#i didn't know it had to reach 8 at the time that makes it so much fucking funnier
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[for the @calaisreno May Promptcation. two fills in one day wooooo that's how much i hate my job lolol]
(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) 24: imperfect
The silence that greets John as he walks up the seventeen steps, bags of groceries in hand, is perfectly ominous. He's only been gone two hours, for God's sake.
… but he's kidding himself if he thinks Rosie & Sherlock can't do a significant amount of damage in twenty minutes, let alone two hours.
He resigns himself to a huge repair bill and/or an angry Mrs Hudson, and opens the door.
Sherlock is stood in front of the sitting room table, holding a squirmy Rosie. 'Hello, John.'
'Hi Daddyyyyy.'
John raises an eyebrow. 'She's very excited about something.'
Sherlock clears his throat and looks down momentarily. 'Yes. Well. We may have had an exciting…incident.'
John sets the bags down on the kitchen table then walks back to face them. He runs his eyes over his daughter, but doesn't see any obvious damage. 'Any blood?'
'Absolutely not,' Sherlock says immediately.
'On either of you?' John amends.
Sherlock shifts Rosie in his arms. 'Not important.'
'Alright, I'll bite. What is important, then?'
'Well, first we need to apologise, because we may have--'
'Broke bowl,' Rosie interrupts him firmly.
John shakes his head. 'We break bowls all the time, I don't--'
Sherlock moves aside, and John sees what's on the sitting room desk behind him.
'Oh,' he says shortly, his heart plummeting somewhere into his belly. On the table sits a sad pile of ceramic shards where once a handmade bowl had stood.
His eyes start to sting. John has very little left of his mum, and she'd been especially proud of that bowl. He can feel his heart rate increase as anger begins singing through him.
'I'm so sorry, John.' Sherlock's voice is low, and John's gaze snaps to him. His cool eyes are muddled with worry, and that's enough to jolt John into action.
'Need a minute, thanks,' he says, enunciating clearly, and Sherlock doesn't hesitate to nod, then reaches for a toy with which to distract Rosie.
John closes his eyes and doesn't count to ten; instead he forces air into his lungs, pictures his baby girl, and begins to count her toes and fingers. This he does, over and over and over again, until he can breathe, until he feels the anger slip and slide on its way, transforming into resignation and maybe even a glimmer of acceptance.
It is what it is.
He opens his eyes and breathes out. His body feels loose, almost depleted, but the red haze is gone. 'What happened?' he asks, throat a bit rough, as he approaches the table. Part of the bowl is actually intact, though there are a few small cracks running along it like wrinkles.
'We were playing aeroplane,' Sherlock explains, 'and her feet made an unexpected landing, one could say.'
John's lips twitch. 'And you're all right? You didn't try to heroically save the shards and end up slicing your hand open?'
Sherlock's face-- John's not sure what to make of it, exactly, but he has the feeling that as soon as they've settled in for the night he's going to have the living daylights kissed out of him. He is very much on board.
'It's just a little cut,' Sherlock says. 'And I already have a plaster on it.' He shifts Rosie and holds up the wounded finger in evidence.
It's a Sesame Street plaster, and that for some reason breaks John. He feels laughter shake through his limbs. 'Oh, Christ,' he says, wiping his eyes and looking up at Sherlock. A final chuckle escapes him, then he nods. 'You know what we're going to do?'
'What are we going to do?'
'We're going to declare that what was once a bowl is now an ashtray. In its final form, like.'
Sherlock lets out a surprised huff of laughter. 'An ashtray, you say?'
Rosie is not to be left out. 'What's ash tray?'
John and Sherlock exchange a look, but Sherlock speaks first. 'Something that will sit on our shelf, right here--' He walks over to the bookshelf by the fireplace. '--right next to the one that we s--'
John clears his throat.
'--acquired from the Palace.'
Rosie perks up, no longer interested in the ashtrays one little bit. 'Palace?'
Sherlock realises he's landed into some Prince & Princess Time a split second too late to do anything about it. 'Yes, palace,' he ad libs. 'In the sky!'
Rosie's eyes go wide, and the corner of John's mouth turns up. 'Well done.' He walks over to where they're standing and kisses them both. 'I'm going to put away the groceries and see about tea, all right?'
Sherlock leans in and kisses him again before he can move away. 'Thank you,' he says quietly while shifting Rosie to his other side. 'I know that's difficult for you.'
John nods in acknowledgement, and picks up the newly-christened ashtray one more time. 'Looks a little… rough, but should work fine.'
'It has character,' Sherlock replies.
'Personality.'
'An origin story.'
'A palace!' Rosie interjects, throwing her hands up in the air.
John's grin matches Sherlock's smirk. 'Close enough.'
[ <3 ]
And we get a little further from perfection Each year on the road / I think that's called 'character'; I think that's Just the way it goes
[inspired by 'Imperfectly' by Ani Difranco, from the album Imperfectly, which I have been listening to obsessively bc of this, and it's been a marvellous, self-indulgent time.]
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grace's fascinating grind haunts me but twitch's grind Did have their first exile & first FL moment that made me laugh out loud:
pushing a rich woman in a bush and getting exiled on the spot
#and shortly afterwards showing up to a party entirely naked and somehow not getting exiled#the scandal didn't even reach 8. why did they get kicked out#i didn't know it had to reach 8 at the time that makes it so much fucking funnier#i think the fashion flies storyline is so much more fun than the other two#you can tell it's more recent#this moment killed me tho#only redeeming quality for this area#flondonblogging
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RAFE, SCARY? PFFT ! — RAFE CAMERON
pairing; boyfriend!rafe cameron x fem!reader
summary: you had the most loving, sweet, precious boyfriend in the world. so why were your new found friends so scared of him?
prompt: “you let anything happen to her and i’ll fucking kill you, alright?”
you could barely contain your happiness as you applied your 5th layer of glittery lipgloss on your lips, holding the decorated pink tube in your manicured fingers. you batted your eyelids at the clock hung on rafe's wall.
kiara told you to be there at 8:00 and it was currently 7:30.
but you didn't want to be late, so leaving now was a good plan for you.
you had never met kiara's friends before. you had been best friends with her your whole life, but after she and sarah split, they told you you had to pick a side. and you would never tell sarah that the main reason you picked her was because of her psychotic older brother who was always roaming aimlessly around tannyhill.
sarah was your best friend, and you wouldn't trade her for the world.
but you couldn't help but ponder over what would have happened if you picked kiara, what life you would have had.
you missed her, truly. so when faced with the oppurtity to reconnect with her through your mothers exchanging numbers on one random night at the wreck, you took it.
and before you knew it she was inviting you to come down to the boneyard with some of her friends from the cut, to which you accepted gratefully.
you were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard the bathroom door click open, the steam rolling out from underneath it like a tidal wave. you turned your head softly at the noise, placing the lipgloss applicator quickly back in the tube.
beads of water trickled down his v line, escaping into the beige towel wrapped around his waist into a place you didn't even have the time to imagine. he lifted his hand up to his head, running a hand through his now brown hair that had darkened from getting wet under the stream of water.
"quick rafe we have to go!" you whined, trying to avoid eye contact with the 6'2 tall build distraction in front of you. you shuffled around the room, going into his closet and picking out clothes for him to quickly put on since he insisted — well — demanded, on driving you down to the boneyard.
you shoved the clothes into his hands, his hand making contact with yours momentarily, creating a spark between the two of you. your cheeks flushed as you quickly looked away, turning around and taking a seat at the foot of the bed.
you watched as he made no effort to move, a smirk you know all too well gracing his face. "rafe, i mean it. get changed" you groaned as you pushed your palms into the soft covers of his king sized bed.
"if you wanted to see me naked baby, you could just say that."
your cheeks quickly turned into the darkest shade of pink you could imagine, your hands quickly reached up to your face, covering your eyes as you huffed softly.
he scoffed at your movements, reaching over to spread your fingers apart so you could see through them. "im just joking ma, you've seen it all before." he winked, moving back to see the full sight of him while lifting his bicep up and flexing it in your face.
you jokingly rolled your eyes, falling onto the bed so you were now staring at the ceiling. your fingers found their way to each other, nervously intertwining as you thought.
you heard rafe shuffling around near his closet, his fly ziping up and the clink of his belt being melody to your ears. "what if they don't like me?"
your voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. if rafe wasn't listening he definitely would have missed it. but he always listens.. to you.
"impossible" he stated simply, using a tone that left no room for discussion. he didn't use that tone often, but when he did, you stayed quiet.
you chewed on your bottom lip, knitting your brows together.
you were so lucky to have rafe in your life. he was kind, caring and patient and always knew how to calm your anxiety.
honestly, you were surprised he let you go down to the beach with the pogues in the first place. you tried your best to keep out of that whole kook-pouge turf war as best as possible. to you, it was immature, unnecessary and just pointless. but it had been around on the island since before you could remember.
though, it was safe to say that you and rafe didn't see eye to eye on that topic. he didn't like the pogues, not one bit. and he made that very, very clear.
he knew how much you loved kiara, and how your face lit up when your mother's voice echoed through rafe's car speakers when she called you after seeing kiara's mother.
it took him longer to warm up to the idea that you would be seeing her whole friend group, which consists of just pogues, and most importantly, jj maybank.
there was nothing more rafe hated than jj maybank.
yet, he knew how happy this would make you. and he was willing to do this, for you. only for you.
"ready bubs" rafe announces, smoothing his polo down haphazardly and stuffing his feet into his shoes. he hears you pulling yourself up and off his bed, your socked feet padding over to him and resting your head on his chest.
he smiles and he brings his arms around your body. sighing contently as he places a kiss on your head before resting his chin on you. "they are gonna love you, like everyone loves you. don't think for a second that they won't"
you giggle against him, somehow trying to push yourself further into him, which was impossible.
"no im being serious baby, i have some serious competition." rafe huffed, pulling himself back from you and looking at your face peering up at him.
"shut up" you joke, your cheeks burning as you blushed at his words. he leaned down until his lips met yours, bringing his fingers to your chin and lifting your head up.
you two melted into each other, your sweet strawberry lipgloss coating his lips quickly. he didn't care though, he was kissing you. so nothing else mattered.
you were losing yourself in his touch, not noticing he was slowly pushing you back until your calfs hit the back of his dark oak bed frame and your body eventually fell against the soft fabric of his covers.
he slipped his hand up your lacy white cami, dragging his fingers up and down the soft skin of your stomach. he detached his lips from yours as his cold slender fingers slipped under the wire of your bra, kissing his way down your neck and chest.
you bit your now chapped lips as you looked down the the brunette boy making goosebumps appear over your skin. you threw your head back against his pillow closing your eyes and opening them again as your head lulled to the side.
your eyes fixated to the clock resting on his wall, reading 7:54. your mind ticked for a second before realising where you needed to be in exactly six minutes, gasping rather dramaticlly.
rafe's head snaps up to look at you, his eyes hooded with worry and hunger at the same time. it was only when he followed your eyes to his sleek white clock that he realised what had happened.
he rolled his eyes and he pulled your shirt back over your stomach, leaving one last searing kiss before smoothing the material down.
"rafe we have to go, now. now!" you whisper yelled almost slipping and you tried to put on your shoes while you hobbled out of his bedroom.
"baby, baby." he spoke, hopping up and walking quickly after you. he reached out to your waist holding you stable so you didn't slip over and hurt yourself.
"ok, ok. ill be careful. lets just go!" you gasped, trying to wiggle out of his firm grip. he chuckled as he let go, watching as you speed down the stairs of tannyhill and down to his white jeep parked out the front.
it was a fairly uneventful ride down to the boneyard, rafe's hand resting on your bouncing leg the whole time, slightly soothing the nervous feeling arising in your chest.
"c'mon baby, we're here" he voiced, opening his car door before quickly jumping out and circling the car before he opened yours for you. your eyes drifted down to the beach as rafe helped you out of his rather tall car.
a blonde boy with a backward cap resting on his head sat on a log with two other boys around your age, beers resting in their hands as they talked. your eyes followed along the beach where you saw kiara picking up trash along the shore, smiling brightly to yourself.
rafe intertwined his hand with yours, tightly squeezing it as he narrowed his eyes at the people on the beach. "you don't have to drink yeah? just tell them no, ok?" rafe spoke.
you nodded softly, peering up at him through your lashes to see his face stern and menacing.
you began walking first, dragging rafe softly behind you as your shoes hit the soft sand below you. you kept your eyes glued to your feet the whole way until you heard voices now crystal clear echoing through your ears.
"hey, you made it!" kiara exclaimed, bringing her arms around you as you let go of rafes hand. "hi kie" you murmured into her shoulder, embracing her into a soft hug.
"hey, rafe. what're you doing down these parts?" the blonde boy asked, standing up from his spot on the large log he was sitting down on before. you saw rafe tick his jaw to the side as you pulled away from kiara, his tongue sliding through the front of his teeth.
"just dropping her off maybank, not here to stay" rafe remarked, turning his attention to you as he leaned down and placed a kiss on your cheek, ghosting his hands over your sides as he pulled back from you.
"call me when you need me to pick you up yeah?" rafe said, keeping his eyes on you as you nodded hastily. he smiled sweetly at you, watching as kiara grabbed your hand a pulled you down to the shore, showing you the tiny baby turtles rushing into the water in front of you.
"hey jj" rafe said, turning his head to the boy standing a few feet from him, not daring to come any closer. rafe watched as he nodded cautiously, pursing his lips together as to almost prepare himself for what rafe was about to say.
rafe took a few steps before he reached jj, grabbing the fabric of his shirt and hoisting him up until they were face to face.
“you let anything happen to her and i’ll fucking kill you, alright?"
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron fluff#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron imagine#outer banks#obx#rafe x reader#rafe outer banks
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for a while i lived in an old house; the kind u.s americans don't often get to live in - living in a really old house here is super expensive. i found out right before i moved out that the house was actually so old that it features in a poem by emily dickinson.
i liked that there were footprints in front of the sink, worn into the hardwood. there were handprints on some of the handrails. we'd find secret marks from other tenants, little hints someone else had lived and died there. and yeah, there was a lot wrong with the house. there are a lot of DIY skills you learn when you are a grad student that cannot afford to pay someone else to do-it-for-ya. i shared the house with 8 others. the house always had this noise to it. sometimes that noise was really fucking awful.
in the mornings though, the sun would slant in thick amber skiens through the windows, and i'd be the first one up. i'd shuffle around, get showered in this tub that was trying to exit through the floor, get my clothes on. i would usually creep around in the kitchen until it was time to start waking everyone else up - some of them required multiple rounds of polite hey man we gotta go knocks. and it felt... outside of time. a loud kind of quiet.
the ghosts of the house always felt like they were humming in a melody just out of reach. i know people say that the witching hour happens in the dark, but i always felt like it occurred somewhere around 6:45 in the morning. like - for literal centuries, somebody stood here and did the dishes. for literal centuries, somebody else has been looking out the window to this tree in our garden. for literal centuries, people have been stubbing their toes and cracking their backs and complaining about the weather. something about that was so... strangely lovely.
i have to be honest. i'm not a history aficionado. i know, i know; it's tragic of me. i usually respond to "this thing is super old" by being like, wow! cool! and moving on. but this house was the first time i felt like the past was standing there. like it was breathing. like someone else was drying their hands with me. playing chess on the sofa. adding honey to their tea.
i grew up in an old town. like, literally, a few miles off of walden pond (as in of the walden). (also, relatedly, don't swim in walden, it's so unbelievably dirty). but my family didn't have "old house" kind of money. we had a barely-standing house from the 70's. history existed kind of... parallel to me. you had to go somewhere to be in history. your school would pack you up on a bus and take you to some "ye olden times" place and you'd see how they used to make glass or whatever, and then you'd go home to your LEDs. most museums were small and closed before 5. you knew history was, like, somewhere, but the only thing that was open was the mcdonalds and the mall.
i remember one of my seventh grade history teachers telling us - some day you'll see how long we've been human for and that thing has been puzzling me. i know the scientific number, technically.
the house had these little scars of use. my floors didn't actually touch the walls; i had to fill them with a stopgap to stop the wind. other people had shoved rags and pieces of newspaper. i know i've lost rings and earring backs down some of the floorboards. i think the raccoons that lived in our basement probably have collected a small fortune over the years. i complain out loud to myself about how awful the stairs are (uneven, steep, evil, turning, hard to get down while holding anything) and know - someone else has said this exact same thing.
when i was packing up to leave and doing a final deep cleaning, i found a note carved in the furthest corner in the narrow cave of my closet. a child's scrawled name, a faded paint handprint, the scrangly numbers: 1857.
we've been human for a long time. way back before we can remember.
