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lightsoutletsgo · 6 months

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the one where ollie lives alone (cl.16 x bearman!reader)

pairing: mainly ollie bearman x oldersister!reader for this part but there's a plenty of charles leclerc x bearman!reader here and there!

word count: 4.2k

warnings: a whole lot of stupidity mentions of death, seemingly angsty in some parts (you'll see what I mean) this might be one of my favourite parts I've written for any series ever 😭 it's so dumb but so funny (according to the people who proofread for me!) as always let me know what you think! your comments are always appreciated. happy reading! mimi 🤍

taglist: @arieslost @iamapersonwholikesunicorns

“Jesus Y/N, what the hell is in here?” Ollie wheezed as he staggered past you, arms straining under the weight of the box he was carrying. You rolled your eyes, “You’re so dramatic Ols, it’s literally just makeup.”

“Is that the last box ma belle?” You turned and saw Charles in the doorway, staring at you fondly. “Mhmm! Everything else is in the van.” You held your arms out to him and he crossed the room, pulling you in by your waist and kissing you softly, “I can’t believe you’re finally coming home with me…” You smiled, looping your arms round his neck, “Me either,” He booped your nose with his own, a loud cough making the two of you jump apart as Ollie leaned against the doorframe, one eyebrow raised, “Are you two done being gross?” “Shut up dummy.” You punched his arm as you walked past him towards the front door. You inhaled deeply, it felt strange but exciting to be moving out and into Charles’ apartment.

Behind you, Charles watched Ollie stare at you, looking like he wanted to say something. He quietly padded up behind the younger driver and nudged his arm, “Are you going to miss her?” Ollie was startled but quickly scoffed, “Hmm? No way!” Charles gave him a pointed look, “I get the whole place to myself! I can’t wait!” Charles gave him a smile and punched his arm gently, “We’re only ten minutes away if you need us.” Ollie laughed, “Thanks but I can manage!”

♯ incident 1 - the dishwasher ⊹.∿ As it turned out, Ollie could in fact, not manage. Mere hours after you’d left him, you found yourself sprinting back up the stairs, cursing the old apartment building for still not having an elevator. You reached the floor of your old apartment and checked the door to see if it was open, turning the handle and entering you called out, “Ollie? I got your text!” You poked your head into each room as you went, searching for him, “What’s the emer…gen…cy…” You trailed off as you reached the kitchen, Ollie staring up at you with wide eyes, crouching next to the dishwasher that was… pouring out soapy bubbles? “Ollie!” “I think I made a mistake.” He said dryly, suspiciously poking some of the bubbly foam next to his shoulder, “Yeah, no shit Sherlock.” You said sarcastically, thinking of a solution, “You put dish soap in didn’t you?” He nodded sheepishly, “There were no dishwasher tablets left so I just… thought on my feet?” You facepalmed and sighed, “Okay well, we need to- DON’T OPEN IT!”

You looked on in horror as Ollie pulled open the door and a torrent of soapy warm foam spilled out and all over the kitchen floor, creeping further into the centre of the room, was it… growing? You looked over at your brother to see him staring back at you with comically wide eyes. “So that’s why we don’t do that.” You said, face deadpan. Ollie giggled nervously, “Oops?” A snort from behind you had you turning round to see Charles filming the whole thing, “Oh some help you are babe.” Charles coughed to cover up his laughter as he put his phone away and entered the foamy bubbly monstrosity that was now the kitchen. “Somewhere under here there’s a bucket and mop.” “Ollie?” “Yeah?” “You’re going in.”

♯ incident 2 - french toast ⊹.∿ A few days had passed since the dishwasher incident and you dozed in Charles’ arms, enjoying the lazy Sunday morning sun slipping through the bedroom curtains. The previous night’s activities had left you a little worn out and with no plans for the day, you had wordlessly agreed that a cosy day in bed was just what you needed. A shrill sound pierced the air and jolted both you and Charles awake. You scrambled to find your phone, as Charles groaned, hands rubbing his face as your hand came up to feel how quickly your heart was pounding. You glanced at the screen as your hand met your phone and you scowled, Charles rubbing your back and doing his best not to laugh as he saw who was calling you, “Ollie Bearman, you better have a damn good reason for calling me this early on a Sunday morning.” There was a pause, “It’s eleven o’clock?-” “That’s not the point!” You sighed, “What do you need?” “Well, you see… I have a question.” “Go ahead,” “So I was making french toast right? And I followed the recipe exactly as you wrote it out! Right amount of eggs, milk and sugar.” “So what’s the issue?” Ollie sighed, “It won’t cook but it smells a bit smokey…” You pinched the bridge of your nose, “Then turn it down?” “I don’t know how!” “Turn the hob dial down dummy!” Ollie went silent for a second, “Did you say hob dial?” Alarm bells started ringing in your head, “Why would I adjust the hob when I’m using the toaster.” You froze for a moment before pulling your phone away from your ear and putting it on speaker, unable to believe what you were hearing, “I’m sorry, what did you just say?” Charles gave you a concerned look, sitting even closer to you and wrapping one arm around you while the other rubbed your knee comfortingly

“I said, I’m using the toaster.” You stared at your phone, mouth slightly agape, “You’re making french toast in the toaster?” “Correct.” Charles snorted and choked back a huge guffaw of laughter as the hand he’d placed on your knee came up to cover his mouth, his face turning pink with how hard he was laughing, “Ollie! French toast isn’t made in the toaster!” “It’s called french toast!” You pressed the video button and changed the call to facetime. Your brother stared back at you, looking rather dishevelled, “That’s a rather deceiving name if you ask me!” You groaned, facepalming, “You make it in a frying pan” Charles was no help next to you as he wheezed silently, grabbing his own phone to record the conversation for later use and hilarity. “Well how was I supposed to know that?!” Ollie was indignant as he pleaded with you through the screen, “OLLIE! You’ve watched me make it hundreds of times!” He pouted through the screen letting out a little ‘hmmph’ “Well if you hadn’t abandoned me, we wouldn’t have this issue would we!” You rolled your eyes, “For the last time, I did not abandon you! I live a 10 minute walk away!”

You sighed before laughing at your brother lovingly, “Alright then silly, head over for lunch and I’ll show you how to make french toast the proper way.” Charles snorted once more and you both burst into giggles as your brother scowled at you, “Stop laughing at me!” Ollie whined, you caught your breath and wiped your eyes, heart warm at the silly moment you knew would turn into a fond memory, “Uhhhh Y/N?” You looked back at the screen to where Ollie was turning the camera round to show you a sparking, smoking toaster, “I don’t think it should be doing that…” You cursed as Charles scrambled out of bed, pulling mismatching socks on as you grabbed a hoodie, “Change of plans Ols, we’re on our way!”

♯ incident 3 - Gerald ⊹.∿ Things were peaceful for a couple of days after the french toast debacle - something you were more than thankful for, wrapped up in your perfect little bubble with Charles. Of course you continued to text Ollie, but there had been no major crisis that required your immediate attention. Until there was.

It had been one of those long lazy days spent at home, until Charles had announced he was taking you to dinner and told you to get all dressed up. You’d slipped on one of his favourite numbers and he’d shown his appreciation more than once, sliding his hands round your hips and squeezing while you waited to be seated, pulling your chair out for you to sit down and sliding his hands down your arms once you were seated, moving his chair round the table to sit closer to you so he could place a slow smooch against your neck. You hummed happily as he fed you a mouthful of his dish, “I knew you’d like it!” You smiled at him, “I like most things you suggest…” He bit his lip as his eyes darkened slightly, “Is that so?” You nodded, eyelashes fluttering as your lids close, “What if I suggested something a little… more intimate?” You giggled, picking up your wine glass to take a sip and hide your face, too shy to keep the eye contact, “I wouldn’t mi-” Your phone blaring cut you off and you gasped, rushing to put your glass down as other customers in the restaurant glared at you, Charles chuckling quietly next to you, his hand resting on your thigh and rubbing soothingly.

“Ollie I swear to go-” “He’s dead.” You heard your little brother sniffle and adrenaline kicked in, “Ollie, who’s dead?” You kept your voice as calm and quiet as possible, you heard him sniffle once more before a sob left his mouth. That was all you needed to hear before you were grabbing your clutch and nodding towards the door. Charles tilted his head and you mouthed your brother’s name. He nodded understandingly and rushed to pay the bill before you were both scurrying back to his car. As soon as you were buckled in you put your phone on speaker, “Ollie… Honey… what happened?” Charles also looked panicked as he heard Ollie’s choked sob, “He was fine and then he just… wasn’t.” “Who Ollie, who’s not fine?” You pleaded, “Ge-” You cursed as the call cut out, “It’s okay ma belle, his phone probably just died, we’re almost there okay?” You nodded, hands nervously twisting and wringing together in your lap. Charles eyes darted to your hands for a second before looking back at the road, one hand leaving the steering wheel to gently hold your hand in his. You looked at him and squeezed, a wordless thank you.

As soon as Charles pulled up, you were racing out of the car, slipping your heels off and carrying them in your hand as you sprinted barefoot up the stairs of the apartment building. You reached the door and rang the bell, knocked, called his name, anything you could think of to attract his attention. The door opened slowly and it wasn’t Ollie that appeared but Arthuer Leclerc, looking ever so sombre, “Arthur?” Your eyes were panicked as you looked him over for any injuries or obvious isses. He simply held his hand out to indicate to you to enter and you slowly stepped through the door, “Where’s Ollie?” Arthur nodded, head down towards the ground and the panic rose in your chest again, “He’s in the living room, saying his goodbyes.” “Goodbyes to who?” You paced down the hallway and burst into the living room, your jaw dropping at the sight you saw.

Ollie stood in front of the coffee table that was lit with candles, dressed in a suit and your brain suddenly registered that Arthur had been dressed the same way. You were even more concerned when you saw Arthur’s girlfriend fully dressed in black, standing next to Ollie with a comforting hand on his shoulder. You approached him slowly, arms opening and your expression softening as he turned to you with a red splotchy nose and red-rimmed eyes, he fell into your arms and you patted his back, gently shushing him, “What happened, Ols?” “He’s gone.” Ollie croaked out, “Who’s gone honey?” Your voice was gentle as you stroked his hair, the same way you did when he was younger and couldn’t sleep, “Gerald.” “Oh.” You said softly, “Was he a friend?” Ollie nodded and you held back a wince as he rubbed his snotty nose onto your shoulder, knowing he needed you, “He was such a good friend.” You led him over to the couch and sat down, his head falling onto your shoulder as you continued to play with his hair.

You were aware of Charles appearing in the doorway and you gave him a brief smile, before turning your attention back to Ollie, “Would I know this friend?” Ollie nodded, his sobs quieting to sniffles, “You were his friend before I was.” Your stomach dropped as you frantically thought of who Ollie could possibly be referring to, feeling guilty that your mind was blank, “The funeral was lovely.” Arthur’s girlfriend nodded solemnly, a hand over her heart as the other hand came up to dab her eyes with a tissue, “The funeral has already happened?” You were confused as Arthur nodded, “Just before you got here.” Your eyes shot to Charles who was just as concerned and confused as you, “Wait, the funeral was here?” Ollie scoffed, “Well where else would it have been?” “Wait Ollie,” You held his face in front of yours, “Why was the funeral in your apartment?” “He wanted to be remembered in the place he was most happy…” Ollie sighed wistfully, his head turning to look at the coffee table once more.

You squinted, focusing on a shape amidst the flickering candles and once more your mouth gaped as you stood up and stormed over to the other side of the room. “Ollie. Bearman.” You gritted your teeth, “Don’t tell me that this was all about a fucking cactus?” “Succulent!” Ollie snapped at you, wiping away a tear from under his eye, “He was a succulent,” He whispered as he looked down at the floor. Charles broke first, snorting in the doorway and you watched as he did his best to choke down his laughter, coughing and shaking his head, you watched as he excused himself from the room for a moment to force a solemn expression back onto his face. He returned but you could see the laughter threatening to bubble over as he took in the sight before him. Ollie, his younger brother and his younger brother’s girlfriend all dressed in black and in mourning for a succulent that sat sadly on the coffee table and looked like it had been watered a little too much.

“I’m glad you got here,” Arthur spoke up suddenly, “Oh goodie, do tell me why.” Your tone was sarcastic. “We’re about to do the funeral exit.” Charles was holding in his laughter so much that he now had tears streaming down his face and Arthur patted his back with a ‘there, there’ and handed him a tissue. “Arthur’s girlfriend has agreed to sing the exit song and we’re so thankful she has.” “Who is we Ollie?” You brow furrowed as you looked around the living room, “I-I…” You sighed. “Go ahead.” You all stood still, heads to the floor as Arthur’s girlfriend launched into a rendition of ‘Memory’ from Cats, “Miiiiiiidniiiiiight, not a sound from the paaaaavemeeeent.” Charles quietly crossed the room to stand next to you, nudging you gently with his shoulder, “Interesting date night hmm?” You growled, “Don’t you dare encourage him.” Ollie approached you, “Do you want to say your final goodbyes?” “Ollie, why would I care about a succulent?” He gasped, “It’s Gerald!” “Yes Ollie so you said, but why would I care that it’s name is Gerald?” Ollie shook his head, “Don’t even recognise your own friend…” Arthur tutted and even his girlfriend gave you a disapproving look as she continued wailing in the background, you mentally made a note to apologise to the neighbours the next time you were here during normal sociable hours.

You rolled your eyes at your younger brother and stepped forward to ‘pay your respects’ to the succulent. Your eyes narrowed, “Oliver. James. Bearman. That’s MY fucking succulent!” “It was nice of you to wear black.” He continued, nodding towards your dress and Charles blazer and pants, ignoring your exclamation. “We were on a date!” You screeched, Charles once again powerless to help in any way, instead just collapsing with laughter. You growled as you lunged for your brother, “Ollie, I swear there will be a funeral tonight.” You hissed, “Yours!”

♯ incident 4 - spiderman ⊹.∿ After everyone had said their goodbyes to Gerald, he had been unceremoniously dumped into the rubbish bin and that had been the end of it. Ollie had promised to buy you a new succulent and had learned that they did not, in fact, require watering every day, and you now forever had ‘Memory’ stuck in your head. Once more, peace had been restored but you doubted it would last much longer.

Your theory was proved correct when a few days later, your phone rang. An unknown number. You ignored it at first, all too aware of strange reporters and crazy fans who would do anything to get closer to Charles. You simply went back to reading your book, until your phone rang again. It was an unknown number still and you grumbled, rolling your eyes and answering quite snappily, “Yes? Hello?” The voice on the other end of the line seemed almost taken aback, “Umm excuse me is this Y/N Bearman?” You sighed, “Yes it is, no I won’t give you a quote and yes Charles is great in bed, goodbye!-” “No wait please! I’m from downstairs! You live in 10B yes?” You stopped as your finger hovered over the end call button and brought the phone back up to your ear, “Uhhhh I used to, yes, can I ask why?” “Oh, well there’s a man trying to climb onto your balcony and I was concerned that’s all.” Your stomach flipped, your mind rushing to thoughts of someone breaking in when your little brother was home alone, “I’ll come over now! My younger brother still lives there.” You raced to grab your keys and jumped into your car, deciding to get there as soon as possible rather than walk. Who was stupid enough to break in in broad daylight? You briefly considered calling the police but you were sure the idiot would be gone by the time you got there. Your car pulled up and you craned your neck to look up at the balcony of your old apartment. Your eyes widened and you gasped as you spotted that there was indeed a man hanging off of your balcony, “Holy shit,” You mumbled, scrabbling to open the door and race towards the apartment complex. The closer you got you squinted as you realised the hoodie looked ever so familiar. “Ollie?!” You yelled up and shrieked as your brother looked down at you, giggling nervously as his feet kicked back and forth as he desperately searched for a footing, “What the fuck are you doing?” “Uhhh I can explain!” He yelled back to you, “H-hold on, I’m on my way up!” You hurried up the stairs, once more cursing the lack of elevator as you finally reached your floor, unlocking the door and rushing through the apartment to french doors out onto the balcony.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” You screeched, leaning over the balcony and diving to grab him and pull him up, “Ollie that’s so fucking dangerous!” “Look!” You heard a kid shout from the street below, “It’s Spiderman!” You scoffed and rolled your eyes, "He wishes!" You paused for a moment to yell back, before resuming hauling your brother over the apartment balcony. “How did you even get up here? Why are you up here?” Ollie chuckled, panting slightly as he finally threw one leg over the ledge, “Funny story actually…” You raised an eyebrow, “Well please share,” “I forgot my key…” “I-” In your shock you almost let go of him and his scream attracted the attention of yet more passers by below, laughing and pointing at the odd sight they were witnessing. You smiled down awkwardly before turning back to Ollie once more, “Why didn’t you call me?” Ollie whined as you began to tell him off, “Because I didn’t want you to find out…” “Oh so this was a better idea- Ah!” You squeaked as Ollie tumbled over the ledge and onto the balcony. Landing on your stomach in a tangle of limbs, “Your foot is up my butt!” “Yeah well it wouldn’t be if you hadn’t been being stupid! Anyway, get your elbow out of my eye!” “Oh I’m sorry, I was making sure I wasn’t about to fall to my death!” You shoved Ollie off of you and led there on your back, panting, Ollie much the same,

“For the record, you are the shittiest spiderman there is.” “Thanks, that’s really boosting my confidence.” “Glad I could help.”

♯ the resolution ⊹.∿ “We need more protection.” You announced loudly, stepping into the kitchen “Excuse me?!” Charles choked on his protein shake, cheeks turning pink and you heard Max snort on the phone, “God, no! You pervs… I meant like, we need protection from Ollie and his dumbass incidents.” Max cackled, “Charles has sent me the videos, I was dying at the dishwasher incident.” You groaned, crossing the room to stand next to Charles who sat at the breakfast bar. He grinned as you rolled your eyes at Max who you could now see was on facetime. “Yeah, well I’m turning grey way sooner than I should!” You joked. You chatted with Max a little longer before Charles signed off with the promise of joining him to game later.

You sighed, leaning against Charles’ side, “What’s wrong ma belle?” You took another breath and paused, “I’m just… worried about Ollie…” Charles put his arm around you and rubbed your back soothingly, “What has you so worried mon amour?” His expression was warm and you knew he wasn’t angry with you, rather genuinely curious, “I just feel like… maybe he isn’t ready to live on his own yet?” Charles nodded at you and you took that as a signal to continue, “I mean, he’s always had me there to help him and I know someday he’s gonna have to get used to me not being there but I just feel like right now…” You trailed off with a sigh, “He still needs you.” Charles finished and you gave him a grateful smile and nodded. “But, I don’t wanna leave you. I love living with you and having you around and I love just... living life with you. Am I selfish for not wanting to give that up?” You bit your lip, moving away from Charles to pace the kitchen floor. Charles shook his head with a fond smile,

“Ma belle… You’re not selfish for wanting to do something for yourself and I’m proud of you for wanting to pursue that, especially since it’s me you want,” he slid his arms around you as you stepped next to him and dragged you backwards to him, making you giggle, “but I also know that you want to be there for family and I can understand that, you guys are close, the same way that me and Thur are, probably even closer.” You hummed, leaning back against him, “Thank you for being so understanding.” You sighed, “Now I just need to work out how to fix it…” Charles smiled and turned you round in his arms, nudging your nose with his, “Well… we have a spare room?”

Which is how you found yourself hauling boxes upstairs a week later, “Jesus Ollie, what the hell is in here?” You wheezed out and Ollie simply smiled at you, patting you on the head as he walked past you, arms empty, “You’re so dramatic Y/N, it’s literally just a few bits.” You poked your tongue out at him as he mimicked your words from just a couple of months ago. “Is that it mate?” Charles head appeared from behind the apartment door and Ollie nodded, as you finally conquered the stairs and planted the box down on the hallway floor. “Now let’s go over the rules one more time Ols.” He sighed, “Fine…” “Rule one?” You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow, “No dish soap in the dishwasher…” He grumbled, Charles chuckled, “Rule two?” “No cooking without supervision.” Ollie recited as you nodded, “Don’t worry, that rule applies to Charles too.” “Huh?!” “Shush baby, rule three?” You turned back to Ollie, “No watering the succulents unless instructed, no matter how sorry I feel for them.” You nodded, “I am not having a repeat of Gerald and the… funeral.” You shuddered, as Charles snorted before asking, “Rule four?” “Always call one of you two if I forget my keys…” “And?” You raised an eyebrow, “No climbing balconies under any circumstances.” You clapped your hands together and smiled, “Good! Well I can’t think of anything else, can you?”

You turned to Charles who shook his head and Ollie who just shrugged, “In that case, let’s go! Pizza for dinner sound good?” The three of you walked into the apartment and the door to the hallway swung shut, your arguments about pizza toppings muffled through the door, but the happiness and love you felt for each other not dulled in the slightest.

#mimi.writes #bear hugs series ˚ʚ🧸ɞ˚#f1 fic #f1 series #f1 fluff #f1 crack #ollie bearman x reader #ollie bearman x you #ollie bearman fluff #ollie bearman fic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #f1 oneshot #f1 fanfic

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simplyvyn · 1 month

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── .✦ little things.

Sypnosis: little affection that you or your boyfriend between silent moments.

multicharacter drabble; rin, sae, nagi, reo, kaiser, ness

ITOSHI RIN

This goes both ways, you kiss him in the forehead. He expects you to kiss his forehead. Why? Usually or always, this man is always steamed up angry at some point. So when you two rest, you just kiss his forehead, as a sign of safety or protection of him being in your arms. Why does he like it? It is just lips touching his forehead, even he doesn't know why. He just finds it very comforting and reassuring. Sure it looks weak but hes asleep anyway, hes unconscious. Not really, he's just pretending. He won't sleep till you give him the kiss on the forehead. This happens anywhere anyway, just private. But to him the ones you give when you two are about to sleep are the most special ones.

ITOSHI SAE

When you two sleep together (very rare btw! Jk.) You can't help but wrap your arms around his arm. At least one of them, your arms has to be around his. And it can go anywhere! Let it be cuddling, watching a movie, walking. And Sae notices! You don't. You got so used to doing it, you don't notice it leaves an effect on Sae. To him, It shows, one; you like being close to him, two; you feel protection near him, three; you find him comforting which is all correct!.. if you knew. But, oh well. Its a win-win for the both of you anyways.

NAGI SEISHIRO

Okay, let's get one thing straight. Nagi is your personal heater. He's just so warm. So sometimes after going home from a crazy day, late at night and Nagi is still playing video games to wait for you. You drop your bags, take of your shoes, and as you walk up to him, he already knew what your gonna do, he opens up, letting you sit on his lap as you wrap your arms around his neck. You snuggle at the crook of his neck as he finishes his last round in his match for the game. So soonly enough, Nagi Seishiro can go to bed with your arms wrapped around him. May it be his neck, waist, or arms. Nagi doesn't mind you doing it and you know that.

REO MIKAGE

Now Reo is the other way around. He loves wrapping his arms around you, just practically being close to your warmth. As if your body suits his really well like a puzzle piece. So sometimes after a very long... talk.. with his father, he goes to you, seeing you prepare food and wrap his arms around your waist. Snuggling in the nape of your neck and slowly putting kisses at the back of your neck. He knows you like it anyways. Just from the tip of your ears turning pink is understandable. Don't worry! Reo knows his boundaries anyway. Just not leaving you though.

MICHAEL KAISER

Between you and this big-ego'd man, he likes touching you but he likely expects you to do it more than he does. So from you, you like kissing his tattoo on his arms. May it be from his hand or all the way over to his arm to his neck. To him, it shows that you appreciate of his achievement. And just as i mentioned about Kaiser also likes to touch you, he actually likes to tuck your hair behind your ear. Its a small act compared to the other but its just.. breathtaking to him. Being able to remove those hair covering your eyes to seee your beauty because once he does he analyzes your face. Then after, if you get lucky, maybe you'll notice the pink in his cheeks.

ALEXIS NESS

Let's be real here, this man likes to do anything with or to you. But if he has to pick a favorite from the silent moments with you then maybe brushing your hair. Sometimes when you two have dates and you two are still preparing, you ask him to brush your hair. And his reaction is just the cutest! Going all giddy and excited to brush your hair. You like it anyways. He was gentle. And if there were tangles he makes sure to brush your hair slowly to find the tangles and untangle it with his own hands. After that he kisses your head and say its done. Bonus points if you kiss him on the cheek as a thanks. He might actually give you a whole salon.

#blue lock #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #bluelock x reader #bllk x you #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro #reo mikage x reader #reo mikage #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae #alexis ness x reader #alexis ness #michael kaiser x reader #michael kaiser #blue lock imagines

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natailiatulls07 · 4 days

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New wag in the paddock

Summary - Being the newest wag in the paddock can be quite daunting but with the right people around you, it's all okay

Warning - None <3

A/n - Slowly easing back into writing?? We'll see lol

Walking into the paddock with beyond nerve racking, with photographers just inside of the entrance and fans just outside of the entrance - I had no where to hide or breathe.

Luckily walking alongside me with Rebecca Donaldson, Carlos' partner. Because of our partners friendship, we were close friends. She had become someone who'd help me and become like a sister to me in the paddock and even beyond.

This morning particularly she had come over to mine and Landos suite to help me get ready for my first paddock day just after him and Carlos had left. Helping with picking out a gorgeous dress, helping with my makeup and also my hair. Like my own fairy godmother in a way.

'Wow there's a lot of people here...' I whisper in her direction, my eyes took in the busyness of a Sunday morning race day paddock. Next to me, I feel her laugh - She's used to this.

