#word of honor layouts

[foreverdolly]

ೃ࿔ SAVAGE BONDS part I 『 feyd rautha x atreides!reader 』

summary: destined to one another since conception, your very life belongs to feyd rautha. as a token of good will you are sent to the strange planet of giedi prime a week before your wedding ceremony, only to learn that it is far more hostile than you imagined it would be. a failed assassination attempt has tempers flaring and sparks flying when it is decided to be safer to sleep alongside feyd. you hate to admit it, but he has played the part of a "protector" better than the guards who were tasked to watch over you. whilst you have been dreading this union all of your life, feyd has been anticipating it. meeting you as children had left him awe-struck. . . and a bit obsessed.

warnings: !SMUT HEAVY IN FUTURE PARTS!, feyd is super overprotective in this fic and kills multiple people in your honor, blood and gore, it's a dark romance folks, political marriage, forced proximity, temporary unrequited love, a lil dubious consent in some scenes, there's a lot of talk about breeding, enemies to lovers (in your mind, not his), there's a "who did this to you" scene, knife play, blood kink, breeding kink heavy, lots of scent marking/marking. (needs to be edited, so please excuse any temporary errors!)

word count: 5.3k

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The ancient walls of Castle Caladan were a fortress, the long winding halls a labyrinth to those unfamiliar with its layout. You had tried feigning sleep when you had been made aware of the surprise guest’s arrival, a one “reverend mother”- as your mother referred to her. The cool air from the hallway nipped at your exposed arm, which currently hung limply over the side of the bed. 

“She’s even smaller than your son, Jessica.” The voice sounded more like a wheeze- and it certainly didn’t belong to anyone you had ever met before. 

“As I’ve already said, the Atreides are slow to grow.” Your mother’s tone didn’t hold even a semblance of a bite to it, not like you expected. She was usually fiercely protective of you and your brother. 

Your finger twitched, causing the woman to stifle whatever disapproving comment she was about to make. Being caught eavesdropping like this certainly wasn’t ideal, but you found it impossible not to be curious. 

“She really is just like her brother,” More like he was more like you. You’d always been the rowdy one of the two. Paul must have been listening in as well, and you imagined that he was more insulted at the comments of his lack of height and muscle than you were. “The little rascals.” 

There was a beat of silence before the woman began to crone again. This time you opened your eyes just a sliver, staring into the dark abyss of your room so that you could make out the shapes of your mother and the stranger. 

“Rest now. Both you and your brother need to be prepared to meet my Gom Jabbar.” The reason couldn’t be pinpointed, but there was something about her tone that filled you with dread.

Your mother woke you up the next morning, bright and early. 

Not even the breathing exercises that your mother had taught you had been able to calm you down last night. The darkness had swallowed you whole, which resulted in a dreamless sleep that left you feeling just as unrested as you had felt the night before. Your mother noticed your hesitations, the skirts of her dress dragging against the stone floor as she moved in the direction of your closet. The dress that she picked out for you was one of your more official garments, the red hawk of the Atreides crest proudly sewn onto the right breast. 

“Did you sleep well?” She questioned as she laid the dress neatly onto the edge of the bed, urging you to stand once her hands were free. 

You blinked at her, nervously brushing your hands along the soft cotton of your nightdress. Your voice felt stuck in your throat, but you still managed to lie. 

“Yes, of course.” Your tone was flat, and for once she didn’t question you on the reasoning. She knew exactly what had you feeling so uncomfortable in your own home. 

Gom Jabbar. Gom Jabbar. Gom Jabbar. 

What exactly did the old woman want from your family? Lady Jessica was a Bene Gesserit, which could only mean that this woman was a higher up, sent to pay you and your brother a visit. You knew nothing about any “coming of age” rituals. 

Paul barged into the room, dressed in his finer clothes as well. He leaned against the wall of your room, lips pursed as if he was deep in thought. You tilted your head to the side, leveling him a worried glance. He simply shook his head, and you knew at once that he wasn’t trying to dismiss your worries. 

‘Not here. Later.’ His expression told you, and for once you obeyed. 

“The reverend mother is waiting on the both of you. Paul, get out of your sister’s room so she can get ready.” She commanded, her tone leaving no room for whining or disobedience. 

He groaned, pushing himself off of the wall so that he could head back out and into the hall. You shrugged out of your dress quickly at the hurried insistence of your mother, allowing her to do up the clasps of the dress for you. 

“Who is she?” You asked simply, brushing your hair to the side so that she could get a better grasp of the dress. 

“She was my teacher at the Bene Gesserit school and now she is the Emperor’s Truthsayer.” Your mother sighed out your name, turning you quickly so that you were facing her. “You need to do exactly as she says. There is no room to be prideful today, do you understand?” Her eyes were pleading, and you knew that she had your best interests in mind. 

You and your mother walked wordlessly out into the hall, catching up with your brother who was busy running his fingers along the uneven stone walls. You flashed a quick look at your mother before jogging to catch up with Paul, taking the hem of his sleeve into your hand. 

“What do you know?” You whispered, turning your head so that you could look at your mother. Much to your surprise she seemed to be in no hurry to separate the two of you. 

“I’ve had dreams about her before,” He whispered, and you had to pick up your pace to keep up with his strides. “And mother told me this morning that I have to tell her about my visions.” 

Your mouth went a bit dry at the realization that this woman truly was here just for you and your brother. What is the Gom Jabbar and what did it entail? There was no telling. 

“She’s in my morning room, you two.” She called out after you. 

Jessica caught up, leveling the both of you a disapproving motherly look that had the two of you slowing your strides to match hers. She seemed a bit hesitant, eyes flickering between you and your brother and the closed door. 

The “reverend mother” sat in one of the tapestried chairs, her arms perched on either side of the armrests as she watched the three of you come in. The view behind her was beautiful, the sprawling, green farmlands of the Atreides family holding on full display through the large windows behind her. You glanced at your brother, eyes widening when you realized that he was already looking at you. He bowed in her direction and you followed his lead. 

“They are a cautious bundle, aren’t they?” The witch-like woman croaked, looking between the two of you. 

“As they have been taught, your reverence.” 

In this room, here in front of this woman, Jessica was no longer the Duke’s concubine nor your mother. She was reduced to that of a pupil in the face of her teacher. You kept yourself from fidgeting, clasping your hands in front of you. You fought the urge to reach out and grab your brother’s hand, as the two of you so often did when faced with anxiety as children. Fear hadn’t regressed you to that of a blubbering child in years. 

Your mother also seemed to fear the woman before her. There was something in her tone that led you to believe that whatever she was here for, it surely wasn’t a pleasantry. Your brother was tense at your mother’s other side, jaw tense as he stared the reverend mother down. 

“Teaching is one thing, but there are some things that cannot simply be taught,” Paul’s eyebrows furrowed as she spoke, and as if she was dismissing a servant of the castle, she waved your mother off with a flick of her wrist. “You and your daughter leave us. It will be her turn soon.” 

For the first time that morning your mother hesitated, eyes softened as she looked upon her son.

“Your reverence, I-” She began, but was cut off before she could finish whatever it is she was going to say. Surely it was meant to be an objection. 

“Jessica, you know that this must be done.” Her voice held a tone of finality. There was no room for your mother to try and wiggle the both of you two out of this trap.

“Yes. . . of course.” Your mother straightened, turning towards both of you. 

“This test. . . It’s very important to me, you two.” She spoke in a hushed voice, eyes still fearful. 

“Test?” The two of you questioned at the same time, looking at one another in concern. You were confused, even more so than you were before. 

“Remember that you’re the duke’s son.” And with that your mother was grabbing your arm, pulling you in the direction of the door. 

“I suppose that it is my turn?” Your voice shook with anger as you practically tore the door off of its hinges, anxious to take your brother’s place. His cries and whimpers did not go unheard, even with the thick wood separating the two of you. 

Looking at him now, his right arm still shaking from the pain, was like being slapped across the face. 

“Right you are, girl. Jessica, please escort your son out of the room.” There was a silvery glint in her bright eyes- a challenge. She could sense it in you. 

Your mother didn’t interrupt this time, and without any words exchanged the door closed. Your brother was too shaken up by whatever had taken place in that room to fully comprehend that the same thing was going to happen to you. He tossed a terrified glance over his shoulder at you just before the heavy doors closed. The sound of it echoed around the room, pulsing in your chest as you tried to steady the adrenaline pumping through your veins. 

“Your future. . . do you know what is expected of you?” 

You eyed the black box that sat next to her as you began closing the distance between the two of you. The question she had asked. . . it was a touchy subject with you. Of course you knew. A day didn’t go by that you weren’t mortified by the prospect of your future. You only had three short years to live and enjoy before you would be forced to abandon your family to join hands with another one. 

“Of course I do. It is my duty to marry.” Your voice had a bite to it, your eyes unwavering as you stared her veiled face down. 

“It is your duty to marry a Harkonnen. It is an honor to be the only reason that these two great Houses are allies. Your heirs will be powerful beyond comprehension.” The way she spoke. . . she truly believed the shit she was spouting. 

It was impossible to consider marrying Feyd an honor. It was an ever-present looming threat. 

“Put your right hand in the box.” She commanded, nodding her head in it’s direction. 

It seemed harmless enough, nothing more than a metal box. You bent your head ever-so-slightly, trying to have a look inside. It appeared to be a pitch black, endless void. No beginning or end in sight. 

You did as you were told, biting the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from muttering anything too disrespectful under your breath. If Paul’s screams were anything to go off of then this was going to be painful. Still, you were shocked by how cold the box was. You wiggled your fingers a few times, feeling the metal encasing them. Slowly a tingling sensation began, almost as if they were falling asleep. 

“You’ve heard of animals chewing off a leg to escape a trap? There’s an animal kind of trick. A human would remain in the trap, endure the pain, feigning death that he might kill the trapper and remove a threat to his kind.” 

The tingling sensation somehow melded into. . . heat. No, not heat. Burning. It felt as though you had your hand held up to a bright flame. You flinched, but froze when you finally noticed that the reverend mother was holding something against your neck. Your eyes flickered the best that they could to her hand, not wanting to turn your head. 

“What I hold at your neck is the Gom Jabbar. The tip of the needle is dipped in poison. Remove your hand from the box and I will plunge it into your neck.” 

The palm of your free hand began to sweat, the gravity of the situation finally landing on your shoulders. You would be forced to endure the pain and there was nothing that anyone outside of the doors could do. No guards had come to protect your brother when it was his turn, and no matter how emotional your mother had gotten whilst hearing his screams she still hadn’t rushed in after him. You could truly die here in this room. 

“Why are you doing this?” You urged, wincing again as the burning continued to worsen. 

Now it felt as though you were almost touching a flame, fingers dancing dangerously close. It wasn’t just uncomfortable now but painful.  “To determine if you’re human. Now be silent.”

Meant for greatness, yet stifled before her prime. 

It was impossible for your clipped wings to take flight. The Bene Gesserit had instilled in you your purpose from a very young age, letting it be known that you were little more than cattle to be sold off to breed. The whole arrangement was dehumanizing, but this was the way of galactic high society. Every House had been developed by the close, watchful eye of the Bene Gesserit. Your mere existence was a result of a centuries long breeding program, so how could you ever expect for your own life to be any different? 

Every child, especially in their naive youth, dreams of greatness. There was a point in time where you had hoped to mean something. There were differences to be made, rules to be broken, wars to be raged- but you would never be at the helm of any of it. But Paul. . . Paul was different. 

“You know something that I don’t.” You weren’t asking Paul, rather telling him what you already knew. 

Where you were used to your brother pulling no punches, he had been overly cautious with his treatment of you during training today. For a second he just stared ahead blankly at the wall, and you wondered whether he would try to lie. The older you’ve gotten, the stranger other people’s treatment of you has become. Women were little more than something to be owned. It was a hard lesson to learn and was one you were still grappling with. 

Your femininity were the chains that bound you. And what of your ambition? It was currently acting as the flames licking at your boot heels. Soon you feared that it would fully engulf you; become your undoing. 

“Tell me.” Your lovely features crumpled, and as childish as it was you found yourself giving his arm a slap. 

He jumped at the sudden contact, eyes widening as he turned to face you after what felt like an eternity of prolonged silence between the two of you. The hard flooring felt cool beneath your legs as you stretched them out beneath you, and for a second you found it hard to keep yourself up in a sitting position. The world felt unsteady beneath you, both literally and figuratively. 

Paul didn’t have to say anything at all. You looked, you saw, you felt, you understood. Your shared connection had nothing to do with your genes, rather it had to do with your likeness. Two bodies, two minds, but one soul. Your twin’s features crumpled, mirroring that of your own as he pushed a few strands of dark hair away from his face. 

“So there is nothing I can do? My fate is sealed.” Your lips felt numb as you spoke. 

Your brother’s visions were more frequent than they had ever been before. “Horrors”, he’d described them.

“If there was something I could do. . .” He started, turning quickly to face you, tucking one leg beneath himself. “My hands are tied. Mother and father’s hands are as well.” 

Hiding you away or knowingly allowing you to escape your duties would be seen as an act of treason. You’d be putting your parents and their status in danger, and no matter how desperate you were to get out of any sort of marriage pact, it was far too late. Since the very moment you were conceived, this was what you were meant for. 

“When will the orders come down, you think?” You pulled your legs up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them tightly. 

You wished that you could stay like this forever, protected from the rest of the world. If only you hadn’t been born as twins at all. You wanted so badly to be like Paul. 

But the galaxy didn’t work like that. You were not fortunate enough to get what you wanted. 

“Soon.” 

You felt comforted by the hand that he placed on your shoulder, and even more so when he kept it there until you felt as though you were able to stand up. 

You were to marry into House Harkonnen. That was your purpose; to unite the feuding houses and birth powerful offspring. You had met Feyd once before, but only for a fleeting moment. It hadn’t been awkward- no, back then the two of you hadn’t cared enough to pay any mind to the looming threat that was your betrothal. You’d been too young back then to fully grasp the severity of the situation. 

You remembered being shocked by his size. He towered over Paul, appearing to be years older than he really was. His hair had been dark back then, thick and slightly curly. 