#idk if it's still tradition but the kids at the local school next to walden when I went there#used to have a tradition where u had to pee in walden pond before u graduated or otherwise you'd fail one of your classes#as someone who did not do this im happy to report i did fail a class so maybe they had a point#they've torn the school down tho so who knows#i hope this makes sense#i think we've been human longer than we've been writing#ps this land was taken over by hostile combatants and colonialized . let us not forget that part of the reason#our 'history' is so short. is that we have systematically slaughtered the people who had history here before
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Bedtime Stories | Daniel Ricciardo x Author! Reader
Summary: For the past six years, you've been dreaming of a future with Daniel. Until one silly little interview shatters every illusion.
Warnings: Swearing. Angst. Baby fever. End of a relationship. Daniel bashing.
Female reader with various faceclaims. Takes place in the 2022 season.
Main Masterlist
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User 2 no, it's not an announcement. her best friend is currently pregnant and she was gushing about looking forward to aunty duties
User 3 omg her and daniel would make the cutest babies though
→ User 4 i bet she can't wait until they have their own mini-me
User 5 imagine our rom-com queen going from writing the cutest but filthiest fiction imaginable to writing about why you should eat your carrots
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22•05•22
User 6 i can't believe this man was talking about being in the height of his career when he's been nothing but a flop since leaving red bull
User 7 the way he's been stringing this poor woman along for 6 years, knowing how badly she wants children, to then decide in a random interview that he's never going to have kids because they would be a 'distraction'
User 8 fans spotted y/n running from the pits once she saw that daniel was safely done with racing
User 9 i fear we may be witnessing the downfall of something we once held sacred
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16•06•22
fallontonight just posted
liked by YourUserName, kellypiquet and others
fallontonight did you know @ YourUser Name was once chased by a kangaroo? find out how in tonight's episode of The Tonight Show 📚🦘
4,477 comments
YourUserName thanks for having me! ✨
User 11 excuse me, ma’am, reassess what
User 12 daniel has been absent from her last 3 posts
→ User 1 not even in the likes or comments
→ User 2 and he didn't even congratulate her on the recent book launch
→ User 3 ya’ll are reaching. he's busy racing. she's busy doing book promo. they still follow each other
User 4 anyone notice she didn't look as happy as she usually does
→ User 5 yes! and i swear she got teary when talking about her life plans 🥺
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YourUserName just posted
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YourUserName my happy place 🌊🐚🦀 Aug '22
4,990 comments
User 6 does this mean a new book is coming soon
→ User 7 girl, we’ve just had one. let the woman rest
→ YourUserName sorry, my lovelies but i don’t think i'm in the right headspace to being right a romance novel at this time
→ User 6 confirmation??!?!
→ User 7 we’re children of divorce
→ User 8 honestly fuck those two because i couldn’t have cared less about vroom vroom boys until mother started dating one and now i'm crying in class ‘cause they’re over
landonorris get that bread, queen 🍞
→ YourUserName who let you out of daycare
→ User 9 not y/n and lando interacting like she didn’t break his teammates heart
→ User 10 more like his teammate broke y/n’s heart. let's not make daniel out to be the victim here
kellypiquet p said get writing those children’s books so she can brag about aunty y/n to her friends
→ YourUserName my sweet girl. i saw the cutest dress the other day for her so I’ll pop round soon x
→ User 11 i love their friendship
→ User 12 get this woman a child. She’s too sweet to be stuck in cool aunt mode forever
User 13 anyone notice she didn't do her annual birthday post for daniel?
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04•09•22
User 14 no because the interviewer was so real for that. checo has a few children and he’s currently 2nd best. max is nowhere to be seen on the grid he's that far ahead and he makes sure p is his priority when she’s there so???
→ User 15 and the way he stormed out. i bet PR are sooo happy with him
User 16 nah because mclaren recently announced that they’re not extending his contract so he currently doesn't have his seat and doesn't have his y/n, all because he thought he was better than that
YourUserName posted a new story
danielricciardo posted a new story
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danielricciardo just posted
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danielricciardo yesterday was something. p17 wasn't the result we were expecting, and the media were a challenge but it's always a delight to be in Suzuka. Moving on to the Americas
5,509 comments
User 1 maybe if y/n was there, you wouldn't have done so badly
User 2 maybe if he had a baby waiting in the paddock he would’ve had more incentive to do better
mclaren we’ll get them next time 💪
User 3 letting mclaren and lando down
→ User 4 the real reason he and y/n broke up is because he has no wins. she should move onto lando or something
→ User 5 he’s way too young for her
→ User 4 they'd make a good looking couple tho
(comments have been disabled for this post)
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19•10•22
YourUserName just posted
liked by charles_leclerc, bloomsburypublishing and others
YourUserName thirty, flirty and thriving. please enjoy a small snippet of my 30th birthday, organised by my favourite girl. these are the nice moments before she plies me full of cocktails and i become the sloppiest person in monaco
tagged: kellypiquet
kellypiquet any chance to celebrate you 🤍🤍
→ kellypiquet and an even better chance to drink the entire bar and force max to carry us home
→ maxverstappen1 i'm just glad i was able to pull you both out of the sea before you drowned
landonorris can't believe you tried (and failed) to stop us from gatecrashing
→ YourUserName it was an exclusive event, we don't let randos in
→ landonorris i know you're joking but it still hurts my feelings
maxverstappen1 happy birthday, sloppy. you don't look a day over 40
→ YourUserName i'm gonna let that slide but only because i love the bag that kelly told you to buy
User 7 happy birthday to the best author
User 8 happy birthday queen
carlossainz55 happy birthday, y/n 💐
liked by YourUserName
danielricciardo happy birthday x
User 5 kelly and y/n look like the funnest people to hang out with
→ User 6 literally need to know how to become part of their duo
lewishamilton happy birthday, y/n. have a lovely night 💕
liked by YourUserName
mclaren happy birthday to papaya's favourite author (we're still waiting for a racing rom-com that is quite clearly about your favourite f1 team and their super sexy admin) 🥳🥳
liked by YourUserName
This is going to be part of a Baby Fever Angst series with the other drivers. So, multiple drivers are going to have an smau like this.
Max’s Version | Lando’s Version | Lance’s Version
Charles’ Version | Oscar’s Version
I do have Part 2s planned if people want them but also happy to leave it like this :)
#baby fever angst#formula 1#f1#formula 1 smau#f1 smau#formula 1 social media au#f1 social media au#social media au imagine#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 headcanon#formula 1 one shot#formula 1 fluff#formula 1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 headcanon#f1 one shot#f1 fluff#f1 x reader#daniel ricciardo#daniel ricciardo imagine#daniel ricciardo drabble#daniel ricciardo headcanon#daniel ricciardo one shot#daniel ricciardo fluff#daniel ricciardo smau#daniel ricciardo x reader
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ajsdhgjkh yeah sorry shinon! he's good but i don't remember him ever being top for me, though i've probably done por 4 times and rd twice. i started using oscar because the nintendo power strategy guide said to plug the one bottleneck in the map on the chapter shinon and gatrie leave, because he's a brick wall. and they were right. he would never let me down etc etc. i think i gave him a custom forged lance called the BadGuyKiller. Kieran got the OscarBane, which was hot pink.
YEAHHHH SHISHI!!!
For some reason no matter how much I love other FE games, I always keep replaying the Tellius ones. I guess maybe in part it's because growing up I took to PoR a lot more? I started with FE7, but 7 and 8 weren't as strong for me and didn't keep me as interested. Also, I was kind of the shy nice girl growing up who stayed out of trouble, so I kind of grew up really admiring Ike. Even if I don't play either game for a year or two straight, I always come back to them and end up playing at least one of them once or twice through before taking a break again. Even though 4 is my favorite FE game, I guess between Tellius' gameplay, the characters and how I felt about those games growing up ends up pulling me back to them all the time.
NINTENDO POWER LITERALLY SAID USE OSCAR? Damn, I didn't give them enough credit. My sister subscribed to that magazine and I never read it. They're RIGHT though, I love plugging bottlenecks with him and Shinon. Chapter six is a pain in the ass but I rely on the two of them to cover the front, and in chapter eight I similarly have Oscar handle the front. Oscar dodges enough and he takes very low damage if he gets hit. My strategy was to keep a javelin equipped for most of chapter eight since a lot of the enemies used them as well, so he was always able to hit back and he took out the enemies in the front all by himself (which is pretty impressive at that point in the game considering how many enemies he'd be fighting by himself).
It's actually funny to me because he has no trouble at the front, but meanwhile Titania and Boyd are handling the right side of the map and kinda having trouble. Soren and Ike handle the left side (and eventually Ilyana if she even makes it down there in time to do much of anything lol), and I have Rhys run around healing as much as he can with Mia using her turns to shove him out of harm's way if he's in range of an enemy's distant attack when he's behind someone. Mia's too weak at that point for me to use her for anything else, so she's kinda just Rhys' support to keep him safe while he heals.
Agreed, Oscar never lets me down. IN FACT, IT'S ALMOST ALWAYS BOYD WHO LETS ME DOWN LMAO. Last run I did with a friend watching was fun because we were picking on Boyd lovingly. He was actually pretty damn for me in that run but whenever he screwed up we'd poke fun at him.
THAT'S SO FUNNY LOL. I love giving Oscar forged weapons. Actually, since they're so expensive if you want them to be really unique and not super close to an existing weapon that I don't make forged weapons that often at all. Generally Oscar is one of the few if not the only one in a playthrough who gets one. I always make it insanely OP, like, as OP as you literally make it lol. I make it green for him and give him all sorts of names for his weapons.
KIERAN GOT THE OSCARBANE AND IT WAS HOT PINK JUST LIEK HIS PERSONALITY. Kieran no you're supposed to fight the enemies, not your allies. SIR.
My friend in the playthrough I played with them watching tried to convince me not to use Oscar in chapter 28 and I firmly refused LOL. He basically handles the whole left side of the map by himself or has like, one other person with him helping out a little bit while Ike, Soren and Ranulf take the center and everyone else takes the right side.
Also this has nothing to do with Oscar but LISTEN. Have you ever put Vantage AND Adept on Ranulf? They behave differently in RD so it won't work the same, but in PoR Vantage always activates so your unit will always attack first if they're attacked by an enemy. Combine that with Adept and it's literally so broken because the sheer number of times I had Ranulf attack first and use Adept, attacking first twice and killing the enemy just for initiating combat was so bonkers it was like easy mode lmao.
It's kinda like when I discovered that putting Gamble on Shinon was stupid broken because he'd keep getting a 100 percent crit rate with a killer bow.
Oscar and Shinon are already broken and I somehow always seem to find ways to make them more broken. Then I got to add PoR Ranulf to that list... and honestly, once RD Ranulf gets Rend, he's basically as much of a monster as those two (especially if you're playing the endgame parts and you give him a Laguz Gem to be transformed for the entire battle LEL).
#nintendo power is a CHAMP for suggesting to use oscar The Correct Way (tm)#when I was younger and I first started playing PoR my sister convinced me that pre-promoted were ''bad''#when I grew up I was SO MAD LOL bc she was basing that on playing FE7/8#where generally pre-promoted units barring game soloer King Seth the Great weren't that great#(though I did use Saleh quite a bit... and to my recollection he wasn't bad)#and I literally SUFFERED trying to train Rolf bc of that. now I just train him enough to withstand that Blizzard#in chapter 18 in case he gets hit by it when I'm going down the corridor to reach Shinon#and basically once I get him back Rolf is benched for the rest of or most of the rest of the game hfkjsagjsg#BUT KNOWING THE SHINON I KNOW NOW I'M SO MAD SHE CONVINCED ME NOT TO USE HIM FKJSHJHFG#I can't remember what playthrough I finally started using him or why at this point#but I wouldn't be surprised if it had to do with me wanting to try out using a unit for a character I enjoyed#bc it always sucks when you can't/don't use characters you like#KINDA LIKE WHY I USUALLY BRING TORMOD TO THE TOWER OF GUIDANCE?#BC I'M RLY FUCKIN' MAD THAT HE'S HARDLY IN THE GAME AT ALL AND I NEED TO MAKE UP FOR LOST TIME???#I angrily get Tormod to tier 3 level 20 at all cost bc RD did him so dirty with screentime#OH AND ALSO Geoffrey was another pre-promote I didn't use because of my sister LOL#nowadays I tend not to use him and Haar bc they join so late into the game and by then#most of my roster is pretty figured out while still making room for Ranulf prior to him and Haar joining#I use Geoffrey as much as I can in RD though because I love Geoffrey#also like ofc Shinon is gonna be behind everyone else for a bit when you get him back bc he's the same level he left at#it's like playing Tales of Phantasia and benching Chester permanently just bc he rejoins you at the same level you left him at fjksghjgsg#now I just like to meme about Shinon killing everything and how the AI actually works when it comes to Provoke#DCE Ask
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"forget him, be with me instead."
ft— various male genshin x fem! reader (childhood friend trope)
warning — slight angst but it's just a pinch! comfort, mutual pining (?), smitten men, fluff, kissing. headcanons are a bit down! modern! au, implied toxic relationship
a/n— yay time to write some fluff after writing angst, what a life! listened to laufey's 'everything i know about love' album while listening to this ^^ this is a little bit rushed and might be a wee bit shitty but uhm please don't judge your girl was out here suffering
wordcount. 3.7k
synopsis. your boyfriend stood you up on your date, once again, and as usual your childhood friend is here to comfort you.
In the soft glow of the quaint café, you sat alone, your anticipation slowly morphing into a quiet ache. You had meticulously chosen your outfit, a delicate dance between casual and elegant.
You had arrived early, your excitement palpable. The minutes stretched into an eternity as the minutes on the clock ticked away, and the once hopeful glimmer in yours eyes dimmed with each passing moment.
The ambient chatter and clinking of utensils became a dissonant soundtrack to your growing unease. You checked your phone repeatedly, hoping for a message or a call that would explain the delay.
The vibrant ambiance of the café, which had initially felt like the backdrop to a romantic night, now served as a cruel witness to your solitude.
You take out your phone from your pocket, anxiously checking the time on your phone before sliding your hand back in, clenching it tightly. 8 PM. Your heart sunk as you realized that it was now exactly 8 PM, the time you both agreed on arriving.
You didn't want to jump to conclusions, maybe he was stuck in traffic? But then again it was 8 PM, barely any road traffic. Was his boss keeping him back for a little bit? Did the wifi cut off in his building, was that why he couldn't send you a text?
Despite trying to comfort yourself by putting ideas in your head, you had a hunch that he was most definenetly not coming, he had forgotten about your date.
It wasn't the first time he stood you up, as a matter of fact, he had stood you up many times but you always pushed it aside. You pushed his mistakes aside, why? Because he was your boyfriend. You knew it was wrong but... what could you do? You didn't want to lose him.