With a soft nod and a slip of an arm round my back, Rebecca is quick to reply. 'Yep it's a race day in Miami, you'll get used to it...' I feel her gently pushing me along, prompiting me not to run back out and go back to the safety of the hotel.

It wasn't long before she dropped me off at the McLaren hospitality. Wishing me good luck with a hug and a warm smile before I stand pathically watching her leave me to defend for myself - Almost like a child would whilst being dropped off for their first day of school. In a sense, it was exactly that; I had been dropped off and know expected to make friends until someone I knew would come and safe me.

I breathe in, turn on my heel and walk quietly into the McLaren hospitality. Inside it's modern and high tech, obviously very well thought out. There are multiple seating areas, some small groups accompanying a couple. I can smell fresh coffee as I walk over to a small sofa, sitting there anxiously.

Opening my phone, I can already see multiple notification from various social platforms. I hazard a guess that they are mostly all gossip sites tagging me in their posts.

But one notification stands out to me.

It's on instagram, informing me that I've been added to a groupchat. More specifically a groupchat for the f1 wags. My heart warms at their consideration and kindness, so this is what it feels like to be in a big friendship group of girls.

Soon a few messages start to load into the chat;

lilymhe - Heyyy Y/n! Welcome to the group, this is a safe space for you always xx

francisca.cgomes - Yeah all the girls are in this group so we all gossip, vent and help out in here! Girls support girls obv <3

carmenmmundt - Hi sweetheart!

kellypiquet - Literally if you need anything, send a quick message here and we'll help always x

alexandrasaintmleux - Babes I just saw the photos, you look STUNNING!!! <333

I don't even the big smile that forms on my lips, the feeling of acceptance heavy on my mind. Accidently I don't notice the person in front of me until I hear a soft cough. Looking up I recogise Lando trainer, Jon, stood waiting patiently with a small smile. I gasp at my oblivion. 'Oh my gosh, I'm sorry! You haven't been stood there long, gosh how oblivious can I get?' I nervously ramble.

I've only met him a hand full of times and to keep him waiting felt very rude of me. A soft chuckle escapes his lips as he shakes his head, prompting me to breathe out a sigh of relief.

'No don't worry, I came to get you cause you're boyfriend wants to see you before the race starts...' He explains, watching as I quickly gather my things - I don't want to keep him waiting any longer. 'Hey, no need to rush...' He chuckles, sensing my nerves. It'd be hard not to.

Notable I slow down, no longer rushing to collect myself. I let out a soft sigh, a smile screwing itself onto my lips. And once I have everything, I let Jon lead the way through to Landos garage.

As soon as we walk into the garage, my eyes are immediately drawn to Lando who is stood talking to a few engineers. With his classic smile on his face, something I really do adore is watching as he talks about his job - He really does love it, possible more than me.

I stand there for a few seconds, not wanting to intrude on his conversation. Around me the team work around the garage, clearly buzzing with pre race excitement, nerves and preparation - Something Jon went along with when we arrived.

Then suddenly, I feel eyes on me and I notice Lando walking towards me enthusiastically. As soon as I am in arms reach, I feel his arms slip comfortably around my waist. 'Hi...' I smile, slipping my own arms around his neck. 'How are you doing?'

Lando takes a few seconds, just staring lovingly at me before smirking. 'Good, better now that you're here. How did this morning go? You and Rebecca get here alright?' He questioned, very grateful that I had someone to join this morning.

I nod keenly, moving on to explain about my morning as my hand start to play with some of his mullet. 'Oh I was added to the wag groupchat, they're all really nice people. They said that I can talk to them about anything and ask for advice you know. I've only really met Rebecca so they don't they even know me but they still like accept me, I thought that was the sweet thing ever...' Unintentionally I go onto ramble about the other wags befriending me, only really stopping when I notice his gaze and gentle warm smile. 'Sorry I'm rambling...'

Looking around us, I can see some engineers watching curiously. A mix of his gaze on me, my realization and the engineers watching all make me blush deeply. 'No it's okay...'

His british cuts through my thoughts, reassuring me. 'I'm really happy that you got them beside you, they know what you're going through a lot more than I will ever so that's great!' One of his hands moves up to caress my cheek lovingly.

A comfortable silence falls on us for a few seconds, before I speak up once again. 'So are you ready for the race today? Is the car good?' I ask, despite not really understanding the sport I'm desperate to learn through Lando.

He turns, watching as the engineers do their final preperations and work and nodding confidently. 'Yeah all good! I've got my good luck charm with me and the car is set to do magic today!' Even the way he explains everything, there is a lot of excitement in his voice. I nod, careful to take in all the information he's telling me.

Our conversation continues for a few more minutes before he's notified that he has to make a move to get the car out onto the track. Quick Lando turns back towards me, smiling and pulling me into a tender kiss. 'I love you! Wish me luck!'

I return the same energy and excitement. 'Good luck Lan! You've got this! I love you too!'

1.2K

#formula one #formula one x reader #f1 #f1 x reader #lando norris #lando norris x reader #mclaren #mclaren x reader #rebecca donaldson #lily muni he #carmen mundt #kelly piquet #alexandra saint mleux #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #lando norris f1 #kika gomes

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ashhh-14 · 1 year

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Tropes? Tropes but make it good

Characters- Diluc, Kaeya, Bennett, Albedo, Razor, Venti, Zhongli, Xiao, Baizhu, Xingqui, Chongyun, Tartaglia, Heizou, Ayato, Gorou, Thoma, Itto, Scaramouce, Alhaitham, Kaveh, Cyno, Tighnari, Neuvillette, Lyney, Wriothesley, Freminet,

Warning- suggestive in chongyun's (dw he's aged up here bubs)

Note- All characters are aged, a dot '.' Meaning scene change , font meaning past memory.

A/n- hope you enjoy!

Baizhu

Doctor patient dynamic

Gentle hands rubbing your back constantly as your coughing fit seemed endless once again. "I-I don't think I'll be able to watch the next lantern right with you like I promised doctor Baizhu." You smiled through the pain, the said man sighing, "Stop doubting my abilities as a Doctor (Y/n). You'll get better." Running his hand through your hair as you layed down, exhaustion making your eyes droop close. "I'll make sure of it, my Little Violet."

Kaveh

Childhood friends to lovers

"Look what I made!" He looked up as you placed something on his head, one hand coming up to touch it, " A flower crown?" "Mhm. Just for you!" He blushed.

"I got you something Kaveh~" He turned to you from where he was writing his thesis, "(Y/n) how many times do I have to say you don't have to buy me art supplies. Um let me buy you lunch as repayment." He looked into your eyes with a gentle gaze as you hopped on the desk beside his papers, placing a box. "Too bad. I already made some for the both of us." "(Y/-" his words got cut short as you gently placed your finger on his lips, "shush Kaveh."

Al haitham

Academic rivals to lovers

"Ugh not again." You muttered under your breath as you looked at the list of top scorers. "Try harder. Maybe you'll be able to get a little better if you work on your gold fish attention span." A voice came as someone passed by, knowing very well who this person was as you sighed in irritation.

Soft clicks of shoes were the only echos in the house of daena as Al haitham made his way towards a bookshelf, his eyes falling onto a figure. He placed his book on the table gently, rounding the table, he placed the pen down from your hand as he placed his cloak on your shoulders, covering you to keep you warm as he pushed the hair away from your face. "Stop pushing yourself so hard."

Wanderer

Grumpy x Sunshine

"Oh c'mon would it kill you to come with me?" You pleaded as your partner kept ignoring your request, "There's no point in me going with you-" "I think you should go with them. It'll broaden your spectrum and give you a new way of looking at things." A gentle voice came as your eyes sparkled at the person. "See?! Even Lesser Lord Kusunali agrees with me!" "NOT YOU TOO " He yelled, grumbling. You pout, crossing your arms over your chest as you stood up, "I'll be leaving Lord Kusunali, since he doesn't want to go, I'll go and ask Cyno. I heard there's a new card back released there too, he'll be happy to come with me." Nahida blinked up at you as you started walking, observing how your frown turned into a sly smirk as soon as a hand gripped your wrist. "Not happening. I'm coming with you."

Cyno

Co workers to lovers

"Hmm how long do you think this water will last us here Cyno?" You eyed the big bag of water in your hand as you kept walking on the flaming sand in the middle of the desert, "It should last us till tonight. Don't worry, there's a village nearby, we can restock our supplies and get some well desserved rest." You looked at Cyno, unamused "Get it? It's because we're in a dese-" For the first time he cut himself from his explanation, you sighing as if the heavens saved you as he told you to stay put, going to converse with a group of eremites that were closeby. You took a seat in the shade of a giant rock. 'Wait, why is he coming back with a-' "Get on it. Your feet aren't used to the hot sand of the desert, they're already red from the external temperature, it'd be bad if they get blisters. I borrowed us this Sumpter Beast, we'll return this on our way back." Your face started getting warmer, whether it was because of the temperature of desert or your general Mahamatra, you didn't know.

Tighnari

Student teacher dynamic

"Ow!" A book came in contact with your head as you sat on the chair listening to your master's unending lecture. "So the next time I see you head into a withering zone all on your own, I'll be cutting down your sweets that you love so much." Your eyes widened at that, not your sweets! "What did my sweets ever do to you! Plus, I had it covered in the whithering zone!" Smack "Ouch! Stop hitting me-!" Your breath got caught in your throat as Tighnari placed his book under your chin, tilting it upwards as he brought his face close to yours, looking into your eyes, "Next time you won't be doing something so reckless. Okay my Lotus?"

Heizou

Undercover agent(you) to lovers

[ (C/n) -> cover name]

"I'm so sorry I wasn't looking where I was going!" You apologised to the young looking male. "Oh it's totally fine. Don't worry about it" He smiled, asking what your name was. "(C/n)" You replied, your smile widening when he asked if you'd like to go get a cup of coffee with him.

"Can you actually be serious for once Heizou?" You rolled your eyes as you kept walking through Chinju forest, sighing at your companion's carefree nature. He chuckled, " You want me to be serious huh?" You nodded," yes! It'd be- wa-!" Your sentence was cut off as your back hit a tree bark, your eyes leveling with none other than Heizou's himself. You shifted as he gazed at you in silence, noticing how he got much closer as each moment passed. His lips barely apart from your ear, he whispered, "Is this serious enough for you?.....(Y/n)."

Xiao

Eternal acquaintances to lovers

"You guys just loveee drawing on his face while he's sleeping don't you" you chuckled, feeling the cool breeze as other 4 yakshas drew little shapes on the face of the one sleeping. "Oh you know his expression is priceless whenever he finds out what we did!" Bosacius laughed.

"Do you ever know when to take a break?!" You were used to scolding him, and he was used to hearing it. A little too used to it. "Don't you smile when I'm here telling you to take care of yourself!"

Your eyes opened slowly, sounds of fireworks and a hand stroking your hair waking you up. You rubbed the haze out of your eyes, "Did they already start?" You pushed yourself up from what you thought to be ground, but lifting your head up you realised it was, "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to-" He shushed you, gazing down at you gently as his thumb stroked your cheek. Your face grew warm as you sat up to avoid his stare, only to be turned around, feeling his head on your shoulder, his breath on your neck sending shivers down your spine. "S-Shouldn't you watch the fireworks as well?" You stuttered out, not able to focus on the display yourself. He just sighed, tightening his grip around you.

Zhongli

Newly shifted neighbours to lovers

He was in the middle of pouring himself some freshly brewed tea when a knock landed on his door. Your head tilted upwards to look at the tall male. You didn't know what you expected your neighbour to look like but you certainly didn't think of this. He looked... ethereal. "Umm I just shifted here and please take this." You handed him a paper bag. He looked at it and then at you, smiling, "Grace me with your company over some tea?"

"You really don't have to stay up this late for me." You said apologetically to the man sitting beside you, helping you with your thesis you had to write last minute. "It's totally okay. So as I was saying, this part of Liyue------" this went on for hours until he saw you rubbing your eyes. He chuckled," Is Liyue's history that boring?" "Wha- no of course not! It's interesting. I've never thought Liyue had so much to it." You smiled. A large hand came up to cup your cheek, making you look at him, and suddenly you realised how close you two were sitting for all this time. "Sleep's evident in your eyes" he noted as your eyes became hazy with sleep, "I'll take you to bed. My little dove."

Albedo

Klee's babysitter to lovers

"Klee no bombing the fishes again!!" You said to the little girl, so done with her shenanigans for this week. The little girl pouted, looking down until an idea popped into her head, "Lets go see Albedo then!" She smiled.

The little ball of sunshine was sleeping peacefully in the corner of Albedo's lab wrapped in two blankets while you laid beside her, trying to fall asleep as well because you had nothing to do and there was nothing Albedo needed help with, but the cold was making it too difficult. Were you actually jealous of a little girl's pyro vision? Absolutely not. You don't know when you fell asleep, or rather, passed out.

'Oh. They're both sleeping peacefully.' He walked up to the two of you, quickly noting how your face looked a little pale. His fingertips touched your skin 'Cold' he thought.

The little girl was the first one awake," Albedo! I had this dre-" she cut herself short when she noticed her brother sleeping too...while holding you close to his chest. "Maybe Klee should sleep some more~!"

Razor

Pack members to lovers

The chase of two little pups continued in wolvendom until they reached Andreas, where they started their chase back to their destination, their minds on the piece of juicy meat the winner will get.

Some things never really change, like you and Razor having a game of chase. The difference is, however, he's chasing you this time and you two's size differences now that you've all grown up. You landed on the ground with a soft thud, your back hitting the soft grass as you saw Razor on top of you, his skin glistening in sweat as he gave you a cheery smile, "I won again (n/n)!" You playfully rolled your eyes, "Yeah yeah I get you're faster than m- eep-! Razor-!" You giggled, trying to move away as he started licking your face and neck. His hands tightened around your wrists," No running far anymore" He whined.

Chongyun

Strangers to lovers

"But I asked for that popsicle first!"

"And I saw it first!"

"I'm their regular customer!"

"Not like I have them once a year!"

You bit off a little chunk of Chongun's icy popsicle," Hey what did I say about no having my popsicle!" You laughed, getting closer to him all of a sudden," Well if you don't want to share this popsicle, I can always make do with the other one you have~" thump

Yes he fainted.

Diluc

[Childhood known] Bartender-owner relationship to lovers

"If you'd like, you can work at my tavern. I can use the help and you can use the money." A kind offer he made to his childhood neighbour when you came back from sumeru and needed a job, not wanting to stay away from your homeland.

A soft cry left your lips when a broken glass shard pricked your hand, you continued picking up the glass pieces the customer accidentally broke, ignoring the bleeding hand 'I'd have to mop the floor anyway.' A strong yet gentle grip pulled you up and towards the sink to wash and dress your wound, "Why'd you ignore it?" You bit your lip, not knowing how to answer. "Be careful next time." He sighed.

The number of people were relatively less today, maybe because of the windbloom festival, giving you an opportunity to relax and unwind with a drink yourself. The door opened as you turned your head to see who it was. "Ah master Diluc! Let me go get you some grape juice-" You were about to stand up when two arms caged you against the counter, leaning towards you," Stop calling me that. It's Diluc for you. Just Diluc."

Ajax

Contract marriage

'To stay with party A's family and take care of party A's siblings, treat A like a husband in front of A's family. The contract shall last for three years.'

Signed, (Y/n)

It's been 2 years since you signed that contract, staying with Childe's family wasn't bad, they all treated you very nicely and that a corner of your heart knew that your family was now out of bankruptcy because of this, you were content....for the most part anyway.

"Look who's home~!" A very excited Childe emerged through the main door, his servants taking away the bags he was carrying as he picked up Teucer. "I brought you Mr. Cyclopes figurine Teucer!" You smiled to yourself as you watched each of his sibling hug their older brother, used to watching the scene from afar at this point. What you didn't expect was him making his way up to you, his height towering over yours as you looked up at him confused, your face flushing as he pulled you closer to him by your waist, kissing your forehead, "How have you been my love?"

"G-Good." You stuttered out. All his siblings left the living room to give you two some privacy, happy to see the sight. He brushed the strands away from your face, looking into your eyes," Sorry about that. But I missed you. I don't know why, maybe because I look forward to seeing you now." Your eyes widened, "And... I want to take you with me the next time I leave. If you'll join me."

'Because It's not just a contract to me anymore (Y/n).' He thought.

Xingqui

Library crushes to lovers

Your eyes peeked over the book to look at the blue haired male, quickly hiding behind it again as his eyes fell on you. "Oh god please tell me he didn't see me." You muttered to yourself.

"The realm of humans was known as the Zhongzhou, while the gods reside in Shenxiao. At the end of-------" he kept explaining the plot of his favourite book, not like you weren't listening, but half your focus was on looking at him.

"Umm (Y/n). There's this new book shop that opened in north Liyue. Will you join me tomorrow?" Both your faces were warm when he said the words as you nodded shyly.

Itto

Oni dynamic

"Haha I won again! Take that (Y/n)!" The little oni jumped up as he came out victorious again. "Alright alright no need to rub it in the face Mr. Onikabuto."

"Do you really have to leave (Y/n)?" You nodded as tears pricked your eyes, hearing the sad tone from your oni friend who you've always heard cheery no matter the situation.

"As my great partner (Y/n) came back after years of staying in Natlan, they'll be joining the one and oni Arataki gang! Isn't that great!?" The said oni swung an arm around your shoulder as you ducked, "Your arm's heavy Itto!" "Of course it is I'm an Oni you know! You don't expect me to weigh like a twing do you?" He wiggled his eyebrows. "But boss should we trust them? I mean-" "Well of course! I know (Y/n) for agesss do you think I'll take just anyone into the great Arataki gang huh!?" He pointed smugly to himself as you sighed. Yup, he'll never change, and you won't have him any other way.

Kamisato ayato

Arrange marriage

Your eyes faced the floor of komore teahouse during the whole conversation of your father and the head of Kamisato Clan, accompanied with his sister and their most trusted servant. You saw the two Clan heads shaking hands from the corner of your eyes, knowing everything is sealed. You never even saw what your to-be husband looked like.

"Wouldn't you look at me even now (Y/n)?" Gentle voice of your soon to-be husband spoke as he held both your hands in his significantly bigger ones as the priest made preparations to start the wedding rituals. You swallowed nervously as you slowly looked up, your eyes falling on the mesmerizing lilac ones.

An arm wrapped around your waist from behind while the other one took away the hairbrush in your hand, placing it on the dresser as kisses were placed on your neck," My gorgeous wife." You closed your eyes, leaning your head back against his shoulder," Says the man who gave that word a meaning."

Bennett

Adventurer-medic to lovers

"Yup, bad luck again." You sighed as you bandaged his knee again. "I'm sorry (Y/n), for troubling you so much. I try to be careful but..." he rubbed the back of his head. "I know Benny, not your fault, just your luck." He nodded, giving you a thumbs up and a cheery smile as you finished bandaging his wound. "Butttt" you intergected when he was about to say something, "Nothing some tasty Chicken-Mushroom Skewers can't solve!" His eyes started sparkling the moment you said those words, making you giggle. "Yay let's go!"

Kazuha

Crew mates to lovers

"Wait up please!" You yelled to the ship that was about to leave the docks of Inazuma. You ran as fast as you could against the wooden planks 'Bad day to be wearing a Kimono damn it.' Apparently your voice wasn't loud enough for the Captain of The Crux to hear and your heart already started grimacing the loss of boarding the ship just a foot away as it started leaving. A sudden gust of wind lifted you up as your eyes closed shut in terror, the next time you opened them, you were on the ship, with nothing but a maple leaf in your hand.

You were leaning against the railing of the ship, looking at the vast ocean in fasination until a strong gust of wind passed, swaying your footing, almost tumbling you over but a hand to your wrist pulled you back just in time before it could happen. Your breath was caught in the throat due to the event, and because of the stranger with platinum hair and ruby eyes that saved your life. He was.... breathtaking. "Careful, the wind can be flickering unexpectedly once in a while. It's a vast ocean after all." He smiled.

Venti

Troublemaker and muse

You raised an eyebrow as your beer fell off the table, a person climbing on it instead. You looked up to see who it was, silently grimacing over your spilled beer. "Are you gonna pay for my beer or not" you said looking up at him while he ran his fingers along the lyre, "I'll pay you back with my wonderful performance~!" You sighed in irritation.

Your form busted through the tavern's door in the middle of the night, scanning over your surroundings before your eyes landed on the mop of green you were looking for. You swiftly made your way over, carrying the windy bard over your shoulder like a potato sack as you slid a pouch of mora in master Diluc's direction with an apologetic smile. "Put me downnnn I wanna kiss you!!" He whined on your shoulder as your face matched Master Diluc's hair.

Thoma

Ayaka's best friend

"Here let me help you with that." He took the heavy looking bags from your hand just as you entered the Kamisato estate. "Ah thank you Thoma." You smiled at him.

"I'm also inviting (Y/n)." Ayaka spoke to her brother over supper and Thoma couldn't help but chime in," If they're coming, It'd be great if I can make their favourite dish." Ayaka and Ayato gave each other knowing looks as Thoma looked between them, confused, "Did I say something wrong?"

"I'm sure (Y/n) could use some help for this event. I hand this task to you Thoma." Said Ayaka as she gently pushed him into a room and slid the door closed so he couldn't escape. "Thoma it's you-!" You squeaked, surprised by the sudden entrance. "Y-Yes Lady (Y/n). Lady Ayaka said I should help you if you were to face any difficulties. So do you need any assistance?" He scratched the back of his head. Your eyes fell onto the kimono belt in your head and then at him, your cheeks warming, "N-No it's fine." He wordlessly came towards you, taking the fabric from your hand, silently waiting for you to turn around as permission. You did, your breath getting caught in your throat as you felt his hands do their work, his hot breath hitting the back of your neck. A few moments passed, your head becoming lightheaded with each second until he did the final knot, whispering in your ear, "It's done, my princess."

Gorou

Subordinates to lovers

"Bear with it" you said as you poured the disinfectant over your commander's bleeding gash. He suppressed a hiss as you blowed on the wound in hopes to make it feel less burning. "Can you be more careful Gorou? There was no reason for you to come in front of me to stop that arrow!" You glared at him. "Your mother entrusted you to me (Y/n)" he tried reasoning. "As if Lady Kokomi didn't tell me to bring you back safe and sound!" He just chuckled at that.

You were laying down on the make shift infirmary's bed when a very happy Gorou emerged through the door, out of breath as if he ran all this way (yes he did) "(Y/n)! We did it! The war's over!" He ran over to you and hugged you tightly, you noticing how his tail was swaying back and forth. You chuckled. "I'm so happy (Y/n)! I can finally ask your mother for your hand in marri-" Your eyes widened.

"Oh god i shouldn't have said it like that- (Y/n)? (Y/n)?! Oh god don't faint-!"

Mhm, franatic Gorou is pretty cutee~

Kaeya

Fake dating

"Oh~, who is this pretty person beside you Kaeya?" Lisa ask, intrigued. "My partner." Kaeya smiled.

That was five months ago.

You two sawyed from side to side to the silent beat of the music as you looked at him, "So when is your 'target' arriving Kaeya? It's been 4 hours." "Oh don't worry. He'll be here soon enough. My brother can be a little late. He is returning to Mondstadt after months after all." He replied, looking into your eyes just as the venue's door opened to reveal the said man. In the blink of an eye, Kaeya's face was buried in the crook of your neck, " The hell are you doing?!" You whisper yelled at the man, not knowing what he was up to now. If you knew something about Kaeya, it was his unpredictable mind. "Just making sure my brother believes this of course. He has very keen eyes for lies you see. I want to prove to him that I can infact find an adequate partner for myself." "You sure it's not because of that 5 dozen wine bottles he put at stake." "That's just an added bonus!" He smirked as he rose up to his full height, taking your chin in between his finger and thumb, bringing your face closer to his, " Plus, Who knows? I might actually persue it to make it real."

Neuvillette

Second chance [mates][immortal reader- non specified species]

"I'll wait for you" said the man you loved so dearly with a solemn look in his eyes. "Don't" was all you said before you departed to the underworld, having not done anything wrong yet having no choice.

A hundred years passed since your own lover sealed your verdict, your heart wrenching with pain each time you think of it. 'He had his reasons. It's for the sake of fontaine.' Your heart longed for the hydro dragon, but you've made your heart think that 'He must have wanted this.'

The day finally came when you reached the surface again, and what you didn't expect was to see him waiting at the entrance. "Neuvillette...." You whispered, your eyes trying to drink back the tears they started producing on their own. The said man walked towards you in slow strides, his mind detached from his surroundings except you. Strong arms engulfed you in a delicate embrace, cradling you against his chest as if you were made of porcelain. And as much as your mind told you to pull away, your hands only gripped him tighter, crying against him. A few moments passed when you looked up at him, " Where's your partner?" Your heart broke as you asked that question, but you needed to know. "Right in front of me." He whispered. It was hard for you to believe him, you expected him to move on. "Did you forget.." he started, his lips placing a delicate kiss on the corner of your lips," That dragons mate for life?"

