the first place, Jesper stepped in. “I’m sorry did you say she made it?” he said.

As the older man got off from the chair and approached to her, he was telling about how she made it. Then Tolya smiled and completed his words.

He chuckled softly. “And it was named Neshyenyer, ‘Relentless.’” He then fell into his knees. “We are honored to be in your presence, Sankta Neyar.” He said as all of you, expect Kaz, fell into your knees for her. “Sankta Neyar?” Inej said surprisingly.

After Jesper took the blade from Sankta Neyar’s house, all of you walked off from her house. It was early hours of morning as the sun appeared in the sky, you took a fresh air into your lungs.

As Jesper was with Wylan, he was kissing him. While Nina, Zoya and Tolya walked away from the house. You, Inej and Kaz walked away too. As you squeezed gently Inej’s arm, Kaz looked at both of you.

Inej then turned her head to Kaz. She smiled softly and looked at you. “I’m gonna check in Jesper.” She squeezed your hand and walked away from the two of you.

You and Kaz walked silently as Inej left your side. After a minute of silence, Kaz broke it. “You never told, what you saw.” You looked at him in a shocked expression. You didn’t expect him to remember it.

“You didn’t see anything, maybe I didn’t see too.” You answered it as you tried to brush it off. But then Kaz stopped in his tracks and turned his body to you. “Maybe I did see something, through the haze of poison.” He admitted as when you hear his heartbeat, it got quicken. You looked at him deeply.

“There are those who drown us, and those who pull us out.” He looked at you deeply as he said these words. You felt blush crept into your cheeks as you watched him. For a brief moment you closed your eyes. “Maybe I did see something too.” You revealed weakly.

He looked at you with a visible concern in his face. “What did your toxin trip reveal to you?” He said it curiously. You then opened your eyes and felt tears in your eyes. Kaz’s eyebrows furrowed and you smiled softly. “My reason to live and my biggest nightmare. All in the same place.”

The reason you live because of Kaz.

The biggest nightmare was Kaz’s death.

Kaz looked at you, for a brief moment his eyes soften because of the tears in your eyes. “But it doesn’t matter, now, we are alive.” You said softly and turned your body and looked at the sky. Kaz, watched your face as you looked at the sky.

He saw living saints but none of them mattered to him. The only saint he believed in was standing next to him. The only one to be there for him through his nightmares and everything.

He would become a better man for her. He would be a better man, for her.

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