As the realization settled in, a mixture of disappointment and embarrassment clouded your expression. The waiter, noticing your solitary presence, approached with a mixture of sympathy and concern.
You mustered a brave smile and declined a menu, your appetite for food dissipating. The warmth of the café offered little solace as you continued to sit on your reserved seat, looking like an utter fool just sitting there, waiting for someone who wasn't going to come any time soon.
You checked the time once again, 8:10 PM, seconds went by, then minutes, and hours. You checked the time one more time—the clock reached 10:15 PM. You had arrived at the café at 7 PM.
Sighing at the realization that you really sat there and waited for your 'boyfriend' for three hours, you felt like an idiot. And even more of an idiot of the fact that you let this slide so many times.
You decide to leave the café, ignoring the sympathetic looks given your way. You take out your phone from your pocket once again, this time you didn't check the time but rather press on a familiar icon before making a call.
As you foot taps on the ground anxiously you wait for him to pick up the phone. You stand outside just a few inches away the café door, as you wait for what felt like an eternity all the emotions got to you.
Tears welled in your eyes, betraying the resilience you had tried so hard to maintain. Your emotions that were long kept in check, spilled over like a dam bursting at the seams. The phone continued to buzz, waiting for the other side to pick up.
The streetlamp cast a soft glow on your tear-streaked face as you lowered your phone, defeated by both the silence and the heartache. But just as the phone was about to go silent, by some miracle he picked up.
"Y/N?" For some odd reason hearing his voice made you have the urge to bawl your eyes out once again. You hastily wiped away your tears and attempted to sound nonchalant.
"Hey I uh.. I—" you paused, voice a delicate balance between composure and fragility. Sighing, you continued. "I got stood up."
Your words were short and blunt, but by now you were holding back a waterfall. You patiently wait for his answer over the deafening silence. "... Again? That boy.."
His voice was laced with annoyance, disappointment and concern.
"Where are you now? At the café? Stay right there, shit it's raining, make sure to stay under cover okay? I'll be there in about 10 minutes."
You could hear the sounds of him excusing himself from his boss and the angry cries from his boss.
"Aren't you at work though? It's okay you don't have to come pick me up."
"Are you crazy? So what if I'm at work? I'm not leaving you out there alone, plus it's raining. I know you hate having wet hair." Well, he wasn't lying. He was your childhood friend after all, he knew almost everything about you.
And before you knew it, just after a couple minutes of ending the call you noticed a figure making it's way towards you, umbrella in hand as he gives you a small smile. All the while rain was pouring down on your head.
is extremely happy that you finally realized that your boyfriend (soon to be ex) is horrible, he won't show it though. but he is really happy.
the first thing he did when he saw you absolutely drenched in the heavy downpour was take off his jacket and place it over your shoulders and hold the umbrella over your head. there were many questions he wanted to ask but the main one was "are you alright?"
yes he wanted to question about that damn lout (your boyfriend) but he already knew the answer. it happened too many times, way too many times. you and your boyfriend would agree to go on a date, you would arrive early or on time, you wouldn't get an answer from him when you questioned why he was late, minutes would turn into hours and then you would call him.
he wasn't mad at you, no never, but your (*cough* ex *couch*) boyfriend? absolutely. if anything he wanted to prove to you that he was a horrible boyfriend so he would always come to pick you up and try to knock some sense into your head, sometimes his words would go from one ear and out your other.
when you don't answer his question and begin to bawl your eyes out he immediately begins to panic, because you are crying hard. he only lets out a soft sigh before holding the back of your head and gently pushes your face in his chest, letting you cry into his chest. he softly pats your head in an attempt to comfort you (it does)
he resist the urge to say "i told you so" because, he did tell you so, but he knew it would only dampen your mood. he reassures and shushes you warmly, and his soft voice really does calm you down.
"shh, i know it's okay. you'll be fine. he is a big jackass alright? don't waste your pretty tears on him."
you both begin to walk together through the raining weather, he obviously doesn't want to see you cry so he offers to buy you your favourite snacks and drinks in a convenience store. you refuse, thinking that you already troubled him enough but NO he will not take no for an answer.
"trouble me? never."
and it worked!! your mood slightly lifted after chugging down your favourite packet of chips. in all honestly he found your puffy cheeks and eyes cute, the way your eyes glistened slightly from your tears, and the way you were chomping on your food? so adorable.
when you quietly thank him his heart bursts even more (like every other day he sees you) but he waves his hand, "it's nothing, sit down, lets talk."
why did he sound so scary? he would never know. when you both sit down on the ground, back pressed against the wall of a shop, he begins to question you. "you do realize that this is like the tenth time he stood you up right?" you nod your head sadly as you were reminded of what had happened.
he sighed, "i just want you to know that this.. you can't just forgive him after this, after all of this. he even forgot your anniversary! i'm.. i'm just worried for you. you know that?"
you knew he was only worrying for you and wanted the best for you. but despite all the other times that you would dismiss his worries and say "it's okay we all make mistakes" you really thought about it this time. and boy was he right.
do you know how ecstatic he was when you told him that you would break up with him!? HE WAS OVER THE MOON, he was literally on cloud 9. not that he could show it thought, you would be suspicious of him. but then again he has had the biggest and fattest crush on you since you were little.
but after that he tried his best to make you happier (even if he hated doing it), he would point out the most stupidest shit ever, "oh look at that squirrel, Y/N, doesn't it remind you of childe?" or "wow the uh, the light is really.. light'ing.."
sigh.. he's trying his best okay..
although it wasn't really funny, the way he spoke was most definenetly funny. when he notices how you hold back your laughter or even chuckle slightly that's just his motivation to do better, he would also tell you silly little jokes that he googled on his phone (while you were looking away) quickly.
buttt now he has an even better idea :) what is it you say? taking you out on a date of course! right now...? why not right now!
(please he's just really excited that you're going to break up with that old hag, meaning he has a shot!! he will definenetly give it his all to try and woo you.)
— ALHAITHAM, kaeya, WRIOTHESLEY, AYATO, dainsleif, NEUVILLETTE, CYNO, ZHONGLI, tighnari
starts scolding you and goes on a bit ass rant about how you deserve better than that (AND I QUOTE) "low life lout", he thinks he sounds all harsh and mean but to you he only sounds like he was really worried about you
"seriously, how many times does this boy have to repeat his actions until the truth gets through your thick noggin." he heaved a great sigh, a bit dramatic don't you think? he continues to rant and rant about blah blah blah you weren't listening. and only when he notices that tears are rolling down your cheeks freely does he shut the hell up.
"hey hey— what's wrong? don't cry.." he tries his best to act slightly annoyed because truly he kind of was, he hated seeing you hang out with your 'boyfriend', he hated seeing how your eyes would light up every time you saw him, the effort you put into your relationship, he hated how blind you were to his actions.
but, despite his tough outer shell he was really a softie inside. so when you began to bawls your eyes out (again) he immediately switches up, his voice that was so harsh was no soft and tender. a tone he barely uses (he only spoke nicely to you okay!!)
a sigh. "i didn't mean to be mean, i'm sorry. i'm just so annoyed that you keep on.. i don't know! i'm just frustrated okay." you were confused? why was he frustrated, shouldn't it be the other way around since.. you.. were the one being stood up?
he (surprisingly) wipes away your tears, cupping your cheeks with his hand as he uses his thumb to dry your tears. "i don't like seeing you cry, okay? follow me now" you were confused again, but follow him anyway.
he literally bought you back inside the café, the waiter looks happy and surprised (in her head she was thinking: wow so this is the fucker who stood his own girlfriend up?), when he was ordering your favourite pastry and drink he was really confused about why the lady was giving him such a dirty face.
"hey y/n, any idea why that lady over there is giving me a stank eye?"
he watches as you eat your food happily, he only hoped that you had forgotten what had happened before, not only that but he sees this as a way to show you that he would be a much better boyfriend, i mean look at him! he came (he would always come on time), memorized what your favourite snacks/pastries/drinks were, sat down with you. he wasn't trying to boast but.. he would make one hell of a boyfriend than your current one.
you noticed that he wasn't eating and just.. staring at you. "want some?" you offered, he shook his head no but you wouldn't take that for an answer. you shove a spoonful of cake in his mouth and smile happily. "yummy?" he only grumbles, looking like an angry cat. "mmm i guess.." (he really liked it please feed him more)
seeing you smile after bawling your eyes out and wasting your tears on somebody you didn't deserve felt like a treat. he also wipes the excess food and crumbs on the corner of your lips, he looked adorable when he was concentrating hard to wipe it off, and it wasn't like he was trying to be romantic as he wasn't maintaining eye contact, but when he backed away and looked at you and notices how you were smirking he scoffed.
"don't you get any ideas now." you giggled at his words and continued to eat your cake as well as occasionally feeding him as well. all you were thinking about was ow delicious the cake was but all he was thinking about was you. he was.. basically taking you out on a date. woah.
when you both exit the shop, you thank him for the food and also apologize for dragging him out here in the rain and how you got his hair wet. "yeah well yours is too. you can blame that asshole." he noticed how your face slightly drops, a solemn expression on your face.
"yeah.. i guess so." !?!?!?! you actually agreed with him?!?! HE WON AT LIFE WOOOOOOOOOOO
and now that you both are on the same terms he can finally talk to you about everything, but all the while he was explaining how he saw him (your soon to be ex) treat you, he couldn't help but also include his feelings. that's one thing you caught on.
"he forgot your anniversary, did you forget? i was absolutely frustrated! i mean at his actions, i mean his actions and him! i would never do that if i was your boyfriend. h—hypothetically."
you had a hunch that he had a thing for you, but not that big of a crush. maybe he was just really angry that he kept stumbling over his words?
either way, he told you what you should do you this time you listened, chiming in with your own experiences with your boyfriend and the more you did that the more you began to notice hoe you really looked past all his red flags.
safe to say he won at life, again, this time he won't pussy out on you and will for sure confess to you!
— WANDERER, XIAO, dottore, diluc, PIERRO, albedo
a bit... too giddy. willingly SHOWS and TELLS that he is happy. i mean not at you being stood up but how you're finally getting a grip, wait.. is than a "i'm going to break up with him" he heard?!?! GOD BLESS
he doesn't say anything at first, comforting you and drying your hair the very best he can (literally bought a book to dry your hair: swatting it), he lets you cry on his shoulder, letting you hug him tightly (not that he was complaining... oh did you just break his ribs? nah it's all good)
he lets you calm down first to the point where it's just hiccups rather than tears rolling down your cheeks (and when you could barely breathe by how you were choking on your tears), he holds you in his arms, rocking you slightly.
"okay, i don't want to sound.. rude but, i think it's time you start to notice how badly he's treating you. i mean, look at you, you're a mess (dare i say, a beautiful one), he made you feel this, he made you cry. and he isn't here to apologize. this isn't the first time too, y/n, i'm begging you, please don't look past this."
he tries his best to explain to you everything, what he saw, what he is doing to you, how he feels and how you feel (he knows everything shh). and you can't deny it, you won't, because everything he was telling you was true. and you hated how you couldn't deny anything.
he leaves you for a couple of minutes so that you could collect your thoughts and emotions while he went to go buy some snacks, especially some sweets and savory. "this should cheer you up" he says as he passes the plastic bag to you.
"oh wait i forgot to get some ramen, be right back!" you didn't have enough time to stop him as he was already on his way to grab a hot cup of ramen for you. he was just too sweet. when he came back with your favourite cup of ramen he would open the lid and blow onto it, he insisted on feeding you, saying that you must've been exhausted from today (but you barely did anything?)
you can't help but notice how... somewhat happy he was, normally when he comes after you call him (after being stood up once again) he seemed concerned for you, and he does look concerned for you, i mean he is always but today... he looked giddy. was it maybe because you said that you would be breaking up with your boyfriend today? so strange..
!!! not only that but he encourages you to break up with him, and he doesn't mean it like that, he just wants the best for you. and you obviously say yes because.. everything he is telling you IS true. next thing you know he's literally helping you write a sincere paragraph to your boyfriend on text.
"oh you should send a voice message as well, i think it'll really help him understand how serious you are."
you're too afraid to make a voice message? no worries, he'll do it for you!! he will send the most passive aggressive voice message know to man kind (he had to fight back the urge to yell obscenities over call). basically, this man is way too happy, not that it's suspicious or anything, just a little worrying LMAO
he's just really happy, happy for him and you! it's a win-win honestly. you finally get out of that toxic relationship and finally get a hold of reality, but also for him to finally get his chance to maybe try to confess to you. (one day... but he'll make sure to woo you sooner or later before someone else swoops you off your feet)
he's literally on his way to manifest for you two to be together, repeat after him, i don't chase, i attract (he literally chases after you so uhm forget about that please)
— THOMA, KAVEH, LYNEY, itto, gorou, KAZUHA, pantalone, heizou, VENTI, capitano, childe, baizhu
As the rain began to clear, only leaving behind a tranquil symphony of soft pitter-patters. You two stood next to each other, letting the silence take over.
All the while he was contemplating something, something that will change your relationship for the better or worse.
Should he kiss you?
For years he had always wanted to feel your lips against his but he was always so nervous to do so.
But right now? It was the perfect opportunity, the raining had almost cleared, the atmosphere was soft and romantic. If he didn't do it now then who knew how long it would take for him to build up his courage again?
All of the sudden he cupped your cheek with warm palms, the tenderness in his touch was evident even in the hesitant pause that hung in the air.
For a moment, uncertainty flickered in his eyes, a silent contemplation of unspoken desires. Was he really about to pussy out again?
You, for one, was a bit puzzled by the sudden shift in the atmosphere and his sudden actions. When your gaze met his with curiosity. In that fleeting moment, he knew he had to do it.
Even if it ruined everything he built up with you.
He muttered a breathless "fuck it," as if casting aside the weight of hesitation that tethered him, in a moment that felt like an eternity, he leaned in, eyes fluttering shut as he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a passionate kiss that stole her breath away.
You were caught off guard, were you imagining this? No you couldn't be, it felt so real. Your heart raced with a mixture of surprise and delight. The kiss was passionate and full of raw emotion, igniting a fire within her that she was pressed so far down.
The softness of his lips against yours sent waves of tenderness through your body, and in that moment, your realized that this kiss was not just a spur-of-the-moment act; it was a reflection of the unspoken feelings that had been building between them for so long.
His touch was gentle yet filled with an underlying intensity, it was a kiss that sparked something, expressing all the words they had been too afraid to say.
You closed your eyes, allowing him to continue as your hands held onto his wrist. A couple of seconds passed by when he, unfortunately, pulled away—your eyes locked once again in a silent acknowledgment.
His eyes held such a fiery passion as you stared deeply into your eyes. He looked relieved as if finally taking initiative that had been weighing him down.
"I... But—" You were still left breathless as you spoke, you felt an underlying guilt, still not haven broken up with your boyfriend yet.