Wriothesley

Classic Husband x Wife

As soon as you stepped foot into your husband's office, the door being shut behind you, you heard fumbling noise. You made your way up the rounded stairs, crossing your arms over your chest as you made your way over to him, "Don't tell me you're drinking tea again Wriothesley." You narrowed your eyes at him. "No of course not. Why would I drink more when you set a boundary of 7 per day" he chuckled. "Oh?" You raised an eyebrow, leaning against his desk as you wiped the corner of his lips," What's this then?" You showed him the sugar powder on your fingertip. He chuckled nervously, "You see-"

Gentle kisses across your face is what woke you up, your hand tightening against the fabric....wait. You looked up and around you, realising you're in Wriothesley's office and in his lap, clutching onto his shirt. He softly kissed your forehead," Morning sunshine. Ready to go to the surface today?"

Lyney

Opposites attract

"Well someone looks a little out of it on a fine day like this." Your footsteps came to a halt as a guy stopped in front of you. His hand came up and passed by the side of your hair," Let me make it a little better" he chuckled as he pulled a rose 'out of your hair.' It was pretty, you thought taking it from him and giving him a small smile,"Thank you."

You pulled him along with you by his ear gently while he tried keeping up with your pace," I was just entertaining them!" He reasoned as you continued walking," You were clearly still there when they told you they didn't wanna see your tricks." "But it looked like they could use some help!" He whined. "Not everyone deserves you lifting up their spirits Lyney." You sighed. "Well, I can always lift your spirits up. If you know what I mean." Bonk

Freminet

Fated divers

Your hands splashed the water around you as oxygen depleted at a fast rate from your body, you tried tugging on the vines tightly wrapped around your foot in hopes to break them but they won't let up. You extended your arms up in an attempt to swim back to the surface but it was becoming harder by the second. It wasn't long before black dots started covering your vision and you started sinking further down.

Your eyes open with a start, the endless water still surrounding you but there was a stranger, with his lips on yours.

"Hey there Freminet~!"

"Oh hi (Y/n)" he gave you a small smile, looking up from where he was tinkering with clockwork. "I got you Seabird Sojourn!" You smiled as you sat beside him, looking closely at the details of his doing. You took his hand into yours, making his freckled cheeks blush a pink hue," Let's eat first before it gets cold."

Written by Yours truly

Masterlist

2K notes · View notes

milliesfishes · 4 months

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𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚𝓘𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓪𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

[fem reader] contains: bullying, angst pairing: coriolanus snow x fem reader summary: Coriolanus met you during his time as a peacekeeper, and he resolves to bring you back to the Capitol with him. author’s note: Hey hey! First Coryo fic in awhile, I'm excited about this one!! Please enjoy! Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

You were lying between his legs, hidden in the trees away from the world when he told you he was leaving. It was a sunny day, and the shadows of the leaves were dancing over your faces.

Sitting up from his arms, you turned around, looking at him with your brow furrowed. "What?" You knew a peacekeeper's service spanned twenty years, and Coriolanus had hardly been here seven months.

"I passed the advancement test," he said, looking down at you, his blue eyes solemn. "They're sending me to Two."

"Oh." It was all you could say, and you pursed your lips, turning back around and leaning against his chest. You were quiet.

Coriolanus brought his fingers to your chin, turning your chin to face him again. "Sweetheart."

You looked into his eyes, brow furrowing. "So, you'll still be a peacekeeper? Just...not here?"

He nodded, studying your expression in his way. Coriolanus, you had learned, was always watching you, always inspecting you in some way. You'd grown to find it comforting, though now you didn't know how long that comfort would remain in your vicinity.

Biting your lip, you looked down, the reality of him leaving setting in. You'd fallen in love with him so quickly, and you now couldn't imagine your life without him.

Coriolanus couldn't either.

He'd been disappointed, at first, when he'd been assigned to this city. Bribing the official had been a last-ditch attempt to get to Lucy Gray. The chances had been small, he had known, but still he'd moped during his first week here. Not only was he in District Twelve of all places, but the person he'd spent the last of his money to get to wasn't even here.

But, knowing he wouldn't last twenty years pining over her, he'd pulled himself together and thrown himself into his work. Coriolanus was a hard worker, and he put his skill to good use, focusing solely on his duties.

That mindset had lasted all but a week.

One day he'd been in a bad mood. There were some unusually rowdy citizens that he'd had to round up, and the clouds were getting dark. On top of that, he'd had Lucy Gray on his mind more than usual, wondering (stupidly in his opinion) if she missed him, what she was doing. He'd been patrolling along the street, breathing in coal dust and holding his gun tightly.

There had been a rumble of thunder, and then it began to rain. Quickly, passerby had begun to scramble inside, and he'd cursed his shift, longing to go back to base and have a hot shower. Of course it'd rain today of all days.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone walking in the downpour. When he turned to get a better look, he'd seen you, carrying a bag on your shoulder.

Although you were strikingly pretty, that wasn't what caught his attention at first. It was the fact that you, in a now soaked through blue dress, weren't hurrying along at all, not eager to get inside like everyone else. No, you were meandering along, smiling as if there was nowhere you'd rather be.

He'd approached you, unable to help it. "Miss," he greeted. "You shouldn't be out in the rain. You'll catch a chill."

You'd smiled so sweetly it made his head spin. "I don't mind a little water, officer. It's a lovely change from the heat we've been having."

"Still," he nodded, trying to quell his thoughts. "You shouldn't be walking."

"I don't know any other way to get home from the market," you raised your eyebrows, teasing a bit.

Coriolanus paused for a moment, realizing you were right. He straightened, nodding. "Allow me to accompany you home, then. At least I'll know you're safe."

You'd smiled coyly, tilting your head. He remembered thinking how pretty you'd looked, with your wet hair sticking to your cheeks, rain sliding down your face like tears, contrasting your happy smile beautifully. "Do you do this with all the girls, officer?"

He'd been unable to help the slight lift of the corners of his mouth. "No miss. Just you."

That had only made your smile wider, and you'd let him escort you home. He carried the bag of fruit and vegetables for you, telling himself it was simply the gentlemanly thing to do. But as you'd chatted with him kindly all the way to where you lived, he'd found himself drawn to you, to your sweet nature, your beauty, you.

He'd never before understood how Romeo fell in love with Juliet so soon after Rosaline.

From that point on, your relationship had bloomed quickly. He began to let his guard down around you, surrendering to the pure goodness of you. He was wholly enamored by your being, by your existence. Coriolanus had thought coming to District Twelve would mean Lucy Gray at best, lung cancer at worst, but he hadn't at all expected to find a treasure like you amidst the dust and grime. The two of you cut a striking picture at first- the peacekeeper in his sharp uniform and the sweetest girl in town with a gentle demeanor.

You pried him open, softened his heart. And he made you feel loved, made you feel special. You cherished him for this reason, which was why this news of him leaving hit you so hard.

Back in the forest, Coriolanus propped his chin up on your shoulder. One of his hands was resting on your tummy, soothing back and forth. "What do you think sweetheart?"

"Of the promotion?" you questioned, leaning back against him. You didn't want to tell him how saddened you were by his leaving. So you, true to yourself, took the positive route. "You'll be happy there. You've worked so hard and I'm proud of you." You knew how he dreamed of escaping the lower districts, how much he missed his home. Transferring to Two was a step closer to getting back. "You deserve to go."

He nodded, kissing your temple. "Thank you, sweetheart." Then he rubbed his hand over your tummy again, the side of his head leaning against yours. "Are you upset with me?"

You shook your head, biting your bottom lip in contemplation. He studied you. "What's the matter then, darling?"

"I just..." you hesitated. It felt so insignificant. In your eyes, Coriolanus had a bright future, and you didn't want to weigh him down. "I'll miss you."

You were afraid he'd think it silly, but instead he cooed, pulling you more snugly into his arms. He pressed his lips to the top of your head. "I'd miss you too." He rested his chin on your head for a moment, thinking. Then, in smooth tones, he asked, "Would you come with me?"

Once again, his words made you turn around. You read his face, trying to determine if he was serious. When you found no trace of humor, you asked, "You want me...to come with you?"

His hand found its way to your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. He smiled in a reassuring way. "Come with me, dove," he repeated. "I know you think I'll be happier there, and maybe it'll be familiar for me. But..." he reached over and squeezed your hand. "I won't be happy without you."

You searched his eyes. "Coryo, I can't-"

Coriolanus leaned in and kissed you softly, his hand running up and down your side. He pulled back slightly, that usual contemplative look on his face. "You've got no reason to stay here."

He was right. Your family was long passed or moved away. But that was beside the point. "This is my home," you murmured as he pressed gentle kisses to your neck. "I grew up here."

"But what does this district have for your future?" he asked, nudging his nose against the soft skin of your neck. He was clinging to reasons to keep you.

"I..." you didn't know how to counter. When he put it that way, he was right. But the idea of leaving here, the only home you'd ever known, was just so daunting.

Coriolanus met your eyes, both his hands coming to your cheeks. "What will you do here?" he questioned, shaking his head slightly. "I don't want you to marry some farm boy and make babies for the rest of your life darling." He heard how selfish he sounded, but he didn't care. "You deserve better, sweet girl. You deserve the world."

You felt yourself soften at his words. "Nobody could give anyone that."

He shook his head. "Give me a little time. A few years to move up. And I will be able to give you everything you deserve."

A little smile came to your face at his loving promises. And now you were actually considering it. Sitting back against his chest, you turned sideways so your cheek was pressing into it. "Is it even allowed? Bringing a girl?"

Coriolanus smiled reassuringly. "I'd send you a ticket once I got there. This is hardly the first time a soldier's fallen in love with a girl where he's stationed."

You nodded, then looked up at him. In truth, the idea was growing on you. To be with him, away from the slums, where you might have more opportunities to pursue the things you loved, sounded wonderful.

The other driving factor was the way he looked at you. The way he so clearly wanted you to come. He wanted you near him. He'd said you made him happy.

So, for these reasons, you sat up a little, and nodded, looking into his eyes. "Okay. I'll come with you."

The words were barely out of your mouth before he was hugging you tightly to his chest, peppering kisses all over your face. You giggled, cuddling into him and imagining your new life with him, far away from here.

He told you he'd be leaving in two weeks. Your train ticket would be sent about a month in, so he could get settled first.

You began to prepare, saving money and gathering together a few things you'd want to take with you. Living arrangements would likely be modest, but you were used to such things. As long as you were with him, you'd endure any circumstances.

In the weeks before he left, Coriolanus suddenly became very busy with his peacekeeper duties, and you didn't see him very much over the next bit. It was only when you heard awful news that you figured out why.

Sejanus, his peaceful, soft-spoken friend, was to be hanged. For conspiring with rebels, you'd been told. You were horrified. Sejanus was the last person you'd have thought to be caught doing such a thing. Your heart broke for him, but also for Coriolanus. That was his best friend. Even though their personalities were stark opposites, and Coriolanus was a little colder in affections toward anyone except you, you knew he was fond of Sejanus.

Since you knew him, you grappled with going to the execution or not. It would be horribly painful to watch, since he'd been your friend. But what if he was looking over the crowd, seconds from death, and he wished to see a familiar face? Someone who cared about him? Or would it be worse then? You went back and forth until you received a message from Coriolanus.

Don't come.

It was a hard order to follow, but you did. The whole day you cried for Sejanus. He didn't deserve this, no matter what he'd done. But like your mother would have said, he was in a better place now.

You didn't hear from Coriolanus at all after that. Knowing him, he wouldn't want to talk about what had happened with his friend, but you'd hoped to get something from him letting you know he was okay. The day he was set to leave came and went without anything.

During the month following, you practically slept by the mailbox, hoping and praying for a letter from him. Anything to let you know he remembered his promise. It was harder than you'd thought to live without him now that you knew what it was like to do so. You missed him desperately, trying to distract yourself but ultimately failing.

In a moment of desperation, you wondered if he really had forgotten you. But then you recalled the look on his face when he'd asked you to come. No. Coriolanus never made promises he didn't intend to follow through on. So, you kept your things packed and waited.

The day the letter came, you opened it eagerly, noting the heavy, fine texture of the paper. His initials were prominent in gold at the top. Maybe this promotion was better than you'd thought.

Sweetheart-

I apologize for not writing sooner. Things have been busy here. This ticket is for the twenty-eighth, at 9:00 am. I'll meet you at the station. I miss you.

Yours,

Coryo

Him closing the letter with the name you called him made your heart sing. He didn't forget you.

Then you realized: the twenty-eighth was tomorrow.

Leaping from your seat, you scurried to put what remained for you to pack in your small, round case (a pretty thing your mother had left you), making sure there wasn't anything you were forgetting. You hadn't renewed your rent on this house yet for the next month. The plan had been to send a letter to the owner from District 2, and you figured you could still do that. You'd thought Coriolanus would give you a little more notice, but it would be okay.

Waking early the next day, you donned your prettiest dress: a white thing with buttons to the waistline and little flowers embroidered on the bodice that tied at the bust. Brushing out your long hair, you checked your appearance several times before leaving. You wanted to look your best when you saw him.

When you presented your ticket to the stationmaster, he directed you to the first-class section. Surprised by this, you hesitantly settled, sure there'd been a mistake. But a few hours into the ride, nobody ordered you out. It was very in character for Coriolanus to do this. To make sure the long journey was comfortable. But first class? You hadn't asked enough questions about his new position apparently.

The train ride was long, but you hardly minded, watching the landscape whiz by through the window like a moving picture. Eventually, your eyes became heavy and it was clear your exhaustion caught up to you. You fell asleep, figuring it was okay since you were in a safer section. No need to keep guard over your possessions here.

Some hours later, awoken by the sound of the brakes screeching to a stop, you wearily stretched, sitting up from where you'd lain across the seats. You rubbed your eyes (not too hard as not to muss your light makeup) and looked out the window, expecting to see the rugged mountains of District 2.

Instead, the sight that greeted you was of a city, shiny and crisp. Buildings stretched tall; their grandeur surprising you. It was true you'd never been to District 2, but you were fairly certain that it had nothing like this.

Maybe you'd been sent to the wrong place? You reached for your ticket frantically. But no, it had your name on it. If this had been a mistake, it'd been a well-planned one. Looking back out the window, you saw a sign situated just on the outside of the train tracks.

WELCOME TO THE CAPITOL!

Blinking in surprise, you looked from the sign to the view of the city again. It certainly looked how you'd heard the Capitol did.

The conductor called for everyone to get off the train, and you stood, taking your case in your hand and hoping he'd really be there when you exited.

You stepped off the train, trying to see if you could find him amongst the crowd. People dressed very nicely here; you noticed as you observed the hoard of people coming and going. Then, as you made your way away from the tracks and into the station, you saw him.

Heart jumping for joy, you started to walk toward him. His appearance caught you off guard for a moment. You'd thought he'd be wearing his peacekeeper uniform, but he was in a red suit, a coat of the same color over it. His hair was longer too. He was studying something in the distance in his serious way. As you got closer, he noticed and turned to you, a little smile gracing his features.

You walked faster at the sight. When you were close enough, he held out his arms and you dropped your case, practically jumping into them. Coriolanus held you tightly, lifting you off your feet and burying his face in your hair.

"Coryo," you laughed, overjoyed to be with him again.

"I missed you sweetheart," he muttered into your hair. Coriolanus pulled back slightly to look at you, arms still holding you up around your waist. Yours were wound around his neck, and you searched his eyes.

"I missed you," you said softly, and he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was gentle, but there was a hint of hunger to it, and you knew when he got you alone there'd be more. For now, you smiled into it, nudging your nose against his.

Coriolanus set you down carefully, picking up your case and holding out his hand for you. You took it, the familiar feeling of his hand in yours lighting you up. As you walked hand in hand out of the station, you were overwhelmed by the sight. This was nothing like anything you'd expected.

He watched your reaction, smiling and squeezing your hand. "I'm sorry for not telling you darling."

"Why didn't you?" you asked as you began to walk down the street. "Did you know you were coming here the whole time?"

Coriolanus moved his arm to your shoulders as he guided you through the crowd on the sidewalk. "I thought I was going to Two until I was about to leave. They sent me here instead." He looked down at you, that little smile you loved so much making you melt. "As for why I didn't say anything about it; I wanted to surprise you."

You smiled at that. It was sweet of him. Then you tilted your head as you asked another question. "Is it the same position, just in the Capitol?"

He shook his head. "I've been discharged. I'm studying at the university."

Now that you were at a lightly less crowded part of the street, you stopped, looking up at him, remembering what he'd told you before about tuition and why he'd been sent out to begin with. "Really? But I thought-"

Coriolanus brought his hands to your arms, setting your case down for a moment. "Strabo Plinth- Sejanus' father- is sponsoring me. He was very grateful for my friendship to his son. And in addition to my studies, I have an internship with Dr. Gaul that pays. Extremely well."

All this information washed over you, and you stared at him in disbelief, trying to understand how you felt about this. Already everything was far different than you'd thought. But he looked excited, and you knew this was everything he'd wanted; to be back home with his family and you, a promising future ahead.

So, you smiled, winding your arms around his neck again and whispering, "I'm so happy for you."

He squeezed you once before you pulled back. Coriolanus lifted your chin with his finger, making sure you were looking at him. "It's going to be so much better than we thought, sweetheart. Just you wait." You nodded, unable to do anything but believe him. The two of you were attracting a few looks as you stood there with him, and you knew it was because you were dressed like the country girl you were. It may have looked odd next to his sleek appearance. You hardly cared though, too caught up in excitement that you were here.

Picking up your case, he took your hand again, leading you further into the city. You looked around at all the sights, excited by the buzz of it all. The structures were so distinguished, with their columns and pillars. It was also chilly. You shivered a bit, and he tightened his arm around you. Back home it'd been spring for a month. But here it still seemed to be winter. The cold, however, didn't stop you from gazing at everything in awe. The view quickly took your mind off the temperature.

Coriolanus watched you take it all in, a look of amusement on his face. He seemed to delight in your wonder. You looked over at him. "Are we going to where you live?"

He shook his head, squeezing your hand. "Not yet sweetheart. We're going to go somewhere else first."

Brow furrowing slightly in confusion, you let him take you to this mystery location, which turned out to be a tall building with lots of windows. He held the door for you, and when you stepped inside, you saw sleek decor, and a woman sitting at a receptionist's desk, looking like something out of a magazine.

She looked up as the two of you approached. "How can I help you?"

Coriolanus told the woman your name, his hand on your shoulder. "She needs to be...outfitted."

The woman nodded, giving him an impressed look. "I'll call someone in to assist."

"Thank you." Coriolanus turned to you, putting your case down beside you. He put his hands on your shoulders, thumbs smoothing over your skin soothingly. "I have a meeting at the university in twenty minutes, but I'm leaving you in-" he paused, looking over at the woman.

"Lyra," she affirmed.

He gave her a charming smile. "-Lyra's very capable hands."

You tilted your head. "What am I about to do?"

Coriolanus tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "It'll be fun, sweetheart. Don't worry. We're going to get you something pretty. Tigris said this is the very best place in town." He referred to his cousin, who he'd told you was very fashion centric.

Feeling a bit confused still, you nodded hesitantly, and he smiled. "Good girl. And I don't want you worrying about price or quantity. The more the better. I'll see you in a bit." With that, he kissed your forehead and left.

You watched him go, then turned to Lyra, who wore a kind smile, seeming to understand how you felt. "Don't worry. We're here to help you. It can be overwhelming at first, especially here."

"Help me with what?" you questioned, returning her smile nervously.

She stood up as another woman walked in, taking her place behind the desk. "Shopping, of course." Lyra gestured for you to follow her, and you picked up your case, walking behind her through another door.

Behind it was a seemingly never-ending space. You saw racks of clothing, jewelry peeking out from behind cases, and shiny bottles of perfume on shelves. Lyra smiled as she watched you take it in. "Like I said, it can be overwhelming. But it's not as intimidating as it looks, I promise."

She led you to a room with wallpaper in a pleasing shade of blue. There was a three paneled mirror in the center. Two comfortable looking chairs were positioned against the wall in front of the mirror, a side table between them.

Lyra told you you could set your case down, and you did, a little warily. "Would you like some champagne?"

"No thank you," you declined sweetly, and she smiled.

"Now, I'm going to pull some things from the floor that I think would fit you," she said, studying you in an observant way. "Are there any colors you like to wear in particular?"

You thought for a moment, shifting on your feet. "I have a lot of blue things, but I'll wear anything, really."

Lyra took note of this, promising she'd be back in a few minutes with a few options. When she returned with two full racks, you realized you and her had very different ideas of a few. "I sent someone to get shoes."

She held out the first dress to you- long, silky, in a light blue color. "Go on."

There was no area to change in, so you hesitantly stripped down in front of her, avoiding eye contact. She didn't bat an eye, zipping up the dress from behind and nodding at the mirror. "Go see."

Gradually, as you tried on dresses, you began to get more into it, spinning to see yourself at different angles in the mirror. The things they were giving you were very beautiful. You liked how the fabric felt against your skin, so different from the dresses you were used to wearing. Lyra pronounced the best colors for you to wear as pink, red, black, white, and blue. "But honestly, you're so cute you could wear anything."

Another woman whom she introduced as 'Cassia' came in with shoes. You tried those on too, testing them out with different dresses and experimenting walking. You almost felt like someone else in these clothes, but in the best way.

Lyra and Cassia flattered you, adjusting the clothes, telling you the best ways to wear your hair with which ones and what accessories would look good. They hung the dresses you'd liked on one rack, separating them from the others, and did the same with the shoes.

You put the dress you'd worn in on and followed Lyra out to the different departments of the store. First to jewelry, where you picked a few simple pieces, much to her pleasure. "You'll be able to wear these with everything," she said approvingly, holding up a necklace to your collarbone.

She led you to an area with nightdresses and intimates next, which you'd balked at. "Are you sure about this? Nobody will be able to see them." You were looking at what she was suggesting: a set with a black lacy bra and panties.

Lyra gave you a mischievous sort of smile. "It's less for you, and more for him."

"Who?" you questioned.

"That handsome man who brought you in, if I'm not mistaken," she raised her eyebrows. You caught her drift and blushed, looking down. She insisted you pick out a few sleeping pieces too, lacy nightdresses and sets.

You selected a scent of perfume too; one you liked that smelled like roses. Lyra handed you a pretty black and white bag that she said would go with everything you'd picked out today.

Much to your surprise, that wasn't the end of it. Now she was sitting you down in a chair in front of a sink, telling you to lean your head back as she gently washed your hair with warm water and soap that smelled like flowers. "To match your perfume," she clarified, as if to explain the choice.

She rinsed your hair and dried it with heat, using her brush to make it fall in sleek, bouncy curls. You smiled at your reflection, amazed at how chic it looked. Lyra applied a little makeup too, not too much because in her words you "were naturally pretty and don't need it unlike some other girls I've helped before".

When all that was over, she took you back to the room with the mirror, handing you one of your favorite dresses you'd tried on (red with a long skirt and short sleeves), and a pair of black heels. Lyra turned her back when you put on your new intimates, only coming over to help you with the brassiere, which was held together by a ribbon tied in the back.

When you looked at yourself in the mirror, you were in awe. Somehow you looked brand new, but also yourself at the same time. Bouncing on your heels, you thought of Coriolanus, and what his reaction would be. Would he love it or hate it?

Lyra smiled at you through the mirror. "Very pretty." You turned around excitedly, thanking her kindly for all her work. She almost seemed surprised that you did, as if she wasn't used to it. Adjusting your hair behind your shoulder and smoothing the sleeves of your dress, she said that you were a sweet girl and she'd be happy to help you anytime.

You helped her carry your four bags of things, plus your case, to the front. Just before you got to the door, Lyra took the bags you were holding, hoisting them in her arms and giving you a knowing look. "You come out last. For effect, you know?"

She opened the door, an impressive feat with everything she was carrying, and said something you couldn't hear to someone on the other side. You followed her, and instantly saw why she'd wanted to go in front of you. Coriolanus was standing there, his eyes on you as you entered.

His face, in its usual serene position, broke into a smile when he saw you, all dolled up for him. Moving forward, Coriolanus took your hands in his, lifting your arms so he could see you in your entirety. "Look at you," he said in awe. He put one hand down, lifting the other, still joined with yours, up high. "Turn around for me."

You did so happily, doing a slow spin under his arm so he could see the whole dress. His smile seemed uncontainable. "You look beautiful sweetheart. So pretty." He brought your hand to his lips, kissing your fingers. "There's a car waiting. I knew you'd have bags." He nodded at a man in a suit standing near him, and he started to gather them, carrying them outside.

Coriolanus turned back to you, looking over you again with an adoring smile. "You look lovely, darling. Truly." His affections pleased you, and you looked up at him proudly. Then he seemed to remember something, rubbing your arms. "Did you get a coat?"

Lyra stepped in, holding out the white coat with fur around the cuffs and collar you'd selected earlier. He gave her an appreciative nod, holding it up for you to step into. You slid your arms through the sleeves, and he turned you back around, taking the edges to adjust it around you, making sure you were warm enough.

You watched him do all this with a soft look in your eyes. He'd always doted on you like you couldn't believe. Coriolanus closed the coat around you, chucking you lightly under the chin. "I forgot to tell you how cold it stays for a while, darling."

The driver poked his head in, letting him know everything was ready, and Coriolanus took your hand. You turned to Lyra. "Thank you again for everything."

She smiled appreciatively. "It was my pleasure. Come back any time." You could tell she meant it.

Coriolanus led you out to the car, his arm around your waist, and you could see that you were attracting stares from some of the passerby just like earlier. Only this time, you weren't sure why. You were dressed like a Capitol citizen now.

When you asked Coriolanus about it, he smiled, squeezing his arm around your waist. "It's because you're gorgeous. You were before, but now you're beautiful in a way they know."