He had only just been taken under his uncle’s wing at the time. The environment of Giedi Prime had yet to fully sink into the young boy. The Harkonnen’s looks had always been startling to you, no matter how many times you’d been exposed to it. They were dark creatures, brooding, hairless with skin as pale as milk- not to mention violent. 

The desperate way that Paul had clung to you was not lost on you. You let him squeeze you as tightly as he needed, your arms locking around his back. This meeting would change everything. In a matter of moments your life as you knew it would be taking a drastic turn, and not for the better. 

You’d made that very same trek to the parlor room a million times. This was your ancestral home- had been in your family longer than you thought was conceivable, and yet this felt new to you. Wrong. The shadows from the windows were casting strange lights on the wall beside you, and your footsteps sounded muffled in your ears as your pounding heart nearly deafened you. Your father’s hand brushed against your palm a few times, his attempt at showing you physical comfort without causing any sort of scene. You knew that this was Feyd-Rautha’s right. 

You were Feyd-Rautha’s right. That simple fact alone was enough to send you reeling, that morning's breakfast churning in your stomach. 

“It will be fine.” Your mother’s fingers shaped the words at her side, a comforting and silent presence. 

Your parents had always protected you. They had taught you well in all aspects of life. She was right. You had to trust yourself just as much as you trusted them. This will be fine. You will survive. 

But god, you wanted to live. 

Your worst fear was being locked up like a caged animal, only taken out to be played with or paraded around. You didn’t want to be somebody's little wife; you were no homemaker or bed warmer. 

‘I am better than this.’ You thought to yourself, your hands balling into fists at your sides. 

As the double doors began creeping open, you felt the sudden urge to run the opposite direction, your parents be damned. The feud between House Atreides and House Harkonnen would surely become deadly if you were to turn your back on the promise now, and that was the only thing that steeled your feet. You stood, back straight and hands clasped tightly at your front. 

You looked to be a pillar of strength, but oh- you were so close to crumbling. Your father took a step past the threshold, eyes hard as he bowed his head respectfully in the Baron’s direction. There was still time to turn around. The door was right there, and you were sure that you could commandeer a ship. You’d piloted a few times before in your life, and while you weren’t the best, you were certain you could get yourself the hell off of Caladan. You shuffled your feet, eyes wide as you looked up and caught your mother’s gaze. Her lips were parted, and you could tell that she was trying to decipher your expression. 

“What are you doing?” Her hand moved quickly at her side, the flowy gauze-like material of her skirts hiding her frantic movements from the visitor’s view. 

Nothing. You were doing nothing. There were no options yet. If you fled then the insubordination would fall back on your parents. If you downright refused then the outcome would be the same. There was nothing you could do but keep your mouth shut and try not to show the Harkonnen even a semblance of vulnerability. 

Disdain rolled off of you in waves as you breezed into the parlor, eyes locked on the side of your father’s face as he conversed with the baron. Tensions were high, even now. No pleasantries were being exchanged, that you were sure of. The Harkonnen’s stark black attire was a startling contrast to their pale skin. There, in the middle of two other men, whom you were sure were present for reasons of protection, was Feyd. 

He looked the same as the rest of them. Hairless, blue eyes dripping with something that could only be described as malice. Gone was the curly haired child that you remembered. In his place stood someone unrecognizable to you. You wanted to question what the Baron had done to Feyd, but you already knew. Perfection was expected on Geidi Prime. 

He had shaped Feyd into the very likeness of perfection. The once dark haired boy was now a walking, talking machine; not even a dead leaf echo of the boy you met all those years ago. 

You tried to map out every single one of his microexpressions, searching desperately for any sign that he might disapprove of the predicament the both of you had found yourselves in. He tilted his head to the side, observing you with a horrifying level of concentration. The Baron began to speak, saying something that you didn’t care enough to listen to. You were too distracted by the terrifying man before you. 

“She will come back home to Geidi Prime with us. No objections, correct?” 

You were marrying him out of an obligation, this he was already privy to. He had seen the reluctance written plain across your face as you’d entered the room. You’d wanted to run. Away from him, away from your responsibilities- and he could not blame you for it. His understanding stopped there though, simply because this proposal wasn’t going against his own wishes. 

“The wedding isn’t taking place for another week.” The Duke didn’t seem to like the idea of his unwed daughter leaving his side. 

Feyd fought back a smile, having known that the Baron’s sudden request would have this effect on the Atreides family. He watched you squirm like a bug under a magnifying glass, your hand moving at your hip. For a second he thought that you might be tugging at the seam of your dress, writing it off as nothing but a nervous tick- but then he saw the way your mother’s eyes followed those movements. 

The two of you were communicating. 

“That may be so, however I think that it is only right that your daughter,” Baron Vladimir motioned in your direction. “Becomes better acquainted with Feyd. You don’t agree?” 

His uncle decided that it was best to test the boundaries of this alliance. He was pushing the Duke, seeing how far he could get. Leto’s lips twitched, his eyes flickering thoughtfully towards you. Feyd was finding it hard to pay attention to anyone else other than you in the room. He’d spent years imagining what you would look like as an adult- dreamt about it. He’d eagerly been awaiting this moment, counting the days that he could finally be reunited with you. 

It wasn’t just because he had been promised powerful heirs. It was the thought that someone was fated to marry him. Since before he was even conceived, you had always been promised to him. That idea had been put into his head since childhood. You were the constant topic in his mind, a person that was unavoidably meant to be in his life for the rest of his days. 

In a strange way he had loved you since he was but a child. 

Seeing you for that first time had been better than he had anticipated. You were a beautiful little girl, but now? The child that he had met all those years ago did not hold a candle to the grace and brilliance of the woman that stood before him. Nobody else could ever compare. You didn’t have to fall for him right now, he was content with that. Hell, you didn’t even have to tolerate him.  He would find pleasure in wearing you down. He was going to make you love him.

I must not fear. Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. 

The adrenaline had run its way out of your system, leaving you cold and alone on a planet that was so incredibly alien to you, you weren’t sure how you’d ever be expected to adjust. Even the oxygen felt different in your lungs- the sweet, acrid smell of chemicals tinging the air around you. It was nothing like your home on Caladan. Your home was a stone castle, but this? This was a cold, black fortress. 

You weren’t sure if it was meant to keep people out. . . or in. 

You thought back to that fateful day with the reverend mother. 

“You’ve heard of animals chewing off a leg to escape a trap? There’s an animal kind of trick. A human would remain in the trap, endure the pain, feigning death that he might kill the trapper and remove a threat to his kind.” 

You couldn’t chew your leg off to be free of this. No, you had to lay in wait. Only then could you strike if the situation called for it. 

“Striking” could wait until tomorrow though. For now you wanted to rid yourself of the anxiety. Sleep was the only cure you could think of. 

“Is the room to your liking?” That husky voice of his was already grating on your nerves. 

Feyd had only attempted to speak to you a few times and already you were sick and tired of his presence. He was a constant reminder that you would never know what it was like to be free. Then again, was anybody in the galaxy truly free? Feyd sure seemed to be carefree in his current position. 

His tone felt off, like he was toying with you. 

“I would be far more pleased about my new living quarters if you were to leave.” You said simply, pulling the slate gray blanket up and over your chin. 

You weren’t sure if it was due to his ill-breeding, but he didn’t seem to care that you were in nothing but your night dress. He walked into the room in long-legged strikes, letting the door shut behind him. Never before had the two of you been alone together, not since you were children at least. If you were back in your family home you would feel safer during a moment like this. 

You were in his territory now, meaning he had full reign over everything. Your father and family name couldn’t protect you on Geidi Prime. 

“You’re in quite the rush to be rid of me,” He didn’t falter for even a second as he moved to sit down on the edge of the bed, leaning back against the plush mattress with a small sigh. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think that you didn’t like me.” He didn’t seem upset at the notion of you disliking him. In fact, there was a glint in his eyes. That same sort of silvery glint you’d seen in the reverend mother’s eyes all those years ago: a challenge. 

This was nothing but a challenge to him. You were a conquest, and you detested that. Your stomach soured, your face becoming pinched as you glared at him. This was all too much too fast. You were in the comfort of your own home not even four hours ago, and now you were expected to make small talk with the source of your life-long discontent.  

“And what of your concubines? Could you not pester them tonight and give me a moment's peace?” 

“I dismissed them from their duties, permanently, weeks ago.” He said simply, his fingers running along the cotton of the comforter. 

“What?” You’d never heard of such a thing. 

“Spending time with them would be a waste.” His blue eyes flickered up to meet your eyes. “Acquiring concubines had just been a show of status.” 

It took you a few moments to process what he was saying, the burning hatred you had felt just moments ago flickering out into a dull flame. 

“Why would spending time with them be a waste? Am I expected to spend that much time with you?” A horror, truly. You had hoped that you’d be able to get away with spending a night or two a week with him, if only to achieve the Bene Gesserit’s goal of siring an heir. 

“A waste of time. A waste of seed,” He looked at you pointedly, his lip pulling up into a smile that revealed more of his black teeth. “And both of those things are important to me.” 

Your stomach hollowed out as you were once again reminded of what was expected of you. You had a week to prepare mentally for your wedding night, which you weren’t sure was enough. 

“And what happened to the concubines? Are they still being housed here?” 

“Why? Are you jealous?” He was smiling even wider than he was before. 

A shiver ran through you as you noticed how predatory his body language was- you felt like prey under his haughty gaze. It was hard to believe that Feyd had been administered the Gom Jabbar test and passed. 

This man was no human. He was an animal, that you were certain. 

“Wickedly.” Your tone was flat and noncommittal. Even now, you never saw Feyd as a potential lover. 

The man that was your so-called “destiny” was also your jailer. 

“Well then you’ll be happy to know that they no longer live here. . . or anywhere, for that matter.” He sat up, rolling his shoulders back to stretch his broad muscles.

The blood drained from your face as you stared up at him from your spot on the bed. He must have felt the weight of your gaze and turned his head, his eyes alight with. . . pleasure. Violence was as ingrained in him as breathing was. It was his life. Standing before you was the prince of death- pale, striking and terrifying. 

Animal, indeed. 

I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain. 

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A/N: this chapter was plot heavy, I know, however it was crucial to give you guys some background information so that I can better build tension. the beautiful dividers were created by @ kitsunecafe!

[agendratum]

Word of Honor as text posts (46/?) source x layout insp x

[jwonsite]

strawberry muffins - psh

pairing: fwb!park sunghoon x fem!reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: unprotected, he calls reader “good girl” like twice, slight breeding kink, hoon is a fake ass emo.

a/n: @g0niki this was for you 💯

your head spins as you feel yourself being suffocated by a pair of lips on yours, pushing you into your apartment and against the front door as it closed behind the both of you. legs tangled as he pulls you towards him, trying to somehow get you to the bedroom all without breaking the kiss.

you don’t have to guide him there, sunghoon knows your apartment layout all too well. coming over once or twice a week, or whenever he was bored, to do the same routine you guys always did.

fuck, sleep, and he leaves in the morning before you even wake up. no texts, no notes, no strings, no feelings.

deciding he didn’t want to stumble to your room he taps the bottoms of your thighs signaling you to jump up so he could carry you the rest of the way.

he carried you easily, not once breaking the kiss before placing you down on the bed and pulling away to look at you, a certain look in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. it wasn’t arousal, or lust, and you couldn’t quite figure out what he wanted from you. your cheeks heat up in embarrassment and you avert your eyes from his.

“what? why are you looking at me like that?” you said as you look to the side, hands instinctively coming up to hide your face. his face almost instantly goes back to his cold, hard, almost emotionless face he always has.

“nothing,, you gonna take your clothes off or what?” he asks, getting seemingly more impatient as the minutes pass.

“wow such a gentlemen hoon! makes me wonder why i ever consider not seeing you again,” you say sarcastically, sitting up a bit to take off your shirt as he’s stripping himself from his clothing at the end of the bed.

“you would never because you know nobody fucks as good as i do,” he said cockily, winking at you with a smirk before coming to stand at the foot of the bed, his underwear still on. you roll your eyes at him before completely pulling off your pants, leaving your panties on for him to take off later.

“you want to do the honors?” he jokes, gesturing towards his still clothed dick. you crawl forward on the bed, leaning forward to give it a kiss before suckling on it through the material, the grey underwear turning a darker shade as your spit collects on it. he moaned out before grabbing the back of your head and pushing you into him.

“stop teasing or you won’t cum tonight.” he said as he held your face flat against his cock. you pulled back and pouted at him a bit before pulling down his underwear to free his aching hard on, it slapping his stomach before you grab it and sucked on the tip, wrapping your hands around the rest of his length. his hand came down to tangle in your hair, pushing your head down onto him and making you take almost his entire length down your throat.

you felt you eyes watering, trying your best not to gag as you felt his tip halfway down your throat. your hands were firm against his thighs, grabbing them harshly and leaving small crescent marks from your nails in its place.

sunghoon was a moaning mess, throwing his head back and groaning every time he bottomed out in your throat. you fondled his balls a bit and that is what pushed him over the edge, his hips stuttering as he held you down on his dick, his cum shooting down the back of your throat. when he pulled out of your mouth his cum leaked out of the sides of your mouth, sunghoon using his thumb to wipe it up before pushing his thumb into your mouth, letting you suck on it before grabbing you by the waist and flipping you onto your stomach, face down ass up.

“being such a good girl taking all my cum down your throat hm? you think you can keep it all inside when i fuck you?” he said, palming your ass before slapping down a couple of times, rubbing the sore spot after. you nodded your head into the pillow in front of you, too desperate to give him an actual answer.

“use your words princess. or do you wanna be used like a slut and not cum tonight?” he said in response, wanting to hear your pretty voice begging for him.

“fuck,, yes hoon ill be a good girl please just fuck me already,” you said desperate, reaching your hand back to grab his wrist.

“mm,, good enough i guess,” he says before pushing himself into you, bottoming out in one go. you moaned out, gripping the sheets next to you in support. he leaned forward to give you a kiss on the back of your ear, before pulling all the way out and slamming into you again, starting a brutal pace as one of his hands gripped your waist and the other kept your head pushed into the pillows.

you were moaning out his name and strings of pleas, not even being able to think straight as he fucked you. his hips didn’t stutter once as he kept fucking you hard and fast, slapping down on your ass before pulling you by your hair up towards him, wrapping his arm around your neck in a slight chokehold and holding you up against him like that.