He understood what you were thinking and feeling, "look at me, Y/N." At his request you did so, observing his face and trying to guess what he was going to do next. Kiss you again? (Yes please)
"Forget him, be with me instead."
note: off to continue writing for my sagau now, this was more like a shitpost for the shits and giggles but aye
taglist: @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few..
liking + following + reblogs are very much appreciated!!!
another note: not proof read so if you found any spelling/grammar mistakes PLEASE tell me
#genshin impact x reader#kaeya x reader#albedo x reader#diluc x reader#zhongli x reader#xiao x reader#baizhu x reader#kazuha x reader#ayato x reader#itto x reader#gorou x reader#heizou x reader#venti x reader#neuvillette x reader#wriothesley x reader#freminet x reader#childe x reader#dainsleif x reader#aether x reader#pantalone x reader#pierro x reader#capitano x reader#lyney x reader#cyno x reader#al haitham x reader#kaveh x reader#dottore x reader#wanderer x reader#thoma x reader#genshin impact x you
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my take for the chapter 3 is probably faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar away from what we're gonna get, but since Catnap was made using a literal 7 years old, i like to think in the posibility of the other critters also be made with other children from the kindergarden, and their relation with Catnap.
if you want to see me talking about what's basically 7 ocs i created in less that a day, be my guest
tw: illness and death of children in really sad ways
1-Dogday - Nell Grambell (13 y/o)
yup, you read that right, He's the older brother of Theodore/Catnap, but since he was too old to be manipulated by Playtime Co. He was used to create Dogday just 3 months after arrive to the Playcare, leaving his younger brother suddenly alone (nobody explained to Theodore what happened to his brother, just telling him he was ''sick'').
His personality is the typical protective older brother, specially since they both come from a bad background (abusive parents), Nell was a really caring and loving brother, and that personality is still present in his new body.
2-CraftyCorn - Alba Guzman (15 y/o)
Unlike Nell, Alba was taked by playtime Co when she was 8, but made it till 15 'cause The Doctor realised that she was good to keep younger children under control by making art crafts with them, the girl was really passive and calm, but after reach puberty she started to become hostile to the caretakers, so she was taked to the laboratory were later was used to create CraftyCorn. She also meet Nell and Theodore before this, but the last time Nell saw her was when he was take to the laboratory, and she wasn't exactly alive...
3-Kickinchicken - Callem Jones (12 y/s)
The kid was lucky, since his caretaker (the employer that legally adopt him for the company) was really interesed in take care of him, so he was one of the lucky kid to be taked care a lot, have his hair styled, learn things from outside the playcare (like skating and surfing), and even leave from time to time Playtime Co with them. The employer was really considering taking him from all this madness and make him their irl son, BUT before it could happen they were killed by Huggy Wuggy, and soon after that poor Callem was taked to the laboratory.
4- Hoppy Hopscotch - Nicole Robinson (9 y/o)
She was adopted for a specific reason: as a child with leukemia, Playtime Co. was really interesed in see if their experiments could health such kind of illness, so they stopped all kind of common treatment on Nicole and started a ''Poppy treatment'' on her, but it wasn't working. The poor ill child was a fighter, and even when she was weak she tried to fight each caretaker that tried to inject her the poppy serum, even when knowing she could died, she didn't care 'cause she wasn't feeling well either. After 5 months, Nicole died in her sleep, and her bodies was used to create Hoppy.
5- PickyPiggy - Samina (9 y/o)
Be in the system since she was 1 y/o and taked by Playtime Co. 1 years later, Samina only knew what the company teach her, and she was a really good kid that followed rules, specially the ones make by Bron, her favorite Toy, to the point that she dreamed to become as tall as him. Sadly, her own love end up killing her, since one day she make it to Bron's statue and, thinking in how would the world look like from up there, she climb the statue, but end up falling midterm, ending in a coma after hitting her head in the fall. Since she was already in that state, The Doctor decided to take the oportunnity and use her to create Picky.
6- Bubba Bubbaphant - Charlie (7 y/o)
Intelligent and attentive, Charlie was a truly prodigue that Playtime Co. was proud of get their hands on, the kids was already at the same academic level of the +12 y/o, and The Doctor was excited to use him in the future when his mind developed a lil' more. But the plan had to start early since Charlie end up getting a bad case of pneumonia, and fearing that the child wouldn't make it, he was send to the laboratory to start the work on him.
7- Bobby BearHug - Amara (4 y/o)
The lil toodler was a love to be around, giving hugs and lil' kisses to all the caretakers, this 'cause the kid was also lucky enough to be adopted by a employer that take good care of her since practically birth. But she was also really naive and innocent (of course, she was a baby), so she usually was the hitting bag of a lot of other children that wished to have the love her caretaker give her. One day it goes to far, be that a group of children take her from the lil' kids room and put her in a locker, something that scare Amara 'cause the child was claustrophobic, to the point that before a caretaker could find her, Amara end up suffering a panic attack and dying of asphyxiation. Her caretaker end up resigning after that, and the body was used to create Bobby.
#poppy playtime#smiling critters ARG#poppy playtime chapter 3#poppy playtime smiling critters#smiling critters#catnap#dogday#hoppy hopscotch#craftycorn#bubba bubbaphant#bobby bearhug#kickinchicken#pickypiggy#ocs#nova say
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I just had the Idea, like Imagine, the S/o from Muzan, Koku, Douma and Akaza (seperate) finds a spider and is REALLY Scared of it. How would they react?
The mental image of the S/O shrieking in terror and one of these men just absolutely pegging it all the way from one side of the house to the other just to find out its a spider that scared the S/O amuses me greatly (≧▽≦)
Also I have arachnophobia and honestly spiders get my skin crawling in terror... they just give me the ick
Honestly thanks for sliding this into my askbox! It was fun to imagine and write what these men would think and do during such a scenario!
Muzan Kibutsuji, Kokushibo, Douma/Doma + Akaza reacting to their S/O being scared of a spider - Headcanons:
Muzan Kibutsuji:
He was just doing an experiment, just messing around with chemicals to get a reaction
When he hear's you scream
Fucking speed demon o'hoy as he speeds across the house to find you, nails hardening and lengthen and tentacles wanting to burst out from his skin to get rid of what's harmed you
And when he reaches where you are, hands cracking the foundations of the door with a snarl on his lips until his eyes land on you
Muzan stands there - his fear quells and is instead replaced with a thankful neutrality - breathing slowly reverting back to normal as he takes in your shaken form standing on one of the tables in the home's library
With a quirk of his brow his gaze drifts to where your shaking finger points and lands on the calm + poised form of a spider
Muzan stares at it
The spider stares back
Before it's promptly squished under a book
Your carried out of the room like a bride
"For scaring me you get to sit in my lab" Muzan says, going back to mixing chemicals "And if your good, it'll be me that makes you scream in ecstasy later"
Muzan knows spider's scare you so usually just kills them before you see one - although the odd few go get to live
Kokushibo:
Kokushibo was meditating - his usual activity after a long day
It's silent, the house in a state of stillness and the world outside holding it's breathe as Kokushibo breathes in...then out..
And its shattered by your scream of fear
His body moves quicker than his mind
Hand on his katana as he rushes to where you are and as see's you cowering in the hallway, eyes flicking to and fro to see where your fear is placed to see the 8-legged fiend
"It's a spider...." He states plainly, eyes blinking as his stance relaxes "......again?"
"Can you please make it go away!" You whisper-shout, eyes peaking through your fingers at him "It's really scary"
Kokushibo simply sighs
Moving silently to catch the spider with a drinking cup and a piece of parchment from the ceiling and releasing it outside
He picks you up and dusts you off with a small smile
"Next time just shout my name, I'll handle the spiders"
Douma/Doma:
Douma/Doma had just finished a sermon
Narrowly escaping his followers clutches from having to give more false kindness and advice that he probably didn't mean
Until he hears you scream
Fear flushes his insides cold and worry makes his chest ache as he runs to your shared quarters
First, he blinks - taking in the scene of your shaking form and the rather harmless spider on the wall
Then his brain starts working at a mile a minute before everything clicks into place
You (S/O) + Spider + Scream from you = Fear = New form of entertainment
Douma/Doma smirks - something filled with malice and a polite mock sympathy - before making his way across the room to soothe you
Before promptly catching the spider and chasing you with it...
Yes, this is funny for him and no, he won't stop until he's tired
After having his fun - for what felt like a millennia - Douma/Doma releases the spider outside
And with a chuckle, kisses your forehead and leaves you
Douma/Doma just doesn't understand why you're scared of spiders until you sit down with him before bed and tell him off for earlier
After that he orders his followers to either kill spiders on sight or move them into the garden
Akaza:
He was training in the garden when he heard you scream out in terror
Making record time to get to you by simply leaping from the garden through the bedroom's open window
Eyes moving wildly trying to find the source of your terror - his heart aching when seeing your eyes shimmering with tears and a scared wobble to your lip
Until landing on the black mass on the floor scuttling about... "a....a spider?" He says inquisitively, his head tilting in confusion
When he realizes that it was the spider that made you scream, Akaza kinda just stares at it for a little while before joining you on the bed to get away from it and soothe you
Then 5 minutes roll into 10 minutes and your both sat there, chilling on the bed in a hug and waiting for the spider to leave
"It's gone now...."
Accidentally stands on the spider
Yes, he screams
No, the spider doesn't make it
But you do get to laugh
Akaza now doesn't go near spiders....
#kny#kimetsu no yaiba#demon slayer#kny x reader#kimetsu no yaiba x reader#demon slayer x reader#kny muzan kibutsuji x reader#kny muzan x reader#muzan kibutsuji x reader#kny kokushibo x reader#kny kokushibou x reader#kokushibo x reader#kokushibou x reader#akaza x reader#kny akaza x reader#kny douma x reader#kny doma x reader#doma x reader#douma x reader#anime x reader#x reader#kny headcanons#demon slayer headcanons#kimetsu no yaiba headcanons
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ASTRO SEXOLOGY NOTES🔞 - NATAL CHART2
VENUS/EROS IN PISCES/AT 12, 24° = Pisces degree points 2 someone being sexually attracted 2 "lost souls", they want someone who's willing 2 let them be their saviour✨. They could also hold deep thoughts about being saved by a lover themselves, and the idea of "escaping" 2 their "happily ever after". Sex them up with how artistic/poetic u can be. That shit always works. They need someone who's willing 2 show them a kind heart, while also fulfilling their deepest desires/sexual urges.
VENUS/EROS IN SCORPIO/AT 8, 20° = Scorpio degree points 2 someone wanting a lover that's more sexually charged in private, and someone who's willing 2 give up their "thought patterns", as they can be a little "obsessive" with wanting to know everything, or them investigating when they feel the other persons sexual attraction "dying down a little bit"🧯🔥. These people can easily find your weak spots, so they won't disappoint. They need someone who's willing2 give them their soul, as they do the same💀😍.
VENUS/EROS IN LEO/AT 5, 17, 29° = Leo degree points 2 wanting 2 be praised all the time, and a need 2 praise, if the other person does good🐕. They want someone who worships them, puts them on a pedestal👑. They need someone who knows that they're not 2nd place, but always 1st place. They put passion, & sexual attraction/admiration at the top of the list, of things they NEED, 2want to get sexual with somebody. They need platonic, romantic, &sexual flirting from people all around, 2 get that "confidence in", people telling them how fine they look/how sexy they are🌟🌟.
Moira asteroid (638) conjunct 5th house can show fated romances/affairs throughout life, or with one special person💜.
A MAN’S Venus in Leo/1st house is mostly all about themselves in bed, they want 2 get off first and then maybe, if you're lucky, they'll finish u off2. No hate, I just don't fuck with it 😮💨😮💨😮💨.
Black Moon Lilith conjunct Vertex in a MAN’S chart shows that he's meant 2 have fated experiences, that puts him out of the "conventional". Like him dating/seeing younger women&getting shit4it, or him being "thrown" into situations where he has 2 "defend himself", because of the women he's in a sexual relationship/romantic relationship with🙄. These fated connections/experiences is what turns him into who he's supposed 2 be - someone who doesn't give a fuck about anyone else's opinion - BML energy🖕🖕💜.
Medusa asteroid (149) conjunct ASC in a WOMAN’S chart will make herself look "tempting", or "available" in front of a man, but as soon as he looks or tries 2 hit on her, she'll degrade him. "U disgusting man, or "u pig"!! "I didn't look at u, or made any attempt 2 flirt with u, whatsoever"😂.
A MAN WITH Venus, Mars and Saturn in Capricorn = Ultimate dom. They'll make you scream their name over, and over again, & won't stop until he made you cum multiple times. He's REALLY sexually experienced, when he reach his older years, like from 30&up.
Lust asteroid : 4386 conjunct Jupiter = crazy sexual needs. Even if they've had crazy sex all night = they can go again the next day, all day😵💫😲🤣🤣
Mars in Virgo/8th house in Virgo in a MAN'S chart typically finds "younger people" 2 be way more sexual attractive, than people at their own age. They're attracted 2 the feeling of "feeling young", while being with a young woman/man❤️. They want someone they can have an insane sexual attraction2, while also being able 2 "teach" the other person a lot in the sexual department. Them wanting young/inexperienced women.
Neptune conjunct Black moon Lilith can make you so damn ethereal. Especially if you got Mars or Venus aspecting it 2. people want 2 rip your clothes off but r afraid 2 even say hi 2 u😭😭😭. Afraid you'll reject/embarrass them.
💜💜💜💜 Look at aspects from Venus (the planet of love&attraction), & Mars (the planet of sex), 2c what u like, & what u need sexually💋.
👅👅👅 Mars in Gemini changes their mind a lot when it comes 2 sex. One day they like 2 dominate, & the next they like 2 be submissive. It really comes down to how they feel on that particular day. &it makes sense. Mars (planet of sex&) in Gemini - Duality.
A MAN’S Venus/Mars in Leo wants praises from u. They want 2 hear how good they are, and amazing they are in bed. If u don't, they can get bored of u, and seek somebody else - get their "needs" taken care of by another person👀 👀.
If your 8th house ruler is in your 8th house = sex can so transformative for u but you'll probably only hookup with a few people throughout your life tho. Only having sex with people you feel a deep soul connection with.
🍆🍆 A MAN'S Mars/Venus/in 11th house in Aquarius is FREAKYYYYY, they'll try anything with their partner. MOSTLY ON VIDEO/cam🙃🙃🙃 PERIOD.
A WOMAN'S Venus in Pisces/8th/12th house is the "I'll do anything I can 2 satisfy your needs, before my own". I love these placements, they want their partner 2 feel all the pleasure and doesn't even think about their own.
Taurus Mercury/Mars LOVES 2 be neck kissed, damn. Just go wild there and they'll go crazy 4 u, I promise 👄👅.
MEN with Mars in Taurus/Taurus in 8th house = attracted 2 women that always looks "beautiful", "sexy, but classy", "ocd around looks", "model looking". They want a gorgeous woman, that can "cater" 2 their most sensual needs 🫦💦. Find some whipped cream/ice cream + your tongue&his body = go loca. If he doesn't go crazy, (u probably have the wrong chart😂🤡).
Webb asteroid (3041) conjunct/trine/sextile/quintile BML can indicate doing "Web porn", "only fans", "showing yourself off, in a "sexual, provocative way online"🧯💨🔥.
Mars/Venus in Gemini/3rd house loves using toys! But they especially love2 use their hands&fingers!! They can also love oral👅.
REPOST OF SOME OF MY POSTS FROM MY OLD BLOG/SOME NEW COMMENTS
THANKS4READING💘
Appreciate u, always!
#astro community#astro notes#astrology#black moon lilith#astro observations#astrology notes#asteroids#venus#birth chart#mars astrology
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— a reason. ft aventurine
— warnings: slight cursing and violence and spoilers for the new hsr quest
— author's note: this is very long and very much a giant word vomit. first work in hsr is aventurine, i fear favoritism is real.
‘everything happens for a reason.’
aventurine has never felt so sick and tired of that phrase. something about it makes his fists clench from beneath the table and stomach flip and twist uncomfortably from within.
if everything happens for a reason, then what was the reason behind his clan’s massacre? what was the reason for the stirring in his guts whenever he looked in the mirror? what was the reason behind all of his fortune now turned to misfortune?
aventurine hated not knowing the reason.