He kept his arm wound around your waist the whole car ride, and you couldn't help but think what a pretty pair the two of you made. For so much of your relationship you'd been mismatched. The soldier and the country girl. And a few hours ago, the country girl and academic. But now you looked like you belonged together, like you were dolls that came in a set.

The car pulled up in front of a tall, grand looking building. It was clearly old, but in a majestic way. The sun setting made the white exterior appear nearly golden. Coriolanus exited the car first, holding out a hand for you. You moved to get your bags, but he shook his head, offering his arm. "They'll be taken up. Come with me, darling."

Every step you took, you were more unsure of what you were walking into. A man standing guard at the front nodded at Coriolanus, and he returned it curtly. All the way into the elevator, to what seemed to be the top floor, you wondered what it would be like. Living with him. You'd never lived with someone you were in a relationship with before.

When the elevator dinged, signaling your arrival, Coriolanus looked down at you, reaching his other hand to where yours was clinging to the crook of his arm. "Ready?"

You nodded in an assuring way, even though you had no idea what he was asking.

The doors parted to reveal a luxurious space, more elaborately decorated than anything you'd ever seen. One thing you noticed were the accents of red everywhere. And the roses. Both the color and the flower seemed to hold importance. On some unconscious level you'd known this, known red was his favorite color but not why. Known he valued roses, but not the reason. You were thankful for your choice in dress, the same dark, rich crimson.

Coriolanus helped you take off your coat, but he seemed to be looking for something as he did. "Tigris?" he called, removing his own and hanging it with yours in the closet. Or someone.

A pretty, stylish woman with blonde hair emerged from another room. When she saw you, her face lit up. "Is this her?"

"It is," Coriolanus looked down at you proudly. You felt as if he were showing you off, but you didn't mind it one bit. "Darling, this is my cousin Tigris."

She smiled as she looked over you. "You're just lovely...I can see what Coriolanus was talking about."

"It's nice to meet you," you offered shyly, letting go of his arm. She brought you into a warm hug, and a comforting feeling bloomed in your chest. When she pulled back, she looked over the details of you with great interest. "Your dress is beautiful."

"Ah," Coriolanus said pleasantly over your shoulder, and you looked up, seeing an older woman enter the room. His grandmother, you presumed from what he'd told you.

He introduced you to her and she smiled, albeit a bit tightly. "So, you're the girl he met in twelve?" Her tone made it sound like that wasn't necessarily a good thing.

Tigris saved the day, swooping in and linking arms with you, asking about you, your interests and how you liked the Capitol so far. You told her a bit about shopping earlier, and she beamed. "I'll finally have someone to shop with! Maybe that's the real reason Coriolanus brought you home," she said teasingly, tossing a look back at her cousin.

He only smiled, holding out his hand. "I'm going to show her the bedroom, Tigris."

Playfully reluctant, she let go, smiling sweetly at you. "We'll talk more tomorrow." Then she hugged you again. "I'm very glad you're here. You and I are going to be great friends."

"I'm sure we will," you smiled, letting go and going to Coriolanus. He seemed pleased that you were getting along with her.

He led you to a pair of doors at the end of a hallway, standing like two white chess pieces. The king and queen, you thought.

Coriolanus took you through the door on the right. It was a rather pretty bedroom, decorated much the same as the rest of this floor, grandly with accents of red. Beautiful of course, like a palace.

"This is your room, dove," he explained, and you smiled at the thought of this elegant space belonging to you. Then, he opened a door you'd presumed was a closet. Behind it, you saw another bedroom, but this one looked a little more lived in. "And this is mine."

"A secret door?" you wondered in delight. He confirmed it with a nod.

"The washroom is just through here," he pointed to another door with a gold handle. "It connects to my room as well."

Instantly, you wondered how much time exactly you'd be spending in the room he'd pronounced as yours. He validated your thoughts, taking your face in his hands. No matter how many times he did so, you loved it, the feel of his big hands caressing your soft cheeks. "They've already brought your things in here. I'll let you freshen up." He chucked you under the chin lightly. "Meet me in my room."

Coriolanus kissed your forehead, looking at you in his typical fond way. "I'm happy you're here, sweetheart."

Your smile stayed on your face until he shut the door behind him, and then you leapt into action.

The bags of things you'd gotten today were set to the side of the bed, beside an open door that looked like a closet. You rushed to them, carefully pulling out boxes and trying to figure out what was in each of them.

Finally, you found the one with your sleepwear and rustled through it, trying to find something...acceptable to wear. He'd implied you'd be sleeping in the same bed. You wanted to be pretty for him, for your first night together in the Capitol.

You pulled out nightdresses and sleep sets, considering. Which one was the prettiest? Which one would he like the best?

Remembering the importance of red, you chose a nightdress of that color with white lace trim and a bow in the center. You would keep your panties underneath on, you decided.

Removing your dress and hanging it in the closet, you put the nightdress on, looking at yourself in the full-length mirror. It was pretty. It made your legs look long and your skin smooth.

You pulled your hairbrush from your case and ran it through your hair a few times, making sure you looked presentable. Suddenly everything about you looked wrong. You messed with your reflection, turning to try and see yourself from the back.

There was a knock on the door. "Is everything alright, darling?"

When you looked at the clock, you realized you'd been in there for nearly an hour. "Yes!" you called, adjusting the straps of your nightdress. "I'll be just a moment."

Looking at yourself one more time, you nodded, hoping this was enough.

Opening the door, you saw him standing at his desk, holding a file, reading the contents. He'd also changed, into a grand looking dressing gown that was open, revealing he was wearing nothing but his boxers.

Coriolanus looked up, grinning when he saw you, and putting the papers back on his desk. He came to you, reaching for your hands. "Beautiful." He looked you up and down, his eyes catching on your delicate nightdress. His gaze grew slightly hungry, and he pulled you to the bed, sitting and guiding you to his lap.

His large hands settled on your thighs, grazing the hem. You searched his eyes, trying to guess at his next move. Leaning in, he kissed you gently, pulling back to look at you. "Have I already told you how happy I am now that you're here?"

"A few times," you teased, and he gave a playful growl, grabbing you around the waist and rolling you over so he was on top of you. Coriolanus' lips trailed hot kisses down your neck, and you leaned back and enjoyed it, sighing softly and tangling your hand in his hair. He'd never had hair long enough where you could do that before.

As he ravished you with attention, you relished in your newfound position. Here you were, lying on silk sheets in a pretty dress being kissed by a handsome man who loved you.

When he pulled back to look at you, your smile was bright. Was there ever a girl luckier than you?

The second he'd met you, Coriolanus knew you weren't destined for the backwater slums of District 12. No, he knew you needed something grander, that you were born to live in luxury.

And besides, you deserved it too. There was a natural sweetness about you that made him protective of you, made him want to spoil you beyond belief. And until now, he hadn't had the chance or the means.

The second he'd spotted you in the crowd at the train station, his heart grew full. You were so adorable, a breath of fresh air in the windowless room that was the Capitol. He grew excited at the chance to spend money on you, and give you every comfort he thought you required.

Pretty dresses to wear, A grand place to live. Silk sheets to...well, he'd come back to that later.

Although the dress you'd arrived in was pretty, he wanted you to fit in here. Besides, you'd look absolutely beautiful in the classic style of the Capitol.

When he'd come back to collect you at the shop and seen you all dolled up, looking like you'd been born into luxury, he'd rejoiced. Obviously, he'd always found you beautiful, but there was something about the way you carried yourself now. You were every inch a lady.

He'd been slightly disappointed at how little you'd gotten, but remembering the way you'd lived in 12, he let it slide. In time you'd become accustomed to it. He'd send you shopping again soon, perhaps with Tigris since she seemed to like you so much.

It was only a few days after you arrived that the first social event you'd attend together came up. He was eager to take you out and show you off.

That night when you emerged from your bedroom in a black and white floor length gown of delicate tulle, a string of pearls around your neck, his breath was taken away. He took your hand in his, kissing it gallantly. "Beautiful darling. Absolutely stunning."

You smiled in your sweet way, and he offered his arm to escort you out. Tigris fawned over your dress, looking lovely herself in pink silk. The three of you made your way down to the car, and he could feel your giddiness at the prospect of tonight, though you kept yourself composed in a way he admired.

Walking in with you, he could feel everyone's eyes draw to the pair of you. As a new face in the Capitol, they'd likely be curious, and he relished in the unspoken interest.

Instantly people came to you. He introduced you to person after person, and you greeted them shyly, but politely. It was obvious after a while that people were becoming enamored by you. The sweetness of your being captivated them just as it had him, just as he knew it would.

Women fawned over you, complimenting your dress and asking where you got it. Men eyed you appreciatively, but saw that you were on Coriolanus' arm, so didn't get too close. Good, he thought, looking down at you. You were his. Anyone who got too close in the wrong way would be buried.

You chatted eagerly with anyone who crossed your path. He kept you close, but still greeted those who approached him. There were certain people he was required to talk to after all, but he wasn't going to let you go for it.

When you went off to get a glass of champagne, an older woman whispered to him, "She's absolutely darling."

Coriolanus' mouth twitched into a smile. "Isn't she?" He was pleased that society seemed to have accepted you, finding you as charming as he did.

The night progressed smoothly, and soon you were caught up in a group of women alongside Tigris, talking about fashion. He excused himself, deciding you were alright for the moment in the company of his cousin.

Making his rounds, he greeted senator after senator, oozing politeness. These events could be tedious but having you here with him helped greatly. He'd look over at you every now and then, just making sure you were okay. Every time, he'd see you caught up in conversation, looking like sunshine in a physical form.

He wasn't worried about your social graces. You were unusually well educated for where you were from, and by your own choice too. There was plenty in your pretty little head about topics Capitolites could discuss for hours. Both intellectuals and opposite. His angel could bewitch anyone she wanted.

You came back to him shyly after a little bit, and he wrapped his arm around you, pressing a kiss to your temple. He could smell your perfume. Roses. His favorite. "Everything alright, darling?"

You nodded, looking up at him. "Who do we talk to next?"

That made him smile. You were so eager to please. He rested his hand on your face, thumb running over your cheek. "We don't have to. We can go home now, love."

You looked nervous. "Just a few more? I don't want to be rude."

Coriolanus looked over you, considering. "A few more." He thought it was adorable of you to worry about manners; you really were too sweet.

He led you over to a group of colleagues, greeting them politely. The group of men looked at you with interest, showering you with compliments. Of course, these compliments were a bit more sexual in nature than the women from earlier, but he let it slide, keeping his grip on you tight. You were oblivious to it, chattering with them and winning them over the same way you had with everyone else thus far.

One of the men made a comment about the way your dress hugged your body, and his fingers splayed on your waist possessively. It's not her fault, he reminded himself. He made a mental note to keep you even closer at the next event.

You excused yourself for a moment, whispering to him that you'd be right back, and he was left alone with the group of men. Back to talking about what he considered to be uninteresting affairs, especially when compared to you.

Twenty minutes passed, and you had not returned. He was growing concerned, looking around the room to see if you were with Tigris, perhaps. But no, his cousin was talking to an older lady in a blue dress.

His brow furrowed as he looked, still trying to stay engaged in the conversation but failing. Where on earth had you gone?

Finally, to his relief, you returned. Your smile was tighter, wearier than it had been before. When he got a closer look at you, he could see dried tear tracks on your face.

Immediately he took you under his arm, nodding a brief goodbye to the men in front of him. Leading you out into the hallway, he searched your eyes, brow furrowed. "Sweetheart...sweetheart, what happened? Are you okay?"

You were trying to stay composed; he could see it. Breathing deeply so you wouldn't cry, you said, "Who else do we need to talk to?"

Coriolanus shook his head, pulling you into his arms. "No one. What's the matter?"

The second he had you against his chest you broke, tears slipping down your face like rivers. He held your head against his shoulder, letting you cry there. "Shhh, I've got you angel. It's going to be okay."

He kissed your hair, rubbing your back lightly as not to wrinkle your dress. "What happened?"

You sniffled, shaking your head against his chest, words muffled. "Nothing. It's nothing."

"It's not nothing if it's making you cry. What happened?" he demanded gently.

Turning your head so your ear was over his heart, you sighed softly. Then, "I heard someone talking about how I'm 'district' and I should go back to Twelve."

His blood ran cold, his arms tightening around you. "Who?"

"I don't know," you said honestly. You were so new to this; he should have figured you wouldn't recognize who did it.

Coriolanus inhaled softly, burying his nose in your hair. "Pay them no mind, darling. They're fools with too much wine in their systems."

"I don't even know how they found out," you muttered, pulling back to look up at him. "I didn't tell anyone where I was from. Did you?"

"No," he said, trying to think if he might have let it slip. Not that being from Twelve was anything to be ashamed of, but he knew the socialites at the Capitol would take it too far in a negative light.

You leaned your forehead against his chest. "I don't know how anyone found out," you repeated.

"It's alright, sweetheart," he promised, his voice a soothing coo. "High society feeds on gossip like this. They'll forget all about however scandalous they think it is in no time."

You nodded, unable to do anything but believe him, leaning back into his chest, safe in the cocoon of his arms.

When the next event approached; a gala to celebrate the president and his wife's anniversary, he watched you build yourself up to attend. You selected your dress carefully, trying to infuse confidence into your appearance.

Coriolanus had known it would be a hard transition, going from living in a poor district to the upper-class world. You were doing wonderfully on your part, and he reveled in that. It was the people around you that were having a hard time getting used to it.

Perhaps he shouldn't have involved himself so much in the world of parties and dinners so soon after returning in anticipation of your arrival, but he couldn't help himself. He finally had money and influence and he wanted to use it. It was like giving a man dying of thirst water.

Anyways, the both of you were stuck in this position now. You were making the best of it, enjoying the life he'd given you despite the whispers heard everywhere you went. His sweetheart had a gift for seeing the light.

Tonight, you looked especially beautiful, in a floor length white, sheer dress that Tigris had assured you was the latest style. You seemed very eager to please, checking your reflection a dozen times before you followed him out the door.

He watched you enter the party with an air of pure confidence. Here you were, beautiful as ever, determined to make everyone like you. It broke his heart a little, that you sook the approval of others so much. But he stayed quiet, letting you do what you pleased.

It started well.

You greeted everyone you'd met before, a bright smile gracing your face. Coriolanus felt a twinge of pride. That was his girl.

He looked up at a group of women who were eyeing you, whispering among themselves, and his eyes narrowed just slightly. Then he turned to you. "Darling, let me introduce you."

Walking you over to them, he put on a polite smile as you sweetly told them your name. "It's lovely to meet you."

"Pleasure," one of the women, a blonde, said, pursing her lips as she peered at you over her glass of champagne.

"Likewise," you gave her a genuine smile and Coriolanus thanked the higher powers for your innocence.

As you began to speak to them in your special you way, he relaxed a little. Maybe he need not be so protective. Maybe you could handle yourself.

After a few minutes, you leaned into him, whispering, "You can go greet whoever else you need to, my love. I'll be fine."

He furrowed his brow a bit. "Are you sure?"

You nodded assuredly. "Of course." Tilting your head up to kiss him briefly, you said, "I know you have people to talk to. Go on."

Coriolanus stood still for a moment, deciding if it was a good idea. Eventually he concurred, giving you a parting kiss on the temple and going off to talk to a nearby official who greeted him heartily.

You watched him go, then turned back to the women, smiling. "I love your dress," you told the blonde who'd said it was a pleasure.

She softened a bit, giving you a squinty eyed smile. "Thank you. It's from the new boutique on Third. I can direct you there if you'd like."

Before you could answer, one of the other women, a brunette, said, "Your accent is so unique. Wherever are you from?"

You froze at the question, keeping the smile on your face. "Up north."

The brunette looked amused, a little smirk on her face. "Oh, so like Seven? Or Nine?"

Another blonde cut in, laughing a little. "Oh no, I bet she's from Twelve. Their accent is very similar."

Feeling tense and not much like lying, you nodded. "I am."

Blonde number two seemed rather pleased to be correct, and she raised an eyebrow as she looked you up and down. "How did you wind up here, then? In the Capitol, I mean."

You ignored the pang in your chest. "Coriolanus brought me here."

All three of the women's faces lit up at the mention of him, now looking interested. "How kind of him," the brunette said, sipping her drink. "The Snows have always been known for their charity. First with the Plinth boy and now with you! How lovely."

It was a jab, but you brushed it off. She probably didn't mean anything by it, you decided. Straightening up, you responded, "Yes, it was. I'm very grateful to be here."

"But how long are you here for?" Blonde number two asked, her eyes wide. She seemed about your age, but you could nearly physically feel the difference between you two.

"As long as he wants me to be," you answered honestly, fidgeting with the sleeve of your dress and looking to see if you could spot Tigris. She was nowhere to be found.

"Ahh, I see," the brunette gave you a smile that almost seemed condescending. "Well, that's very nice for you. A little trip to the Capitol."

"Yes, quite," you smiled politely, feeling like a bug under a microscope. "Excuse me, I'm going to go get a drink."

Once you were away, you took a deep breath. At least they weren't being outright awful. It was better than nothing, you supposed. Grabbing a glass of champagne, you took a sip for courage.

You can do this, you told yourself silently as you made your way back over. Make them forget where you're from, make them-

"She's rather naive, isn't she?"

The words of the first blonde woman pierced your ears, and you halted to a stop, just barely in earshot. The crowd was thick, but you could both see them and hear everything they said.

"Well, she is from Twelve after all," the brunette laughed. "Did you expect anything different?"

"Such a shame for Coriolanus," the second blonde mused, swirling her drink. "I wonder if he felt sorry for her. Or maybe he got her pregnant!"

The brunette gasped, hitting her in the arm lightly as she giggled. "That must be what it is. He's such a gentleman, of course he'd do the right thing even if she's a whore. I've heard most pretty girls from Twelve are."

"Poor man fell in love with her and she's just using him," the second blonde shrugged. "Oh, my word, we have to tell Jenny and Mary!"

You were rushing off into the hallway before they could say anything else.

Hot tears burned your cheeks as they fell, and you leaned against the wall, hand covering your eyes. Why did I ever think I could do this?

You caught sight of your reflection in a mirror on the opposite wall, and it only served you worse. Before tonight it had shown a girl who fit in, who could be every bit as good at society as the women in the next room.

But now all you saw was an imposter. Nothing dressed up all pretty.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you tried desperately not to cry. You didn't want to ruin your makeup and have to go back out there with blackened eyes. Taking deep breaths, you tried to focus on the positive. Everyone else seemed to like you, that was good. The dress you're wearing is pretty.

Opening your eyes, you breathed in and out shakily, smoothing your hair and still harvesting good thoughts. You're in the Capitol. You don't have to worry about money. Coriolanus is-

Right there.

You caught him in the reflection of the mirror and slowly turned your head. His face was solemn. Silently, he held out his arms.

Like a magnet, you were drawn to him. His arms felt like a shield around you, and you could've welded yourself to him in that moment. As a peacekeeper he had always been protective of you, and you were happy that hadn't changed.

No words were said. He knew. Instantly he knew. And you loved him for it.

You were still trying not to cry, and he looked down at you, lifting your chin with a single finger. "Darling."

The single word broke you. Biting the inside of your cheek, twin tears rolled down your cheeks, and his face softened. He pressed your head against his shoulder, holding you to him.

"I'm sorry sweetheart," he breathed, holding you against him.

"This was a mistake," you hiccupped, lifting a hand to brush a tear away.

"What do you mean?" he frowned, hand running through your hair.

"I shouldn't have come here," you whispered in shuddering tones. "I know it looks bad for you, being seen with a girl who's 'district'."

Coriolanus pulled back, looking down at you. He looked determined. "Darling, if anything you make me look better. You've charmed just about everyone in that room."

Shaking your head, you choked, "I'm an imposter, Coryo." Your hands were shaking. You'd jumped into the river of Capitol society, and now the words of the women were stones tied to your wrists, holding you down at the bottom when you desperately needed air. "You should just let me go back to Twelve."

"No," he said instantly, tone sharp. Coriolanus held you tighter to him, as if you'd disappear to Twelve any second in a puff of smoke. "You're not going back there. You're staying with me."

"There is absolutely no reason to keep me here," you begged, searching his eyes. "You have so much ahead of you- you don't need me dragging you down."

Coriolanus heaved a sigh, looking firmly at you. He thumbed a tear from your cheek, studying you for a moment. Then, he reached down for your hand. "Come on. We're going home."

"You don't need to-"

"No," he cut you off, looking over you. "Come with me, sweetheart."

You trailed behind him, his hand in yours as he pulled you back into the ballroom. Flushing red a bit due to your slightly disheveled appearance, you kept your eyes on your shoes, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

Hearing Tigris' voice, you looked up. She looked concerned, looking between you and Coriolanus like she was at a tennis match. "Is everything okay?"

"We're going to head home," Coriolanus said smoothly, letting go of your hand and moving his arm to your waist, holding you in a protective way.

"Okay," Tigris said confusedly. "I'm going to stay a little longer. I'll call a cab." It was sweet of her, to let you go. You didn't want her evening to be ruined because you couldn't handle what other people said about you.

"I'm sorry," you said quietly, and she shook her head.

"Nothing to be sorry for," she said kindly, reaching out and smoothing the sleeve of your dress. "Feel better, alright?"

You nodded, and Coriolanus guided you away, through the crowds. Their whispering irked at you. You were convinced they were talking about the naive country girl and the Capitol's newest up-and-comer, and what a mismatched pair you were.

The car ride home was quiet, and you sniffled the whole way. Coriolanus kept close, his presence a rock in your panicked ocean of insecurity.

All the way up the stairs and into your room he was silent. It wasn't until he sat you down on the bed, and knelt before you, his hands grasping yours, that he said, "You're not going back."

"You have to let me," you responded dryly, your voice hoarse both from crying and lack of use. "I'm no use to you."

"Darling-" he looked away for a moment, seeming frustrated. "What did they say?"

"I don't want to talk about it," you mumbled, looking at your lap.

"You're going to talk about it," he said firmly, lifting one of his hands to take your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look at him. "What did they say? Don't leave anything out because you want to be nice. I know you, dove. Repeating what they said about you doesn't make you any less of a sweetheart."

Feeling trapped, you avoided his eyes. "It doesn't matter." What the women had said had hurt you, but you didn't want to be the one running to your boyfriend every time someone hurt your feelings.

"It matters to me," he insisted, forcing you to meet his sharp blue eyes. "Don't leave a single word out."

You bit your cheek so hard you tasted blood. Then, seeing no way out, you said in broken tones. "They said...I must be pregnant, or..." you didn't want to say whore. "...or a girl who sleeps around to have gotten you to bring me back here." His eyes darkened, and you quickly tried to smooth it over. "But it's not-"

"Don't defend them," Coriolanus stopped you, squeezing your hand. "Don't. Trust that they'll be dealt with, but do not defend them. They wouldn't do that for you."

"That's not the point, Coryo," you shook your head, scrambling so you wouldn't be the cause of anyone getting hurt. "They also...said I was pretty...?" you tried.

Coriolanus paused for a moment, then laughed lightly in disbelief, bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing it. "You really are an angel, you know that? Always so worried about everyone else. I'll bet it was a backhanded compliment and you're leaving something out."

He'd gotten you. You were quiet.

He nodded in confirmation. "Right. But sweetheart-" he came to sit by you on the bed. "Come here." Coriolanus pulled you to sit across his lap, your head resting on his shoulder. "They didn't say anything true. Women in the Capitol are jealous creatures."

"That's likely all they know," you said softly as he rubbed your back soothingly. "The poor things...growing up competing with each other like that."

Coriolanus kissed your temple, chuckling ironically. "You're too sweet. It'll be your downfall someday."

"They were right, though," you said softly, your fingers hooked on the buttons of his shirt.

"Baby," he muttered against your hair. "No."

You looked up at him, and he exhaled softly, his fingers running through your hair. "I don't want you talking about yourself like that. Especially when what those women think is in the minority."

Furrowing your brow, you tilted your head. "What do you mean?"

He scoffed lightly, in a fond way. "Sweetheart, do you know how many people have asked me about the charming girl I brought home with me? How enchanting everyone finds you?" Coriolanus squeezed your arm. "You've entranced everyone that matters."

"But-"

"There's always going to be someone who can't find it in their heart to admit they like you," he assured, nudging a kiss against your temple. "But you, my angel...you're perfect. And you're staying right here. With me."

The possessiveness of his words did not escape you, but it made you feel safer. "I don't want to hurt your position."

"You are the last thing that would hurt that," Coriolanus stated, and the way he said it made you believe it too. "If anything, you're an asset. The way you draw people in, you're a born higher-up's wife. And you're a thousand times sweeter."

He put both hands on the sides of your face. "I have never found you anything less than radiant. Never. And I do not want you do go back to Twelve. You deserve better. I want you here with me. Do you understand?"

Moved by his words, you nodded, and he wrapped his arms back around you, tucking you into his chest. "That's my good girl." He kissed the top of your head, rubbing your back. "I love you. I'm not about to let you go for anything."

"I love you too," you breathed, eyes closing as your body melted against his. It was safe here. And in that moment, you saw forever with him, here where he wanted you.

Seeing you in distress was agony. Coriolanus never wanted that to happen again.

He had to be careful with how he handled things, however. You were innocent, unknowing. And that was just the way he liked it.

Holding you there in his arms that night, he vowed not to let anyone who made you cry walk the planet. Someone who'd hurt a creature as sweet and good as you were didn't deserve to live anyways, he justified.

Coriolanus had big plans for the future. As he rose to power, it'd be less and less of an issue getting you what he thought you deserved.