“you like being treated like a slut hm? letting me use you how i want,” he says into your ear, squeezing his bicep around your neck even tighter, eyes rolling back as he deprives you of oxygen.

his hips begin to stutter and that’s how you know he’s close. he keeps you locked in his bicep as his other hands goes around your body to toy with your clit, wanting you to cum with him.

his hips stilled inside of you, pushing his cum deep inside as you felt the coil in your stomach snap, letting out a loud moan and throwing your head back against sunghoons shoulder.

he lets go of you, letting you fall back onto the bed before pulling out and watching how his cum drips out of you, using one of his fingers to push it back into you. you moaned slightly at the feeling of his finger inside you, but mostly becoming overwhelmed with sleep. you laid down on your pillow, eyes fluttering shut while your body is still exposed to him. hoon lets out a small chuckle under his breath, smiling to himself before getting up to go to the bathroom and get something to clean you up with before laying down next to you and draping a blanket over both of you.

“night y/n,” he says, giving you a light kiss on your forehead, light enough to deny it happened in the morning if you remembered.

________________

you woke up to the feeling of a cold bed next to you. the blanket still fully covering you as the other side was neatly put back together, almost as if nobody had slept there the night before. you let out a sigh before rolling over to grab your phone off the nightstand, squinting as the light burned your eyes a bit. your eyebrows furrowed at a notification, pressing on the text to open it.

hoon 🤍

i left you one of those strawberry muffins from that place you like down the street. i was already going there to get one for myself before work so i figured i might as well bring one back to you since you live so close. anyways, hope you like it.

you read the text from him and giggled a bit to yourself. speaking aloud to nobody at all when you say,

“i think he forgot he told me he doesn’t like muffins”

[squigglewigglewoo]

this is (no longer) a one time thing, I got bored and a little tipsy, decided to take a ask I sent to one of my favorite creators and post it on my account instead.

(✧) warnings: lowercase writing, sexual themes, virginity loss, praise, degradation, dazais his own warning, dacryphilia, overstimulation (?), if I missed anything, let me know! NSFW 18+ under the cut, MDNI

(✦) summary: what's it like to lose your virginity to two of the finest men in Yokohama? 424 words~

(✧) pairing: dazai x reader, chuuya x reader (separately)

(✦) (a/n): I apologize, I keep editing this post, I can't decide how I want the layout and I'm not used to posting on here

(✧) listening to~ baby said by måneskin

imagine losing your virginity to chuuya or dazai.

Chuuya would be so gentle the whole time, honored that you chose him to take your virginity, making sure you cum by his hands or mouth at least twice to prep you, thrusting into you slow and deep to make sure he doesn't hurt you, praising you the entire time with a sweet, loving tone, his head buried into your neck as he peppers your jaw and face with kisses, praise falling from his lips as he fucks you senseless. "good girl, y're doing so good f'me. god, you feel heavenly, squeezing me s'tight. what a pretty sight you are, spread out under me like this." he practically worships you, kissing you all over, leaving soft bites and marks on your skin, his head shoved in the crook of your neck as he cums with a low moan, just barely heard. he's got you all wrapped up in his arms after, holding you and peppering your face till you're giggling sleepily, asking if your alright, if he hurt you at all while he cleans you up before falling a sleep with you in his arms, murmuring a soft "love you, s'fucking much, doll." into your ear before he slips into a dreamless slumber.

Dazai would only smirk when you tell him your a virgin, fucking you raw and sensitive just to watch the tears form in your eyes and feel you squirm beneath him, only laughing when you beg him to slow down, that it hurts, making mocking (he wouldn't actually mock you, he loves you far to much for that) comments as he only fucks you rougher. "awh, poor baby, so worked up. you're taking me so well, are you sure your really a virgin? you're practically sucking me in, what a needy little cock drunk slut you are f'me, only me." his bandaged hands grab at your hips so tightly, nails leaving crescent moon indents on your skin, his grip near bruising. your nails rake down his back, between his shoulder blades, creating red, angry lines that only make him fuck into you harder, a mocking grin on his face as he kisses the corners of your eyes, taking away the tears that brim in your eyes, only to pull out, just the tip remaining in you before he slams back into you, watching the tears bubble in your eyes once more with a teasing, degrading comment. "you cryin'? oh, poor thing, fucked so dumb you can't even say anything broken babbles of my name. such a stupid, pretty little thing."

masterlist!

dividers by @/cafekitsune

[celestiaras]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ tangled up in blue ]❜

━━━ .°˖✧ requested by @/iketnos (twt) ˚₊ ⊹

ft. elira pendora, ike eveland x f! reader — lazulight/luxiem, nijisanji en

╰₊✧ elira & ike give their biggest fan the experience of a lifetime after an accidental encounter┊2k words

contains: smut!! dom elira (w drock), ike & sub reader┊idol elira & ike, naive reader who is thrown straight into the plot & wears a skirt, fingering, unprotected piv & blowjobs, dirty talk, getting walked in on & implied foursome with vox

➤ author's note: my very first fic trade... it's such an honor

you could swear on your life that it was a complete accident all you want, but you know that nothing would be a believable explanation of why you were backstage when you shouldn’t be that wasn’t you being a creepy stalker. the two of them looked less than understanding with frowns (maybe even scowls) indicating that they weren’t in a considerate mood when you nervously sputtered that you were following someone who looked like your friend, so focused on tracking them down that you somehow didn’t manage to read all of the signs clearly reading “staff only.” oh, this really was the worst case scenario to meet your idols in, unable to tell them how much you admire them and asking for a picture like a normal fan would, instead insisting on removing yourself from their sight before they call security to do it.

they glanced at each other for a second then smirked as if they read each other’s mind and had agreed on something without needing to speak. “no, don’t worry about it, we understand.” elira’s sudden dazzling smile that exactly resembled the ones you’ve seen in posters caught you off guard, making blood rush to your face and making you feel hot. “so… if this your first wingwriters concert?”

“oh, i’ve actually attended every concert you’ve ever held in this country! it’s just— well, it’s such an honor to meet you guys in person! your performance today was one of my favorites, well, all of them are my favorites really,” you quickly found yourself rambling your admiration to them, telling them about how you bought every single piece of available merchandise that you could get your hands on and how you were in the top point five percent of their listeners on spotify. you weren’t quite sure why they suddenly decided to start a conversation with you, but you certainly weren’t going to pass up the opportunity to tell them how much you admired them. neither of them listened to the details since it was the same old words that they heard from everyone, however, their attention was focused on the rather cute fan who was spilling her heart out about how much she loved them.

elira cut you off mid-sentence, wrapping her arm around you and letting ike lead the both of you somewhere, “that’s so flattering coming from you!” you weren’t sure if her words were genuine or if she was trying to shut you up to steer the conversation elsewhere, now acting friendly like you were already acquainted (not that you minded or anything because, well, the elira pandora had her arm slung over your shoulder and her perfume smelled so good—). “so sorry about us being so rude earlier, by the way, we just some bad news about the next concert.”

you now realize that they were taking you to a trailer, one that was a bit further away from all of the commotion of wrapping up the event. were you allowed to be this deep in an area where outsiders were forbidden? two of the three band members brought you here and didn’t mention the possibility of getting in trouble, so it must be fine, right?

the inside layout was standard, yet it was colorful with a gleaming white and sparkling blue and full of posters of the wingwriters trio covering the walls. they set you down on a little bed and elira got you a drink from the mini-fridge while ike joined. you really tried to follow everything that she was talking about, but she got off-topic a lot and constantly skipped around in her stories— again, not that you minded because your idol who was the prettiest woman you’ve ever been blessed with living in the same timeline as was talking to you like you were a best friend. you were on cloud nine and all giddy inside, practically having hearts floating above your head like a lovesick puppy and holding the can of soda in your hands like it was something worth treasuring instead of consuming it.

seeing how completely unassuming and how smitten you were, she took this opportunity to lean forward and place a little peck on your lips. it was innocent and experimental, to test the waters and see your reaction so that she could estimate how far you’d let her go. she chuckled at your stunned expression and spoke first, “you’re really cute, you know that? what do you think, ike?”

the man who was silent and hidden this entire time made his presence known by sitting behind you, gently caressing your thigh before whispering in your ear, “she’s just adorable.”

they could see you melting in between them like ice cream in the hot summer sun from the attention, speechless from the flirtatious advances. you didn’t resist in any capacity so she kissed you again, more deeply this time while tenderly holding your face in her palm. you gasped as he bit the shell of your ear and began trailing his hand under your skirt, making you shiver under his touch. you weren’t sure how many rules you must have broken within the past ten minutes and the possible repercussions that could happen if you got caught.

although, this is the opportunity of a lifetime! sneaking around with your idol like this was something most could only dream of since it’s only a plot conceivable in fiction, but you were living it out right now with not one, but two of them! you would be stupid to pass this up and reject them! you indulged in their inappropriate behavior instead, reaching out to hold her face in your hands and kissing her back with a bit of tongue while leaning back into him. it took some confidence that you didn’t know you had in you when you were too nervous to even look them in a eyes a few minutes before, but they seemed more than pleased with your reciprocation and took it as unspoken permission to escalate it further.

elira chuckled at your little display of dominance that wasn’t going to last for much longer, quickly hiking up your skirt and hooking a finger around your underwear to pull it down. “god, you’re wet so wet already,” she marveled, looking at the wet patch on the fabric and sticking it in her back pocket as a souvenir. “such a short little skirt that barely even covers your ass, you were probably hoping for something like this to happen, weren’t you?” you didn’t even get to respond, getting cut off by a gasp as she gently rubbed at your clit and pressed in one finger followed by another. she made slow scissoring motions to stretch you out and licked her lips, eagerly prepping you to be able to take her with ease and pushing you over on your back so that she could fuck you properly.

your eyes rolled back to meet with ike’s length already waiting for you, fully erect and nearly dripping with anticipation. obediently, you opened your mouth and let him slip the tip between your lips like it was the only thing you were good for. he tasted bitter due to the poor diet of energy drinks you so often heard of, but it didn’t matter to you since you were being granted the honor to suck him off. he groaned as you ran your tongue along his shaft, sloppy sounds of slurping and his mewls being mixed into a beautiful melody of sin.

you were unable to focus on both of them at once and they had you torn, capturing your attention by doing some action they have yet to do and essentially playing ping-pong with it. feeling elira impatiently reveal her cock from her tight white shorts and sinking it into your warm so quickly make you choke around him, sending vibrations throughout his core and making him grip onto any piece of you he could get his hands on even harder.

her pacing was relentless, pumping in and out of you like you were a mere fleshlight. maybe you were in the moment, a toy just to get them off for the moment instead of a living and breathing fan, but you would be lying if the thought of being used by them so callously didn’t get you excited. you felt completely stuffed and her light blue cock hit your sweet spot so perfectly that it had you seeing stars, tearing up at the sensation while her nails dug into your thighs for her to keep her balance.

with every thrust that pushed you back into the mattress and had your tits bouncing under your top, you choked a little bit more on ike’s cock. you could barely see his crooked glasses that were on the verge of slipping off and felt yourself getting a little lightheaded from the awkward angle. nevertheless, you persisted in your goal to make him cum down your throat, lips slick with bodily fluids as he bucked his hips deeper and hit the back of your throat, “god, how are you able to do this so effortlessly? you must have so much experience sucking dick to get whatever you want, don’t you?” it nearly made him blush at the thought as if whatever he was doing wasn’t worse.

you could only whine in response since you were fully occupied, the only noises coming from you were squelching and gagging from both of your holes getting filled like a common whore. nice, quiet, and compliant, just how they like to fuck their cute little fans like you. it’s truly unfortunate that such an experience can’t be told to others, but it must be kept a secret if they are to continue such activities! they can’t have a scandal breaking out that the wingwriters have a bad habit of bringing unknowing fans who would give them the world backstage and adding their panties to an evergrowing collection, now can they?

“mhm, fuck… i’m close,” he mewled with the soft and gentle voice that you knew held so much power from his metal songs, the type of voice people would listen to as a guilty pleasure. you really wished that you could savor his words properly before you sputtered on the thick ropes of white he shot down your throat without warning, his hand holding your head in place so that you could take every drop of it without wasting and not letting go until you swallowed it all like a good girl.

elira took a bit longer to tap out than he did, absolutely animalistic and flipping you over onto your stomach at some point to rail you even harder. she was feral and had no problem making you scream so loud that everyone else at the concert venue would be able to know that she was the reason behind the noise. ike simply watched the rest of the show amused by it all, even having the kindness of holding your hand when her stamina finally ran out and she painted your insides with her seed before collapsing on top of you.

“what the hell are you two up to? our manager is up my ass about—” vox akuma burst through the door yelling about something of them getting in trouble with perfect comedic timing, stopping in his tracks once he saw the hot and sweaty entanglement of limbs from his fellow band members fucking the brains out of who he could only assume was a fan. he sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, holding the position for a few seconds to think it through yet unable to ignore the stir of lust growing within him. have they really done this again? without him? all it took was a look of bedroom eyes from you realizing he was there for him to shut the door and approach the three of you, “fuck, i guess he can wait for a couple more minutes— move over for me.”