“and this pretty thing,” jade motioned towards you by her side. standing motionless, back straight and all. “is [name]. be sure to play nice, aventurine.”
what was the reason behind your new recruitment? better yet, why were you placed as his new assistant? the last time aventurine checked, he was doing perfectly fine. steadily climbing up his rank with his risky gambles and bargaining skills. he couldn't wrap his head around it so he just sighed and accepted it.
“thank you for always looking after me, jade.” his voice carried evident sarcasm but the woman only smiled and pushed you towards his direction. he had to physically stop himself from recoiling from the action and gave you a smile.
“it's a pleasure to meet you, [name].” he held his hand out for you to take. you were hesitating, aventurine noticed. but after a few seconds you slowly slid your hand into his and gave it a firm shake. “the pleasure is all mine, mr. aventurine.”
the blonde man held onto your hand for a moment longer before slipping it away and tucking it behind his back. he surveyed your form making you want to squirm under such a gaze, and he noticed.
“let's be good friends.”
—
working with aventurine was strange, not that you didn't expect it. you spent the past six months running around the IPC from one office to another carrying mountains of papers and constantly picking up calls from the communication device in your ear. other times, you'll be out and about trailing aventurine like a lost duckling when you need to accompany him to missions that require him to be physically present.
honestly, working for the stoneheart will eventually give you an early death from a heart attack. not only is his risky gambling habits very concerning, his way of speaking wasn't exactly everyone's cup of tea. more often than not you’re needed to play as a peacemaker, the middle ground of negotiations to prevent any physical fights from starting.
but it wasn't as bad as you'd assume. you clock in around 9 in the morning and clock out at 5 in the afternoon. sometimes if certain tasks require you for overtime, you'll clock out at around 8 or 9 at night max. all the work aventurine assigns to you aren't all that difficult to handle as well. just simple reports that need to be proofread so he won't have to read over them multiple times, scheduling interviews, picking up calls and informing him of his new missions, and if the situation calls for it, you play as a spy to gather information.
overall aventurine was a good boss.
today was like any other tuesday morning. you clock in just before 9, get your coffee and another cup for your boss, pick up the last reports from the strategic investment department, and then make your way into aventurine’s office to brief him on his schedule.
his office was on the fancier ends, no surprise there as he was one of the ten stonehearts. your shoes clicking when they met the marbled floors, your eyes skimmed through the reports, trying to guess which proposal will be approved or disapproved. when you reached a familiar door, you fixed your hair and readjusted the insignia pinned to your vest. an aventurine stone, just like your boss.
you knock thrice -short, short and long- before you hear a muffled voice tell you to come in.
“good morning, mr. aventurine.” you greet with a slight bow as normal. “as punctual as ever, [name].” raising your head you nod towards topaz’s direction in acknowledgment before making your way to his desk. “here are all the reports from the last mission. i’ve read through all of them and made sure everything is in order.” placing the papers on the table, he dropped the ones in his current hand before taking the new ones, all the while, you place down his coffee which he gladly took.
“you aren't overworking them, have you, aventurine?” topaz inquired, crossing both her arms over her chest. “what kind of boss do you take me for friend? a bad one? i can assure you my assistant is in good hands.” the blonde man chipped in, his fingers flipping from one page to another as you busied yourself trying to organize the scattered reports on his table. feeling topaz's gaze, you give her a slight smile and nod, confirming that aventurine is in fact, was a good boss.
she just sighed and shook her head. motioning for you to come over, you look to aventurine who gave you a nod in turn. you walked towards topaz -feeling the searing stare of aventurine burn through the back of your head- as she took out a flash drive and handed it to you.
“this is the recording of the last meeting in regards to the mission you're tasked with. since you were still in pier port, we started without you.”
“how cruel of you, to start such an important meeting without even waiting for me.”
ah yes, the pier port incident. you smiled wearily as your shoulder slumped when you remembered what happened. you shake your head in amusement of the memory.
“thank you topaz,” you break the silence, like you always do. “i’ll be sure to look over it today.” she smiled at you in appreciation before turning her back on you and waving goodbye.
“well, that was all i came for. catch you two later.”
once the door clicked shut and the sounds of footsteps getting fainter and fainter, you took it as a sign to turn back to your boss who was already looking at you.
“is something the matter, sir?” you ask. he took off his glasses with a hum and turned his attention back to the papers he was reading. “be sure to give me a summarized report of the meeting before you go home.” you nod and take a seat on the couch in his office and boot up the laptop on the coffee table. you've always wondered when it suddenly appeared in his office, you were 98% sure it wasn't there when you first started working but aventurine always said that's it been there the entire time.
you shake the thought out of your mind and shift into work mode. hours seem to pass by in the blink of an eye before you heard aventurine call out to you. “i’m sorry mr. aventurine, i'm afraid i didn't hear you.” you heard him sigh and repeat his question. “i said, why did you join the IPC? actually, no, that's not what i want to know.”
when you looked up from the laptop in front of you, your boss had taken a seat across from you. you felt your heart thumping in nervousness.
“what exactly did you do to pique jade’s interest?”
frozen. you felt frozen on your spot. fingers stopping midway from pressing onto the keys. those beautiful eyes you've slowly grown accustomed to seeing unfiltered from his glasses, they make your heart and pulse beat in an unfamiliar rhythm.
“i come from a well-off family.” you start, suddenly feeling conscious of your background. “my parents have worked closely with the stonehearts, i suppose miss jade wanted to continue the diplomatic relationship between my family and the IPC.”
“is that the reason why you're here now?”
you simply nod even though you weren't so sure if that really was the reason.
“let me ask you another question.”
letting out a startled noise when the laptop in your lap suddenly close with a gloved hand sitting on top of it, you stare at aventurine's purple eyes that had rings of teal, something so uniquely him that you couldn't help but get lost in them. he took the laptop from your grasp and set it on the coffee table as he leaned both his arms on his legs.
“do you like working under me?”
the question caught you off guard and it showed with how the corner of aventurine’s mouth twitched up into a smirk. hiding behind a closed fist and clearing your throat, you pray that your voice wouldn't waver as you answer.
“i do.” you peaked towards his directions and he didn't seem satisfied with your answer so you list out all the reasons why you like working with him. “despite your… questionable habits, i’ve come to grow used to them as time goes on.” a fond smile made its way to your lips when you dug around your mind trying to find your memories that had aventurine in them, only to realize that he was in all of them.
“i’ve come to enjoy all your little shenanigans in missions.”
“i'll have you know, calling your boss’ plans “shenanigans” could lead to your bonus being cut by a few percent.” he huffed like a child as he decided to just sit back and cross his arms over his chest and raise his chin at you. you chuckle at the action and continue.
“ever since i was a child, i have always wanted to travel the cosmos. but since i’m the only child to my mother and father, my childhood, teenage years, and now adulthood is centered around business and trade. going out on missions with you to different planets, they heal that little part of me that wished to travel.”
“but sometimes, i truly believe that you want me to die from a heart attack.” you hear him snicker from under his breath as he fixes the watch on his wrist. “i know that as a gambler taking risks is just a part of it but aeons, do they scare me to death sometimes.”
“if i knew you cared about me so much, maybe i would tone it down a bit!” there was a playful undertone to his voice as he talked to you. you let out a laugh and shake your head. “no offense sir, but i sincerely doubt that.”
“you wouldn't be the boss i've grown accustomed to if you didn't do your risky gambles.”
something flickered in aventurine's eyes, you were sure of it. but before you could find out what it was he suddenly stood up, putting on his usual glasses and giving you a closed eyed smile.
“well, that was all what i wanted to ask you.” you wanted to ask something in return, but you never had the chance to even get a word out when he was already halfway out the door. “be sure to finish that summary before the day ends. leave it at my desk as usual.”
and just like that, the office door clicked shut.
—
“if i told you the reason, that'd be the same as revealing a trade secret.”
aventurine remembered jade's word. how could he not when they repeated in his mind like a broken record.
after he left his office, it felt like he suddenly went back in time. it just had been roughly a month after you were given the position as his assistant and aventurine wasted no moment at the end of that friday afternoon to dash in jade's office and ask her the question: why were you his assistant.
aventurine scoffed at jade's response while she only smiled. clicking his tongue in annoyance as the woman led him in circles when he kept asking. what was the reason? was it that hard to answer?
the next few days weren't necessarily the best. he was like a walking ticking time bomb, ready to blow up at any second. everyone in the IPC kept their distance from him -not like they didn't keep their distance to begin with, some started whispering among the hallways about his potential termination after a very big gamble he almost, almost, lost. what ticked him off the most, was you.
he felt so frustrated at you because why were you so damn perceptive. those past few days, the papers that were messily and hastily thrown on the giant table in his office were suddenly organized into neat piles, all held together with different colored paperclips and a sticky note of when each pile was due to be submitted. how every morning you wouldn't fail to knock thrice at his door -short, short and long- at exactly 3 minutes before 9 in the morning with two cups of coffee in your hands. or the times where you would take one good look at him and start lighting up the candles in his office that you started buying for him because you noticed he'd be slightly less stressed when the room didn't smell like fear and insecurity.
what he hated the most was even after his little temper tantrum the past few days began to subdue, you still continued your almost doting actions towards him.
when did he start anticipating your methodical knocks 3 minutes before 9? when did he suddenly grow disappointed whenever someone knocked on his door and it wasn't you? topaz had suddenly grown confused when he suddenly came into the meeting room with a cup of coffee in his hand and when she asked about it he would simply say, “well, my darling assistant bought it for me!”. the multiple scented candles in his office that burned too quickly so at the end of every month he'd have you go out and buy some more.
when did he start using his left hand -the hand he left bare from rings, the same hand that shook in fear of losing- to guide the small of your back away from the crowd whenever you would accompany him to missions?
when did he start taking off the glasses that hid the eyes he wanted to sell to someone else?
it was so confusing yet so simple at the same time. aventurine had grown fond of his little assistant. he has grown fond of you. and that was all there is to it. after all, why would he go out of his way to get that customized brooch that you wear every single day when you come to work if he hadn't. how his chest would swell with pride whenever you spoke with higher positioned officers in the IPC and how they would avert their gaze because of the pin on your vest.
and he knows that you know of his sudden change in demeanor. you just never say a word for his sake. how he went from being a distant and acquainted boss to a friend. an actual friend. and that was supposed to be it. he did say in your first meeting that you should be good friends, but how was he supposed to keep his words after the little stunt you pulled at pier port?
it was a simple mission, negotiate and get the upper hand, nothing more and certainly nothing less. like any other mission, he was accompanied by you and some other people under the IPC. everything was going smoothly until one of them just had to open their mouth and talk shit about his already dreadful past just because he had forgotten to put on his glasses. he truly has grown a bit too comfortable with you around, and he didn't like it.
“what's a sigonian scum like you doing in the IPC? why don't you crawl back into the hole you came from?”
he just sighed. shaking his head, hiding his left hand behind his back, shielding it away from everyone's gaze as it shook with anger, disgust, and the tantalizing question of why.
why did he have to go through this?
and then you did something out of the ordinary.
the sweet assistant of aventurine suddenly pulled out the gun situated on your hip and pointed it directly to the man’s forehead, a deathly glimmer shining in your eyes as your index threateningly ghosted over the trigger.
“if you do not take back what you said just now, i won't hesitate to put a bullet or two in that empty skull of yours.”
then you started walking, and he started backing up. you didn't stop until the man was standing on the edge of the port, one simple push and he'd be drowned in the vast icy oceans. that is, if he wasn't already drowning in the fury of your eyes.
aventurine felt his body move in instinct. his left hand holding your wrist and slowly putting it down at your side. he gave a half assed apology about your behavior and ushered you to your original destination. this time, he kept his hand on your back, specifically near the gun on your hips to make sure you didn't point it at someone else.
“do they always speak to you that way?” you ask barely above whisper. eyes strained one the road you were walking one while his bore into your very being. “i’ve grown used to it. be sure to not point that gun of yours to any potential partners, m’kay?” to prove his point, he tapped the gun on your hips with his finger and you just sighed. a simple yes stumbling past your lips before being enveloped by silence.
aventurine was sure. he was very, very, sure that was the last nail in the coffin, and the answer to the question he's been asking.
the entire day, you stuck by his side. glued to the fucking hip and no one dared to utter a single word about him. the meeting went smoothly and when everyone was preparing to go home, he called you over and said:
“that stunt you pulled earlier, stays between us, alright, friend?”
and you simply nod in understanding.
you carry your bags onto the ship to take you back home only to be taken aback when aventurine comes to steal it away from your hands. “take it as thanks for earlier.” he remembered that look of shock before it turned into something else -what it was he didn't know because you turned away before he could even fathom what of it made his stomach do flips.
even when he came to drop off your things at your personal room, he found himself lingering by the door. watching you unpack your things as he stood idly. you would eventually turn to him and ask if he needed anything more, and out of curiosity he asked: “why did you point your gun at that man?” he will never forget the look of puzzlement on your face when he asked.
“because he said something unpleasant to you. as your assistant, i can't allow others to simply trample on your name.”
he spent the night staring up at the ceiling while laying on his bed. your words mingling in with jade's in his mind, trying to fit the two like puzzle pieces to ease the racing of his heart and uneasiness of his mind. he didn't like assuming things. a conjecture such as this would cost him too much, but tonight he indulged himself in the thought.
picking up his phone and messaging jade, he laid his forearm over his eyes and sighed.
“this room smells horrible…” he muttered. the strong scent of chlorine made his mind spin. making him miss the scented candles you had slowly but surely placed inside his office. he'd grown so fond of them that he'd bought some of his own to place around his home. “ah… i think i'm screwed.”
—
it has been approximately 3 system hours since you arrived in penacony, and roughly a few system hours before aventurine's eventual demise.
topaz had just finished speaking with the trailblazer and their companions. when they had left you stood next to her and stared at the giant prison turned hotel.
“you… don't seem too worried.” topaz said, you felt her gaze but you didn't turn to look at her, instead you just gazed into nothing. “it would be a lie if i said i wasn't worried.” you were most definitely worried, terrified even. no matter how many times aventurine does his high risk gambles, you will never get used to it, not when it causes ghostly hands to squeeze at your heart at the sheer thought of him losing. the thought of losing him.
“but i trust miss jade's judgment. i trust aventurine.”
roughly a day before his departure to penacony, curiosity got the best of you and you stuck around the meeting room in secret when aventurine stayed behind.
“what can i do for you, aventurine?” jade's voice slightly echoed in the empty room. your hands slightly shook in fear of being caught, but you were just so curious about what has been going on with your boss that you couldn't fight the urge to eavesdrop a bit. “oh nothing much. i take it you received my message?” you assumed the woman nodded because aventurine continued. “i must admit, your little plan worked. but is it really necessary?”
jade stood up from her seat, her heels clicked on the marble floor and aventurine followed her until they were by the door.
“well, it's better to stay safe than sorry. and besides, this doesn't count as a complaint, right?”
you heard him chuckle. somehow, even though you hid behind a pillar you felt his stare bore into your being. you could almost imagine those purple eyes that had rings of teal in them that made you weak in the knees.
“no, not necessarily. i could never consider it as a complaint.” he took a moment before asking another question. “but i want to hear it from you, friend. why did you assign [name] as my assistant?”
“it's rather simple really,” jade replied. “you need a reason to leave penacony alive, no? i simply made it easier for you.”
you? the reason for aventurine's will to live? it seemed rather silly. how you, a simple assistant, be so much of importance to someone like aventurine, but with how topaz came to hold the hand that gripped the brooch he had given you, you thought otherwise.
this half a year you've been working with him, you like to think that you've gotten to know him very well.
how when you stood beside him as he sat himself in another gamble, he would always lay his left hand on his lap, fingers curled into fists so tight you were afraid his palms were bleeding.
how he always hid his “weaker” hand behind his back in dire situations to hide his fear.
or when he would always take off his glasses in his office whenever you were there. and that laptop you were 98% sure wasn't there when you started working? aventurine apparently got it specifically for you so you could work in his office.
but what you were most sure of was:
“aventurine doesn't make deals he knows he won't benefit from. he'll win, he always does. he'll come back, i know it.”
© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.
#✒️ — works#honkai star rail#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail x you#hsr x reader#hsr aventurine#aventurine x reader#aventurine honkai star rail
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Who says "I love you" first? Part Two | F1 grid x Reader
Click here to read the first part!
Genre | Fluff
Featuring | Oscar Piastri, Daniel Ricciardo, George Russell, Carlos Sainz, Yuki Tsunoda, Max Verstappen.
Word count | 1.8K
Warnings | None! Enjoy the ride!
Author's note | Coming up with original ideas for this was so painful lmao, I'm sorry it took so long!
Oscar Piastri
He says it first.
Today marks four months since you and Oscar have been together. The Australian texted you a few hours ago, telling you to wear a nice dress and meet him in front of your building at 8.
The two of you had met four months ago at a party hosted by a mutual friend. You had heard of love at first sight, but had never experienced it before him. Before your eyes met his. As you had moved to Australia a few weeks before meeting him, and with English not being your first language, it had taken a bit of time to get comfortable with each other and juggle between your respective languages, but today, you two were inseparable... To the point where you'd already canceled the plane ticket that was supposed to take you back home at the end of the year.
The restaurant where you're dining is splendid. The candles on your table cast a soft light on his face, the atmosphere is incredibly romantic, and the dishes are delicious. But above all, it's the looks Oscar has been giving you all evening that make your heart beat. A mixture of tenderness, passion, and admiration.
"I hope you don't mind, but I ordered dessert," your boyfriend announces, looking at you fondly.
As soon as the sentence is uttered, a waiter places a plate in front of you, and you let out a gasp of surprise as you discover the letters traced in chocolate. "I love you". In your native tongue. Your eyes start to water as you meet Oscar's gaze, visibly nervous. For a minute, you're speechless. Equally surprised by the kind attention than by the admission from the Australian.
"Please tell me they spelled it right," the driver says as you burst into laughter.
"They did," you reply, reaching for his hand. "And I don't have any dessert to prove it, but just so you know, I love you too."
Daniel Ricciardo
He says it first.
Daniel and you are lying on the couch in his living room, watching a replay of last weekend's race on TV. You love it when your boyfriend comments on every move, explains the strategies, and tells you about his feelings in the car. Even though you attended the race live in Singapore, it's definitely different to look back at the race with the insight of a real pilot. As Daniel explains to you the choice of his medium tires, the image from the replay suddenly changes from the track and zooms in on you, wearing a headset, in the garage.
"What?" you yelp, standing up on your elbows. "I didn't know they were filming me!"
Under your face, a small banner appears, and you feel your heart tighten. "Daniel Ricciardo's friend".
"Oh," you breathe, unable to tear your gaze away from the tv screen.
"Wow," Daniel says. "So they really have no idea that we're together."
The camera dives back onto the track, and Daniel starts commenting on every moment again, before realizing that you've been silent for a while.
"Hey," your boyfriend says, nudging your shoulder. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, it's just..." you start, feeling your throat tighten. "We've been dating for a few months now, and it's... It's weird to be called your friend. I don't know. It's making me feel insecure."
"Well, you shouldn't," the Australian says before capturing your lips in a soft kiss. "Because I love you. Way more than a friend."
George Russell
You say it first.
At work, George is methodical. Organized. At home, however, you've come to learn that your boyfriend is a real scatterbrain and forgets everything. All the time. To the point that since you started seeing each other more regularly and you began sleeping over at his place, you've gotten into the habit of leaving notes for him all over the apartment before going to work.
"Your brother is coming over tonight"
"DO NOT order food. There are leftovers in the fridge!"
"Your fave sweater is in the dryer"
Each note is always signed the same way. A double x (you two live in England, after all) and a smiley face. If you're the one writing the small notes, George is the one collecting them and throwing them away everyday. So tonight, as you close the door to his apartment behind you, you're surprised to find your boyfriend on the couch, holding one of the bright yellow squares in his hand.
"Hi babe," you say, coming closer to him. "What's this?"
"Your note," George replies, looking at you. "From this morning."
"What about it?" you ask, furrowing your brow as George hands it to you.
"Don't wait for me for dinner tonight, I'm going out with the girls. Love you."
Oh. You're still looking at the note with wide eyes when your boyfriend speaks again.
"Did you mean it?"
"I'm... kinda surprised I wrote it, but yes, of course, George. I mean it."
Your boyfriend gets up from the couch, coming towards you before planting his lips passionately on yours.
"Well, I love you too," George says, making your heart skip a beat. "And I'm keeping this one," your boyfriend laughs before pocketing the note.
Carlos Sainz
He says it first.
Carlos and you have made it a habit to call each other as much as possible when the driver is away. The distance is already hard enough to manage for the both of you as it is, so there's no need to torture yourselves even more with radio silence. Sitting in the hotel lobby, the only place where he managed to get enough network for a high-quality call, your boyfriend is telling you all about this morning's free practice session when the phone shakes, and you see his eyes hovering above the screen.
"Wait, hermosa, just a second."
The microphone cuts out, and you see your boyfriend's lips moving without sound. You furrow your brow, thinking that someone from the hotel staff might be scolding him for speaking aloud in a public area, when Charles appears in the corner of the screen, the sound coming back.
"Charles wants to say hi," Carlos says, playfully rolling his eyes. "Please find a girlfriend and stop annoying mine."
"How are you?" Charles asks, smiling at you, ignoring Carlos' whines.
"I'm doing great, thanks for asking!" you reply, smiling back at the driver.
"Now, move," Carlos says, "I'd rather talk to her than to you. You'll understand that when you're in love again."
A laughing Charles waves at you a final time before disappearing from your screen. Your attention shifts back to Carlos.
"So..." you say playfully. "You're in love?"
Realizing the slip-up, Carlos' eyes widen.
"I didn't mean to say it like that. Or over the phone. But yes, I am," your boyfriend says, smiling proudly.
"Good thing I am too, then," you reply winking.
Yuki Tsunoda
You say it first.
Yuki is naturally shy. You noticed it from your first meeting, and you've never been afraid to take the lead. You've been the initiator of all your firsts : first conversation, first date, first kiss. This dynamic works well for both of you. You suggest, and Yuki always happily follows.
However... there's something you've been afraid of initiating. It's been several months since you started seeing each other, and you're truly on cloud nine. Everything is going well between you, the chemistry is perfect, and the slightest glance from the Japanese makes you absolutely melt. You know the signs. You're in love. But how do you tell him without scaring him off?
The answer comes naturally as you watch your boyfriend exchange words with his Team Principal in the Racing Bulls garage, his helmet in his hands. As Yuki finishes zipping up his suit, his back to you, you kindly offer to hold his helmet and take the opportunity to pull out a marker from your pocket, discreetly scribbling on the plastic shell before handing the object to your boyfriend.
The race goes incredibly well, and Yuki finishes in the points, creating euphoria in the garage. When your boyfriend gets out of the car, his first instinct is to take off his helmet and steal a kiss from you as you laugh.
"What's making you laugh?" Yuki asks, looking at you fondly.
"I put a little encouragement on your helmet, and it looks like it worked," you whisper, pointing to the three hastily written words. I love you.
Yuki is naturally shy, yes. Yet, the kiss he gives you after your revelation is the only confirmation you needed.
Max Verstappen
He says it first.
It's been ten days since Max flew several hours away from you for his next race, suggesting you stay at his place until his return. The initial idea was for you to look after his cats, but the driver would never admit that what he wanted above all else was for you to put your intoxicating scent all over his sheets... Creating a sense of domesticity that he wasn't so sure you were ready for yet.
Keys turn in the lock, and Max appears at the end of the hallway, suitcase in hand. It's safe to say that he didn't expect to find you curled up on the couch, asleep, his two cats nestled in your arms.
The sight is enough to make him want to call your landlord and tell them you' won't be needing your apartment anymore. To give you the keys to his place, and never take them back. But for now, abandoning his suitcase in the hallway, Max sits on the couch gently, making sure not to wake you before softly stroking your hair. You whine softly in your sleep, opening an eye.
"You're back," you mumble weakly.
"I am, and it looks like nobody missed me that much," Max says, pretending to be hurt.
"What?" you say, sitting up. "I missed you! Every day!"
"And yet, you wasted no time replacing me," your boyfriend laughs, petting his sleepy cats.
"I had to adapt," you reply with a smirk. "They confessed before you. There was nothing I could do."
"Do you want me to confess?" Max says, bending over to press a soft kiss to your lips, making your heart flutter. "You have my love. All of it."
#f1#f1 2024#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri x reader#daniel ricciardo#daniel ricciardo x you#daniel ricciardo x reader#George russell#george russell x you#george russell x reader#Carlos sainz#carlos sainz x you#carlos sainz x reader#yuki tsunoda#yuki tsunoda x reader#yuki tsunoda x you#max verstappen#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x reader#lilasamaaa
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shower sex
pairing(s): luke hughes x fem!reader
summary: after a terrible day, luke knows just what y/n needs. because what's a better relaxation than shower sex?
wc: 1.7k
warnings: smut 18+. little plot, mostly smut! pure filth, no use of y/n. cussing, pet names, dirty talk. oral, fem receiving. unprotected sex, p n v. hints of some angst, and cute fluffy boyfriend luke.
authors note: hiiiii!! luke smut! luke smut! luke smut! i loved writing this, i love luke, going through a luke phase rn badddd. i got this idea when i was writing the headcanons for him earlier. so here it isssss. i loved writing this. like and reblog if you enjoy<3 as always much love<3
happy reading<3
I've actually had the worst day ever. Everything. I mean everything is going wrong today. I was late for work today because I missed my alarm, even with me sprinting throughout our apartment, and speeding to the office. I was still late.
Then, I spilled my coffee all over me. That was my second straw. The worst part about it was that I had to work in my coffee-covered clothes the whole day, not being able to afford to leave work, which would cause me to be even more behind than I was.
I had so much work to do, i stayed 3 extra hours over, not pulling out of the parking lot until almost 8 p.m. everything hurt, each part of my body was exhausted. To make things worse, if they could get even worse, I haven't seen Luke in almost a week.
The hockey season is wrapping up but Luke has been busy with spending time with his family, after Jack's surgery and training for the worlds.
We both had hoped that I'd be able to get time off from work to spend time with him and his family, taking a little break for myself. That obviously didn't happen.
So now, im driving back home to our apartment, in coffee cover clothes, with a pounding headache and empty stomach. The tears are threatening to fall over my waterline.
Parking quickly in the lot, I get out and grab my things, making my way through the lobby to the elevator. The ride to the 8 floor feels like 30 years before the door opening signaling its floor.
I slowly trudge down the hall to our door, pushing my key in and turning the lock, the refreshing smell and sense of being home felt in my body. Immediately I drop my things by the door, kicking off my shoes as I do.
There's three things on my mind right now: shower, eat maybe, and bed. Luke is also on my mind but I'm so exhausted I can't even bring myself to message him back from earlier.
Making my way to the bathroom, turning the water on to the highest it can go, wanting to burn and wash away the aftermath of the day. Peeling off my clothes, my body quickly relaxes as soon as the hot water hits my body. Leaning my head back letting it run all over my face.
I can't tell if the wetness on my face is just water or a mix of tears, at this point I'm not sure I care.
After five or so minutes of letting the water run along my body I reach for the shampoo, starting to wash my hair. The scrubbing on my scalp and the smell of my shampoo is enough to send me into a daze. Wash and rinse and wash and rinse again, the same action repeated with conditioner.
As I'm rinsing the last bit of conditioner out of my hair, my back turned away to the door of the shower, my eyes closed in relaxation. I feel a hand slowly trail around my waist, my eyes quickly open in confusion, my body fast to move away from the person behind me.
“Hey baby its just me” luke chuckles from behind me, pulling me back into his body from behind, his hands circling my waist rubbing small circles on my hips.
“You scared me '' I say as I lean back into his body, “sorry baby didn't mean to”, he says, breathing into my neck, his warmth on my neck is enough to make my knees weak.
“How was your day?” he says, face still nuzzled in my neck. I sadly laugh before i speak “my day was terrible so fucking terrible.” I can feel my eyes begin to fill with tears again.
Luke is quick to turn me around, grabbing my face in his hands holding it to look at his. “Hey baby, don't cry, it's okay. I'm here now, i'm sorry i haven't been here recently” he says while his eyes are locked with mine, wiping his fingers under my eyes where tears have now fallen.
Feeling stupid for crying i mute out a small “sorry” to Luke, feeling bad he has to watch me cry like a baby.
“Hey no, don't feel sorry. It's okay to cry". I don't deserve him, I say to myself. Not knowing what else to say, I push my face to his, locking our lips together. It's been almost a week since i've kissed luke, i missed the feeling of his lips, i've missed the feeling of him around me in general.
Luke is quick to respond by pulling my hips closer to his body, his other hand on the back of my head. Taking control of the kiss by pushing my lips harder against his.
His tongue pressing against my lips, begging to be let in, opening my mouth slightly against his, lukes hot tongue slides into my mouth. I don't even try to fight for dominance, I just let him take control.
Our bodies moving together against the stream of hot water, the glass door fogging up around us. My body feels like it's on cloud nine just from that. Lukes the first to pull away, his pupils blown with lust, lips swollen and pink.
“Fuck i missed that” he says, hes hands begin trailing up my body grabbing at my hips, tracing his hands along the under neath of my breasts, the action alone causing me to shutter.
“Luke” I breathe out, now looking up at him, “what baby” he smirks down at me, now trailing one of his hands to my left nipple, rolling it in between two of fingers.
“I need you now” I say quietly, “what do you need baby?” Luke says, bringing his face close to mine.
“I want you to fuck me, please” luke wastes no time smashing our lips back to together, walking us backwards and turning us around. My back hits the cold tile, the sensation causing me to moan into lukes mouth, our tongues began to move against each other again.
Luke suddenly pulls away from me, I whine at the loss of contact. “Be patient baby” he says, as he tails his hand between my legs, pulling my thighs apart, caging me in by putting one of his legs between my thighs and the other on the outside of my other leg.
I gasp as a feel his fingers slide in between my folds, “fuck baby, who got you this wet?” “you luke, you.” I say trying to push my hips to meet his fingers, my body craving some type of release.
“Youre a needy little thing tonight arent you baby” he says to me in a teasing tone, “yes i am, and i need you to fuck me now please luke, stop teasing me” i say finally finding my voice.
“You want me to fuck this little cunt huh?” Luke rasps back to me as he begins to slowly enter two fingers inside of me, I'm so wet, that they just slide right in.
“I think i might just tease you for a little while longer baby” still slowly moving his fingers in and out of me. My body is rocking against the motion of my fingers thrusting in and out of me.
“Fuck i need more luke, please” i say moaning out to him, hoping he can see how desperate i am for him right now.
“Since you asked so nicely” he says, quickly removing his fingers from my pussy. Grabbing one of my legs pulling it up against his hip.
I pull his face against mine, my hands finding his hair tugging and pushing his mouth against mine, our teeth and tongues clashing against another.
Luke takes a hold of his cock, giving it a few quick pulls before he pushes into me completely. “Oh fuck luke” i moan against his mouth, “you feel so good around me fuck baby” he groans out from above me pulling our lips apart, as he begins thrusting in and out of me.
Each roll of his hips feels like a gift sent from god, his grip on my things hurts so good. I begin to roll my hips to meet his thrusts.