And it'd be even less of an issue hiding from you what he had done to get there.

You would never find out that he was the cause of Sejanus' death. You would never know what became of the women who spoke so illy of you tonight. No, he'd continue to distract you with the shine and luster of the Capitol. Tomorrow, he'd send you out for a day with Tigris and then leave his internship early to spend the evening with you. Maybe armed with a gift or two. It likely wouldn't even be as hard as he was thinking, given your tendency to focus on the light.

He would do everything over and over again because he adored you. The love, the light of his life. Too good for this world, his alone to protect and cherish and dote on. He would live for you; he would kill for you.

This was only the beginning.

come talk about coryo here!

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #the hunger games fanfiction #the hunger games #tbosas fic #tbosbas #tbosas x reader #tbosas #Spotify #milliesfishes coryo #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x you #coryo x reader #coryo snow

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chaiisms · 2 months

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BALDURS GATE 3 PARTY BANTER PROMPTS LIST.

all of the following prompts are taken from party banter between the companions in larian studios' baldurs gate 3 (2023). there should be no spoilers! also, a disproportionate amount of these are from astarion and karlach. i'm not sorry.

I am enjoying our walks together, aren't you, [ name ]?

You'll be as depraved as the rest of us in no time.

Friend of yours?

Were you always so sneaky?

If there's hope for me there's hope for anyone.

How are we not there yet? My feet are killing me.

This is what I get for trying to strike up conversation.

We're not going to have trouble, are we?

If we continue this way, we may get too close for comfort.

Don't get too comfortable. We shouldn't overstay our welcome in such a place.

Do you have pet names for each other yet?

[ name ]! Was that a joke?

You know what - that is not the easiest of questions for me to answer.

Given your own nature, are you really the one to judge?

You can read?!

I'm surprised - I expected you to turn your back once you got what you wanted.

I wouldn't know a flirtation if you whacked me alongside the head with it.

Why stay somewhere safe and comfortable when we could be in mortal peril?

Can't say I love what they've done with the place.

I'm learning to enjoy the taste of chaos. Count me in.

At least you didn't tell me to 'be myself'.

You have so much to learn. Repeat after me: honey muffin, sweetie pie, sugarplum.

Nice to be in a crowd of normal people for once.

So [ name ], how is your sad, hopeless pining going?

You seemed a million miles away just then.

I fear I've been rather hasty to judge you, [ name ].

Ready to enter the belly of the beast?

Step one of starting a conversation: think before you speak.

I hear your relationship has taken on a new aspect recently…

All right, just keep it down. We're conspicuous enough without your hyena call.

Not one for roughing it, I see.

Why not have a little fun?

You're right, of course. Forgive me.

My money's on you, [ name ].

The echoes - listen! They're coming from three directions!

Want me to carry you?

Feeling at home?

Treat them right, or you'll have me to answer to.

Oh, darling, would you?

No doubt they found me too intimidating.

A girl could get used to this.

Now I don't know what to believe.

Well - yes, it was a joke.

I know that, too. It just wasn't funny.

And here I thought I rubbed you the wrong way.

Man, it's good to be home. First round on who?

Oh, I wouldn't actually leave. After all, where would you be without me?

You've quite the knack for finding the bright side of things, haven't you?

Well what would impress you, then?

Let's just stop this conversation right here, shall we?

Must've been an awful day for the people who lived here

You've clearly thought this through a great deal. I'm impressed and appalled in equal measure.

Sure, but think of the stories you'll be able to tell.

I never was scared of the shadows.

I know you're not really as heartless as all that.

I judged you wrongly. I'm sorry.

Are you charging for this sage advice, or is sticking your nose into my business just a hobby?

Pragmatism, thy name is [ name ].

That's ironic, coming from you.

We're either very clever or very lucky.

You do not need luck to survive, [ name ]. Not when you have me.

That will make getting word to my mother rather tricky.

Stop gawking at the decor. This place is dangerous.

I can't tell if you're joking.

So, what's it like caring for someone other than yourself, [ name ]?

You think I'm beautiful?

I feel it too. Here if you need a pick-me-up.

Yet another thing we have in common. We're two peas in a pod.

Is it so unbelievable that they would simply like me?

Use your words.

You gonna catch me if I eat a brick?

[ name ], I've heard you talking in your sleep.

Let's never speak of this again.

You can take a day off once in a while, [ name ]

Hey! Something bit me.

Cheer up. It might be all downhill from here.

I love a nice secret hideaway, don't you?

Think the bar is open?

#roleplay meme #roleplay prompts #rp meme #rp memes #rp prompt #rp prompts #chaiisms #revisms #baldurs gate 3 rp #bg3 rp

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serawritesthings · 2 months

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WHERE THE DEERS REST, first part

Pairing | LowHonor!Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader Summary | How can we do good when all we were raised to do is bad? A cruel fate, indeed. Yet when your past, and a certain outlaw, finds a way to set its claws in you once more, perhaps you'll soon find there is a way to change fate's design. Tags | sexual content 18+ minors dni, smut, heavy description of violence and wounds, angsty Word Count | 22k A/N | Oh god, I'm so nervous about posting this. First of all, thank you SO much for the love you showed to Our Dear, Green Little Friend. It has completely warmed my heart that so many of you like it, and even though it's taken me very long to post my next fic, it was one of the key motivations for me to continue writing on it. So thank you very, very much! <3 Also, like I said earlier, I'm very nervous about posting this fic since it's very long and perhaps quite different than what I've written before, but I hope to god you like it! I haven't been in the best mindset when writing it since I've dealt with some stress both privately and at work. I will let you know that I will soon go through it once more and edit it slightly, but I felt like I had to get it out to you guys since I feel bad that I haven't posted in a while, and I'm honestly quite sick of rereading the story time and time again. Please let me know if there are any serious misspellings, and I'll fix it directly! Anyway, sorry for the long text, and I hope you like it!<3

For some, it might’ve seemed cowardly, yet you couldn’t bear to unravel some memories, for they hurt too deeply–wounded too far. However, the thought of letting them fade was somehow worse, and while you feared the pain they would surely bring when confronted, you hadn’t been forced to face them until now. So, it turned out to be quite the coincidence they would come to haunt you now that time seemed to be at a standstill; the world around you had never been this calm before.

“Miss, would you mind taking these back?” A hearty voice broke your thoughts, speaking in a mumbling fashion as the loud sound of books hit the wooden table. Wading through the dust that floated around you that stirred from Eustace’s sudden motion, you found his ageing eyes gazing at you amusedly, chuckling at the sour expression that formed on your otherwise soft features.

“I don’t mind,” you said, giving him a small smile that turned vicious once the heavy pile of books was cradled in your arms. “If you don’t mind taking a round with the whisk.” You didn’t get the chance to see the irked look on his face, disappearing quickly into the towering bookshelves.

“Don’t forget to dust the higher places as well!” Chuckling warmly at the man’s miffed mumbling, you walked on carefully, making sure not to stumble on the ratty carpet as his grumbling grew distant.

The bickering that seemed constant when you conversed with the older man was by all means with no ill intent, more so done in jest. And, while your friendship might seem rather unusual, there was no doubt that his presence brought you an undeniable comfort in a world that had done you more wrong than right. Sure, it might sound dreary, but you recently concluded that you grew more and more content with the thought of staying here.

You loved how a sense of calm always seemed to rest over the building, the smell of old books filling your senses, although an ever-so-poignant whiff of hot steel and grease found its way in from the open window as the train chugged to a stop and steam billowed through the surrounding air. Sighing, you took the liberty of closing the window, the sharp whistle making you cringe as it brought you out of your solitude.

Eustace had taken you under his wing when the bearings of your life had become too heavy, giving you a roof over your head and warm food in your stomach. It made you wonder how sparse kind souls like his were in this world, never having met one quite like him. While your compromised situation originally had been the reason for his kindness, he had found your fascination and vast knowledge of books intriguing and, therefore, refused to take no for an answer when he asked you to start helping him around his bookstore. Yet, despite how much you appreciated it, you couldn’t flee from the unease that still hooked its claws in you when you pondered the reason you had ended up here in the first place, the tendrils of it creeping into the sanctuary of the bookshop like ivy upon ancient stone. Despite your dislike of it, you bore the weight of it every second, and although well hidden, you had become tethered to the memories that followed your past.

Like shattered glass, memories pierced your heart with sharp edges at every twist and turn. Distant echoes of laughter that had long since faded into silence, the faces blurred by time yet etched into your very being passing before you as your pace slowed down, the wooden panels creaking something so terribly under your weight.

With a heavy sigh, you moved among the hundreds of books, fingers deftly tracing the spines as you sought their rightful place amongst their brethren. Arranging them on the shelves, you tried to distract yourself from your thoughts by humming quietly in the otherwise quiet room. The shop had been empty for quite some time now; the townsfolk’s interest in the subtle words on the pages dimmed in their struggle to survive their daily life—only pretentious men stepped inside at times who, by crook or hook, imagined they would leave a mark on this world with their clever words and supposed hierarchy in society. It lessened, though, as they went for bigger–more extraordinary–things than this muck of a town, wherever that might be.

Amidst the quiet rustle of pages and the soft creak of wood–and your less than favourable words, the air suddenly turned congeal, thick with a sudden tension that tickled your senses with its uncertainty. A chill coursed down your spine as you felt an ominous presence looming behind you, casting you in its shadow as the weight of something cold and unyielding pressed against the tender flesh of your temple. With a tremble, you froze, the books once held tightly against your chest cascading to the ground in a tumble.

Your heart was hammering against your chest, beating against your ribs like a caged bird as its frantic beat drowned out the world around you. You grew too fearful to move, the clicking sound of a gun daring you to resist.

“Easy there, miss,” a gravelly voice spoke, vibrating dangerously in your ear as warm breaths turned cold on the bare skin of your neck. “No sudden moves, and I won’t have to hurt you.”

You remembered that voice, feeling it dance just beyond the reaches of your consciousness, its familiarity almost touchable. How could you not voice it when the name lingered on your tongue, teasing and beckoning you? There had to be a mistake; there was no other conclusion to be made, for if it happened to be someone you had known, they might be less agreeable than the common bypasser.

“What do you want?” you managed to whisper, voice barely above a breath.

“Money, jewels. Whatever you got,” the voice replied, words heavy with a certain kind of roughness only a man holding a gun to a woman’s head could possess. “Just keep quiet and do as you’re told, and we’ll be on our way.”

Your mind raced in a jumbled mess of fear and uncertainty at the sudden intrusion you should have known was a high possibility in such a city as Blackwater. Yet, the thought only made your heart heavier against your chest, knowing all too well what kind of men hid in the darker corners of the alleyways. For one to threaten a woman in broad daylight, though, seemed very daring yet not an ounce less terrifying.

Summoning every bit of courage you possessed, you tilted your head to glimpse at the man pushing his head against the side of your face, opposite where the cold metal touched your temple dauntingly. As you did, you met the eyes of the man who held your fate in his hands–and in that fleeting moment, as your gazes met, you saw something flicker behind the hardened exterior of the outlaw.

Recognition dawned like a bolt of lightning. What stared back at you was not the face of a stranger but the familiar features of a man you had once known—a man whose presence had once held the promise of escape amidst the terrible deeds that clouded your life. Arthur Morgan, that’s who was standing behind you. His name echoed in your mind like from a long-forgotten dream, memories hidden so well you could barely remember them.

Two broken souls, trying to find what others seemed to have handed to them on a silver platter: warmth and solace, the comforting thought of finding a home–somewhere to belong. Yet, the relationship wasn’t made to be perfect, and in your despair, nothing good could’ve come from it. As many things go, it became too fragile. It couldn’t—didn’t—last, and what you once saw as a light beyond the heavy curtains of darkness was quickly swallowed up.

Instead of the kind ones you remember, dark, dangerous eyes stared into yours, the swirls of blue coated in a rich black that ran like coal through his acidic gaze. So harsh and cold were they, burning through yours as thick brows fell like a shield over the dark pools, hiding behind his squint and hostile snarl. Almost unrecognizable, he was seemingly both older and larger as the lines on his face were more defined and wrinkles on his nose nearly etched onto his face.

As your fearful eyes stared into his stoic yet calculating ones, you felt your body shiver in fright, every bell of alarm that once sounded so clearly in your mind turning quiet, now only the clock ticking discernible as blood rushed in your ears like a flood. The gun cocked dangerously, dread creeping through you at the wordless threat when you stayed quiet for longer than he had the patience for.

“You deaf?” His growling voice burned deep in his throat. A warm breath brushed against your cheek as he kept your gaze wholly, completely disregarding the unmistakable fear in your expression.

“I-”

You stumbled over your words, voice thick before a gasp left you. Between the disbelief of seeing Arthur’s face once again, although more weathered than you remember, and the thought of having a gun pressed to your temple, there was not a single word you could utter that would seem sensible.

Suddenly, you were turned around, hands pushing you against the bookshelves in a hasty motion, never minding their grip on you. Your head craned as the gun now found your neck, trying desperately to get away from it but instead having it digging harder into your skin.

“Now, are you going to do as I say?” You could feel the tendrils of disgust burn through you, face contorting as you twisted in his arms, proving futile against his leverage.

“Nah, none of that. You hear me?” His grumbling could be heard from deep within his chest while his face soured, the sharp lines of his frown growing darker under the shadow of his hat. Tightening the grip he had on you, his arms wound themselves like vices around you, daring you to make another move.

He was close now, his hot breath chilling the skin on your face as the smell of sweat and leather filled your senses–tears almost welled up in your eyes from the stinging feel of smoke emitted from his clothing. Every calm yet strained breath that left him was audible, contrasting heavily with your hectic breathing that filled the now-empty room.

It was daunting yet all too familiar as memories clouded your mind of the same man who was now threatening your life. Did he even recognize you? Or was he too far gone? Had the devil set its claws so deep inside him that he couldn’t longer differentiate friend from foe? It would seem so, you concluded, gazing again at his hardened face, which only recognized a stranger before him–a puppet to get what he desired the most.

“We ain’t got much.” Your voice strained against your throat, thick with unshed tears that lingered in the corners of your eyes. All you got in return was a faint squint of his eyes, gazing at you cautiously as he looked behind him calmly before returning his eyes to you.

“Do as I say.” Not a word left you, and whether it was from stubbornness or fear, you couldn’t be sure, but the look you were given made sure to convey that crossing him would not end well for you.

That was until it changed. Arthur’s features softened after he observed your face, running his eyes over your eyes and the slope of your nose until they reached your lips, quickly averting his gaze as he turned his head away momentarily. Did he remember you, you wondered, finding no other explanation to make sense.

It was a long time ago, too long for you to consider the shadow of a man standing before you a friend, yet you had never remembered him to be quite so harsh. So, brutal, perhaps? You had undoubtedly missed a few chapters, but the years were far apart, and time had a funny way of doing its worst to those who deserved it the least. Like wet paint, it spreads, leaching onto good people like a virus–just like bad fosters bad, and good fosters good.

“Please…” You pleaded with him, fright seeping like syrup into your shaking voice, pathetic and childish. “I-”

There was no time to finish your sentence. The loud thundering of hooves broke through the room’s tension, audible even through the closed window. Loud calls could be heard, as well as swear words further into the building that you did not recognize as Eustace. Worry filled you when you realized Arthur hadn’t come alone in his business to rob you blind, and now you were fearful that your companion might be in an even worse predicament.

The frown on his face deepened, the hold on his gun softening just enough as he pushed you hastily back towards the bookshelf, your legs weakening underneath you as you fell towards the ground. In long strides, he marched towards the window, hiding behind the wall as he peered out, almost blending into the shadows as the light from outside shone brightly. You could see people running past it, in too much of a hurry to peer inside as the shouts grew louder.

“Arthur!” A voice called out, recognizable as the rich timbre echoed through the corridor, gravelly yet smooth. “We have to leave!” As the last syllable left his mouth, you jerked as the first sound of a gun going off could be heard, hands quick to cover your ears as the noise punched a hole in your gut. “Now, Arthur!”

Everything after that became a blur, your whole body growing rigid as the world turned into chaos. Bullets could be heard going off left and right, rather like a thunderstorm than a gunfight echoing outside the room that now held you in prison. Your body stiffened, muscles tensing as you were brought back to the sounds that filled you with dread, memories flooding you, both unbidden and unwelcome.

Faces twisted in fear, the acrid smell of burning flesh, rising smoke, and gunpowder–sounds of screams echoing in your ears. You wished for it to cease, for the images to disappear, searching every corner of the room for an escape, somewhere you could go to to rid yourself of the horrid thoughts.

Momentarily, amidst your glancing around in stress, you found a pair of calculating eyes boring into yours, seemingly undecided as they stayed planted beside the window. Your breath came out in ragged gasps, the staccato rhythm of gunfire echoing through the building, mingling with shouts of panic and the sound of breaking glass.

Arthur’s gaze was fixated intensely on you, and a sense of uneasiness settled when you realized. It was heavy, and your heart raced as your eyes stayed plastered to the others–the urgent shouts from outside pierced through the silence as danger lurked outside the room’s walls. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel as if he was searching for something in the depths of your soul, piercing you with a scrutiny that left you barer than if he were to strip you of all your clothes and examine you naked. You found yourself unable to look away, moved by the indescribable way he didn’t seem to be either.

“Arthur!”

Barreling through the door in a flash of binges breaking loose and dust clouding your vision, a pair of men fell roughly onto the ground a few meters before you, blood seeping through their clothes like a rich, red paint. Splattering on the ground, it almost reached your clothes as bullets rained after them, shooting holes in the walls the few times it missed their targets.

Frantic eyes searched the now corpses in front of you, expecting to see Eustace's body among them. Yet, you found none–and hadn’t you been too preoccupied with the currants of relief coursing through you, you would have seen the young faces of the poor boys who had found their doom that day only because their perpetrators wanted to fill their pockets.

It didn’t seem that Arthur paid any mind to the mess that transpired in front of your very eyes, more so, still focusing on you like you were the only one in the room. Visibly distressed, it didn’t seem to deter him, his fingers flexing as his gaze burned dangerously under the shadow of his hat.

That was until he suddenly tore his attention from you in annoyance, seemingly finding the dead bodies in front of you a menace, a simple block in the road. That was until a faint grunt seemed to leave one of them, a grunt filled with pain as frantic eyes flickered around while the rest of his limbs appeared paralyzed, only able to stare at the roof.

Rounding him immediately, Arthur stepped around the man, walking with his dirty boots and rattling spurs into the blood that loitered the floor as the sound of the thick, wet fluid reverberated in your ears. Without a single word, he gave you one last glance. You stayed on the floor, clutching your shoulders with your hands as he bent over the man and stared him unapologetically in the eyes–the only sound after being the loud bang of his gun.

The sight was gruesome, and to think a man could do something like that without a blink of an eye, you considered even more cruel. You had seen your fair share of malice and anger, anger that turned even the kindest of men into herds of both sheep and wolves, meaning you couldn’t possibly be surprised. Yet, it reminded you too terribly of a time you thought you now would get the chance to lay behind you, never more having to stare these horrible men in the eyes any longer but instead keep them closed.

And you did keep your eyes closed this time, waiting for the moment pain would fill your chest. Yet, it didn’t come since only silence followed, and when you opened them again, the room was devoid of any life except your own; Arthur now only seemed to have been a figment of your imagination if it weren't for the poor victim, his blue eyes staring lifelessly into yous, wide open and terrified, seemingly having turned to you in the last second, hoping you would save him from his terrible fate.

—

Some would say you were of the quiet sort, choosing the words that fell from your lips carefully, both pondering and cautious. It came from a life where those assets were vital, a simple way to keep your tongue in check and do what you had to survive –which you would like to say wasn’t easy when it felt like your mind ran a thousand miles a second, never resting and finding it troublesome to make sense of the world that unveiled itself before you.

With your mother gone, you found yourself thrust into a world of uncertainty, your father's callousness only serving to worsen the fate you seemed to have been handed as he appeared indifferent to your loss, attention consumed by the demands of those around him. But alas, he was affected too, and you had come to learn that different people react differently to whatever hardships they come by–and those who don’t respond at all seem to be the ones that eventually act the harshest.

That was at least how your father had acted; you perceived his anger as something only a daughter could experience from a father. It was brutal and sudden, only appearing after a silence that rang like sirens in your ears–then grappling and choking. What could possess a man to harbor such anger, you couldn’t say, and while you knew he had it worse when he was little, you wondered if the thought of you only being a child ever crossed his mind.

You should be filled with anger and resentment, so much it could consume your life, fuel every action, and affect every choice you make. You should’ve been immersed in sadness, crying until your voice gave out and tears dried up, yet you couldn’t. They were inside of you; you could feel them leaking into your chest, and as you stared into your own dry eyes, you could only see the malice of your father reflected in them–the malice that seemed to be reflected in most eyes these days.

It didn’t matter if it was the ladies who sometimes passed by the dusty town of Blackwater or the lone man begging for coins in the corner of some run-down store. Deep-seated anger was in them all, rooted so gravely it felt like the air blackened when you stepped outside. Like a curse, it seeped into the very bones and festered there.

Why? Perhaps that’s just how humans work, always needing something to prove that the inhabited anger they felt had a cause, always searching to direct it to someone else less deserving of it. So, perhaps there wasn’t anyone to blame for the whole thing—maybe it was just the nature of humans–just like happiness or sadness is a natural way of expressing oneself. It seemed more manageable for you to grapple with it when thought of that way, for it became more of a fact than somewhere to cast your blame.

That’s why, when the bodies being dragged out the door left their track of dark, red blood, you could only gaze at Eustace, who spoke to one of the officers, refusing to look at the bloodshed around you. It turned out that your old man had been fine, answering in irritation while he told the sheriff that the outlaws probably hadn’t found him big enough of a threat as they searched every cabinet and shelf, taking no care to be careful of the things around them as it tumbled in heaps to the floor.

You couldn’t be sure if you felt relieved or not to have been further away from Eustace than you had been, wondering how your fate would have been decided if the lot of them had found you instead. Perhaps it had been your saving grace to see that the man from your past reached you first, but you couldn’t possibly say. Or maybe your saving grace was the officers who reached you just in time, for there was no telling what Arthur would have done with you had they not arrived when they did.

When you thought about it, he’d always been unpredictable. While his face was familiar to you, he was unrecognizable in many ways. His movements had been calculating and menacing, and his eyes looked right through you as if it didn’t matter who was standing before him. The only thought reflected in his eyes was the hope of shiny gold and glittering diamonds. But there was also greed–greed and hunger.

You could tell, for you had seen it before. There was a time when that was all you saw, and for a long while, you wondered how far a man could go to satiate his needs–if greed only could grow, worsen like a drug. The more you got, the more you needed, the high never enough, and the thought of gaining more pleasurable to the point of doing anything to receive it.

However, it was never a look you had seen coming from Arthur when you’d known him, as he’d been more prone to emit a childish want for justice and righteousness, pride, and a strong sense of doing what was right though the act was considered wrong. But it was a long time ago, and you realized that your vision might be clouded by a young girl's naivety that the world was a good place–that people could be wholeheartedly good.

“Dear girl.” Your thoughts were broken by Eustace’s low, seemingly now more careful voice, walking over to where you stood amidst the rushing forms of lawmen. “Are you alright?”

Were you? It was hard to tell, so you had no straight answer to give him. It was too crowded, and since you had nowhere to gather yourself, you weren’t in the right mind to devise a sensible response. So, instead, you answered in a way that would get you the least amount of questions–even though it might have been considered lying.

“Oh, I’m alright, Eustace; they never got the chance to find me.” Giving him a tight-knit smile, you touched his arm, grateful for his concern. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

You glanced up at him, finding his sharp eyes doubtful. You should have known. He never took kindly to lying and had an incredible knack for noticing when someone did. It would indeed be your doom one day–and many others, no doubt.

“No, I suspect they didn’t find the old man much of a threat.”

“Well, I’m glad they didn’t.” His eyes softened, and he heard your words despite your mumbling. Your gaze stayed stuck on his shoulder, deep in thought.

Even though the danger had passed for some time, it still felt like your heart resided somewhere deep in your stomach. Your thoughts and the looming dread–the slightly metallic smell of blood filling your nose—were heavy. It didn’t help that Arthur’s face became more prone to showing up after that incident, his grim expression wearing a sharp nose and piercing eyes cutting through the yellowed paper plastered on the city walls, surrounded by his unlawful friends that didn’t look any less menacingly.

5000§. That was the price for a man taking what he deemed his own, countless murders and robberies on his hands, blood heavy on his mind, and dollars flooding his pockets. It didn’t help your case that the poor boy selling newspapers in the corner outside the bookstore had pipes to last for days, reminding both you and the townspeople of their latest misfortune of having a gang hiding in the shadows.

Since trouble always seemed to find you, there wasn’t much for you to chastise yourself with, all too familiar with the thought of being at the deep end of one conflict or another. It was laughable, really, that one person could be doomed with such a case of bad luck and an increasing magnetism towards people who fought with bloodied knuckles for power and status. But, in the end, maybe the weak belonged to the strong—just like flies sought feed from the skin of rotting corpses to consume the waste left by those who always strived forward, no matter their intentions or values. Perhaps it was an unspoken law of nature, an inevitable dance between vulnerability and dominance, where the fragile were snared in its horrid embrace.