[adiluv-moved]

☆ ､､ 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 !

experimenting a bit more with my layouts! not too visible with this very simple post but lmk what you think! anyway, foçalors seems like an interesting character and i absolutely love her design, so... hope you enjoy! ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

692 words. written before 4.2, not edited.

lady furina who first encounters you during a civil affairs case, sitting with her head resting in her palm as she'd been forced to watch the owner of a small fruit stand claiming you'd stolen from them. although she'd always had a penchant for the dramatic, she hardly considered three measly apples to be worth her time, such small issues being utterly and totally devoid of the theatrics she drew her entertainment from. had neuvillette not been so adamant in her appearance—claiming it a part of her 'duty' as the hydro archon—she doubted that she would've even made an appearance. alas, he was, and she'd all but resigned herself to her fate.

lady furina who ends up picking up an interest in you as the proceedings continue, clearly noticing the not-so-subtle glances that you send her way. At first, she doesn't pay much mind to it, though her curiosity is quickly piqued when she notices the barely concealed look of awe and adoration within your gaze. it sends her reeling almost instantaneously, posture straightening up completely as a smile graces her features. proud, as she is, she can't help but find your attention amusing, ego stroked by the undivided focus you keep on her. as you should, of course—somebody so pure and elegant deserves it—but she can't deny that your decision to ignore the accusations being levied against you certainly is silly.

lady furina who's hardly suprised when the oratrice confirms your guilt, nearly letting out a laugh at the confused look on your face. she ends up stepping in to change your punishment, noting that it'd be a waste of resources to even attempt fining you when you weren't even able to pay for fruit. instead, your crimes would be repayed by your assistance to the court, a decision that the masses would report as being 'undeniably wise'. while she lives for their praise and has absolutely zero intent to correct them… it was really just an excuse for her to get to see you again.

lady furina who, while noted by neuvillette as being notoriously ꒰and irritatingly꒱ distant in the upkeep of the nation, is now magically more involved. while he does maintain some initial speculation about her motivations, they're easily confimed once he takes note of her desire to make your accquaintance. besides the small setbacks that occur whenever she gets derailed in an attempt to impress you ꒰poor thing becomes the resident third wheel꒱, he's genuinely pleased about her heightened activity within national affairs. The weather becomes warmer as a result, with many citizens taking the opportunity to go diving.

as such, what was supposed to be a short time working beneath the archon eventually becomes a full-time job once the hydro ludex himself ends up recuiting you. ignoring your own personal desires to remain in close proximity to the archon—an honor within its own right—the pay is ludicrously good, more mora than you'd even know what to do with. you'd have to be a fool to decline.

lady furina who would never stoop down to the level of admitting feelings for a mere mortal, instead opting for the more 'dignified' approach of following you around like a lost puppy as often as possible. neuvillette, for the sake of prolonging her interest within the issues of the nations, is roped in to play the part of a middle man—much to his disconcertion. he ends up accidentally admitting the archon's sentiments to you in an attempt to figure out whether or not you reciprocate, nearly giving the god a heart attack as the words slip past his lips.

very luckily, her rising panic is quelled by the ectsatic look on your face, the sudden clicking of her shoes alerting the pair of you as she rushes away to celebrate. you'll have to be the one to go to her, unfortunately, and while she does attempt to squeeze a confession out of you… well, she'd rather just go ahead and skip to the part where you ask for the honor to be hers. she'll make you squirm a little, but don't worry. she has every intent to agree.

i have a taglist, which you can sign up for here!

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Stitching Us Together

Chapter 1: Caught

Summary: Brianna Riley, Charlotte Garrick, Isla MacTavish and John Price Jr, a close group of childhood friends, investigate a strange shadowy figure that had been poking around Isla’s front yard with a flashlight.

Word Count: ~ 5k

Warnings: Being watched, mentions of military, family arguing, internal conflicts, police, etc, nothing terrible, also just a note: simon is not abusive dad, just sort of distant/ strained relationship w daughter.

A/N: this is my longest fic yet…can y’all tell it’s what I’m hyperfixating over?? sorry I haven’t been posting much, schools been killing me, but I hope you enjoy this super specific au <3

OG Post | Character Layouts

It had all started with Price, the captain leading the way to something that eventually happened to all of them.

His missus had gotten pregnant, and he’d left service not even a month after, deciding that he was getting too old for it, anyway.

Johnny had been next, honorably discharged after taking a shot to the head, barely surviving, but deemed too fucked up to go back into service.

Then Gaz had quit, claiming he was going back to London, to help run his parent’s quaint little restaurant since they were getting older. All of them really knew it was because of the pretty lady now in his life, though. They'd seen the picture he kept of her in his wallet.

Simon, the stubborn bastard that he was, had only thrown in the towel once he learned that a fling he’d had a few years ago had resulted in a kid he’d never learned about. He’d left after scrolling through the random alcoholic he’d fucked a few years ago’s Instagram, finding a blond haired-blue eyes kid in the background of one of her posts.

He’d gotten custody of the girl, named Brianna, which wasn’t surprising considering the kid’s mom had been a substance and drug abuser.

The old captain had a second kid, a little girl named Josie, with his older boy, John. Everyone just called him Jr, though.

Gaz had a sassy little girl named Charlotte and affectionately called her Charlie.

Soap had found himself a Scottish wife and settled down in London as well, where her family happened to live. They’d had a girl too, naming her Isla, though friends called her Is, or Isa.

They’d grown up together in London close by, their parents just calling each other members of 141 their “uncles.” No one questioned it, and considering the tiny bits of questionable information each of you had on your father’s, no one wanted to ask questions.

Poor Jr had been the oldest by a year, but still the “baby” of the group, since he was constantly bullied by Isa and her quick wit. It didn’t help that Brianna’s little snorts and Charlie’s laughs only encouraged the menace.

“Seriously, I don’t see what’s so funny.” Jr muttered, a hint of pink on his cheeks as his voice cracked. Isla was relentless, mocking his cracking voice while she cackled.

“Righ’, nothin’ wrong with me. All normal over here.”

She said, making her voice much deeper, and forcing little kinks and cracks that Jr scowled out. Charlotte smirked and snickered quietly, and Isla saw Bri’s shoulder shake in silent laughter.

“It’s not funny.” Jr replied, a little frown on his face unlike his usual scowl, a hint of insecurity in those big, brown eyes. A small sign that he was slightly upset, or getting close to it anyway. Bri’s silent laugh immediately disappeared, and Charlie frowned.

Isa clapped him over the shoulder from beside him, where they were sitting in Kyle’s parent’s restaurant that he mainly ran now.

“Ay, didn’t mean it y’know? Jus’ playing with ya, Jr.” She said, a grin still on her face, but a bit more apologetic this time. He shrugged her off, relaxing back into the booth.

“‘S fine, wha’ever.” He said, a sure sign of his forgiveness. He forgave easily, a bad habit of his. Charlie reached a slender hand out, snatching a cheese and bacon bit-covered fry out from the bright red and white paper basket they were in at the center of the table. The cheese stretched, long and warm.

She took a bite, humming at how good it was.

“Tha’ good?” Bri asked, raising a brow. Charlie gave a little nod, chewing before speaking.

“Good as hell, if I do say so myself-“

Kyle’s head poked out from the kitchen, where his parents were both back cooking up whatever orders were up. Plenty of kids came by after school, because of how close it was, and how quick the food came out. Charlie would know since she was here every day after school. Sometimes she got to help out in the kitchen.

He raised a brow at Charlotte.

“Language.” He said, before going back into the kitchen.

Jr smirked, happy to have something to get back at his friend for now.

“Yeah, Garrick, watch your language~” He drawled, dragging the sentence out while Isla snorted in amusement, some water accidentally coming out of her nose.

“Ewww-“

“Not on the fries!”

Brianna only watched in what looked like mild amusement as she pulled the fry basket away just in time, using the stereotypical brown restaurant napkins to wipe the water up. Loud, booming laughter came out of Isa after she’d swallowed or sprayed whatever water had been in her mouth. Her leg bounced under the table while she rubbed her nose.

“Hurts me bloody nose,” She said with a crooked grin they had all come to love.

“Hurts my eyes,” Jr said in a wry tone, giving a tiny little disgusted look to the soaked pile of napkins now near Isa on the table. Charlie made a gagging sound.

“Now the fries are ruined!”

“Now, don’ be dramatic, they’re just fi-“

“You sprayed snot water on them-!”

“Would ya quit cutting me off?!”

As the others bickered, Bri casually grabbed a fry and took a bite, unbothered. The others watched and sighed, deciding that if Brianna wasn’t falling over dead from it, then maybe they were all right. Jr watched carefully as Charlie took a fry and a hesitant bite, then followed and did the same.

“See, told’ya.”

“Shut it, MacTavish.”

Isla rolled her eyes, devouring the fries at an unprecedented rate. Her shoulder-length brown hair was held back behind her ears, glinting just right in the setting sun that it looked almost red in some strands. The diner was going to close soon. Then Bri was going to walk them home, per usual. Probably because of the knife she kept on her, paranoid as she was. Isla kept a Swiss Army knife on her with a tiny knife, scissors, and even a nail file on it.

Charlie sometimes used it in class to file down her nails into shape when the teachers weren’t looking.

John would always give them disappointed looks from the side of the room where he always sat. Closest to an exit, always.

Being children of ex-military did lead to a bit of paranoia always, even if you didn’t know what it was that your father’s had done to be so secretive or have such bad PTSD. Maybe it was that paranoia that had Isla up so late at night, pushing the button on the hilariously pink Disney Princess walkie-talkies they’d all gotten one year.

“Anyone up?”

She asked, peeking out of her window and gazing out at a light in the street. Looked like a flashlight to her. A voice responded a minute or two later, interrupting Isa’s leg bouncing. Her hands fidgeted with the walkie.

“Why.” Bri’s gravelly, I-just-woke-up voice was the one to reply. She’d always been a light sleeper, so it didn’t exactly surprise Isla that a walkie message would keep her up.

“Someone poking around outside m’ house. Any o’ your family out visiting, or sumethin?” Isa asked, frowning as she saw the dim flashlight turn away, the shadowy figure not fully visible against the yellow streetlight’s beams. The light turned her way, and she dropped to the floor below the window, breathing now a lot faster.

“No.” Bri said bluntly.

Jr suddenly decided to join the conversation then, it seemed, as he spoke up, his staticky, cracking voice echoing over the radio.

“Why the bloody hell would anyone be out this late?” He groggily asked, and there was some silence on both ends as Isla watched the shadowy figure walk down the street, in the direction of Charlie’s house, but also the school. They were down the same street, after all.

“Wan’ to go find out?” Briana’s voice, now a bit more awake and alert, asked over the radio. Bri wasn’t one for late-night adventuring, or anything really for fun, Isa thought, so she must either be concerned or mildly curious. Her dad would kill her if he knew she was sneaking out to spy on suspicious people.

“We really shouldn’t-“ Jr began before Isa cut him off.

“Sure, meet me at the house. All black clothes, you get the deal. Bring the walkies, too.”

“What about Charlie?” Jr asked.

“Yeah, what about Charlie?” Charlotte’s voice then spoke up, and Isa could already picture the little snort Bri would give at that, and the way Jr’s cheeks would go slightly pink.

“Meet you in five.” Bri replied, no hint of shame or apology in her tone for almost leaving Charlotte out. That started the race against the clock to get ready before the mystery person got too far to track.

Practically ripping her pajamas off as quietly as she could, Isa changed into a pair of black sweats and a black hoodie. Better to blend into the streets. Her Swiss Army knife remained in her pocket, clasped onto some of the fabric.

Her fingers wrapped around the cold bottom of her bedroom’s window, slowly sliding it up and cringing at the creaking it made. She needed to oil the thing or something, before it woke her dad up one of these days. He was a light sleeper, after all. Always waking up to the tiniest sound, like when she got random 3 am motivation to rearrange all the furniture in her room or organize her bookshelf by color in the middle of the night.

Hoisting herself up onto the window’s ledge, the cool night air kissed her tan skin as she slowly crept out, closing the window but leaving it just a bit open. Just enough for her to get back in. She’d done this before, it was more like muscle memory at this point. Sure, sometimes she’d switch it up so nobody got suspicious of why there were fresh marks of fingerprints disturbing the dust on her window’s ledge.

Her dad would surely notice.

The grass cracked lightly under her feet as she walked carefully out, the cold biting against her ankles where her socks and sweatpants didn’t overlap. It was dark tonight, the moonlight not shining nearly enough, and the streetlights dimmed from their constant use. Lord knows no one would replace them with newer ones. Not in this area.

Creeping down the street, keeping eyes out for anyone nearby, not seeing anyone other than a few homeless, or some skeletal-looking drug addicts with glazed-over looks in their eyes. Cutting down an alleyway, and hopping a few chain link fences, she eventually found their little meeting spot.

It was a boarded-up building, something that had previously been a home but had been foreclosed when the old woman owning it had a stroke and died in it. The stench of death wasn’t very noticeable now, but it was bad enough that no one bought it, and it had been foreclosed on, windows and entrances boarded up.

Of course, no one had noticed where the back window was missing a little plywood.

Isla crouched down, walking over to the house. A loose branch from one of the overgrown bushes snagged her hair, at which she grumbled and tugged it free, hissing when she felt a few pieces of hair rip free from her scalp.

She put her hands on the cold brick ledge of the house, hopping in as the brick scraped against her fingertips. Her hands patted at her pants for a moment, cursing when she didn’t feel a flashlight she could’ve sworn she brought. The house was pitch black at this hour, and smelled like moldy carpet and old people, a faint hint of rotting, too.

She slipped her phone out of her pocket, turning the light on, only to yelp and jump back when Bri’s face greeted her, an amused smile on her lips.

“Hell’s balls, you really gotta stop w’ that, Bri-“

“I think it’s hilarious.”

“‘Course you do.”

With a sigh, Isa turned her flashlight on, finding the little wooden table with some dents in it in the center of the demolished kitchen that they always sat at, she took her walkie-talkie with Tiana’s face on it and set it down there. Brianna’s Mulan walkie-talkie followed.

Pausing a moment as she thought, Isa then turned to face Bri.

“How did ya even get here ‘fore me?”

Brianna paused, a hint of something like deliberation in her eyes before she spoke. The blond began popping her fingers, a nervous habit.

“Had an argument wit’ m’ dad. Needed some air.” She said with a shrug, blue eyes now watching to see what Isa would think. Always watching, always thinking. Sometimes Isla thought she was more paranoid than Jr, and that was saying something.

She simply gave a little bob of her head, not asking anything further. If she’d wanted to share more, she would’ve. It was like watching a flower slowly bloom and open up, if you forced it, then it wouldn’t look right, and it would die quickly.

A heavy silence ensued, which was quickly interrupted by muffled cursing and feet lightly hitting the floor. Charlotte was here.

“We ought to trim that tree, keeps snagging my hair.”

She muttered under her breath, and Jr arrived almost right after, sliding into the window’s brick ledge where he sat, eyes strained, not yet adjusted to the darkness, as he looked down. The poor lad was afraid of heights, they all knew.