“Fuck yeah right there baby” luke moans out “keep fucking yourself against me” he says dropping his face into my neck leaving bites in his wake.
Luke brings my leg higher against his hip, the new angle causing my vision to fog over. “Luke fuck. Oh my gosh,” “right there baby please”. My hands running over the landscape of his back, my nails definitely leaving a trail of red hot marks in their wake.
The sound of the shower running, and the sound of our skin slapping together fills the shower. I can feel the sweat forming on my body, as luke continues to fuck me. His hand sliding inbetween our bodies, to my clit.
“Fuck luke, yes right there” i moan out loudly. “That feels good baby, right there yeah? You want me to rub your pretty clit as i fuck you?”. Fuck him and that dirty mouth, “yes luke please, dont stop im close” my eyes falling shut in pleasure. “Fuck baby, i can feel you squeezing against me”
Luke's thrusts began to speed up, I can feel my high approaching. “Fuck luke, dont stop” “im almost there” i say, pulling our lips back together, moaning into each other mouths.
One last snap of Luke's hips hits right against my clit, causing my whole body to start shaking. “Im coming fuck” i can barely get out as waves of pleasure taking over. My vision is completely white, as my climax racks through my body.
Luke drops his face against mine, as he comes his moans filling my ears, his hips still snapping against mine, as we both ride out our highs.
Luke's hips stop moving, trying to catch his breath, as he pulls his face from my neck, I open my eyes slowly to see Luke looking back at me with a slight smirk on his face, our chests still rapidly falling.
“I think the shower is cold ”Luke says to me while smiling, “I don't care.” I whisper back, pulling our lips together once again in another kiss. Already forgetting about the terrible day, once his lips are back on mine.
#nhl fanfiction#nhl hockey#nhl imagine#nhl x reader#nhl fic#new jersey devils#luke hughes smut#luke hughes x reader#luke hughes
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𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭 (pt. 5) — 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺
playlist pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4 pt. 5 pt. 6 pt. 7 pt. 8 (10/24)
𝘨𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘧!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳
𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘦𝘴𝘵'𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘸, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧
𝘸𝘤 — 17.2𝘬 (oopsie)
𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵
𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 — 𝘨𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘥𝘰𝘮!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘥𝘰𝘮!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘥!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘷𝘪𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘯!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘸𝘦𝘴𝘵!𝘢𝘶, 141𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘨!𝘢𝘶, 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 (10𝘺𝘳𝘴), 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭, 𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 & 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘤𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘴, 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘷, 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩(ish), 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘷𝘪𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺
note: casually posts this 3 days later.... im so sorry you guys i didn't mean to drop off the face of the earth >< things came up all of a sudden but the next chapter is here!!
your dreams were long and relentless. they stretched out into scenes that didn’t make sense, but there were some distinct faces. one-four-one, Kate, and strange muted flickers of Konig’s ginger head, Yue-Yi, then a warmth peeking up between the passing scenes.
Simon. his bare face with silvery scars.
you wanted to reach out and touch him but he crumbled like sand before you could, collecting in a brown particulate matter between your fingers, then blowing away into the whistling wind.
then there were darker images. Charles and his gold tooth. the red gouge in the middle of Turner’s head. his cowering wife and small daughter in her arms.
your dead daddy and mama rotting away in the sand.
you didn’t know what to make of all of it, dragging your feet through a thick sludge that you couldn’t see, traveling to a place you didn’t know as images streamed past in an endless, murky deluge.
you dreamed like that for a long time, heavy and infinite, till you laid down in the soft earth and invisible sludge, letting the sticky warmth of it suck you down into the dirt and the sand blow over your body.
when you woke two days later, three, maybe four, you weren’t sure, you slowly blinked awake and sat up in the bed. you looked around.
the windows were drawn open in the soft light of the morning, pouring across the wooden floorboards and cast over the thick blankets of the small bed. there was a desk on the far side of the room, a compact kitchen pressed to the corner, and you jolted with a gasp.
Simon’s cabin.
drawing off the covers quickly, and shivering in dewy, cold morning, clad in a thin nightgown, you quickly walked to the mesh door of the cabin, feeling light and airy.
pushing the door open, you could smell a tinge of something rich and savory in the air, and saw a man in a white button up and jeans crouched down, stoking something in a pot strung up over a campfire.
he had a familiar, broad back, and a blonde head of hair. with a grin so big it ached, you padded with bare feet over to him, and draped yourself over the warm, strong expanse of his back, wrapping your arms around his neck with a hum.
“good morning, lovely,” he said with a low, thrumming laugh, turning his head to press his nose into your cheek.
you closed your eyes and nuzzled against him, squealing when he reached behind to wrap his arms around your legs and draw them around his waist, hoisting you up on his back as he stood. you clutched onto him, laughing as he walked back up the path to the cabin and laid you out over the bed with a softness.
he pressed his face to your neck, stroking through your hair, mumbling against your skin, “how are you feeling, pretty girl?”
“perfect,” you sang, truthfully honest, your heart soaring at the sight of him. you lifted his face gently to look over the easy smile that adorned it.
his strong blonde brow, the curve of his nose, full lips, dark eyes, and strong jaw, and—
your eyes darted over his upper lip again. there was no silvery scar.
brows pinched together now, Simon smoothed a hand over your chest. “what is it, lovely?”
“your scar,” you said with wonder, head tilted, “it’s gone.”
he laughed softly, the sound rough and musical. “what do you mean?”
then, he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your lips, soft, warm, wet and captivating as his lips moved against your own.
but you pushed him back by his chest, feeling a strange, murky sensation in your stomach.
“what are we doing here, Simon?” you asked, apprehensive. he drew back, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking your hand in his.
“you’re asking such strange questions, lovely,” he said with a furrowed brow, though there was a still wry smile on his lips.
you rolled your eyes with your own smirk. “then, answer them.”
he grinned, kissing your hand softly.
“what’s going through my pretty wife’s mind?”
a dread accumulated in your throat, and your tongue grew heavy. “wife?”
his grip faltered at the flat tone of your voice, and you looked down to your joined hands, startling at the sight of a sparkling ring on your hand that was enveloped between his fingers.
“what do you want?”
your eyes snapped to his. “what?”
his face was eerily empty and void and totally unlike his own now. he cocked his head. “what do you want?”
you sat up, inching away from him. he was stock still, eyes following your movements with a predatory precision. there was a new, burning sensation building in your arm and you hissed, gripping at the tightly, but looking down to find nothing different about your skin.
Simon’s voice dropped an octave, harsh and cold now. “what do you want from me?”
you stood from the bed, and he followed you, edging you out of the cabin, looming over you with a menacing height you had never seen before. his face was twisted with anger.
“what do you want from me?”
you clasped your hands over your ears, turning on your heel and running out the cabin and away from its idyllic warmth, bare feet thudding over the earth. you didn’t turn to look if Simon was still following you, but you could hear his distant shouts through your hands.
“what do you want from me?”
the forest stretched into the desert and you wandered through its uncanny, thick and sandy sludge with bare feet, the thin cotton of your nightgown grating against your skin. you dragged your feet, a new exhaustion overcoming you with an insurmountable wave. the skin of your arm still burned with a ferocity.
to quell it, you laid down in the sand and thick sludge, letting the sticky warmth of it suck you down into the earth and the sand blow over your body.
when you awoke, you really, really knew it was real this time because there was a sore dryness in your mouth, a pulsing ache in your head, and a searing, thorough burn enveloping your arm and reaching down to your fingertips.
your eyes fluttered open. there wasn’t an idyllic cabin awaiting you, no rays of warm sunlight through the windows, nor a husband making breakfast for his wife before she woke. just a cramped room and small windows that were a pitched black dark. the soft light of the oil lamp beside you, carefully balanced on a thin, precarious nightstand, poured over the quilt blankets weighing you down.
you could barely do more than roll your head to the side, and you were endlessly grateful to see the back of Kate’s blonde head bobbing lightly as she clicked away on a typewriter at a small desk framed with stacked books on the opposite side of the narrow room, a cigarette between her lips, smoke trailing up above her head in a hazy cloud.
you tried to use your voice, to call out, but all that came out was a breathy, grating warble that had Kate whirling around in her chair with alarm.
when she saw you had awoken, she struggled to her feet, putting out the cigarette against the fine woodstain of the desk, and reached for your good hand.
“hey, hey,” she soothed, snatching a cup of water from the nightstand and bringing it to your lips, helping you take down the cool liquid over the scalding heat in your throat.
you gulped it down gratefully.
she patted your cheek with a tenderness that had your eyes closing at the lightest touch. “glad to see you awake. you scared us, missy. you slept for three days.”
you almost choked on the water at that and she drew back the cup with a haste and a noise of alarm, pulling you forward slightly to slap at your back.
emerging from your coughing fit, you jolted when you met a pair of dark brown eyes by the edge of the room. within the corner of the room, it seemed Maria had just emerged from a slumber in an armchair, rubbing at her face before stretching back into it.
Kate’s line of sight followed your eyes, face impossibly mellow when she and Maria shared a smile. you noted the interaction with a creeping curiosity.
attempting your voice, and sounding entirely unlike yourself, you croaked, “what happened?”
Kate took your hand again, tighter this time as Maria came closer. she sat at the foot of the bed with a tired smile, your feet pressed into her side.
“there’s more good than bad,” Kate said, looking so tired you didn’t think she could muster anything but the truth. you were betting on it.
“tell me the truth Kate,” you said, voice stronger now, “i want all of it. the bad.”
she shared another look with Maria, sighing out after a long moment. “alright.”
you straightened, inching further up the pillows, much to your body’s resistance, and curled an arm around your chest, trying not to fidget against the itching, creeping thrum of pain in your other arm. your eyes darted down to it—wrapped up tight in bandages from mid-bicep to your fingertips. where the pain had been in your endless dreams.
Kate followed your line of sight. “first off,” she started, tapping a finger lightly to your bandaged wrist, “bad burn. there was a surgery. will probably leave scars.”
you grimaced at the thought, but you could handle a few scars after barely scraping away with your own life. your painfully empty stomach broiled at the thought.
“how did i survive?” you asked, almost in wonder. you were so sure your last moments would’ve been beside Simon—the thick smog clouding your senses and tipping everything in a smoky, confusing daze that kept you tethered to the floor, and his soft lips against your own.
even if you crawled, you don’t think you could’ve escaped that burning mansion.
“that austrian hitman,” she sighed out, rubbing a hand over her forehead with frustration. “took you and ran. left Ghost behind to die.”
you stiffened at the thought, not sure if you would thank Konig or slap him by the end of this. if you even would see him by the end of this. did you even want to see him by the end of this?
with a sour feeling, your voice dropped, solemn and throaty. “and Simon?”
she grimaced. “he’s… alive.”
you released a shaky breath. alive was enough. more than enough.
“and the rest of you? one-four-one? how did you escape the mansion?”
she looked away from you, staring at an untrained point in the room. “we turned tail as soon as the mansion was up in flames. so did Turner’s men. Ghost was an idiot and went runnin’ in to finish off Turner and got trapped in by fallen debris. we couldn’t reach him and he got burnt. bad. i’m assumin’ he found you in the process.”
you nodded slowly, biting back a bitter swirl of anger. Simon, always so careless with his own life, and overprotective of your own. you wanted to hate him for it.
like always, you couldn’t.
“i killed Turner,” you said, voice an eerie emptiness you didn’t know you could manage.
Maria roused at the end of the bed, slouched body growing straighter, sharing a wide-eyed glance with Kate before their attention was trained on you again.
“that’s…” Kate searched for words. “news.”
you continued on. “i killed him. i wanted to leave him and let him burn to death but…”
you remembered the curling, blooming delight you felt in the moment of putting a bullet right through his forehead.
now, you just felt an overwhelming numbness.
with your prolonged silence, Kate released your hand to stroke your good arm in comfort. “you did us and yourself a service, honey.”
you just gave her a sheepish look and she returned it with a wry smile. “who knew you had it in you, angel?”
Yue-Yi did, you thought weakly, though the nauseating roil in your stomach decided that you never wanted to kill again. you never wanted to take revenge on another person again.
a panic rose thinking of the possibility of it. one-four-one would undoubtedly fill the power vacuum left behind by Turner’s death, but who would rise to challenge that?
the inevitable, never-ending prospect of violence that followed the gang like a bad omen left you clutching at your stomach with dread.
Maria leaned forward onto her palm, and she asked, “what is wrong, carino?”
her brown eyes darted over your stiff body.
“i think i’m gonna be sick,” you admitted with a sour feeling in your mouth, the room a dizzy swirl now.
Kate let out a gruff sound, leaning you back into the pillows again. “not possible. you haven’t eaten for days.”
“m’not hungry,” you lied, feeling the every acute shooting pain through your stomach. you don’t think you could keep anything down even if you tried.
that didn’t seem to convince Kate.
she left you and Maria in a drifting silence, the vaquero curling back up in the armchair and lounging in it, looking sleepy and content at your presence.
Kate came back with a plate of plain bread and greasy green beans with bacon bits.
“sorry,” she said, handing you the food with a somber look, “s’all we have. haven’t been cookin’ much.”
at that, Maria slunk from the room with tired promises to go whip something up in the kitchen, wholly ignoring your protests as you sopped up the bread in the savoryness of the green beans and chewed mechanically, forcing yourself to swallow and ignore the nauseating waves that followed.
in the meantime, Kate described the night of the party—how one-four-one had released the chandelier onto the gathered crowd of partygoers to clear out the place before any further bloodshed. when you told her how you had met Konig, and your own plans to kill Turner for yourself, running from the chandelier that came crashing down over your head, she was only mournful, taking up your hand with a softness. then, you described how Yue-Yi had been instrumental in your plans that day.
you carefully avoided sensitive discussion of Yue-Yi, only revealing that there was a sympathetic girl from the brothel who was kind enough to help you. you could only hope that Simon wouldn’t speak of her betrayal to the rest of one-four-one and los vaqueros. you knew he wasn’t stupid enough to think that you ran from the brothel and arrived at Turner’s mansion without help.
you wondered if he was thinking about you at all.
instead of thinking about that, you mourned Yue-Yi’s absence, deliberating when you could next slip away and see her after your condition improved. shifting around in the bed, you realized it might be a much longer wait than you wanted.
“where am i?” you asked, hands twitching, feeling restless. you wanted to leave.
Kate gave you a weak smile. “a farm.”
your brows raised. “a farm?”
“we’re still in california—a bit from san francisco. there’s still fighting in the city. law’s tryin’ to suppress it but it won’t die down for another coupla’ weeks.”
you felt like your eyes almost bulged from your head. “but Turner…?”
is dead. you couldn’t say it, throat closing up around the words knowing that you were the reason he was gone.
she shook her head slowly. “he’s got plenty of loyal minions. we’re chopping off heads for now. won’t last much longer. at least, that’s what John wrote.”
your mind reeled at the thought of the soft-smiled bearded and bear-like man. “and they’re okay?”
she gave you a wicked look. “‘course. we’re one-four-one.”
at that, you couldn’t help but smile and lax back into the pillows. your tongue felt heavy. “where’s Simon?”
the smile drifted from her face. “fighting.”
you screwed your eyes shut. of course he was. “i thought he was burned bad?”
you felt the bed dip as Kate shimmied onto the edge of it, her hand on your knee beneath the quilt.
“he was, but not burnt as deep as you. besides, i couldn’t keep that brute in bed even if i tried.”
of course. you felt your eyes almost brim with hot, angry tears, but you bit them back with a ferocity.
instead you opened your eyes, looking over the age and fatigue of Kate’s face, and said, “you should go. i know you want to be fighting with them.”
her eyes flashed and she shifted on the bed, telling you all that you needed to know. she wanted to go.