What could you possibly do against nature’s firm grip on the world? It wasn’t as if it was an imagined force you could call upon when needed—it was just how it was, and no amount of will or strength could make that fact undeniable. You came to terms with that realization long ago, but the gnawing feeling in your chest was more stomach-twisting than anything you had felt before. What you were scared of, you possibly couldn’t say. Perhaps it was the leftover tremors that still coursed through you or the dampening feeling of nausea that persisted, yet somehow, it was something else, a faint sense that the danger wasn’t over yet.

Could Arthur be the one causing the cold sweat to run down your back even though the room was boiling from the heat outside, making you twist and turn in your bed as you prayed that the wind that sometimes passed through the slightly open window would carry an ounce of coldness so you could feel anything but the enclosing heat that now seemed to warm you to the bone? Your eyes closed tight as if you pressed them hard enough; you would fool your mind that you were asleep, the gnawing voices in your head ceasing so you could, perhaps, finally rest.

There was no doubt about it—you were frightened. It was unusual, this feeling, since while you’ve had many instances in your life where fear was the key factor, after some time, your body—or mind perhaps— grows familiar with it, so familiar that it washes away with the wind. Some fare well when scared, responding automatically as if their minds grow clearer when faced with the means to survive. In others, which is the category where you fit in, grow blank, like a heavy fog settles, keeping you from sensing left and right. A perfect prey, indeed.

And a perfect prey you were, the open window inviting anyone who happened to pass by, and in excellent condition for someone to climb the two stories to reach the wooden frames and then slink into the room with their grubby fingers and glinting eyes—stupid girl, to think so carelessly as if the streets were safe and people were kind.

Clothes rustling into the quiet night could be heard if you focused your ears hard enough, the floorboards creaking under the soles of muddy boots and clinking metal. Whoever could it be, one might wonder—and you grew paralyzed as the thought hit you, only able to stare at the tapestry that covered the wall in intricate patterns. The room’s darkness lets you hear every slight sound that would otherwise blend into the background, your senses heightened.

Perhaps the perpetrator thought you were asleep, your dreams already taking you to a land where you were dancing among clouds, not a single thought of the fright that would soon take over and turn the clouds so dark you couldn’t differentiate them from reality. Then, you thought, maybe you had been asleep as the sounds disappeared, all too familiar with waking up along the frantic beating of your heart, wide awake as horrible nightmares chased you till morning.

Your laboured breaths were the only thing that could be heard now, only a fool mistaking them for sleeping as you tried to steady your erratic heart. But you would soon find that the cold chill that ran up your clothed arm wasn’t the wind from the window caressing you but the hand of something more foul, riddled with scars that seemed insignificant in contrast to its owner’s sin.

Creaking under you, the bed groaned from the sudden weight, bedsheets rustling slightly as you closed your eyes tightly shut. The figure loomed over you, its large hand carefully moving further down your arm. You wondered, perhaps, if you stayed still long enough, you would be left alone or maybe dismissed as dead if you held your breath long enough. The thought seemed more appealing when you felt the cold skin burn through the garment, the smell of smoke so strong it felt as if you took a drag of the tobacco and let it scald its way to your lungs. It was vile, and in the presence of the sweat that bit its way through your nose, your eyes watered, your body begging to escape the horrid stench.

That was until the pressure lessened, and the room stayed quiet for a while, your heart beating so heavily it felt like someone held it right up to your ear, breath shaking with every small intake. But then, as the silence continued, you felt a warmth spread slowly down your arms, the substance thick like syrup as it made its way through the cotton of your shirt, spreading til the white fabric darkened to a deep, unsettling red. The scent of iron filled the air, subtle yet unmistakable as the shirt clung tighter to the skin beneath.

You shot your squinting eyes wide open just in time to feel a heavy weight falling over you, unmoving and grim as what you now saw was a man gasping for air. Your first instinct was to scream, but you didn’t get the chance as a hand roughly placed its palm against your mouth, leaving the terrified noise that escaped you muted while your eyes flickered around wildly, trying to make sense of what was going on.

“Quiet now,” a rough voice spoke, removing its hand from your mouth when you became quiet, too shocked when recognizing who it was that spoke. It only grew heavier when your eyes got more familiar with your surroundings, the heaviness that lingered over you being in the form of a man, the warmth you had felt turning out to be from the deep cut across his neck, blood seeping like a waterfall from the paling flesh.

Another scream left you as you struggled to get the limbs away, squirming and trashing as you pushed the hand off you in the process as you begged for the suffocating smell of iron and sweat to disappear. When it did, you crawled backward, body bathing in the slick, blood-soaked sheets. Pushed to the floor, the man was left in a lifeless heap, eyes staring vacantly into the distance.

Those eyes–the sharp nose and squinting eyes—seemed familiar, reminding you of someone you couldn’t quite put your finger on, not while the room remained dark. However, you didn’t have the chance to ponder any longer as more harshly than before, a hand covered your mouth as you remained pushed up against the bedframe, coddling your hands to your chest.

Wet eyes stared into a pair of dark pools, once blue eyes now appearing black in the obscurity of the night as its facial features bathed in the light from the moon. Even still, it was hard to make out who it was, but his voice alone was enough for the realization to set in, now undoubtedly aware of who held your mouth with one hand and the shining blade of a knife in the other.

“Keep screaming, and you’ll damn us both.” A familiar, grumbling voice spoke out, hushed, yet the warning of danger lay smoldering underneath the surface.

“Arthur?” Your voice was hoarse when you spoke, riddled with shock when you realized that the man you had feared was in your bedroom, unwelcomed and unwished for.

“Wh-” You didn’t get to finish your question before he ripped his hand from you, casting you a dark look as he stepped off the bed, the floorboards groaning awfully at the sudden weight.

“Quiet.” There was no need for him to say anything else as you complied, the rattling anger in his voice only fueling his hasty, rigid movements as he bent down, checking the pulse of the man bleeding out on the floor.

The sight was gruesome, blank eyes shining in the moonlight as if they were somewhere far away, lost in a dream. A dream, you pondered amidst your shock. Yes, this could all very well be a dream—a bad dream, perhaps, yet the thought of it maybe not being real brought you a sense of comfort. But how could it be? It felt too real, and you could vividly recall every moment as it played out in front of you, feel every touch, and smell every scent.

Lost in a haze, you stared down at your body, the thick, red blood more visible as your eyes got used to your surroundings. Closing your eyes, you cast away the faint memories that grew bolder as the smell of iron crawled up your nose, almost gagged by the sight and the imposing smell that grew stuffier, fuller somehow.

Your eyes shot open, watching the dead body heaved on Arthur’s shoulder being thrown over the window sill, the impact noticeable with a loud thud. You could only stare at him as he leaned over, looking around quickly before turning towards you again, nodding his head towards the window.

If you had been in the right mindset and not scared witless, you would have laughed at his blatant naivety for thinking you would dive head-first into the darkness of the night, with him no less. There might have been a time when you knew him, but that wasn’t the case anymore—the dark eyes cowering behind his hat were unrecognizable, and the unkind tone of his voice was entirely someone else’s.

“Shit,” you heard him mumble when you made no motion to move from your spot, only cradling your arms tighter around you. Rubbing his eyes in stress, he glanced at you again, almost scoffing at you when you gave him a blank stare.

“Come on then, I ain’t got all day.” As you made no further movement that would give him the impression you were complying, he sighed and, with heavy steps, stalked towards you as the bed rattled slightly from his movements. You only held out your hands when he grabbed your waist roughly, fingers betraying you as they trembled wildly against his chest.

“What are you doing, Arthur?” His movements halted, his leatherbound hands stopped around your middle, and his eyes twitched when he heard his name being spoken. Along the ridges of harshness, you could see a faint confusion lingering in his stare, blatantly staring deep into your eyes unabashedly as he lifted you from the bed.

“Wha—” You pushed against his chest, and while it didn’t succeed in making him back off, it only made his brows furrow deeper.

“Listen here,” he said darkly, grabbing your upper arms and shaking you slightly. “Do as I say—follow my every word, and you won’t die.”

You stopped for a moment, bewildered by his words. You couldn’t make sense of it—none of it. Questions were brewing in your mind, but you couldn’t find the words to speak them, couldn’t find the words to scream for help. It might seem funny to be scared of a man you once knew to have a good heart, but you have known men your whole life, and it never takes much for them to see right from wrong and still do the wrong thing.

“What’s going on, Arthur?” you breathed shakily, glancing at his hands, which gripped your arms when they tightened. It was hard to imagine that they had once been so gentle, the thought seemingly miles away as you returned your gaze to his squinting eyes, so close now that you could feel his breath against your skin. “Why are you here?”

Your voice had grown quiet as the question hung loose in the air. Shuddering, the wind flowed wildly into the room, banging the windows against the wall.

“Come on,” Arthur curtly said as he pushed you in front of him. You quickly realized you could hear footsteps from the stairs behind the shut door—Eustace, you thought, a cold chill running up your back as you gasped.

When you stopped before Arthur in protest, he only gave you a mean glance when you gazed back in concern, telling you all you needed to know. Disbelief was written on your face when you realized his cruelty, feeling it reverberating in your head a few moments before you could make sense of it.

“Don’t-”

“Then do as I say.” He whispered harshly, pushing you forward to make you move, and this time, your feet strode hastily toward the window. Two stories high, the room was, and before you could glance back in protest, Arthur pushed past you quickly, landing with a heavy thud against the dusty ground, clouds of it forming as it danced in the falling glow from the lamppost.

The street below was bathing in darkness, the sullied street more daunting from this high up and saddening when Eustace’s voice could be heard echoing through the hallway, his worried tone reverberating through the walls. It was hard to leave and listen to him calling out for you, yet you realized there wasn’t a choice for you now, and a big part of you refused to see him come to harm. If Arthur would’ve stayed true to his threat, that is.

You couldn’t say why you were so scared, having faced dangers more bone-chilling than this. But perhaps you feared to once more fall into the wrong arms, the arms of a man who reminded you of a past you’d rather lay behind you. But that might’ve always been the case for people who lived a hard life, feeling it better to put it to rest than reawaken it.

Without casting a glance behind you to see the shadow in the hallway flicker wildly as a stressed cane could be heard audibly hitting the wooden floor; you climbed over the window frame, the chipping paint sticking to your tightly gripping hands. It wasn’t until the trashing of air surrounded you that you fell into a pair of arms that immediately embraced you, hands gripping under your waist to ease your landing.

Quickly, before his hand could linger, you backed away, relieved when you no longer felt the tight hold he had managed to capture you in. His gaze remained heavy on you, and you did your utmost to avoid him, letting your eyes falter, not daring to meet him. How he could act so carelessly, you couldn’t possibly justify, yet his presence alone made you take a few steps back.

His movements were harsh as he adverted his eyes, and you could see how his body was rigid and tense, as if he’d been bathing in ice-cold water. He glanced towards the window, walking towards you as he motioned you to turn around and walk through the streets until the building disappeared behind tons of others, his grip on your arm tight like he worried you would slip out his grasp—or attempt to. Most likely, you thought, knowing exactly what he would do if you tried when considering his earlier threat.

“Where are you taking me?” You applauded yourself for dampening the tremble in your voice when you spoke, somehow finding the simple thought mildly embarrassing while aware it would be entirely valid if you did. This time, you found yourself getting an answer to your question, and although harsh and hasty, it gave you reason to question its meaning.

“Somewhere safe,” Arthur grumbled under his breath before pushing your back against the local general’s store wall, your figure hidden behind his large frame in the deserted alley. You made another attempt to question him further, only managing to open your mouth before the leather of his gloves covered it, hushing you as his eyes found yours, a threat lying deep within them.

A few moments passed in silence, the brick wall against your back cold as the small stones pressed uncomfortably against your shoulder blades. Moving slightly, you turned your head to gaze out towards the street, finding Arthur’s hand turning your face back instantly, shaking his head.

It wasn’t long before loud footsteps could be heard through the streets, metal clanking and murmurs echoing as their shadows grew taller from the orange light of the lamppost.

“Be still,” Arthur whispered under his breath, the sound of his gun cocking slowly as if to make as little noise as possible. Stepping away from you, he motioned you to step further into the alley, where the darkness would almost swallow you whole. “Stay there until l come back, and keep quiet.”

You didn’t get the chance to follow his command, though; the sharp sound of a gun went off, the noise so bone-rattling in the quiet, sleeping town it likened to the sound of thunder—a thunder turning into a full-blown storm as it didn’t even take a millisecond before bullets rained through the air, shooting holes into walls and shattering surrounding windows.

Your back found the brick wall again, Arthur’s back meeting your front as he shielded you with his body. Peeking from behind the building, the sound of his gun went off booming in your ear, his face growing even more grim, cursing under his breath as a bullet flew right past him. His weight pushed against yours when he once more took cover, taking the chance to reload as you gazed at the small cut on his neck where the bullet had grazed him—happy that it hadn’t been you.

Your hands turned pale as they gripped Arthur’s jacket, eyes screwing shut as the noise around you only grew nearer, each intake of breath shallow and rapid, as if the air in and of itself had turned hostile. Desperation clawed at your mind, begging you to slip away from the man holding you back and make a run for it, but you found that you couldn’t, damning yourself for staying still when all you wanted to do was get away.

Although warmth suddenly enveloped your hand, the rough leather and warm fingers wrapped around your sweaty ones. You opened your eyes, breathing erratically as you were once more met with the familiarity of Arthur’s jacket. As you glanced down, you caught a glimpse of his hand encasing you before the sight disappeared just as the feeling passed. You wondered if the hard, cold man in front of you had been the one to do it or if you’d imagined it.

With no more time to ponder, Arthur hastily stepped out on the streets, wildly looking around him with his gun raised as he turned his body in all directions. All dead, you presumed, as no more shots were being fired, yet you could hear more footsteps coming your way, alarmed voices shouting as doors slammed open in the distance.

“Shit,” Arthur muttered, a loud whistle cutting through the air before he returned to you, casting a glance your way as you gazed worryingly towards the direction of the loud calls, stumbling towards Arthur, feeling like the ground was tilting beneath your feet.

“What’s happening?”

“Law,” he stated, grasping your waist and hoisting you up what you discovered was his horse. The strong muscles flexed under your weight as you sat behind the saddle, and the chestnut coat softened under your fingers as you tried to find stability.

“Hold on,” Arthur said after heaving himself onto the saddle, casting a look backward when you took too long to follow his words, only setting off when your hands crawled tentatively around his waist, gripping the material under your hands firmly.

You wanted to ask him where he was taking you, but fear choked up your words and rattled your brain as you tried to comprehend your current predicament. So, instead, you held onto his jacket til your fingers turned a paler shade, closing your eyes as you wished that with it, you could disappear—perhaps wake up in your bed once more and feel the morning sun shine brightly upon you as it had done now for quite some time, instead of the cold, harsh air blowing against you, seeping through every garment you were wearing.

You had happily laid the unknown fate behind you when you found Eustace, not knowing the past from the present—not knowing what lay before you. As a child, it had been everything you’d known. And, being brought up always moving, you’d grown used to a stable home, a far-off dream, if even that, since you had never known that stability existed. Food on the table, clean clothes that didn’t reek of sweat and were stained with dirt, and clean water that would surely do you better than the burning alcohol you often got as a substitute for liquid.

All in all, finding a home with Eustace had been a blessing, no matter how absurd your situation may have looked to others. Therefore, suddenly, having to leave made everything ten times worse—you didn’t want to go, and you cursed the man in front of you, cursing him for disrupting your peace, for taking you away for—well, you weren’t quite so sure yet.

Although it itched inside you to ask him, you hadn’t missed the part where Arthur seemingly wasn’t the man you had once known. Therefore, you kept your mouth shut, not daring to speak a word while you gazed behind you as the city lights dimmed with time, buildings replaced with trees, and people with animals that scourged away into the woods surrounding the path when the clacking of hooves grew near.

You rode for a long while in silence, and with every chance you got, you glanced behind you, expecting to see the sheriff’s men closing in on you despite Arthur’s brutal pace—to see the pistols aimed at you in a way you’d thought you’d laid behind you after all those years on the run. But no, no galloping horses followed you, only darkness engulfing your sight as you looked back, the only noise the huffing of the horse beneath you.

Night turned to day, and you never stopped to regain your breath, to make sense of your surroundings. It was consuming, yet you took the chance to feel the now brisk air of the morning caress your cheeks softly, smell the bracing dew and the carrying of fresh air before the heat would set in a few hours. For a long while, you’d forgotten how good it felt to be outside of the city map with no walls confining you, no bustling crowds jostling for space. Nature’s gentle, soothing sounds replaced the constant hum of urban life—machinery and voices. The rustling leaves, the chirping of birds, and the distant call of wildlife may have once done their best to soothe your rattled nerves, yet it didn’t ease now, and you found yourself only growing more nervous.

—

“We ain’t got no other choice but to stay here tonight,” Arthur said as the horse slowed to a trot, examining the area as he squinted against the sharp evening sun. “Reckon, we’ll be safe enough out here. If they ain’t following us, of course.”

A small sigh left you, almost letting a groan escape you as you moved slightly behind the saddle. Feeling the muscles ache deep within, you were unwilling to face a second longer seated atop the horse. You didn’t even register his last words and their hidden threat, trying to remind you what heap of danger you were in—as if you weren’t aware, as if he didn’t already make you more at edge.

As the horse finally stopped at a place Arthur found agreeable, you didn’t wait a second to glide down towards the ground, feeling your feet planted on firm ground, the grass underneath them heavenly as you stretched with your newly-found freedom.

“Don’t run away,” Arthur muttered as his gaze stayed on you, warning laying deep in his voice.

“And where would I go?” Raising your arms, you gave him a frustrated look, not understanding how he would even make the assumption that you could, the landscape stretching on for miles with only vegetation and no roads as far as the eye could see, only lurking animals awaiting you with open mouths and greedy arms.

“I don’t know, just don’t do it,” he grumbled, sliding off the saddle before throwing you a blanket. As he crouched down, making you believe he was setting up a fire, you walked closer to him, carefully watching the guns on his back, like devil horns sprouting like bone from his shoulders.

“Arthur,” you began, hugging the blanket to your chest. “Will you tell me who those men were?” His mood was terrible, yet somehow, the words left you before you could stop them. There was, of course, still lingering anger at him inside of you, the underlying tones of sorrow that stung its way through you. Yet, you had to know—had to understand why he had turned his visit into a raging bloodbath and who that man was whose blood had dried up your clothes as the fabric had now grown thick and pasty.

“The law, I already told ya,”

“I know that,” you sighed, trying again, finding it easier to look at him when his back was turned. “But the men before that, and the man in my bedroom….” you trailed off, recalling the horrid moment and the consuming smell of blood, the lifeless eyes once again staring straight through you, brows still furrowed while the eyes stayed wide open.

He halted slightly in his motions, casting a glance sideways yet not entirely looking at you as he rubbed his eyes. Sweat ran down his face as he lowered his hat to rid himself of the still-blazing sun, cursing under his breath at the damned warmth that almost felt torturous when the wind laid to rest.

“Jesse’s men,” he said, continuing his earlier action. Your stomach plunged, shock traveling through your body as you froze, wishing sincerely he’d said any name but that.

“And the man in my be-”

“Jesse.”

“Oh.”

Backing slightly, you could feel your throat constricting when the familiar name left Arthur’s mouth. It had been a long time ago, yet now it seemed so near, almost too near, being able to grasp the memories that made your heart lurch and stomach turn, something waxy and cold lining your insides at the thought.

Although, with it being given more thought, wasn’t this just your luck? Had it not always been your luck? To find yourself amid everything terrible, of all that was rancid and chaotic—entangled in the embrace of men who, above all else, desired more, strove towards gaining what they deemed necessary. Because of this, there had been many instances where you had felt greed, the familiarity with currents so strong there was no other explanation than rendering yourself no better than others when it came to it. And, unfortunately, it was consistent, for it appeared in everyone—everywhere—whether consciously or not, there had been no way for you to unsee it.

“But I don’t understand,” you said, your voice quiet as you spoke to yourself, gaze far off as you absentmindedly stared into thin air. “Jesse already killed Charlie. Why would he go after me, and now of all times? He couldn’t possibly be that greedy?” Silence followed, Arthur’s eyes finally meeting yours with reluctance, as if your question bothered him more than he wanted to let on. “Could he?”

“It ain’t—” he trailed off, eyes flickering as if pondering how best to form the words soon to be said. “Well,” he said more directly this time. “Death ain’t enough for some, I guess.”

As his words sunk in, Arthur avoided your gaze, the silence from you enough to tell him that he’d struck a chord in you with his admittance. Horrifying, yet how could it surprise you when you had faced the inner turmoil of men many times, knowing the ways of honor and respect they so desperately clung to? Although there was an underlying dread to his words—like someone had wrapped a bag over your lungs when you thought of what could’ve been—where you could’ve been if Arthur hadn’t been there that night.

When you were both smaller and much more naive than today, you’d seen the bullet that flew right through your father’s skull with both eyes by the hand of Jesse, wide open and undoubtedly too young to stand witness to such a thing—no less it being a parent. You’d been too little; you simply didn’t understand it, and while you can honestly say it didn’t impact you then, being too used to seeing things like that firsthand and not particularly close to your father, it plastered itself onto you like a stamp whether you liked it or not.

Charlie, your father, had grown too careless and brave to think himself above others, particularly Jesse. All in all, that didn’t sit right with him, and as your father went through the grief of losing your mother, growing both colder and meaner with time—an image of his former self—he didn’t have much to care for except the gluttony that grew more consistent as the years passed. Sometimes, you’d ponder if any man could be blamed for it, for it seemingly was engraved in our bones, perhaps a fundamental part of the human mind.

You’d concluded you couldn’t cast that blame at your father when he tried to usurp Jesse, for then greed battled greed, and you had to choose which one was more deserving of understanding. Yet, you soon came to realize it didn’t matter who was more deserving, for power played a bigger part, and it didn’t care for either justice or discernment—only in which hands it could grow stronger, in which mind it could spread its dark tendrils until it grew satisfied. The only problem was that it never did, and you deemed it the downfall of many, both great and horrible men, those who deserved it and those who didn’t.

After that, you didn’t have much more to say, continuing the late evening in silence as your mind raced terribly after your conversation. You couldn’t help but stay unsurprised by Arthur’s theory, somewhere deep down knowing they probably did have much more in the plan for their leader’s revenge. Death, all in all, might not be so horrible after all when you’d imagine all the other vile and stomach-wrenching things one could do to deem their revenge agreeable—righteous.

It was impossible to imagine yourself being the one to endure it. You almost felt lighthearted at the thought of men’s grabby hands and hungry eyes, conjuring up bone-chilling scenarios that would make any sane person’s face pale and skin gray. The slap of a harsh backside of someone’s palm was, of course, humiliating enough for you. Still, with time, it somehow felt less personal, as if the memory healed with the bruise, while someone infringed on the fleshier part of yourself, not quite humiliation, for it stretched farther than that—scarred deeper. Pure rot and filth would surely spread through your body and mind, growing until it became a part of you, your past, and your future.

Your fright for Arthur did lessen as you pondered, growing thankful when you deemed his company much more preferable than the men who sought after you. It reminded you of a time he’d been the safest point in your life—perhaps the first since you laid in your mother’s arms, the warmth only a child could feel from a parent. Safe and undoubtedly free, his arms around you not encasing you—caging you in—but pushing you forward so you could feel the air of the wild blow through your hair, showing you there was more to life than death and violence, that there could be more to a man than his demons.

Of course, you had known what he was capable of—the brutality he wielded with his hands, the blood that tainted them, tainted him. In some deranged way, that thought had always made him even more comforting than he would be without it. It was what you’d known your whole life, and there was no hiding it. It drew you in, but never once had he made the slightest incantation of hurting you, and that’s what made you stay.

God, you’d been so alike, you and Arthur, and your childhood likewise. It felt like he’d been explaining your life when he told you of his. It didn’t help, for it glued you together, and you wondered if it could even be undone, knowing the rip of the glue, if you ever did, would strip away both skin and bones—take so much from you you were unsure if it could ever heal again. To think it would be horrifying indeed, and in the end, it was; the bruising went so deep you’d wanted to dry-heave when you left, almost ripping your heart out with everything else as you pushed him away.

You wondered, the saddest smile almost showing on your lips, if he had realized how carefully he had handled you since you first laid eyes on him, thinking not of his threats and harsh demeanor but the thoughts behind his actions. Ever so thoughtful and very unbecoming of him, yet somehow entirely expected of his character. You lowered your head, letting your hair fall around you as you tried hiding how the corners of your lips suddenly turned into a frowning smile like you were in on a sad secret only you knew about.

As you tried forcing your lips to maintain their straight appearance, you raised your eyes carefully after some time, observing Arthur through your lashes as he gazed into the fire. Leaning against an oak, he sought shade from the sun after providing you with something to eat. He seemed deep in thought as the flames caressed his face in the darkening evening, highlighting his sharp, harsh features. A heavy shadow cast over his eyes, hiding what thoughts lay behind them.

He looked no doubt like a man to fear, with features just as deadly as he was, like the guns resting on his hips and the twitching of his fingers ready for even the slightest inclination of danger. It looked like he was sleeping, yet he was vibrating with tension, like his mind was resting without his body, as if it ran on auto, already aware of every danger that could occur upon you as if it was plastered in the back of his eyelids.

You conclude that living the life he did would surely do that to a person. You’re not sure what he’s been through since you last saw him but deem it nothing good. Your eyes wandered over his face, gazing over the slightly suntanned skin, watching how the evening breeze made his roughly cut hair tickle his face. The trail of beard started to form, littering down to his neck, where a cluster of chest hair took over, disappearing invitingly into the unbuttoned part of his shirt.