“It’s 4 feet, Jr.”

Bri spoke, the tone being more sardonic than anything. Jr sighed, and Isa saw his eyes close as he winced, sliding off the ledge, and releasing a tiny squeak when his feet hit the ground. To think that this was a 17-year-old. He did not act it.

He sighed, walking over to the table, where everyone had now gathered. His Cinderella walkie was placed on the table next to Charlie’s Elsa one.

“What’re we here for, again?” The boy asked with a slight yawn in his voice, rubbing his eyes. Isa rolled her eyes at his apparent exhaustion.

“I saw someone dressed in all black, poking around my front yard with a flashlight in the dead of night, that’s why.”

She said, giving him a look, as if to say that was obvious, while Charlie frowned, lips pressing into a line.

“That’s not terrible, I mean, we’ve done worse and our neighborhood didn’t freak out.” She pointed out with a shrug, and Bri nodded.

“Much worse.” She agreed with a grin in her tone.

This was much better than the time you’d all tried to fry some dead roadkill you’d found by throwing it at an electrical box, only to accidentally make the local's electricity go out for almost an entire week. The electricians must’ve been confused when they found a dead goose beside a smashed control panel. You’d all dipped after accidentally breaking it, anyway.

Or the time you’d all gone to a haunted house, and Charlie had faked having a panic attack so convincingly that one of the girls dressed up as a vampire began crying and called her parents to come pick her up. Poor Charlotte had tried to redeem herself from there, but the damage had already been done.

Brianna had also intimidated a teacher into changing her schedule, once. All of the group had relatively the same schedule in your little high school of around 500 people, but for whatever reason Bri had gotten none of the same classes, so she’d gone on down to the principal's office and forced the principal's hand somehow. How she did it, none of them knew, all she’d said afterward was that she “Knew things.” as if that explained anything.

And Junior…poor Junior, he was always the slowest of the group, for whatever reason, always being found or caught when you all pulled some ridiculous shenanigans. Or there was the one time Josie had put hair dye from her mum’s closet in Price’s shampoo, which had been disastrous. Josie blamed Junior for the entire thing, and Price had been so mad, he’d believed it. Grounded for almost three weeks.

“Let’s just check it ou’, and shave her head if it ain’t worth our time.” Brianna suggested, and they all glanced at each other, nodding their heads in mild agreement. Isla blinked at that, before her face contorted in disbelief.

“Really? I thought you were better than thi-“

“Any ideas on where they went?” Jr interrupted, and Charlie spoke up.

“Mentioned somethin’ on the radio about down the road, right?”

Isa sighed, seeing she wasn’t going to get anywhere with trying to protest the head-shaving in her possibly near future.

“Aye, they went down the road.”

She replied in a slightly annoyed tone, and Bri nudged her shoulder a bit, grabbing her walkie and shoving it into her pocket.

“Perk up, maybe we’ll find somethin’. Got a plan, Jr?”

At the mention of a plan, Jr perked up, picking up pieces of broken ceiling and rocks to represent each of them, and a large stick to represent the school.

“Well, if they went down the road then that’s towards the school. I was thinking we could split up, me and Charlie, Isa, and Bri. We take the alleyways down, I take the right, you all take the left, and we meet at the school, where we can recombine in the back.”

He spoke quickly, fingers drumming against his thigh, working himself into a frenzy while talking. Everyone gave nods, before they split into their separate groups, all taking the same window out, before splitting into their groups. They each gave one last goodbye, a little mock salute before heading out into the darkness.

Junior and Charlotte

“I'm starting to think Isa’s just paranoid.” Charlie said, glancing at the surroundings of the alleyway around them. Scurrying rats, bugs, little grimy posters, and pictures posted on the walls or the dumpsters. She didn’t see anything.

Junior sighed, continuing to walk. He wasn’t the most quiet, which made sense, considering his size. Even if Brianna was taller than him and deathly silent.

“Look, we’re all a bit jumpy. Pretty normal for us, considering our dads.”

He said quietly, crouching down as he walked, eyes darting around to look for anyone. It had been almost fifteen minutes and they hadn’t spotted anyone yet. Charlie stepped on an empty can, crunching it beneath her foot, and Jr jumped at it, immediately looking for something to change the subject before Charlotte made fun of him.

“What did they even do? I mean, obviously, they were mili’ary, but my dad never talks about it.”

He said randomly, and Charlie continued walking through the alley, him clumsily following along. She did pause the slightest moment though, head cocking slightly to the side as he watched her take in his words. It must’ve caught her interest, and he’d gotten lucky.

“They were special forces. Dealing with terrorists, and covert shit.” She said quietly, in an almost hushed tone, temporarily pausing.

He raised his brows.

“How do you know?” Junior asked in the most innocent tone he could muster. Sure, he could see his dad, and definitely Bri’s dad as special forces in the military, but sweet little Kyle? Or Isla’s rowdy but affectionate dad? No wonder they never talked about their pasts.

“Went through some files on my dad’s computer when I was bored. Whole lotta locked stuff, so I found a back door into it, and read it.” She said in that same quiet tone but with a bit more shame in it this time.

“I shouldn’t have, he would’ve told me when he thought I was ready, but-“

“Hey, it’s fine.” Junior interrupted in a soft tone. He wouldn’t let her stand there and talk bad about herself. Not when…

“I would’ve done the same thing if I’d known how to.”

She glanced back at him when he said that, a bit of shock on her face. John Price Jr was the good kid, the one who listened to what he was told and was nice, strong, and compassionate, always helping out. She never took him for someone who could be nosy or disobedient. She guessed she still had a lot to learn about him. A muffled voice came from the walkie by her side, but she ignored it. They were almost to the school anyway.

Not knowing what to say, she stayed silent, looking to change the subject, when the school appeared in view from the left side wall. She peeked her head out, looking at the school a second before Junior. Blue and red lights. Cars. People. She shut the walkie off. Jr’s must’ve died by now.

“Hey, there’s the-“

A hand slammed over his mouth as he was pulled down into the alleyway. His mumbled protests against Charlie’s hand quickly stopped when he heard the footsteps, and then the voice that came.

“And you were alone in the school?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Brianna.

Brianna and Isla

They were crouched in the old, crumbling alleyway, moving as quickly and quietly as they could whilst keeping their eyes out for anyone nearby.

Isla had been rattling off for almost fifteen minutes about something, Brianna couldn’t even figure out what she was talking about half the time, but she was trying to listen. A good friend would listen patiently, even when they had a pounding headache and wanted to scream at someone. Her patience was waning.

She already had anger problems in the first place, and that thought only led to another, one that infuriated her more than anything.

The argument.

“Hey, are you even listening?”

Isla was prone to her anger as well, but hers wasn’t as destructive. Isa could express herself openly, something Brianna was more than jealous of. She made it seem so easy, but anytime Bri tried to open up, the words got stuck in her chest, and her heart stopped beating. It was like a giant wall stood between her tongue and her mind. It refused to be saddled and obey properly.

It was so frustrating, so annoying-

“I said, are you even-?”

“Just shut up.”

She ground out without even realizing. A hint of annoyance and hurt flashed on Isa’s face, before going back to normal. Bri paused. Stopped. Isa looked back, stopping too, as if hopeful.

And the words got stuck.

They were stuck and refused to come out. Like a clogged pipe that no matter how you pumped at it, refused to unclog. It made her want to rip everything to shreds. But maybe, just this once, she might be able to say something.

“I’m..”

She began, words unsteady. Isa’s brows rose, confusion and hope in her gaze. She was that confused, just because Brianna might be apologizing? It made her angry all over again, angry at everything, angry at her father, angry at anyone she could be angry with.

It was one word, it shouldn’t be hard, really.

Sorry.

Five letters.

Just get five letters out, she told herself. It shouldn't be this hard. She should be able to do this. Opening her mouth to speak, her throat suddenly dried up, and she began to whisper something.

“I’m..s-“

There. A flash of movement in the corner of her eye. A shadow. A tiny, dimmed light. The same kind of light that would come from her flashlight when she took one battery out, just so it wasn’t as bright, so it wouldn’t hurt her dog’s eyes when she went to get a midnight snack. Turning the lights on always woke up dad.

She needed to stop thinking about dad.

Isla caught it too, a look in her eye saying they would continue that conversation later, but now, they were on the hunt. A little wave of her hand, and they were both moving, crouched down, interweaving between the alleyway’s dumpsters and trash piles.

The shadowy figure with the dimmed light moved exactly where they thought it would go, into the school. Their entrance? Hopping the chain link fence and using an unlocked door in the side to get in. The school locked all of its doors at night.

Brianna would know.

She and Charlie had once attempted to break in when Charlie had left her notebook in her locker by accident when she needed it for the test the following day. All the doors and windows were secure and locked. Especially the one on the side of the building that the shadowy person was now using.

“They must have keys to the buildin’.” Bri muttered, and Isa nodded.

“So either staff or student.”

“Not necessarily.”

“Wha’ever. Let’s follow ‘em.”

They crept up to the door, still partly ajar but closing rapidly on its own. Isla reached there first, using her foot and wedging it to stop the door from closing further. Bri nodded and walked further in.

The school looked as normal as it could at night. Lights off. Everything undisturbed. No sign of anyone, other than the tiniest distant footsteps she could make out. Towards the front of the building. Maybe the stairwell?

Jerking her head to Isa, they both began carefully walking, rolling on the balls of their feet to make their footsteps as silent as could be. They’d need it.

The footsteps abruptly stopped, and they did too. Peeking around a corner into the main entrance area, Isa saw the front office’s door open.

“In the front office, we should tell the others.” She murmured as quietly as possible. Bri shook her head, and Isa silently asked why with her expression.

“Walkies are too loud. Don’ want to scare ‘em off before we see anything useful.”

It was reasonable, Isa would admit. The others could catch up later. They’d arrive here soon, anyways, and probably quietly take a back exit. Considering Jr’s chronic planning out things, he’d get it all figured out.

Seeing that the stranger wasn’t getting out of the office, the two of them dared move closer and closer, until both of them were right by the door. Peeking in, Brianna found…nothing.

There was no one there. No shadowy stranger, or any odd people.

But the filing cabinets were open. Files and papers were strewn everywhere across the room, and a few things were knocked over and broken. There was no possible way the stranger could’ve done this within that amount of time, let alone do it without alerting them. Broken mugs, picture frames, dented cabinets…

“Somethin’ ain’t right. Someone purposefully shined a flashlight in the direction of your house, walked here slowly enough that we could catch up, and then we found the office trashed?”

Brianna said, standing fully up, before kicking around the pile a bit. Bright, flashing lights blinded her vision next, and Isla’s hands yanked her down.

“Police. Someone called ‘em. We’ve got to tell the Charlie and Jr-“

“Give me a minu’e, yeah?”

Something had caught her eye in that stack of files. Names. Numbers. Familiar ones, too.

She heard Isla radioing the others in the background, only for no reply to be heard. Her hand reached out to comb through the files, and Isla sighed, putting the walkie down, and beginning to help her.

“What are you lookin’ for?”

“There was somethin’ in here. Somethin’ familiar.”

“Are you really gonna get us arrested for something ‘familiar’?”

“I’ll do wha’ever I want, and you can right well piss off if you don’t agree.”

“Whatever, just hurry up, they’re coming.”

Footsteps, and keys jingling from outside. She heard the knob for the front door turn. One more second, they just needed one more second to get this file-

And then she saw it.

The words blurred together for some of the first sentences, some were blacked out with marker, and others were simply marked through with a line saying [REDACTED]. But there was one line she recognized all too well.

Simon “Ghost” Riley.

She took the paper, shoved it in a Manila folder, and pushed it into Isa’s hands as she pushed her friend backward, into a storage closet. The door of the closet clicked behind her. Isla didn’t move, not when the police officer caught sight of Bri, the flashlight and gun pointing in her direction.

“Hands! Let me see hands!”

Brianna did what she was told, sticking her hands in the air, and not approaching the cop. It was a woman. Maybe in her mid-20s, looked like the no-nonsense type. Red lipstick. Darker skin. Hair that had been recently silk-pressed.

“Walk out slowly, and keep your hands in the air.”

She obeyed that, too. Walking slowly out, each step measured and purposeful. The hands and arms remained in the air. She was so fucking done for when her dad found out-

Brianna refused to let herself think about that.

“What’s your name?”

“Brianna Riley, ma’am.”

“Why are you breaking into a school after hours?”

“Forgot m’ work, ma’am, figured I might as well come get it.”

The officer glanced over at the trashed office and raised a brow.

“And that?”

“Already there when I arrived, ma’am.”

She didn’t believe her. It was clear. Honestly, if Brianna were in that cop’s shoes, she wouldn’t believe her either. Two intruders in one night, and a teenager found in a trashed office? It was painfully clear what probably happened. Except she was telling the truth.

“Alright, well you’re coming with me, and we’re going to work this out. Keep your hands in the air, and walk slowly.”

Her gun stayed on you the entire time, even as you passed an alleyway, not daring to glance at who you knew must’ve been Jr and Charlie hiding there.

“And you were alone in the school?”

“Yes ma’am.”

When she got into the car, the officer gave her a rundown of her charges, only minor ones since she wasn’t an adult, basically only receiving a fine of $500, something she could pay because of her shitty fast-food job in town, Brianna Riley knew one thing.

Her dad was going to kill her.

Tags:

@seconds-over-first

[descendantsramblings]

I’m sorry if this doesn’t make any sense or sounds weird😭 but can u write morgie x glinda the good witch’s daughter and there’s like a “pink goes good with green” moment? I’m sorry if that doesn’t make sense😖😖

No you made perfect sense, sweetheart! Even if it didn’t I’d find something to do with your prompt and let you tell me you hated it and want me to try again if I didn’t get your vision. This is a cute prompt, I’m excited to use it.

Also as per her wiki page, Glinda is a sorceress and not actually a witch so I had such silly idea for this, I love it. Thank you so much for the request anon.

Also, something about them is giving me season 3 Jancy vibes and I adore it, anyway.

Flash Photography

Morgie le Fay x Reader

Pronouns used: she/her/hers

Summary: the most unlikely of students somehow ended up on the yearbook committee and tasked with their own page in it

Warnings: I swear like once, this one is honestly really sweet and fluffy and honestly a little bit (lot bit) cheesy

Word Count: 2.4K

    As luck would have it, Merlin Academy’s walls only held two students who happened to be the children of sorcerers. Ironically though, as the school’s requirements for every junior to have at least one extra curricular would have it, both young sorcerers were on the yearbook committee. Morgie le Fay made one hell of a photographer, no one in the school could argue on that and (Y/n) was possibly the best journalist the school had seen. No one should have been shocked that the two would be paired together on the magic section of the yearbook. I mean, in a school made for magic, you’d only want the best for the pages about it. And don’t get him wrong, Morgie loves magic. He loves being a sorcerer and he’s excited to have a whole two pages dedicated to sorcery. But to work with (Y/n)? He’s not as sure he’s excited about that, actually there’s this odd feeling floating around in his gut as he thinks about it. Not one he seems to be able to recognize and that drives him crazy.  

    The bubble of pink joy that was the school’s only sorceress seems to float around the place, the movements being nearly mesmerizing. It’s oddly similar to her mother and Morgie can’t help but find some sort of jealousy in it. How was it seemingly so easy for her to connect into her mother’s energy and magic when he never felt like he deserved his own mother’s legacy? It was this mind boggling thing that seemed to leave him staring and unsure as to what caused it. Like she was something to be studied in his mind. 

   Not that that matters though, how could it when she’s perched in the seat next to him, bubbling off ideas as she talks with her hands. The scent of her sweet perfume taking an overwhelming amount of his attention as she nearly beams at him. Bright features filling up the space at their two person table top as they workshop different layouts for the opening pages. They have a base idea for the layout, and a good grasp on when he needs to pop into classes such as “Caring for Magic Creatures” and “Honors Alchemy” to get good shots. But moving on to do their page seems to put both teens at pause, eyes flickering over each other as if begging the other person to make the first decision.

   Morgie finds himself speaking first, words coming out on a groan that he hopes sounds playful, “Well, with the way we dress our spread is going to be a visual nightmare to put together.” It causes the sorceress across from him to scrunch her brows, “What do you mean?” With a vague gesture that seems somewhere close to a wave he references to both of their outfits, “Well you know the green and gold with the pink and silver. Totally clashes, it’ll be a nightmare to take pictures of.” It earns him a giggle, her head shaking as she smiles at him, “No it’ll look great, pink goes great with green, they’re complimentary colors. Trust me, we’ve got this.” Something in him begs to argue with her, but he can’t. Not when she’s looking at him like that. 

   So he nods, pulling the notebook in front of him closer with a smile, “Well then, Madam Good Witch, what are you thinking of writing on this page?” She smiles, looking at him as she absent-mindedly doodles little flowers in the margins of her notebook, “Well, obviously we need to explain what makes being a sorcerer different from other magic users, then I was thinking we could talk about our mothers’ legacies. You know, a good magic versus black magic sort of thing.” Morgie hates the idea, the last think he wants to do is praise his mother and her legacy, but surely that’s what Madam Jinx is looking for. And when the bright bubble beside you looks so excited she seems like she might burst, how do you tell her no? So he smiles, teeth on shy display and nods, giving into exactly what she wants from him. What else was there for him to do? ・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・     Morgie le Fay was no idiot, his camera obviously had a timer, there was no need for anyone else to take his picture. But when she asked to do it, bouncing on her toes with that bright smile, how could he say no? How could Morgie do anything but slide the strap of the camera over her head and gently position her hands over his most prized possession? He’s got his hands on top of hers, holding his camera as he points it towards the school, coaching her through how to use it. She’s smiling, soft giggles escaping her lips as she follows his instructions. Bodies seeming to find a comfortable temperature in the January air against one another.  “Okay, now you feel that little wheel at the top of the left side? Slide it until the words on the sign are legible.” She nods, following his instructions, her thumb brushing over his in a ghostly fashion with each movement. “Okay, now what?” “Now, press the button that I put your right index finger on.” He hears the shutter click, her finger dipping down under his as he puts the lightest pressure on it. “There you go! Now, when you do it for pictures of me, you won't need to focus it in as far, just make sure I’m not blurry and you can handle the rest. I believe in you.”

   (Y/n) feels slightly cold as Morgie pulls away from her, letting one hand drop from the camera as she pulls it lower on its strap. Her eyes set on watching the boy walk to stand in front of the cobblestones beside them, setting up a blank backdrop for their photos. She’s studying him, taking in his green button up and gold scarf, leather clinging to his arms in a way that should clash with the rest of his outfit but instead makes it oddly dashing. With a smile pressed over his lips as he eyes her up and down. “You know, you need to hold the camera up to take my picture, right?” “Right, yeah,” and she lifts it back up, focusing the camera in on him, just to drop it again, “Hold on.” The girl's mary janes make a sweet little tapping sound on the concrete as she approaches him, slow and gentle as if she’s sure he’ll startle off like a hurt animal, “Just let me-" A hand comes up to Morgie’s face, softly sweeping a few stray hairs back into the shellacked style he tends to keep it in. “There, that’s better,” she hums, smile laying sweetly on her lips as she backs away, returning to  her former spot as she holds the camera back up. Angling it back to his face and twisting the focus ever so slightly. A lip slipping between her teeth to mask her prideful smirk as she realizes the boy is suddenly a twinge more pink than he was when she first went to take his photo, but what was it she said? Pink goes good with green, doesn’t it? She smiles to herself, letting the shutter of the camera click as she captures that boyish smile and his freshly fixed hair eternally. 

    “Okay, I want to take one more, do you want to do a different pose?” He hums, propping a leg up against the wall and bringing a hand to rest on the back of his neck, the other settling on his stomach. “How’s this?” It earns him another one of those bubbly giggles, the girl softly shaking her head, “If you’re going to pose like that, your face better give me attitude, le Fay.” “Oh, I have attitude, don’t you worry about that.” With dramatics he’s tossing his scarf over his shoulder, giving her a once over with a cheeky smirk on his lips, as if he knows he's being outrageously flamboyant. Then the boy lets his face fall to a smolder but from the glint in his eyes, you can feel the way he’s trying not to laugh, something about the mix is nearly intoxicating and (Y/n) finds herself taking two pictures of it, one of him smoldering and one when the dam finally breaks and he can’t stop himself from laughing. His posture falling to be so relaxed as he leans, hand on his stomach coming to clutch it as if that will help him recollect himself, and he just looks beautiful. She can’t help but question if it would be weird of her to ask if she could keep this one for herself. Just a little memory for the road, right? 

   “Alright,” he’s catching his breath as he reaches an arm out to her, “It’s my turn, give me my camera.” She slides the strap off of her neck as she approaches him, handing it back as she turns to take his former place against the wall. “And if I had to give attitude, you better be able to bring it, (Y/n).” Both teens share this cheesy smile for a moment, then Morgie winks, and backs away from her, “I’m serious, you better pose for me.” 

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

    When they first got this assignment, any time that Morgie didn’t spend with his friends or in required yearbook committee meetings, he was with (Y/n). Answering questions about his mom and her legacy for (Y/n)’s half of the work for their magic spread or eventually, just letting himself exist in her presence. Watching movies or reading trashy tabloids together while they did a face mask. Whatever kept him in her presence worked for him. They made an unlikely duo, Morgie was well aware of that, but something about her made him feel at peace. As if he was safe with her. But that was January and February, when deadlines didn’t hang over them as if threatening to fall and crush them. Now as flowers begin to take up every bush on campus and the snow is finally gone, meetings have doubled and Morgie can’t seem to find enough time outside of the dark room. Or if he does manage to get out of the dark room -and not have plans with the other villains- (Y/n) is too busy hunched over a type writer or a notepad for him. Considering he didn’t know how he felt about her two months ago, he seemed oddly lonely without her presence. 

    To say that Morgie got too attached would be the understatement of the year. Through every bubbling giggle and gentle brush of her fingers the sorcerer went from being unsure about her to absolutely infatuated with her. She felt safe, of course he craved that, but there was something else. Something intoxicating about her that he couldn’t help but to crave. Morgie should be embarrassed, he shouldn’t feel this way about her at all, and yet, all he can think about is asking her to the end of the year formal. About a pink tie with his dark suit and a sparkling gown accompanying her glowing complexion. There was nothing to take his mind off of it when he was alone in the dark room like he was now, and he knew better than thinking about his friends like that. At least, he thinks that she’s his friend. The boy shakes his head, as if the motion can clear his thoughts, hanging up the last of the photos that needs to develop so it can dry. He needed to get out of the dark room, maybe go find Hook or someone else who could occupy the quiet spot in his mind.

    He doesn’t expect anyone to be in Madam Jinx’s room when he slips through the door, but to say the sorceress standing over that table was a disappointment would be a lie. He smiles, idling up behind her to peer over her shoulder, eyes flickering over her late night work. Pictures of the two of them are laid out around her, as well as her paragraphs on both of their mothers and what a sorcerer is. She’s moving the slips of paper seemingly aimlessly around the scrap book paper in front of her, the pages a muted yellow tone that matched the rest of that year’s "Excalibur" to a t. “What are you doing in here this late?” He keeps his voice soft, careful not to scare her as he lets his hands come to rest on either side of his friend. Effectively trapping her between himself and the surface before her. (Y/n) slightly jumps at the sound of his voice, taking in a sharp inhale as she does. “Don’t scare me like that.” He whispers a sorry in her ear, leaning over her shoulder to look at the pages. 

    “Try alternating the pictures and the bodies of text, and put the explanation of what a sorcerer is over the top of both pages.” She hums, tilting her head as she picks up the pieces just to drop them back down again, “Show me?” Morgie picks up the picture of him smiling, just to move it aside and grab the picture of him smoldering. “First of all, I look better in this one,” there’s a teasing tone hanging off of his words as he places the photo a centimeter away from the outer edge of the left piece of scrapbook paper. Next, shifting the writing about Morgana over until it’s about two centimeters from the inner edge, the words lower down as to avoid any overlap. He does the opposites with her pictures and the information about Glinda, leaving an open space between their two photos with either body of text next to one another. Finally, he takes the paragraph on what a sorcerer was, letting it fall between their pictures, “There, how’s that?”

   He leans a little further off of her as he speaks, watching as she tilts her head from side to side, taking it in. Then, with that picture perfect smile but no warning she turns on her toes to face him, making Morgie suddenly deeply aware of how close the two of them happen to be. She doesn’t pay it any mind though, smiling up at him with a hand slipping onto his cheek, “Morgie le Fay, you might just be a genius, do you know that?” He's not sure if it's the praise or the physical contact, but suddenly he can’t seem to control himself. Not with the way she’s smiling at him and the feeling of her soft palm against his face. Morgie finds himself leaning into her lips, eyes fluttering shut as he kisses her. The motion is soft and gentle and just as he realizes what he’s doing, he goes to pull away. (Y/n) starts kissing back though, her other hand coming up to his neck and pulling him ever so slightly closer, effectively keeping the boy against her lips. He’s still the first to pull away though, eyes fluttering open as he looks down at her flustered little smile and half lidded eyes. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me, I-” But she laughs, cutting him off as she softly rubs his cheek with a smile, “It’s just like I told you Morgie, pink goes good with green.”

[swiftwice]

ㅤmy name is andy, and it's an honor to be able to say these words: welcome to the eras event!

ㅤㅤwoah, i can't believe that i surpassed 300+ followers?! i guess what i'm trying to say is that you're making me feel like i'm the man

*˚⁺‧͙˚◌ about

'the eras tour' is a journey through the musical eras of Taylor Swift's career, each era has its own set, with its aesthetic

for your moodboard, you have to use an era of taylor and an idol that matches the vibe!

the tour is full of happiness, friendship bracelets, dreams made true, girlhood, amazing outfits... you can express all that in your moodboard too

ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤdeadline is june 15!

*˚⁺‧͙˚◌ rules

ㅤㅤㅤ：ㅤonly one entry per person

ㅤㅤㅤ：ㅤdo not copy/steal other people's moodboards

ㅤㅤㅤ：ㅤyou have to use some taylor era, you can use a song too

ㅤㅤㅤ：ㅤyou must add an kpop idol (gg, bg, soloist, whoever you want!)

ㅤㅤㅤ：ㅤyou may use dividers and/or locs of others

*˚⁺‧͙˚◌ joining

ㅤㅤㅤ：ㅤcoment joining + your favourite era

ㅤㅤㅤ：ㅤreblog and tag 2+ people that might be interested in joining

ㅤㅤㅤ：ㅤtag me and use the tag "⌗ swiftwice : the eras event" when uploading your moodboard

ㅤㅤㅤ：ㅤfollow me if you want! (no pressure)

🥇 100 reblogs + 5 moodboards + 4 layouts + 3 headers + follow

*˚⁺‧͙˚◌ prices

reblogs will be made on @fairyofsoob

🥈 50 reblogs + 3 moodboards + 3 layouts + follow

🥉 25 reblogs+ 1 moodboard + 2 layouts + follow

*˚⁺‧͙˚◌ notes

—⁠☆ if you make your own dividers, locs, gifs, etc you'll get extra points!!

—⁠☆ if you're not very familiar with taylor's eras aesthetics, i made this board on pinterest so you can guide!

baby, let the games begin... good luck!! (⁠☆⁠▽⁠☆⁠)

*˚⁺‧͙˚◌ tags (sorry 😵‍💫)

@hyelita @chocothread @7hyein @jimzittos @aericita @suzy143 @kyuzjini @jaes1lvr @iaegyo @goldenstattoo @gigittamic @dojeoies @yuqi-luv @sahittofu @exbinz @ts9ki @mirtiilo @d1vin34ngel @le3fmtgy @thoughtsindrop @i-jeonswan @kisskissclub @kooryiio @tempurakii

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

“Beata Maria.”

What a wonderful blessing upon this hopelessly sinful world.

... What's this?

A gathering of powerful and prideful individuals can only spell trouble.

Sitting at a table, surrounded by them, exerted an immense pressure upon the room. The air seemed to thin, made icy and oppressive by those in attendance, representatives of their own domains. The dorm leaders were like kings perched upon their thrones, prepared to cross words or swords at a moment's notice. (For what it was worth, at least Kalim was a spot of sunshine in the otherwise strained space.)