Lingering over the bare skin that glistened with an inclination of sweat from the still humid air and fading sun, they followed over the expanse of his chest that stretched the fabric of his shirt, rising steadily in harmony with his breathing. The faint feeling of his skin under your fingertips ran through your mind, the slight memory so far away that only the feeling persisted. The sharp, musky smell of smoke was almost burning under your nostrils as the feeling persisted, coupled with a smoldering scent that was hard to word; you could nearly feel the warm skin underneath you—the faint sense of hair tickling your cheek.

It calmed you to watch him, the slow breaths that left him making your eyes grow heavy as time ticked on, the chilling fog of night settling in, accompanied by the warmth of the fire you so desperately relied on. It wasn’t until you were at the brink of sleep a pair of darkened eyes met yours, bathing in the glow from the fire, that your eyes faltered, a scorching blush fighting its way up the skin of your chest till it covered your cheeks wholly—shit. It grew hotter, the air suddenly turning stuffed as embarrassment from your delirious, wandering eyes had been caught red-handed.

You could only stare at the ground in shame, the small pebbles suddenly turning interesting as your eyes stared in false interest. You blamed it on your worn-out mind, the fatigue that had overtaken your body, trying to justify it to yourself. You felt the brutality of another pair planted on you, unwavering, hoping to higher powers they would dissipate so you could pity yourself without an audience.

“Cold?” Arthur’s gruff voice broke the silence, the words still quiet, making it sound more like a statement than a question.

Did he mistake your blushing cheeks for you being cold? Or, had your distracted mind kept you from realizing that the cold air had done so when the darkening sky fell upon you, too? Crossing your arms over your chest, you felt a shudder run through you, hairs raising as if on cue.

“I suppose so,” you mumbled, inching closer to the fire that had begun to falter. The embers around it were glowing red as they crackled loudly into the night, the sudden noise making you jump slightly.

“Mmh.”

You stared into the flames as silence followed, refusing to meet his eyes. Your pulse was still pounding quickly, and your mind was caught in the horrible moment. Hell, you’d say it bordered on humiliating, throwing off your facade of irritation directed at Arthur and his actions that you were so dead-set on keeping up as well as your walls—so high he couldn’t peer over them the way you couldn’t look over his.

“Come here.”

Your eyes fitted to his, in an instance, baffled by the words that left his mouth, if even that was what he said and not something your sleep-deprived mind made up.

You could only stare at him for a while, trying to decipher the hidden meaning behind his words. Your face was straight as Arthur stared back at you with an expression that could rival yours, arms crossed over his chest, and he leaned against the tall oak. You damned his ability to keep his face so unreadable, eyes still as sharp as they always seemed. His voice was calmer, perhaps slightly warmer, heating like embers glowing in the hearth.

“What?” you mumbled tiredly, voice laced with a sleepy confusion.

“You’ll die of hypothermia before I even get the chance to get you out of here.” His tone was laced with annoyance, grumbling irritably as if the mere thought of the conversation you had bothered him immensely—as if the words leaving him were reluctant and bothersome.

He didn’t continue, staring at the flames flickering wildly when the wind suddenly picked up—if it was a means to avoid your now wakened eyes or the nonchalance in his spoken words, you couldn’t tell.

The irritation that had been simmering in your mind grew at his words. Your throat constricted with words you wanted to speak, wanting to tell him that there wasn’t a single fiber of your being wishing to be close to him, to give him such a privilege. Had the world turned his head that daft, or had he simply stopped caring what effect his words and actions had on others, no less you?

A few moments passed, and you stared at him, eyes growing hard and sharp like glass, where confusion and fear were replenished. So, to rid both of you from the onslaught of feelings coursing through you, you turned around on the hard ground, bringing your arms tighter against you for warmth as a shudder ran through you.

“When did you grow so cruel?” you asked quietly into the night, watching the warm air leaving your mouth become clouds when you breathed a shaking breath. You weren’t sure if you were speaking about his sudden audacity or the change in his character that so starkly contrasted the one you had known. Nonetheless, you didn’t expect an answer, but you did get one, and a humorless laugh accompanied it as if the truth was some masochistic joke.

“If you only knew.”

—

The night continued in silence, and you woke between the hours from the cold, staring heedlessly into the darkness, ears taut as every noise made your breath hitch, almost expecting to find prying eyes staring back at you when you got the guts to open them. But, as sunlight found its way to you behind the trees, rising warmly over the cliffs, you could finally feel yourself relaxing against the hard ground, bringing the jacket that lay over you closer as you breathed in the scent of smoke and something warmer, muskier.

Blue orbs, hidden beneath the surface of anger and hatred, gazed at you through squinted eyes as the orange tendrils hit the skin of your cheeks just above ĥis jacket. They followed along the strands of hair that ran down your face, tickling your skin slightly as you shook them away from your face in deep sleep.

For far too long, they had only seen gruesome sights—things that would make even the strongest men empty their stomachs. So they stayed a while longer, feasting their eyes on something lovelier—a forbidden fruit laid out before them. The steady breathing lulled them closer as if calling for them, begging them to stray nearer until skin touched skin.

The skin he had once known so well, so well the mere thought of it had become less of a luxury and more of a second nature, a constant need. You might’ve let time do its part in receding the memories, but not him—not when every thought of you had become his way of finding something good in this world—his world. Whatever was left of it gnawed at him, clawed at the inside of his flesh, the scars with age growing visible, larger to only himself; only the aftermath of anger and resentment was what was shown to the world.

Embedded in the darkest corners of his mind, you laid like a hidden haven, formless yet shaped by recollection. He rarely touched it, for every time he did, he found the flesh of you that was once so bright, so warm, turned colder and grayer, rot spreading its way up your delicate skin, his disease only managing to span through your body. The eyes had grown too lifeless to be associated with yours, the sunken eyes dull and almost bordering on hateful. He couldn’t stand it, so he let it be after some time, outmost refusing to taint your memory with his cruelty and violence, refusing to cover you any longer with his filthy hands.

It was a part of his life he’d had to lay behind him, a chapter that he had looked upon so fondly laid to rest, only for the next to take form. Oh, how it was riddled with filth and violence, the edge of the papers burnt and soiled. It was simply how it was, he’d concluded at the time, all too aware that it was what lay before him, what had always been destined to be his life.

What once was a heroic attempt, a means to do good, had been overtaken by gluttony, the constant want for more. A bare and raw sin was what he had turned into, a hungry wolf, led by his brutality and fear—a fear of realizing what he was, what he had always been.

So, he couldn’t help but just for once take you in now that your watchful eyes weren’t gazing at him in fright—a fright he had grown all too used to when others looked at him, whether it was by the end of his gun or in the final short few breaths of their life. You had turned in your sleep, chin resting against the hard ground, when his eyes fitted over you, resting in the soft curves of your face and lashes that lay delicately on your skin.

The gentle rise and fall of your chest was a lullaby of sorts, a contrast to the storm inside of him. He wondered what dreams might be drifting through your mind, hoping they were far removed from the darkness that often clouded his own, hoping he wasn’t turning them vile.

Arthur gazed over the plump cheeks that seemed fuller, akin to his memories, a soft glow over them as the morning sun washed over you. You had always looked prettier in the sunlight; it was something he had always thought, for it was like two twins meeting each other again, laden with the same light and warmth. The ghost of a wistful smile begged to tug at the corners of his mouth as he indulged in this rare moment of stillness—the rough edges of his hardened soul seemed to soften, if only for a heartbeat.

He wanted to reach out a hand, rough and scarred, and try to let it hesitate above your cheek as he thought it would break the spell of sleep that enveloped you. He could feel his breath caught in his throat, a mixture of awe and sorrow, for deep down, he was aware that the world he lived in had no place for such beauty and peace. He was a ghost in your serene world, an intruder with no right to stay. Still, he would linger, savoring the moment like a condemned man savoring his last meal.

A dream was all it was, to imagine a different life where you could bask in the sun’s glow without fear and violence. But, as the sun climbed higher, reality would begin to seep back in, and he would reluctantly pull his hand away, the humid air now filling the spaces between you. The weight of his choices and the path he’s walked pressed down on him, so for now, he’d indulge in the simple act of watching over you as you rested—not sure where to go where the men now seeking your death couldn’t find you yet promising to himself he would keep you far, far away from them.

—

When the sun’s warmth began to cover your skin in a faint layer of sweat, you awoke, being met with the smoking of a dying fire and a soreness in your body that only laying on hard ground could create. You had almost expected to awake in the comfort of your old bed, feeling the soft wind caress your face as it blew through the open window, curtains fluttering in the air as the far-away sound of people chattering could be heard, and the constant chugging of the train.

Homesickness, you thought. It was strange; never before had that feeling grappled you so intensely; never had the thought of being back with Eustace seemed so wishful, so desperate. It pulled something inside of you, and as you sat up, you could only find yourself wishing the feeling away, rubbing your eyes as you set your gaze forward, refusing to ponder over it any longer.

“No sight of Jesse’s men yet, so I think we’re good,” a voice called out nearby. Looking behind you, you found Arthur going through the saddlebag, his back facing you as you slowly stood up.

“Do you-” You cleared your throat, still riddled with sleep, both rough and quiet. “Do you think they’re still after us?”

“Sure,” he drawled, fastening the bag before patting his horse encouragingly. “We just killed their leader; I don’t think we’re off the hook that easily.”

“You,” you stated, dragging your fingers through your hair as you felt the various knots get stuck in your hand. You tried to sort them out but found your effort unsuccessful.

“What?” he said.

“You killed their leader, you mean.”

“Yeah, I guess, but they’re still coming for you nonetheless.”

“And the law?”

“If we keep away from Blackwater, we’ll be fine,” he said, turning towards you.

“Then where do we go now?” you asked, staring at the ground as you grieved at the thought of not being able to head back to Blackwater, back to Eustace. He only glanced at you, the slight movement of his shoulders indicating he wasn’t so sure either.

You walked tentatively towards him, meeting his gaze as he leaned towards the tree where his horse was stabled. He watched you cautiously as if he had any reason to be careful around you.

“How did you know Jesse’s men were after me?”

Arthur shifted uncomfortably, his eyes narrowing as he considered his response. “I have my ways,” he muttered, eyes darting to the horizon. “Words travel fast in these parts, and I keep my ears open.”

You only gazed at him for a while, hearing him sigh when you didn’t let your eyes waver, his eyes narrowing as he studied you, measuring how much truth to reveal. He adjusted his hat, the shadow casting a veil over his expression. “We heard things. Rumors in the towns. Jesse’s men have a way of making themselves known.” You nodded, absorbing the information. It made sense in a twisted way; your past seemed to chase you no matter where you ran or how far you went.

Arthur shifted his weight, his voice dropping lower, more serious. “And when we ran into some of his boys a few days back, well,” He stared at you hard. “They mentioned you.”

“Me?” Your breath got caught in your throat, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded.

“How did you know I was in Blackwater?”

Arthur’s eyes darkened slightly, a shadow crossing his face. He took a moment before answering, his voice low and steady. “I’ve been keeping tabs on you,” he admitted tersely.

You blinked in surprise, the revelation catching you off guard. “Why?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper, your tone betraying none of the turmoil.

He only sighed, glancing away briefly before meeting your questioning eyes again. “Because I had to make sure you weren’t getting yourself killed,” he retorted sharply, his words tinged with frustration. “Especially after everything that happened all those years ago.”

Many emotions flooded through you—confusion riddled with anger, a strange sense of relief you wanted to cast far away. Anger at his presumption, a deep ache for the man he once was when he mentioned the past. “So you’ve been watching me all these years?” you countered, your voice carrying a cutting edge.

Arthur’s jaw clenched, his temper flaring. “I’ve been trying to keep you safe,” he mumbled, his voice growing snappier.

The reality of his words sank in, and you struggled to process the implications. You met his gaze, trying to keep your composure, refusing to let his anger shake you. “Protecting me by keeping me under surveillance?” you shot back.

“Call it what you want, but I had to make sure you wouldn’t end up lying dead somewhere,” he said gruffly, staring stubbornly at you. “Jesse’s men aren’t exactly known for sending love letters.”

“And did it ever occur to you that I might’ve been wanting to be left alone?”

“You don’t get it, do you? They’ve been after you this whole time; they still are. You think you can just walk away and be fine?”

The air hung tense between you and Arthur, his words cutting through the warm air like a sharp blade. “You had no right,” you hissed, your voice low but filled with simmering anger. You knew you were right, and you were sure Arthur knew as he quieted down, grumbling as he strode past you, stepping on the fire’s dying embers to put it out, his movements stiff and rigid.

“We’ll keep moving, get you out of the wild for a bit.” You stayed facing away from him when he spoke, only moving when he extended his hand, motioning you towards the horse.

“Listen,” he murmured, turning you around before you could sit behind the saddle. “I didn’t—” he turned his head away from you for a moment as if thinking about his following words, hands gripping your shoulders carefully, flexing slightly. “I know how these types of men work, and you would thank me for keeping an eye on you if I told you what they would’ve done to you.”

“And how are you so different from these men you talk of, Arthur?” Your voice was accusing and bitter, and only silence followed from his side. “I used to know a different man,” you murmured. One who was understanding,” you finally said, your voice barely a whisper as your walls crashed, a somber look glazing over your eyes. “Kind.”

You felt him stiffen before you, and he didn’t respond immediately, as if surprised by your words. “Things change,” he replied curtly, his voice devoid of sentiment.

“I can see that,” you said, lifting your hand as if to move his hat out of the way but faltering at the last second. “ I barely recognize you.”

You hadn’t failed to realize it, and it had consumed your thoughts fully since you first discovered it was him when he held that gun toward your head. Never did you imagine he would be the type of man to wield such a dangerous weapon towards a woman—towards you—yet that’s precisely what he’d done.

“You don’t understand the world we live in now,” he said, his tone hardening. “Things aren’t as simple as they used to be.”

“Maybe not,” you replied, feeling the weight of your disappointment settle in your chest. “But I didn’t think you’d let it change like this; I didn’t think you’d become-”

“What? Like them?” he interrupted, his eyes narrowing. “You think I had a choice?

“There’s always a choice,” you shot back. “You used to be a different man.”

“And what good did that ever do me?” he snapped, stepping closer. His breath was warm against your cheek when you lowered your face, staring at the fabric of his shirt.

“The world is cruel, whether you want to acknowledge it or not, and I had to make sure to keep the gang safe, and I still do.” The last part, he muttered to himself. “And since you decided to leave me-”

“Leave you?!” you gasped, appalled at his choice of words. The familiar stabbing pain gripped your heart when he accused you, and you stepped backward slightly only to find his hands rooting you in place. “I had no choice!”

“No choice, huh?” He said, his lips curling into a bitter smile as if your words were ridiculous and filled with lies.

“I asked-, no begged, you to come with me, but you refused! Talking all sorts of rubbish about loyalty and Dutch this and Dutch that!” It felt like a stone the size of your fist was plunged down your throat while the muscle could only constrict around it, twisting your body slightly so he would let go of you.

“I realized there wasn’t a place for me there, with you, any longer, so I had to leave before I went insane!” you said. “I couldn’t bear it, living that life anymore. My whole life had been filled with cruelty and violence, and I needed to feel as if I was the one living it instead of watching myself from the sidelines!” Flashes of faces, both grim and cruel, passed your vision, the image of a younger you looking for somewhere to hide but only finding broken souls wandering around you.

Like lost in a maze, you had tried left and right, but with no guidance, it proved useless as you kept wandering, trying to make sense of the world that you grew up in, parentless and abandoned in a gang whose hearts had been ripped out of their chests and feasted on by the devil. His pupils were all that was left, and you, a lost child, were made to endure a world that had been stripped of both kindness and care.

“But you-” your voice was choked up, trembling as your frenzied eyes flickered around you. “You didn’t care enough to see that, and now I can see why.”

“You’re just like them.” As your words ended, the onslaught of feeling simmered underneath your hectic breathing, and you finally felt the pressure loosen on your shoulders. Taking a few steps back, you passed the back of your hands over your eyes, feeling the warm liquid rub into your skin.

Those years felt distant now that they were brought up, and you had done your utmost to keep them far away until one day, you woke up feeling like that life hadn’t been your own; the person you were hadn’t been you and the memories entirely someone else’s. It had become too much, the air around you thick and nauseating when it felt like none of it would stop, like you were in a loop that never ended, only bringing you back to where you first started but with different people this time.

You soon realized that since you managed to remove yourself from Jesse and his men, you’d only wound up sleeping on a hard ground once more, the twigs and sticks poking you through your back like they’d always done. However, the people around you were new, but they were still the same lost souls as you, and the thought terrified you. You couldn’t handle the idea of that being your life, of always following someone who strived towards a goal that, when reached, would only be replaced by another one.

You didn’t dare glance at Arthur, yet you felt his eyes on you. As you tried to calm your breathing, you wondered why he didn’t say anything, defend himself, or retort and fight back like you thought he would. Yet, his lack of words made you second guess your revelations, shame soon filling your body when you realized how much of yourself you’d given a man who no longer cared to understand, who was so far gone your words meant nothing, just like the men he killed in cold-blood—a menace and an obstacle.

“Let’s go,” was all that he replied with after some time, avoiding glancing at you before grabbing your waist carefully to sit you behind the saddle, stomping one last time at the dying fire before sitting before you, no doubt noticing how your hands ghosted around his waist as if touching him alone was a vile and horrid thought.

—

You couldn’t help but ponder over what transpired this morning, all too aware it had to be spoken about sooner or later, but you wished he’d tell you more, explain why he’d acted the way he did and why he’d changed so much even though the words might’ve been said in anger. Yet, perhaps, that is a ridiculous exception, for who can say why they’d change if they even stopped enough to notice they did? Still, you realized what he had to say might not be what you wanted to hear, and the thought didn’t fail to make your heart sink.

It’s terrible what time can do to one person, but you could not understand how it could wound its way into Arthur so firmly, as if not considering his past self that had been so different from who was before you now. Perhaps being young and in love had made you fail to realize that maybe the man he was now is only an older version of who he’d been then and that he’d only shown the sides he felt deemed to you. Why, you wondered. Had it been shame or fear, knowing very well the cruel place you came from, not wanting to admit that he was a criminal—that he did exactly what every other man would do when following another blindly?

Bringing yourself out of your thoughts, you observed that day had once more turned into night, the familiar setting sun casting its warm gaze over the landscape as the horse huffed underneath you in exhaustion from running all day—tired from the lack of rest and the growing tension that was heavy between its riders.

Rising your gaze to look at his back for the first time since you set off, you let the follow along the chestnut tone of his hair, trailing over his tense back, eyes focusing on the various scratches and stains on his clothing, the blood that had been rubbed so many times it had turned into a lighter shade, yet the slight pinkness still resided, marking him unknowingly, as if his clothing represented his being.

It was so unfair, you concluded, yet you felt angry at him, furious at yourself and the world for being unpredictable, for never making anything easy, and more so for laying trouble over minds that from the start were pure, a blank canvas now to be trifled with. But there was also a tinge of sadness over the people you had turned out to be and grieving over the man you seemed to have lost behind smokes of black and anguish.

The pit of darkness that now filled you turned into thunder, and as the rain began to pour, the cold drops doing nothing to wash away the hollowness you felt, you failed to hear the hooves that could be heard from a distance. Arthur, though, had sensed them for some time now, trying to make his abrupt, faster pace less noticeable, hoping to gain some distance before you could see their dark figures form behind you.

Unfortunately, they only gained on you with every minute that passed, reaching out for you with their slinky arms and wild gazes, bullets vibrating in the metal, begging to be released so they could bury themselves into your flesh. Yet, it was hard for them to see, the heavy downpour blurring their vision of you, the fading sun offering them no help, and the galloping of their horses dizzied their sight.

A gasp left you as the horse suddenly stopped abruptly, the reigns held tightly as it skidded across the slippery ground. You didn’t get the chance to be surprised, hastily brought down to the ground, Arthur’s hands almost lifting you with the way he pushed you as you clumsily glided across the ground, grasping onto his arms to find stability as you walked up the small stairs that appeared on front of you.

A small porch, desolated and lonely, spread out around you; from the hasty look you could get, the windows seemed dark and lifeless—not a single light shining through them. The two-story structure seemed to stand on the outskirts of a forgotten, overgrown field, its once-white paint nor a peeling, weather-beaten gray where ivy and wild vines clung to the sides, creeping through the cracks in the wooden boards. The roof sagged precariously, shingles missing in place, revealing patches of rotting wood underneath.

“Shit!” You could hear Arthur shout as the loud weather dampened his voice, grasping the handle as it refused to open.

“What’s going on, Arthur?!” you said loudly so he could hear you, but you got no answer to your question. He pushed you to the side with one motion, trashing his shoulder into the door, and rusty hinges groaned in protest; the flimsy wood bent slightly before he bolted against it again. With this attempt, he opened it, and it smashed against the wall; the smell of something musty reached your nose as it escaped the house, contrasting heavily with the freshness of the rain.

“Get inside!” he shouted, and as you hurried inside, you heard the door slam shut. Your back pressed against the wall beside it, and Arthur stood before you, peeking out carefully from the window beside it.

It grew quiet the minute you stepped inside, the rain reduced to a slight humming as it splattered against the one-story house that seemed long abandoned, the faint smell of mold and neglect traveling through the air–the stale, dry air left a metallic tang in your mouth, the taste of dust was ever-present, gritty and unpleasant, seemingly coating your tongue and throat with each short, terrified breath you took.

“Arthur,” you whispered, craning your neck so you could gaze up at him where he leaned against the window, his eyes scanning the storm outside as his hands squeezed your arms gently but firmly.

“I gotta hide you,” he said, his voice low, his throat straining around the words when he finally looked into your eyes.

He pulled you from the wall, leading you deeper into the cabin. The floorboards creaked underfoot, threatening to give away with each step you took. Moving through the tiny parlor, past the broken chairs and sagging sofa, you moved into the kitchen where the cabinets hung open, their contents long since scavenged or rotted away.

As you gazed back, you found Arthurs’s eyes darting around the place, searching for a place where you would be hidden from the gruesome and horrible event that would soon take place in this already damned building. A small pantry, its doors hanging loosely on its hinges, seemed to be the only hiding place he deemed approvable.

“In here,” he said, guiding you towards it.

“Why?” you asked, hesitating to enter the small space.

“They caught up to us,” he murmured, watching your hand grasp his shirt. “Jesse’s men.”

“What about you?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“I’ll be fine,” Arthur replied, momentarily passing his hand over yours. “I’ll handle them, just please-” he trailed off, grasping your cheeks between your hands so you would focus entirely on his and his words. “Please don’t come out until I tell you.”

A few moments passed before you tentatively nodded, feeling his hands leave you so you could squeeze into the pantry. The small space was barely big enough to hold you as the doors were closed gently, slightly ajar so you could breathe through the thick, consuming air.

A few moments passed, your eyes wide in the darkness as you took in his words. It surprised you there were still so many, remembering the night in Blackwater where it seemed like bodies littered every corner of the streets when you passed them, lifeless and now soulless. How many, you wondered, were outside now, and how had you not managed to feel their presence before, to catch sight of them behind you, yet Arthur could without a glance?

As the first sign could be heard, you held your breath, the beating of your heart almost audible in the small space as it fought against your chest, your hands covering it as if it would give away your position. That was when the door burst open, and you could only clamp a hand over your mouth to stifle a gasp that escaped against your will, listening tentatively at every noise that could reach you.

You could only make out Arthur’s voice, low and steady, even though you couldn’t make out the words that left him, almost wanting to cover your ears as if it would help against the terror you knew would soon erupt, praying-no begging Arthur would be alright, that you wouldn’t have to be dragged away from there a weeping mess as Arthur lifeless eyes stared into your own, bullets imbedded in his flesh as you awaited your fate.

The sound of struggle filtered through the storm—the clatter of boots, shouts of men that boomed through the cabin, and the crackle of gunfire. Each noise made you cringe, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to block out the terrifying reality, hands shooting up to cover your ears as the loud sounds lessened; instead, the more vile noise of flesh hitting flesh ensued, the noise bones made when broked and the bloodily smack of skin against skin.

It ensued for a while, the disgusting sound of grunting and groaning making you remember the many times you had to hide your smaller self and only listen. Listen till the danger was over, examining every sound that could be heard to tell if you’d be alright stepping out or whether it would lead to your death—which had most of the time been the biggest possibility. You felt like you had traveled back in time, with not an ounce more courage than you had lacked back then, quivering like a fool while others fought like madmen around you, wishing you could be somewhere else—for someone to swoop down and save you like in some sad fairytale.

Minutes felt like hours as you waited, heart pounding in your ears as you didn’t dare to peek out from the cracks. Then, amidst the chaos, you heard a voice—Arthur’s voice, calling your name as you heard him breathing heavily, your name strained as he spoke. A sense of relief coursed through you, now knowing he was alright, yet you still lingered for a second, hand hesitating at the door as you feared what sight you’d be presented with. Yet, as you pushed it open, you stepped into the cabin again, taking small steps leading further into the house, trailing over the dark red liquid as you closed your eyes at the bodies it came from.

“They won’t hurt you no more,” Arthur murmured.

He stood there, hands at his side, his eyes as blood-filled as his hands, the red liquid dripping onto the wooden planks, staining them til they flowed beneath the cracks. Fitting to yours, you could only gasp, taking a step back as you were filled with dread over what he just did, the brutality of his actions, and the lives that now lay devoid of it around you. There had been too much death over the last few days, and although it was either their life or yours, you couldn’t help but detest the constant smell of the deceased resting just under the tip of your nose.