Raven had been scribing for these occasions for months now, and still hadn't become fully accustomed to the atmosphere. Inevitably, some petty squabble, underhanded comment, or personal vendetta would disrupt the proceedings. If they were lucky, they'd escape with just some unresolved tension in the air. She took care to leave those instances out of the meeting notes.

Today, the attention was directed toward the front of the room. The headmaster consulted a packet as he crowed on.

“The final topic on our agenda is... Next week, we will be hosting an important guest from Noble Bell College to discuss future joint events. As a show of good will, I would like their representative to be granted a tour of our campus. This tour guide will then also serve as their chaperone for the duration of our guest's stay to ensure that they are comfortable and that all of their questions are promptly answered."

A hand shot up automatically.

"Yes, Rosehearts-kun?"

"If that is the case, sir, then I believe it would be wise for you to serve as this tour guide," the redhead suggested. "You are knowledgeable about our school's history, layout, staff, and curriculum. Therefore, you easily fulfill your own requirements."

There was a round of murmurs and nods from around the table.

"No, no!" Crowley insisted with the shake of his head. "I have many other duties to tend to as headmaster! What's more, it would be more fitting that someone on our guest's level—a fellow student—be the guide! This will better bolster a sense of camaraderie between the student bodies of our schools!"

... In other words, you don't wish to do the work yourself, Raven sighed, already having seen through her guardian's excuses. From the grimaces on everyone else's face, she deduced that they, too, had suspected as much.

Azul laced his fingers together and surveyed the room. "Well then, do we have any volunteers from amongst ourselves?"

"Pass." Leona leaned back in his chair with a grimace. "I'm not up for kissing ass."

"May I take that to mean that you are avaliable, Leona-san?" Azul pressed, still smiling.

"I said, pass," he snarled. "Don't make me repeat myself again."

"... Point taken. Anyone else?"

"I would offer, but... There is an unbirthday party scheduled the day of their arrival. I don't believe I would be able to fully commit myself to chaperoning our guest," Riddle confessed. "I cannot override the rules written by the Queen of Hearts."

"I, as well, am preoccupied. I'm to shoot for a magazine spread after class," Vil added, tucking a finger under his chin. "What about you, Azul? This is a prime opportunity to... as Leona so crudely put it, curry favor with another school of magic. I can't imagine that you wouldn't immediately jump at the chance."

"My, to think that my upperclassmen think so little of my intentions..." Azul sniffled dramatically—an innocent act. "Unfortunately, I have a prior arrangement to oversee at the Mostro Lounge during the visiting period. I would otherwise happily accept this honor!"

"Of course you would," Riddle and Vil said at once.

"Hey, hey, guys! It's no problem! I can show them around! I've done it plenty for our guests back home," Kalim chirped, leaping out of his seat.

"Can Jamil-san confirm that your schedule is clear?" Azul inquired, eyebrow quirked. "It would be a stain upon my... excuse me, I mean Night Raven College's reputation if we were unable to safely secure this relationship."

"Huh? Well, sure I can ask him."

Kalim produced a phone dressed up in a gold case studded with gemstones. He typed up a text message, and received a reply just as fast. His face slowly fell. "Uh-oh, uh..."

"Yes?" Azul prompted.

"Jamil says it's a no-go. He has to tutor me for a big midterm exam on Monday..." Kalim quickly perked up again. "But it's okay! We still have Idia, right?"

"L-Leave me out of this!!" came Idia's stuttering voice from a floating tablet. "I-I didn't ask to pick up a side quest that no one else wants to fulfill! I want nothing to do with this, do you hear me?!"

"Hah!" Leona let out a sharp bark of laughter. "You think that wimpy daikon radish sprout can keep himself together long enough to entertain an esteemed guest?"

"I-It's true!" Idia agreed. "I-I spend most of my time trapped inside my room! I've barely stepped outside to see the light of day or the campus for myself! I'm super anti-social and hate irl people!! Th-There's no way I can socialize or give a halfway decent tour!!"

"Willfully talking yourself down to that extent... Have you no dignity left?" Vil groaned. "Safe to say, we cannot rely on a man with no confidence for a matter as important as this."

"Then all that's left is..."

Everyone's eyes collectively drifted to the seventh and unoccupied dorm leader seat at the table.

"Great. It's decided, then. It'll be the lizard's gig," Leona smirked, seemingly satisfied with the outcome.

"Is it really okay to make the decision without Malleus here?" Kalim asked—the only one truly concerned about him.

"No, this is unacceptable," Riddle pointed out. "There tends to be miscommunication when information is relayed to Malleus. We cannot afford such mistakes if we wish to forge a healthy, sustainable relationship with Noble Bell College. We must entrust this task to an individual who is punctual, polite, welcoming, detail-oriented, and an eloquent speaker."

In this pool of candidates? Good luck with that. Raven scrawled down Riddle's last remarks, dotting the period with pessimism.

"Oh dear, oh dear," Crowley fretted to himself. "What to do? We've already run through you boys and no one is quite free or suitable for the role..."

"What if we were to put out a call to action, headmaster?" Raven offered, glancing up from her parchment. "I know that our students aren't the most open to extending their hands, but perhaps someone will volunteer for the task if you offer some kind of compensation."

"Oogh... The compensation would have to be fairly generous to spark interest and enthusiasm this close to the visit..." Crowley lamented. "Woe is me!! Wherever can I find such a magnanimous individual on such short notice?!"

"There, there. It will sort itself out, you'll see." Raven smiled sympathetically and patted her uncle on the back. "If you'd like, I can get started by drafting the document for your approval."

"My, how very kind of you, my dear!! That's what I like to hear!! Where would we be without your astute…”

The headmaster's gushing suddenly quieted, his once-panicked expression settling into thoughtfulness. Crowley's beady, golden gaze bore right into his child.

"... Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I think," Crowley said slowly, "we've found the answer to our prayers. The perfect person for the job, in fact!"

"... You have?"

"Dear, sweet Raven-kun," Crowley drawled in a singsong, "my adorable niece, apple of my eye, sweetest of songbirds—”

A smile grew on the headmaster's lips. Heat from all corners of the meeting room concentrated on her. Collective realization.

Raven puffed with indignation. "You are NOT seriously suggesting what I think you're suggesting, Uncle!! I'm here to keep records, not to fill in for the duties of the dorm leaders!”

"Yet you've been present for all of our meetings, Raven-san," Azul cooed. "You are privy to all the same information that we are, and have already proven yourself to be reliable when it comes to your work. I also understand that you're quite the student among the first years."

"Where did you hear that from?!"

"I have my sources." Azul raised his voice to address the other dorm leaders. "Gentlemen, don't you agree that Raven-san would be a most wonderful choice for the task at hand?"

"Heh, so this is where we're going with this?" A dry chuckle escaped Leona. "Fine by me."

"She would be our best option," Vil added. "Her manners are passable. She presents herself well enough."

"A-As long as it's not me! I'm up for anyone else!!"

"Azul..." Riddle frowned disapprovingly. "While I can't say I condone your methods, it seems we're left with little choice in this matter."

"Gosh, it's so nice of you to step up for us, Raven!" Kalim graciously beamed.

"W-Wait just a second here! I haven't agreed to anything yet!! Don’t I get a say in this?!” Raven protested, abruptly rising. She shuddered upon feeling a clawed hand clap her back.

“Our hopes are riding on you, Raven-kun!!” Crowley cheerily declared. “Go out there and make our Night Raven College look good!!”

"I'm so glad we came to an agreement." Azul's lip curled back into a triumphant smirk. "May I be the first to offer my congratulations? Ah, and I think I speak for all of us when I say... best of luck with handling our special guest."

"Wow, that's amazing, Raven!! Congratulations!!" Kalim squealed, his eyes sparkling with genuine joy.

"Yeah, congrats," Leona yawned. "Knock'm dead, canary."

"Congratulations, potato. Be on your best behavior now."

"Raven, congratulations. I expect you to perform well, or it's off with your head. Is that understood?"

"Congrats, LMAO. Sux 2 b u rn. GL, hf, don't die!!"

It felt as though the room was shrinking in on her, blocking off all exits and routes of escape. A circle of arbiters, already having settled the raven's fate long ago. Her left eye twitched.

"I can see that none of you are willing to let me worm my way out of this," she said warily. "Absolutely awful, all of you..."

"Why, that's exactly what makes you the ideal person for the job, my dear niece!" Crowley aggressively ruffled Raven's hair, making it stick up like feathers plugged into an electrical socket. "It's your kindness and willingness to help those in need. You must have gotten it from me, fufu!"

"Highly doubtful. I almost feel sorry for the poor, unfortunate soul being sent here... He has no idea what's in store for him."

Crowley blinked. "Oh, did I fail to tell you all? The student representative from Noble Bell College is..."

Night had descended upon Night Raven College. Darkness heralded twinkling stars, shadows, and secrets hidden in its depths. This was the height of mystique—and he, mystique manifest, walked along that darkness, finding comfort in it.

"... So this is where you were. I knew I’d find you out and wandering about again.”

Malleus turned.

A short figure had appeared behind him, the jacket hanging off of his shoulders flapping in a steady breeze. In the dark, his eyes were bright rubies—striking against the lucid, opal moonlight. He smiled, displaying fangs.

"Lilia."

He skipped to Malleus’s side. "Didn’t you have a dorm leader meeting to attend?"

The prince’s brow furrowed. "Is that today?"

"It was today," Lilia gently corrected him. “Well, it's long since over.”

A frown formed. “That is... rather unfortunate. I had been looking forward to the discussing how to best demonstrate our hospitality to the student from beyond Sage's Island."

“Chin up, Malleus!" Lilia reached into his back pocket and produced a scroll tied with a midnight blue ribbon. “I have the meeting notes passed along from the headmaster’s child—you remember the little raven, don't you? With this, you’ll be able to get up to speed on the discussion in no time."

“The raven? Yes, that would be the young Crowley you speak of. I shall have to express my gratitude to her at a later time. It is in part through these records that I remain informed in spite of my absences."

Malleus accepted the paper from his vice dorm leader, tugging the ribbon and letting the page unfurl. He immediately began poring over its contents, a finger following each line of text he took in. A review of the quarterly budget, consideration for expanding the cafeteria menu to include more vegetarian options, important upcoming events...

“Shall we make her an honorary knight for all her troubles? Send a thank-you card? Invite her to tea?”

“We are nowhere that friendly. Merely acquaintances.”

“That’s too bad. She seems like an sharp girl. A little high-strung, but nice.” Lilia curiously rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. “You, Sebek, and Silver attended that masquerade in the City of Flowers together, didn’t you? I imagine you’re already thick as thieves. How good for you all! I wish I had been there too.”

Malleus’s lip curled at the mention of the masquerade. “A great many things happened then. I was certainly taken aback by the young Crowey’s conviction when she was faced with grave danger.”

… That danger had been himself.

A memory flashed through his mind—four figures, clustered around a book. The distressed cries of a raven calling out, and the cold, steely roar of the dragon that countered it.

“We must stop him from tainting his own soul. We must!!“

“Rest assured, we will stop him. When the time comes for me to exact my revenge... Pray that you do not stand between myself and Flamme. I cannot guarantee your safety if you were to get caught in the crossfires.”

“But he’s…!!”

“Suffering? He has deceived me and threatened the safety of my people. They will suffer too if he is not stopped. His is a story that will end in fire. There can be no other ending. If it comes down to life or death, I will do what I must to secure Briar Valley’s future.”

“It won’t come to that, it can’t! I…! I won’t let that happen! A-Absolutely not, even if it’s Malleus-senpai…!”

“You would grant your enemies clemency? Then you are a fool.”

“I-I believe… everyone deserves a second shot at their happily ever after!! S-So even if I’m scared and want to run away… e-even though I know I can’t beat you in a fight… I’m a fool who wants to defend that belief until the bitter end!!”

"My, so she’s fiery one! I’ve yet to see many defiant enough to stand against you. It’s a good thing you didn’t flambé her.”

“She looked as though she was going to pass out from fright.”

“Even better!!” Lilia clapped his hands in delight. "Ooh, I’d love for you to have such an amusing friend.”

Malleus was nearly done with the notes now. As he neared the end of the paper, the subject shifted to that of a special guest. The odd raven, that guest’s guide and attendant.

He stopped, his finger hovering over the final bullet point on the page.

"What's this? The visiting student will be from Noble Bell College... and his identity…” The prince fell silent. Seriousness had seized control of his features.

“Malleus…? What’s wrong?”

Lilia looked over in concern. What he found was a dark, mischievous smile slowly spreading across Malleus’s face. For a brief moment, he felt as though he had just stared into an abyss—and the abyss had stared back in all of its wickedness.

“Fufufu… Now this will certainly be fun."

[itsalwaysteatimeinwonderland]

Hurting you would hurt me: Choso Kamo x Y/N

Requested: no

TW: Some mild violence

Word count: 979

Part 2

-I thought I'd try my hand at JJK fanfiction. Been craving for more Choso Kamo and thought I'd help out the cause. This is a multi fic, so be patient as a churn them out. -

-Additionally, this fic might have some spoilers. I will be changing the storyline of how the second season went. I am not loyal to canon events. #noregrets -

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

-Knee deep in the Shibuya incident-

Masses of people screaming, and running. Panic is in the air. You’re running through the mass escorting and guiding people to safety. You work with Inumaki to make sure everyone is safe. Your heart is pounding in your ears, your own anxiety getting the best of you. You and Inumaki are able to herd people into what you both believe to be a safe location. 

"That's that." You affirm. 

"Tuna, mayo." Inumaki confirms. 

"You stay with them. I'm going inside."

Inumaki assents. 

You run down the train station levels. You don't see the others so you assume they've already cleared these levels. You make it close to where Geto and his gang are before you encounter someone. 

A tall dark figure blocks your way. A man with two messy buns. His back is turned to you. You don't recognize him, so you believe he's an enemy. 

"Been looking for you." You state. 

"Huh?" He slowly turns towards you. His breath catches in his throat. He takes a defensive stance. 

"Who are you?" He asks. 