You gazed over the chaos; the broken glass shattered on the floor, blinding you when the sun was reflected on their surface. The white porcelain was stained red, and the walls had been painted the same color. You felt his eyes stay on you, unmoving and seemingly not bothered by the brutality he just possessed—always had possessed—but not making any attempt to move, as if he was waiting for you to make the first move, speak the first word.

He looked tense where he stood, and despite his horrible deeds, he looked at you as if he searched for your acceptance, as if trying to convey that he did this for you, that he dirtied his hands only to keep you safe, just like he’d always done. And, as you stared at him, you could almost see his hand flex slightly, as if it wanted to reach out to you, yet was held back, rooting him to the spot.

It might surprise him what you would do next, as the first tentative step towards him—although riddled with a faint fright and shaking hands—never wavered, carefully stepping over the bodies in your way until you stood in front of Arthur, ignoring their deathly, vengeful eyes that almost followed you, rolling into the back of their heads when you went out of sight.

His hands were still shut tight, knuckles white against the suntanned skin that flexed slightly when your fingers ran over them, bringing them higher as you felt the callousness that bruised his hands. They contrasted so heavily with your own, soft against hard, the veins beneath his skin protruding til the blue shades created valleys, irritated and angry. The warmth of your touch contrasted starkly with the cold reality of his actions, a shiver running down your spine when the blood on his hands painted your untouched skin. Arthur didn’t attempt to push away from your touch but stood like a statue, eyes cautious when you brought his knuckles to your lips, closing your eyes as you ghosted over them.

Every breath you took was heavy; each inhale difficult to make as his gaze remained locked onto yours. The bluish shade grew molten on the edges, warming up the coldness of the otherwise sharp hues, staring into yours like he was waiting for something or perhaps fearing something. It made the ache in your heart settle daftly, staring into the eyes you could now recognize from the ones you had known many years ago, see the man you hadn’t been able to remember till now rightfully.

You pulled away slightly when you realized that man wasn’t standing before you but a figment of him, perhaps a vivid remembrance yet not reality. Your fingers lingered on his skin, though, as if afraid to let go, afraid you might’ve lost him as you’d done before even though he wasn’t whole—the pieces of him scattered wherever he went, falling away like fragments with every step.

Brutally and cold, the devil resided in his eyes, each glance laden with sin and searing pain that engulfed like wildfire, encircling and trapping in its flickering, scorching embrace. It was a warmth that turned cold, caressing with its chilling touch, raising the hairs on your skin in protest—an unwelcome sensation that one dared not wish for. Yet, amidst this, your heart beats heavily–not in fear, but in yearning for his touch to linger.

How could your heart betray you so? How could it stray so far from reason, captivated by a man who made you unable to tell between reason and desire? Traitorously, it thudded heavily within, not out of fear but wishfully. It created an ache that settled so deep in your bones it hurt, a pain born of longing—a desire that scorched like a fever. Every instinct screamed for you to flee, to turn away against your now abandonment of all sense and sensibility—to run far away from the life he reminded you of, a life you’d so desperately feared.

You were caught between shame and confusion as if he could sense your pulse racing against the barriers of cotton and leather. Did he notice your heart’s betrayal and the quivering of your lips as your shaking breath rose like wisps of smoke in the cold air? Maybe he did, for as you closed your eyes, unable to handle the downpour of emotions coursing through you, you suddenly felt his breath against your lips as his presence enveloped you, casting a shadow over the world when he drew closer. Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes opened in protest; the space between you dwindled, narrowing to nothingness until you could feel the heat of his breath mingling with your own.

His eyes burned like smoldering coal, holding you captive as every voice in your head told you to run, hit, scream–anything to get away from him—only to silence when his lips brushed against yours in a feather-light caress. It was far away and fleeting, the small touch of skin almost ghostly as they moved over your trembling lips. His breath was warm, so warm it made heat crawl up your neck, spreading slowly throughout your body.

His careful touch made you wonder when the world turned him so cold. To carry the burns of his soul, hideous and bare, with not a single kindness seemingly left inside him. Was he ashamed of his skin, which wrapped so harshly around his bones, scarred yet strong–cold but fond? Was it right for you to fear the hands that once fell so delicately on your skin, porcelain never having been touched as carefully as he had touched you? There were days you now could remember so clearly, the warm look in his eyes as they caressed over your skin, the naivety and desperation that shone so bright within them—a want so fundamental it made you wonder if it was even possible.

The years had passed now, and you were both older and saner, but through the shades of blue in his eyes that were covered with darkness that rested like a veil over them, you thought you could still see the same man you had once known, and as his lips met yours firmer if felt like the past washed over you again. And it was good, so good you felt your knees almost give out, stumbling backward slightly but finding yourself not falling heedlessly towards the ground. Instead, the pressure of standing on the ground disappeared as your felt fingers worm their way under your thigh, lifting you in the air.

Softly, your back met the planks that creaked audibly when Arthur pushed you against them, the material groaning and protesting when he leaned more of his weight against you as if the pressure was too much to bear. You were trapped in his embrace that spoke only of desperation—desperation so raw you wondered if it spread from his skin to yours like a disease, if it traveled through your body, infecting everything it passed in its way.

A certain rigidness could be felt in the hands that held you, their grip tight yet unmoving as if he battled against letting them touch any other part of you. They were there, yet somehow unwilling, like he needed to touch you but couldn’t bring himself to go any further. Perhaps, you thought, he shouldn’t. Maybe it would be best to end it here, not to get any more pain that would surely hurt more than do good. Yet you missed him, missed Arthur so much it felt like a part of you had returned when he was this close as if you could imagine him being who he once was.

You chastised yourself for it when his lips caressed you softly, letting them push further against yours. The distant sound of chattering and calls beckoned you from afar, the clanking of pots loud in your ears as he had you pushed up against a tree, far and hidden from curious eyes, all your senses focused on him. It had been so simple then, such a warm, inviting touch, the feeling differing strongly against the violence and pain that had followed you until you met Arthur. It was the only reason you’d stayed with him for as long as you had, for never had hands handled you so carefully, so tender; never before had you stared into a pair of eyes that, without a blink, promised to keep you safe and sane.

It felt different yet the same; for now, those feelings mingled together, the brutality shining so strongly within him. Yet, his hands were so gentle, his means to keep you and cradle you in his arms til no one else could touch you so palpable it made every fear you had for him dissipate with the wind that flew through the cracks in the wall. It felt like you held a giant in your grasp, a lost soul seeking the goodness of his past, wishing to erase the bad and expel the vile, monstrous thoughts that he’d been forced upon—expectations he grew up with. How could you possibly blame him? How unfair was it for you to tell him he was wrong, that he acted wrongfully?

Your hands shook as you brought them up to his cheeks, claiming< them in your grasp, feeling him sigh when your fingertips ghosted over him as if the feeling alone chilled his blazing—scorching—skin. Following that means of human nature, his hands that kept you lifted from the ground raised one, caressed its way over the swell of your hips, letting it feel the warm flesh emitting from under your clothes until it followed the path of your sides til it found the valley which where your waist sunk in, letting fingers grip under the harsh bones of your ribs.

A gasp left you, lips parting as if to speak but only inhaling his warm breath, pushing your head away, yet your grasp on his cheeks making him follow you—ordering him to chase the pink, swollen skin that begged for the sensation of more—demanded it. You realized soon that you didn’t have to, his imposing frame pressing you further into the wall, no longer needing to hold you by the tight to keep you from the ground as his lips sensually now found yours again, a deep, dark rumbling—like thunder brewing—could be heard deep into his chest.

It was sickening, the air thick and pasty, like breathing into sourdough bread, the swelling yeast filling all spaces around you, making it difficult to breathe. When you needed air too much, begged for the oxygen yet displeased with the thought of parting with Arthur, he pulled his head away slightly, eyes opening to gaze at your closed eyes, the warm tint of red rising from your chest to your cheeks.

Opening them, you’d only be given a moment to stare upon his face until he leaned in again, his lips finding their way to the dip of your collarbone, rising to cover the space where your shoulders dipped up to the slope of your neck. Inhaling, exhaling, he breathed in the dizzying warmth of your neck, groaning when he let his tongue taste the humid skin that was scorching under his wet, slippery touch.

So divine, yet so dangerous to touch what wasn’t his anymore, what couldn’t be his—but he couldn’t deny he longed for you, couldn’t deny that your smell alone awakened the man he had been, your hands reaching out to him like the gates of heaven shining with its door wide open. A cruel joke was what it was, but he had no want to dispel it, to turn it away. It taunted him, laughed at him, giving him a fair bit of pleasure so the rest of his living days would turn to torture, a small taste of what he could’ve had before dooming him to an eternal defeat—dooming him to live the rest of his days a hollow shell.

Your hands found the back of his head, fingers threading through the strips of hair that felt like velvet under your skin. You couldn’t help but push on the back of his scalp to bring him even closer, dismayed when you realized he was as close as he could be, fingers gripping his hair so tight you feared you would leave tufts of it when you released your grip. You only got a hum of satisfaction in return, the feeling of a wet muscle traveling down your collarbones til they ghosted over the swell of your breasts carefully, like waiting on a signal before they could devour, let their touch consume you.

“Arthur,” you mumbled, lost in what was wholly him, the very fibre of your being begging for him never to stop, wishing he’d never done all those years ago.

You only got a low, appreciating groan in return, only gained the feeling of cold air hitting your legs as he snaked his hands under your skirt, hitching it up as he let them run over the bare skin like a starved man, not even an inch of you left untouched. The wind’s chill lessened when his rough, warm hands caressed you, soothing your aching, quivering legs. Almost, it seemed, he mended every bruise and hurt, internally or externally, replacing them with something that felt so divine you were nearly sure you were dreaming when he returned to your lips, his once guarded eyes bare before you.

He took a few steps back, letting your feet hit the floor as you followed him. You did not let him back away further as you walked with him, rising on your toes and writhing your arms around his neck. You were now the one to cage him in—cage him with your want and desire, your love and hope. It would be a terrible defeat if he stepped away from you, and your stomach twisted at the thought, the familiar pang of sadness only love could create.

“Don’t go,” you whispered, feeling his arms wound around your waist as he stumbled backward, his tall frame big and clumsy in the tiny house. He frantically ran his hands over you before hoisting you up again, seating you on the dark wooden table in the kitchen’s front of the sink. Your mind had grown clouded, his whole being morphing into the man that had once caressed you so gently—and when he did now, it made you dizzy, wondering if they were so unlike as you thought.

“I won’t,” he mumbled against your lips, the words hasty and muted when he didn’t want to waste a second of feeling you against him.

“I won’t,” he spoke once more, this time the words only coming out in nonsensical grumbling as he pushed you softly towards the poorly sawed planks after pushing the various knickknacks of it, plates falling audibly to the floor to join the rest of the mess, burying his face into the nape of your neck to once more take a final breath before standing up.

The mess around you turned vile and filthy compared to the wondrous look on your face as you watched him, the familiar pang of pleasure beating so heavily in his stomach he thought he might puke—coupled with the still warm, wet blood now lining the skin of your legs from his hands. A few moments passed where he stared at you, ignoring your hands that reached out to him as the horrid monster clad in black garments and poisonous fingers got to him first, digging its claws into his back, wrapping its fabric over his mouth till he felt himself suffocating.

It wasn’t until he felt nimble fingers ghosting over his hands, running along the inside of his wrist until they intertwined with his, that the small, supple kisses on his cheeks became his saving grace. Diminished the cruel and twisted devil that rested on his back, all he could think about was the gentleness of your hands, gazing to watch your furrowed eyes filled with understanding—yet a gracious knowledge at that.

“I know you, Arthur,” you whispered, laying your head on his chest. Listening to his wildly beating heart, you found comfort in his erratic breathing.

“No,” he mumbled, resting his head on top of yours. His arms were slack on his sides as your hands passed over the broadness of his back. You gripped the dark leather of his haunches as you slid them down his arms, letting them hang in the stuffy, thick air. “Not anymore, you don’t.”

“Well, you’re still as stubborn as you used to be,” you said softly, the corners of your mouth rising slightly when a grumble left him, acting like you couldn’t feel his slight smile against your head. “Still as warm as you were then,” you mumbled, hands slowly running over his arms that flexed slightly at your touch, mouth opening slightly as they came to rest on the table, trapping you beneath them. “Still as strong,” you gasped when he leaned over you, pressing his weight into you.

He closed his eyes as you spoke, basking in your quiet, warm tone, which he missed hearing. “That don’t matter anymore,” he said, feeling you snake your arms around his neck, arching your body against his, as one of his hands naturally found sanction on your waist. “What I’ve done—” he trailed off. “What I am, it’s not something I can run from.”

You felt your brows furrow, grief finding you at his words that rang so melancholy into the quiet air, the heaviness of his voice alone ripping the tapestry and breaking the windows. As you were about to tell him he was wrong—that although his actions had been so blood-filled and vile, you knew who he was deep down, for you had seen it, seen it in his eyes when he looked at you, seen it in the way he still cared about you—he instead laid you back down on the table carefully, covering you with his body as he hitched your legs around his waist.

Your breath hitched when you felt the rigidness rest against your warmth, feeling it lay heavily under the fabric of his pants. “Yes, you can,” you gasped, hands finding his shirt as you searched for something to hold onto, wishing it away so you could see the skin underneath it and feel it against your own.

You didn’t gain an answer, only the tugging of your undergarments, the chill from being bare cold against your skin, yet Arthur’s hands warming them straight back up when he tenderly caressed your inner thighs, stabilizing their trembling although never letting his palms stray too far, ignoring the way your legs tightened around him, trying to chase his touch as they attempted to chase his touch but finding his hips pressing into yours further, leaving you no place to go but stay in place.

The motion made a groan, quiet and unprepared, leave him, yet you had heard him. As your hands wound their way beneath his shirt to palm over the broadness of his chest, hips moving against him with the bit of space you had in protest, you looked up to find his gaze planted on you, head raised. Yet, eyes looking down at you, like he was trying to hold himself away, failing to escape from the softness of your touch.

He was too deep into it now. He felt the restraints that once were so tight around him lessen as he kept staring into your eyes, those deep and fascinating eyes that he didn’t deserve—that no one would ever get the chance to deserve. It was selfish for him to continue, but he wished to feel you one more time so he could restore his memory of you until he turned viler, meaner, the black poison coiling around his heart til he faced its death wrapped up in its grasp.

So, he found himself leaning into you once more, focusing on your hands that now had seen the planes of his back, his muscles flexing involuntarily as you did, his hand hitching your dress up further, letting it go past the delicious curve of your waist, groaning internally when he realized he couldn’t rise it further. So, he let his head rest between your breasts, pulled out from the tightness of the fabric, letting his tongue run over the warm skin.

You felt the arms of your dress hastily go over your shoulders down your arms, breath hitching when you felt his mouth able to travel lower until it caressed the inside of your breast, his rough stubble like sandpaper against the sensitive flesh. It was addictive, his whole persona making you desperately cling to every bit of him you could manage, grasping wildly as if he was made from thin air, trying to find something that would turn him back into a solid form, something you could touch.

The slight feeling of him grinding into you made you clasp harder. Your hands found his biceps as the back of your head hit harshly against the table, and your hips wound tighter against his waist. The roof above you blended, the colors of brown and ashen blond mingling as the morning sun shone through the windows, the tendrils of the light casting the room in a way that almost looked ethereal—too good to be true.

And it was, the whole moment was, and you memorized the touch of his hands and traveling mouth, imprinting it in your mind so you could remember it forever. It still, despite his words, felt like he would somehow dissipate, and it turned into your worst nightmare, like the last pages of a book that would send you reeling, biting at the corners in despair and slamming yourself against the wall in anger. It was pitiful, the way you were brought to your knees in front of the man you had not nearly long ago feared—more so wondering if you feared his actuality or feared how long a time had passed, how time changed and ruled people's character, how you didn’t know him anymore.

Or perhaps you feared the way you knew it had been doomed from the start, always known, the very first day he had planted his brisk, blue eyes on you, full of life yet the underlying promise of something that could only be transcribed into pain—of hurt and blame. Perhaps you were afraid of knowing that it didn’t matter how often you’d come upon one another; it would always end the same way, for you were both too broken by the life you laid upon you. The chance of redemption was maybe possible once when you were younger, but you feared that it was lost. And, while Arthur reminded you of a past you’d rather lay behind you, prayed and prayed through years of peril and hurt, wished you could run from it, you perhaps had reminded him of what he’d once had and what he could never deserve to have again.

As Arthur lifted his head, you could see in his eyes that he knew, knew there might not be a time when you could live out your life together, for he too was aware that it might be too late, that the world's grip on the both of you was too firm. Yet you both ignored it, entangled with one another as your limbs melted into the others, your motions becoming erratic and desperate, wishing—no, seeking desperately to bring the other back to life, back to what you once had been.

“Please, Arthur.” Clawing and almost beating his chest in desperation, the tension so ripe it felt like you might combust, you begged him to let his skin lay upon yours, bare and exposed, as close to each other as was humanly possible. It felt like a border, keeping you apart in a pitiful, almost laughable way.

“I know, honey,” he murmured, his voice steady, yet the beating of his heart speaking more than his tone ever could. “I know.”

Rising from you for the slightest of seconds, he hoisted his pants down his hips and over his thighs, dark, desirous eyes never taking their gaze off you where you lay breathless on the table that, compared to you, looked like rotting wood. He damned himself for letting you lay upon such misery, to unveil you in such an appalling space that now reeked of death and foulness.

When your hands reached out to him, he let them bring him back down, watching the way your eyes fluttered when he graced upon your pulsating warmth, his own eyes closing for a second before opening again, looking away so he could regain his senses, regain his clouded vision that only flashed with pictures of you beneath him, as if you had surrounded him. That is, only for a short while, not taking long before he had to—needed to— return to you once more, to slip through the warmth of your walls that wrapped around him, the palm of his hands slamming down the table as you clenched around him, the sheer bliss that left your throat burning like embers inside of him.

There was no outlet for him, nowhere to go, so he hitched you further up the table, pressing into you so he could feel you closer. The feeling of your hands in his hair was nauseating, the taste of your skin intoxicating as he kissed the corner of your neck, burying his head into it as he felt your strands tickle his cheek. Slowly pushing out to then enter you once more, he grew greedy, not wanting to spend even the slightest of time away from you.

It was tender the way he moved—careful—and you could only follow his movements as he stayed on top of you, the strokes desperate and short. The small moans that left you rose into the quiet house, your breathing hitching with every thrust of his, almost feeling like the air was being punched out from your chest as you slid further up the table. Arms wound themselves under your shoulders, one hand grasping the back of your head to keep you in place—to avoid letting your head hit the hard surface.

It wasn’t enough; how could it ever be enough? Wrapping your arms around his neck, you gasped audibly when his hips moved faster, now almost grinding into you, his breath shallow and erratic, white knuckles grasping on the end of the table, as if he was controlling himself, unsure what to do with the pleasure that was riding through his body, bleeding into his very bones.

“Come here,” he murmured, gently lifting you so you were seated upon the edge of the table, looking up to meet his eyes. Continuing his tender thrusts, your lips sought him, finding his eyes not closing but planted on you, eyes lidded and chest red from exhaust. A sheen of sweat dripped slowly down his neck to his chest, disappearing through the unbuttoned shirt, the material sticking to his skin like glue.

Pushing your hips further against his, he groaned, resting his head atop of yours when you placed mindless kisses on his exposed skin, mumbling nonsense as he hugged you closer, his breath hot and ragged. Every movement sent a jolt of pleasure through you, sharply white and burning red, coiling tighter and increasingly tighter within you. The sound of your mingled breaths filled the room, and you could feel his muscles tensing beneath your touch, almost seeming to tremble.

You whispered his name, a plea and a promise all at once, and he responded with a low rumble that resonated deep within his chest—a guttural groan escaping his lips as he pushed deeper, the table beneath you creaking with the force of his movements. The room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, just like you were before, just like you once had been—Arthur guiding your movements as if he was determined to merge his body with yours.

His arms tightened around you when you straighten your back to reach his lips, capturing them in a kiss that left you more breathless than you had already been as his pace quickened. The friction, heat, and sheer desperation were too much to bear, yet you craved more. His eyes were wild, almost desperate, as he responded to your plea, every thrust, every gasp, every whisper filling up inside you as you begged to god it would never end, hoping and demanding that nothing would take it away from you.

Yet, you knew it wouldn’t last, and therefore, you felt the tears burn at your eyelids, the hot liquid falling slowly down your cheeks as you found your back pushed against the surface of the table once more, Arthur’s hand softly wiping away the tear that fell from your eyes as despair filled his own.

“Don’t cry,” he mumbled, a low groan leaving him when you tightened around him, unable to ignore the way you sucked him back in. “I can’t-” He ground his teeth when the familiar coil spread through his stomach, wrapping itself around every organ and bone. “Please, honey, I don’t want you to cry.”

“I miss you,” you gasped under your breath, words choked up as you focused on the way he dragged himself in and out of you, feeling like someone was twisting your guts inside your stomach when you thought once more about him disappearing from you hold like ash, only leaving faint memories before blowing away with the wind. “God, I missed you, Arthur.”

He struggled to catch his breath, his hand finding your thigh as he pushed it further up the table, the new angle making your breath hitch. “I know,” he groaned. “God, I know-”

Was it all a dream, he wondered, would fade away from him as his evil deeds caught up to him, for once letting karma do its part? Would you vanish right before him, leaving him to face the consequences of his actions alone? He only held you closer as the thoughts passed, keeping you tight in his embrace as his elbows encased your head. Capturing your lips on his own, his eyes shut tightly as he tried to memorize the feel of you—the warmth of your breath, the softness of your lips, the way your body moulded against his.

The time seemed to stand still, yet it passed too fast, the coil wrung so tight it felt like your stomach would combust, pleasure so raw filling you it felt more like torture than anything else, and as you felt his hips ground themselves into you, one hand stroking so tenderly over your brest it felt like shots of electricity zapped its way through your body, you thought yourself tightening around him, gasping for air.

“You’re alright,” he murmured against your lips, consoling you as your moans left you without your allowance, desperate and bordering on pitiful as your whole body felt like it was burning up—like the very flesh was set afire with gasoline.

“Please, Arthur,” you gasped, not knowing what you were pleading with him for, yet the words left you involuntarily. Perhaps you wished for him to remove the hollow feeling that resided deep within you, to soothe the pain that never seemed to go. Or, possibly, it was deeper than that as you pleaded for him to return to you, to show that he was the man you’d remembered.

“That’s it,” he cooed at you, kissing your forehead softly as you clenched around him. Your hands found his shoulder as they gripped tightly, head knocked back against the table as a long, drawn-out moan left you. Staring up at the ceiling as the world grew dizzy around you, the bliss that traveled through your body was like no other.

His movements didn’t slow as you relaxed slightly on the table, now running your hands over his skin soothingly, gazing into his eyes as he groaned audibly, chest heaving heavily as he frowningly stared into yours, observing you like you held something he couldn’t have that he strived for, pushing and pulling you closer to him.

Lost in pleasure, it felt like he was gasping for air, the sound of his skin slapping against yours echoing through the now quiet house, only the splatter of rain still audible from outside, yet his ears were focused on something else entirely as you whispered his name, beckoning him to your as your eyes were tired yet warm in the afterglow, looking like something not quite real—more or less surreal—or perhaps ethereal.

With one final thrust, he buried his head in the nape of your neck, hands grasping the edges of the bale as he grimaced, taking a few seconds before letting a guttural groan leave his chest and travel through his throat, muted into your skin as he gritted his teeth. Pulses of pleasure wound themselves through him in intervals, the warm, wet feeling of your walls encasing him, wrapping around him wholly as he, with one last movement, buried himself deep, so deep there was no way out—and god, he thought as his breathing stayed hectic, god how he wished there wasn’t.

Especially when he rested against you, trying to catch his breath, revelling in how you hugged his head closer to you, pressing small, quiet kisses against his jaw as if you tried not to disturb him, letting him regain his senses. Letting a hand travel down your sides, he caressed your skin, feeling the softness underneath it as it went further down to then rise back up again, finding pleasure in the way your breath hitched from the sensitivity as he passed a thumb over your breast.

You didn’t speak much, for there was so much you wanted to say that it became overwhelming, leading to you saying nothing. How could you, when you weren’t even sure how to describe your emotions, which seemed still but then everywhere at the same time, running through your mind endlessly with no sense of direction or heading? Where could you go from here that would satisfy you both and let you stay with one another despite your differences?

You wished you could drag answers out of Arthur, torture his mind and soul until he had no choice but to respond, yet you doubted he could even know what to tell you, for he wasn’t sure, and you could see it in his eyes, feel it in his touch that contradicted his mind starkly. Every motion and caress was soft yet reluctant, and you could hear the slight sway in his voice when he spoke to you as if he battled against his will and obligations. It tore you apart to realize he struggled against himself, struggled against his beliefs and wants.

You realized that whichever hands managed to strangle your relationship before would surely do it again. To be quite honest, it did scare you, more than you dared to admit, for you knew you were two different people now, and when your bond wasn’t strong enough all those years back, how could it be now that you both had your inner anguish that clawed itself inside your walls, thrashing and screaming. More so, changing for someone else is a terrifying thought per se, and there was no mistake in thinking that would be the case for both of you. A cruel, horrendous fate, indeed.

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