"Y/n, your executioner."

He stares at you, taken aback. He has never seen you and he regrets that this is the first time he gets to be in your presence. He doesn't know why but he couldn’t make himself speak or move. 

"I’m Choso Kamo." He blurts out. 

"Nice to meet you. Sadly, this is where you end." 

He stands frozen. Words a jumble. He takes a deep breath and starts running. 

"What the fuck?" You mumble to yourself as you run after him. 

He's fast and focused. You vaguely know the layout of the train station which gives you an advantage. You catch up to him by the elevators. 

"I thought Geto's men were supposed to be brave." You sneer. 

That perks Choso up. He's angry that you questioned his honor so he turns to you ready to attack. You position yourself to return the attack. You make eye contact, and he wavers. He runs again. 

"This motherfucker." You sigh as you recollect yourself before you run after him again. 

You deploy your weapon, a large machete on a chain. He smoothly evades the machete but forgets the chain. You bide your time until he slips up and you wrap the chain around his ankles. He jerks backs from the momentum and hits the floor hard. 

"Enough! Fight me and die. That’s your only option." You huff out.

"No." He speaks as he gets up.

"No? You've got this twisted sir, cause I'm gonna make you wish you had never met me."

"No!" He launched his attack but misses you on purpose. Your cheek received a cut while the whole terminal behind you crumbled. 

You grin. "Oh yes." 

You lunge at him, and he does the same. Before you are able to unleash your weapon again, he's behind you pinning you against a wall. Both of your hands were in one of his big palms. 

You were mesmerized at how fast and strong he was. For the first time since arriving at Shibuya you were afraid. 

"I can't do this. Please get out of here." He said in your ear. 

He holds you in place for what seems to be an eternity. His breath hot in your ear. His chiseled body against your back. You gasp as he lets you go and he backs away, hands up in surrender. 

You're confused by his behavior. Is this a trick? You hang your machete low by its chain, ready for anything but he doesn't move. You make sure to keep your back against the wall to gain an advantage. 

Choso just stands there. Eyebrows knitted, mouth in a frown, confusion in his eyes. 

"Explain yourself." You say. 

"I can't hurt you." He reiterates.

"Are you afraid of death?"

"No. I’m afraid of yours."

You're truly dumbfounded. An enemy with compassion? This is a game and you're done playing. You unleash your weapon again without a warning. His eyes widen but he evades it easily. He focuses on evading your attacks in the hopes that you get tired and stop. You see what he's trying to do by avoiding all your attacks so you stop. 

"What's wrong with you? I get not wanting to die but this is ridiculous. Pick a lane." You yell at him. 

"Hurting you would hurt me." He says simply. 

You stand there, still confused. Should you just give up? Was this a trap? What if he was telling the truth? 

"Explain."

He looks flustered and at a loss for words. He fumbles over his words. He doesn't know where to start. His cheeks grow hot, his breath shallows.

"If... I hurt you... it'd be no different than hurting myself." He reiterated. 

"You said that already. What does it mean? Like are we linked in some way?"

"I hope so." He mumbled to himself. 

"Answer me." You command. 

He stands there and walks towards you. You panic but don't move. His large body is inches from your smaller one. He raises his hand and places it over your shoulder. You can tell he is shaking. You look up at him and for the first time you can appreciate how handsome he is. Killing him would be a shame. 

"Run from this place. It's not safe here."

"I know. That's why I'm here. I--"

With a swift move of his hand, he hits your shoulder pressure points making you faint. 

"I'm sorry, but I can't have you die."

He crouches down to pick up your body. He revels in your scent, the weight of your body. He hopes that he can hold you like this again in the future. He slowly takes you back up to the surface and places you where he has spotted some of your colleagues. He sneaks back down to the train station in search of Yuji. 

[moeitsu]

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Ch 14 - A Hundred Months ‘Twas Flowery May

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

Ao3  Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were just too stubborn to pretend. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dearest Arthur, 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With all my love, Kate 

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

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

[okwonyo]

Oh it's alright jiji kekeke— im trying to explore More writings here so can you give me enhablr writer recommendations here? Once again absolutely adore you theme and layout and writings so so much jiji :D

thank you so much, nonie ! i don’t read that much on here these days, so i’ll recommend you the writers that i read regularly and why i like their writings ^_^

@byhees 一 she hasn’t updated in a while but her writing never gets old. she has a wonderful way with words and can make the most beautiful sentences about the most random things.

@okwons 一 all her works are literally so, so cute ! i have to catch up on her latests but reading her work between a short study break or before sleeping is so refreshing.

@boyfhee 一 i fell in love (again) with her writing no long ago. she writes beautifully, poetically and her recent jake work .. just woah.

@atrirose 一 there too, i have to catch up her latest works. i love seiu’s headcacons and reactions so much. they are so cute and refreshing.

@isoobie / @flwrshee 一 she was one of the first writers i came across on here. all her works are always so cute and fun, all classics.

@hoonvrs 一 minnie has the funniest smau known to heart, i had the occasion to read only two of her written works and i loved them both a whole lot.

@soov 一 her writing is so great. she even got me blushing and giggling while reading a fic of a man i don’t even stan and a character i loathe. she does wonders and i can’t wait for her permanent taglist to be open.

@jjunae 一 of course i had to add kae. all her works are so good and relaxing to read. her favorite of hers is definitely spidman jake !

@bywons 一 her layout are so, so alluring. and mind you, they are not even as pretty as her writing. i still have to read a her latest works but i know i will love them already.

@nwjws 一 my love, my underrated queen who has never wrote anything else but beautiful works.

honorable mentions: @luvlyhee, @dioll, @fleurre, @goldenhypen, @sainns & @cupidhoons.

note these writers are the only one i read something about in the past few months. i do not read as regularly as i used to and we also might have different likes and dislikes !

[yanderambling]

concept: Psychic Honor Student!Yandere(gn) x Transfer Student!Reader(gn)

words: ~1.1k

CW: 18+, yandere behavior, suggestive themes, stalking, stealing, mind-reading, severe invasions of privacy

Desta has been at the top of all their classes for as long as they can remember.

They’ve always been a loner, strange and intelligent and self-righteous as they are; it’s not exactly a mystery why they’re consistently ostracized by peers. Anyone who gave them a chance wouldn’t last a week before getting fed up with their off-kilter remarks and haughty demeanor.

They didn’t make it easy on themself, they know that, but they don’t mind anymore. In fact, they've come to appreciate their isolation; their peers just get duller and duller as the years go by, they couldn't imagine wasting their time on any such dimwits. Besides, their solitude makes it easier for them to focus on their studies, both in school and… other regards.

See, Desta’s mind was gifted with more than just intellect.

They first started hearing other people’s thoughts in preschool (it made learning the alphabet a living hell). Nobody believed them when they tried to get help, parents and teachers alike brushed it off as oversensitivity, so they were forced to manage it by themself.

And they did, expertly if they say so themself. As they have with everything else in their life.

By the time they could put it into words others could understand, there was really no need- getting others involved would’ve just made it more complicated, especially when they started gaining new abilities (most recently, they’ve begun manipulating objects with their mind; they can only imagine how much stricter their parents would become with that knowledge).

They still aren’t sure what the extent of their abilities is, or if it has anything to do with their academic performance, but they are certain that it’s a journey best taken solo.

At least, they were certain. Until they met you.

You’re… different. That much is apparent when they first look into your mind, initially an idle action borne from boredom and a vague curiosity about the midyear transfer.

What first struck them was your surprising sense of calm. Most new students’ minds are just oceans of anxiety, panic over the new school layout and the novel social hierarchies, but yours was just… still.

You were contemplating the architecture (predictably outdated, in keeping with the neighborhood, the bathrooms probably malfunction a lot), the student who was showing you around (boring haircut, kind voice, moves with vaguely irritating certainty), each thought so natural and straightforward- it was like a breath of fresh air after having their head stuck in the trash bag of this school’s social stratum.

You had no concern for the petty posturing and hierarchies, your mind was so active yet so clear, you were so confident in your every movement, every thought.

You’re the first person they can remember ever piquing their interest. It was an exciting feeling, frightening and new.

They needed more of it.

They began to find peace in listening to your thoughts. It’s a nice break from the unending cacophony, simply hearing you running through your daily tasks, making grocery lists, giving mental commentary on the world around you (they've nearly exposed themself by laughing at your silent quips on multiple occasions), even the verses of songs you only remember one part of looped over and over. They start to admire the way you view the world and the people in it, each peek into your mind only leaves them more fascinated.

You quickly become their favorite pastime.

They start relying on your little comments and musings to get them through the school days. You just have such a unique perspective, you’re so much purer than the minds they’re constantly surrounded by, you’re so real and genuine- you’re just not like the others. And they would know.

They soon become obsessed with being in your head.

They start to follow you around so they’re always close enough to hear you, memorizing your schedule as you’d mentally revise it each morning. Sometimes you swear you can feel eyes boring into your back, but the instinct alone lets them hide before you can even turn your head. They follow you further and further each day, until they've memorized at least three different routes to your house.

It's still not enough.

They sneak out to your place most nights, watching through your window as you unwind from your day (your mind is especially calm at these moments, they feel like they could float away on the gentle stream of your thoughts). When they get bold enough, they crack open your window after you fall asleep and look for a souvenir (something small, of course. something you won't miss, light enough for them to levitate, like a pencil or an article of clothing).

It still not enough.

It's not uncommon for them to tune in to the thoughts of those around you, friends or classmates or neighbors, just to get more of you. They get viscerally jealous when anyone so much as thinks a positive thought about you- nobody could possibly appreciate your beauty like Desta, their minds are all clouded by lust and material priority- but god help anyone who thinks badly of you (and god forbid they catch you thinking of somebody else; not for your sake, but for the poor bastard you've taken a liking to. they wouldn't have been good enough for you, anyway).

These days, they're in your head more often than their own. It's still not enough.

They start to do things to get you to notice them; start answering more questions in your shared classes, wearing bolder outfits and constantly checking to see if you notice.

They learn the things you like. They only wear your favorite colors, they exclusively listen to your favorite music, read your favorite books, watch your favorite movies- if they notice you have a preference for a certain hair color, they’re dyeing theirs that night. They know way too much about all of your hobbies and interests, just in case they ever work up the nerve to have a conversation with you. They haven't yet.

You’ve had a couple run-ins- brushed against them in the hallway, passed them a handout in class- and each one left them flushed and shaking, overwhelmed by your mere proximity.

It's all too much, but not nearly enough.

They know they can't approach you, they’ll make a fool of themself- even knowing what everyone is thinking isn’t enough for them to navigate most social situations, let alone with the added stress of simply being in your presence.

No, they’re not ready for your direct attention, not yet.

For now, they'll just have to satisfy themself with your thoughts (and your underwear).

thanks so much for reading! feel free to send a request <3

check my pinned post~

[toletoles]

GUYS!! not only did i reach 1k liked posts today AND today is a year since one of my favorite gcs were made, but today also marks 2 months since i started uploading layouts!!! THIS MIGHT SOUND REALLY REALLY CORNY BUT I GENUINELY WANT TO THANK EVERYONE WHO HAS BEEN SUPPORTING ME FOR THIS LONG (especially the ones who have been there since the start) I'M SO GRATEFUL FOR ALL OF YOU I CANT EVEN PUT IT INTO WORDS... i'm really thankful for the fact that im surrounded by the editblr community of a bunch of talented and cool editors ^^

honorable moot mentions : (dm for removal)

@shatteredwindoww (I KNOW THAT YOU'RE GOING TO BE ON HIATUS FOR A WHILE, BUT YOU WERE MY FIRST EVER MOOT AND IM SO GLAD WE GOT TO BE MUTUALS !! i couldn't have made it here without you i fear ,, bro has been moots w/ me since day one) @shallowwfeelings

@thesurvivorted

@infectedrpd

@chocozombz

@frilliette

@b3astkin

@miaupii

@mizuki-irl

@softservegummybears

@valenhrt

tried to put these in order from first to most recent moot btw (THE AMOUNT OF MOOTS IVE GOTTEN SO FAR IS CRAZY?? TYSM TO ALL OF YOU HELP) GO SUPPORT THEM IF YOU CAN ^^

A FEW SMALL NOTES TOO!!!

my current sua theme is gonna be kind of messed up for a bit because i'm going to match with someone (you can probably guess who..) and im also preparing a major retheme for after we stop matching !!

this time im creating everything for this retheme myself so i'm making sure to not finish it all in one day so its not rushed or anything (i dont have much experience in making stuff like graphics so i'm trying to at least make it as good as i can)

reqs are still open btw BOOYAH

ty for reading ^^

[period-of-nocturne]

I won against my phone and was finally able to read BMS.

I love my stupid orange kid. He's so silly.

I've wanted to scream what Ken and Luka said to him since two years. He finally got it. I call that a win.

Akito has that uncanny talent to get bartender to get out of their bar and start singing. Meiko was with them from the start but her first song with VBS is Gekkou. Akito focus.

Ken-san started singing again just to teach Akito. Or so assumes An. Maybe he was already planning to for some other VBS related stuff, but Akito got the honors.

I'm just so glad He Finally Did It.

You know, usually when he's told he did good and start answering that there's still more to do, he looks like this -_-. Or like. Super duper serious frown. Very seriously saying that there's still more work to get done, with a very low tone.

Here he was smiling. He sounds so calm. "That wasn't the real thing", not in a 'I still need to do more', but full of confidence. "If you already think this was amazing just watch out. You gotta get blown away."

He looks like a little freak in his untrained card and I love it. My boy is losing his mind. Go on dear go crAzy. Go feral. Burn that whole live house down.

I can't believe it's been a year since crAzy drove everyone crAzy. I still haven't recovered from it. My layout doesn't make it obvious at all. Nope.

I just love Akito Shinonome and whatever he ignites in me. Dude he's so powerful he can reach through the screen.

I most likely never mentioned being a singer. Each second I spend not focus on singing (and currently it's most of the time, unfortunately) is one where I look like this guy's when he has nothing to do. Some depressed lost puppy with no goal in sight.

So witnessing Akito going for it is

There's no word to word it.

If you didn't understood by now, I have a huge Shinonome Akito bias.