“i’ll be fine,” you said, “just give me that paperwork to do.”
you nodded your head towards the paper strewn across her desk.
“it’ll keep me busy.”
her brows raised slightly. “you know i can’t do that.”
your jaw clenched with a hot, sparking tightness in your chest. “am i still your prisoner?”
she stared at you for a long moment. “no. you can leave whenever you like.”
“will you let me stay?”
for a sickening heart beat, she was silent once more, eyes betraying nothing but a pale blue, before she said, “yes. you’re one of us now.”
you nodded, pulse still thudding with a nauseating speed in your temple. “good. give me those papers. i want to help.”
you couldn’t imagine the stretch of the next couple of days, possibly even weeks, doing nothing but waiting and worrying and healing while one-four-one was finishing the fight against Turner’s lackeys. you wanted to leave. was there a possibility you could slip away? and how would you?
you spoke nothing of it when Kate showed you some of the papers—financial, with lots of math, money, and reading involved. you had helped your mama with the fiances of your daddy’s saloon. nothing you couldn’t handle with a bit of practice.
you bit down any murky feelings at the thought of your daddy and mama, letting Kate help you swing your legs over the edge of the bed, putting half your weight onto the floor. your legs shook—feeling leaden and dead with a lack of circulation through the limbs that Kate rubbed to life before she hoisted you to the cramped desk.
settled in the chair, you spread the papers out over the desk, pulling the abacus closer to you and ran through the items on the page. Kate swept your hair over your shoulder.
“you don’t need to do this now. you should wash up and eat more.”
you only shook your head. “i want to help.”
she sighed out, massaging at your shoulders with a tenderness. “you don’t owe us anything, honey. you only just woke up.”
you made a disgruntled noise, ignoring her, but remembered Yue-Yi’s words with a keenness.
i know what it is like to want to be useful… now, i am not useful to anybody but myself.
her voice was defiant and strong. you only found yourself missing her more as you slowly put down the papers, ruminating with a tight feeling in your throat.
“i’m doing this for myself,” you rephrased, taking up the documents again and fishing out a pen underneath the strewn mess of paperwork.
Kate’s hands fell from your shoulders, mumbling something about helping Maria with a strained frustration in her voice, and you scribbled down some notes into the margins of the texts, breaking into the first series of equations.
you stayed there almost the entire night before Kate forced you to slurp down a steaming bowl of caldo de pollo full of hearty vegetables thick with ginger, drink more water, and sink into a cool bath that felt pleasant against the sore ache of your burnt skin. lifting your arm to your face, you observed it carefully.
a thin layer of skin stretched over the deep, red wounds. you shivered at the thought of the same thing stretched over the expanse of Simon’s chest, shoulder, maybe even traveling to his back…
all while he was in san francisco fighting.
shivering, you slipped out of the bath, bracing yourself against the counter to resist the wobble of your weak legs, a deep, rolling cold consuming you.
dread. you couldn’t shake it as you dressed in an airy nightgown, ditching a corset, which was very unlike you, and redressed your arm.
clutching at the walls, you made your way back down the set of rickety stairs into the living room. Maria was thumbing through a book near a small, lopsided bookcase, placing it quickly back on the shelf when she noticed your presence.
she gave you an awkward smile, clasping her hands behind her back, as you moved into the space. from the interior, you determined it was a small, wooden farmhouse with a brick red fireplace and big windows that overlooked the unkempt bushes in the garden and a flat, grainy plain where a barn sat in the distance, clouds thick in the night sky. a german shepherd, who you had not seen before, laid curled up on the carpet by the foot of the upright piano, his nose tucked into his tail with slow, sleepy breaths.
Maria cleared her throat beside you, and you could hear her begin to slink away before you turned to her.
“how did you and Kate meet?”
her whole body snapped to you, and you sat at the plush, gingham couch across from the fireplace, legs aching with effort. she sunk into the ottoman by the edge of the fireplace.
“spanish-american war,” she said slowly, thoughtfully, and with a strange stiffness. then, she smiled, and you were struck by the soft beauty of it. “i was younger than her. i couldn’t speak any english, but Kate tried to talk to me anyway. she started learning spanish for me, but ay dios mio, she was so bad.”
you cracked a smile at that, leaning back into the cushions. “please. tell me more.”
she hummed, hesitant, playing with the ends of her braids. “i wasn’t always a vaquero. i was a barmaid in a small town in southern texas that only spoke spanish and raised cattle. most of the town boys grew up to be ranch hands. i wanted to, too, but i wasn’t allowed. that’s what i thought until i met Kate during the war.”
you watched with a wonder at the mellowness of her—voice warm, body lax as she talked about the blonde woman.
“do you live here?” you asked instead, and she avoided your eyes, playing with the collar of her button up.
“yes.”
you cocked your head. “alone?”
she shook her head with a flush. “with Kate.”
your brows rose slightly. your mama had told you it was uncommon for women to live with each other without a husband, but you assumed, with the absence of a surrounding neighbors, Kate and Maria didn’t worry about the social stigmas that your mama had.
there was nothing explicitly wrong for a woman to not get married and maintain their own profession, you thought distantly, not sure if you believed the idea yourself.
“you must be good friends,” you said with a firm nod and Maria stiffened.
“we are.”
you almost worried you had said something wrong with the tightness in her face, but Kate reappeared from the hallway of the stairs, padding over to stand by Maria’s shoulder.
she commanded that you go back to sleep and you obeyed, half desperate to just escape the growing divide between yourself and Maria, much to your confusion and guilt, climbing back into the small bed that Kate had lent you.
the cool cast of the night sky flooded into your room. you watched the way it splashed across the door of the opposite side of the room, a part of you hoping with desperation that the door would slowly twist open, and a familiar person would step inside, flush by your side for the night. that same fat, ugly mass of dread sat heavy on your chest.
a part of you hoped it would be Simon who climbed into your bed as your eyelids fluttered shut. behind them, a slew of nightmares crept towards you, its tendrils squeezing you tight the whole night until you woke the next morning.
you spent the day between Kate’s paperwork and wandering across the farmland. you watched Maria and Kate ranch their throng of cattle with a couple of ranch hands from the nearby town, the livestock huffing and mooing as they lazily meandered across the grassy pasture.
the german shepherd snapped his jaws at their heels, tail wagging and tongue lolling out as he pranced around for a good chase that the cows ignored with heavy snorts.
you shielded the sun from your face with your good arm, tightening the shawl around your shoulders, crossing your boots as you leaned against the fence. the loose dress you wore fettered around you with a foreign slack, fluttering in the whipping wind. whether Kate and Maria noticed you had left your corset discarded in the pile of clothes on the floor of your temporary room, they did not question it.
by noon, you had picked the grassy terrain clean of its wildflowers, bunching them into your hand, the green sap of their stems staining your hands, as you bent them into flower wreaths like you had done with the girls from church after sunday service.
when was the last time you had gone to church?
setting down the floral crowns into your lap with a sigh, you looked up to gaze over the distant, stretching plains, only finding an impossible abundance of more wildflowers just out of reach from the space you had cleared.
stacking two crowns on your head, you held a third as you trekked back towards the wood farmhouse where Kate’s distant form waved you over for lunch.
you didn’t speak much over the meal—sandwiches stuffed with tomatoes, greens, and thin slices of leftover pork chop that the three of you were eating slowly away every day. you listened to the two women in a haze, mind far off and distant.
when Kate stood to clean the dishes, Maria hot on her heels, you stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floorboards with a screech.
“has John written?” you asked, then added quickly, fighting to keep your voice even, “or Simon?”
Maria continued to the kitchen, her back to you as she scrubbed at the dishes in the sink. Kate gave you a sad smile.
“i’m sorry, honey. it won’t be for a while now.”
you almost choked. you were in no condition to ride out with the fragile state of your body, as much as you had been thinking about it all day, as much as you had been trying to keep the thoughts under a tightly sealed lid. that used to work for you, but now…
it seemed everything was just pouring out.
“how long?” you pressed, and Kate gave you a confused look.
your hand clenched into the soft material of your cotton dress. “how much longer until the fighting ends?”
Kate turned to join Maria’s side in the kitchen, rolling up her dusty sleeves as she strode over.
“not sure,” she said, a murky look pinching her face. “i wish i knew darlin’.”
you did too, you mourned, that dread buzzing in between the soft inner pockets of your head. for one in maybe your entire life, no one around you expected you to stay. no one expected you to leave either. no one around you was forcing you to go one way or the next—you had the freedom to stay or leave.
and beyond the marvel of it, you still couldn’t go anywhere you wanted. you looked down to the white bandage of your arm, feeling itchy and stuffy beneath the gauze, and cursed its existence.
instead of moping, you helped them finish the dishes as best as you could with your poor arm, and returned to that small desk in your cramped room, making your way through the thick stack of papers. it kept your mind to something and kept your hands working steadily without a second thought.
there was a simple process to it—calculation, step by step, and something that, no matter the initial difficulty, had a solvable end. it soon became addictive, and before you knew it, the sun had dipped behind the horizon again and your eyes drooped, striking a match to light a nearby oil lamp.
you continued the calculations till the fat paper stack had thinned, resisting fatigue with every ounce of fight until you slumped against the desk in defeat, falling down into a slumber where familiar nightmares clutched at you once more.
before you knew it, a whole week had passed just like that. waking to your cheek pressed to the papers on your desk, a dry trail of drool across them. you would wash up, eat, wander the plains and waiting with impatience for your hand to heal, listening in on Kate and Maria’s conversations without much to say, eat again with a bitter and stale feeling in your mouth, a lingering dread that refused to melt feeling thick in your throat, and ration the dwindling leftover of papers on one-four-one’s finances.
you dreaded falling asleep most of all. there were always grotesque images—Turner dead, your daddy and mama dead, the three of Turner’s men dead, one-four-one and los vaqueros dead, Yue-Yi’s beautiful, milky skin bloodied and mutilated, and Simon…
the conjures of a distorted Simon in your mind felt too real. terrifying and foreign and the antithesis of the warmth Simon had shown you and the Simon that you knew and yet…
you feared your dreams.
you fought sleep every night. sometimes, you got lucky and staved it off, much to Kate’s chagrin. by the end of the week, she had resorted to sitting at the edge of your bed, trapping you beneath the quilt and caging you into the mattress that felt like it was swallowing you whole. sometimes, you talked, her hand stroking against your hair to speed the process, Maria tucked in the corner, content and sleepy and curled up in the arm chair.
sometimes, you didn’t.
this night, you didn’t feel like talking, turned on your good side and facing the wall, Kate’s hand on the crown of your head.
Kate must’ve sensed something was wrong because her hand pulled away, pulling you out of the slumber you were just on the verge of being dragged into, despite your persistent resistance.
“i’m sorry.” you stiffened.
slowly shifting onto your back, you looked over at Kate, her face lined with fatigue.
you forced your jaw to work. “why?”
she looked away, casting her gaze out the window and over the dark plains.
“you’re supposed to go wherever you like, but i can’t help but feel like we’ve trapped you all over again.”
there was a real, dripping guilt in her words that roused you from a haze. you didn’t know what to say.
instead, you forced a smile on your lips, and gripped at her arm to get her attention. her pale eyes were full and grim.
“you’re supposed to be fighting but i can’t help but feel like i’m preventing you from doing so,” you said, and she just shook her head.
“i don’t want to leave you,” she said, voice tight, and you felt a slow, wet burn in your eyes, mouth falling open, and then closing again.
“we’ve been so awful to you,” she whispered.
your mind raced. had they been?
one-four-one had kidnapped you, lied to you, deceived you and used you for a revenge ploy. could you blame them after the sorts of revenges you had taken? you knew it wasn’t personal. they would’ve done the same to any one of your daddy’s children—you just happened to be his only child.
but all the same, their plans had indirectly saved you from your daddy and your mama and Turner. they had shown you honest kindness throughout it and promised to return you to your home on that train ride, not knowing you didn’t want to go. you got to know each of them personally, whether they planned it or not, and Simon showed you a whole new realm of affection.
your throat closed up at the thought of him, heart twinging with a heavy, dark weight.
had Simon’s words been true? he wasn’t going to bed you for revenge from the beginning? much less even have personal relations with you? he promised he would never abandon you… was that still true? or heat of the moment reassurance—moments before you thought you would die together?
no matter how much you wanted to be a part of one-four-one, as Kate confirmed, could you forgive all of them anyways?
you looked up into Kate’s face, hooded and wrung through.
“will you be honest with me now and forever from this point on?”
she didn’t hesitate when she nodded. “you’re one of us.”
“then answer my questions,” you said, voice soft. “tell me the whole truth. from the beginning.”
and she held true to her pledge—she retold their entire ploy against Turner from the very, very beginning. how it began when they created one-four-one after the war, gunslinging and gambling for money, expanding their territory and negotiating with small towns and saloon chains, then bigger corporations, till they reached Turner’s borders. soon, one-four-one’s rise to fame got them in a lot more trouble than they could chew, always on the run from the law and Turner’s men till los vaqueros stepped into the conflict as allies, hating Turner just as much as one-four-one.
she told you about their multi-year struggle, poking around for a weakness in Turner’s defenses, finding your daddy and you by chance. a perfect avenue to reach Turner’s ego and twist it, provoking him into a full-blown conflict rather than the narrow skirmishes around each other.
when her story slowed, you couldn’t help but say, “i need to ask you something.”
she cocked her head, gaze curious now. “what is it?”
you flushed, avoiding her eyes now. “it’s a bit embarrassing.”
she huffed a gentle laugh. “m’sure i’ve heard worse.”
“is it true that—” you swallowed hard, “—is it true that Simon wanted to have intimate relations with me for revenge against Turner?”
her breath hitched and she shifted against the bed, hand twisting in the quilt. “is that what Ghost told you?”
you nodded, slow, needing to know if what Simon said was real.
he pressed his forehead against yours, warm and solid.
“i said i bedded you for revenge. i lied.”
Kate cursed under her breath. “‘course it’s a lie. he told me himself before he even left for your house to go and take you. he said he didn’t want anythin’ to do with Henry’s daughter.”
she said it with more force than you thought she would, her shoulders tight, but then she relaxed, closing her eyes for a moment. “but, of course, Ghost tells Soap and Gaz things more than he'll ever tell me. and it's mostly because they’re so nosy.”
you cracked a smile at that, trying and failing to imagine Gaz as nosy. only his stoic, serious face and his burly arms crossed over his chest came to mind.
“and that morning of Turner’s social…” the smile slipped from your face as you grimaced. “Simon wasn’t going to leave me at that brothel?”
she shook her head. “no. he said he was givin’ you a chance to change your mind and run. i…”
she looked sheepish now. “i overheard him talking with john. i shouldn’t have but i couldn’t help myself.”
you knew that feeling well, snooping around one-four-one in your time with them.
“why didn’t you run away?” her question was earnest as she peered at you, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to escape the inquiry.
mouth twisted into a scowl, you mulled over it. you had asked yourself the question time and time again, never really able to answer it, but you tried to the best of your ability anyway.
sighing deeply, you said, “i hated living in that small town with my daddy and mama, so i didn’t know where to run to. i didn’t have anywhere to run to. i didn’t have money or a gun. i had never left my home i…”
you grimaced. “i didn’t want to go home. i liked being with you guys.”
maybe it sounded pitiful, finding more comfort in your kidnappers than your own home, but Kate only nodded. after hearing Maria talk about one-four-one, finding more comfort in the local war effort and stray soldiers that filtered into the saloon where she worked, and running off to be a vaquero, you imagined Kate did understand.
“and you really want to stay?” she asked, looking unconvinced of the idea herself.
you didn’t miss a beat, and said, “after everything, yes.”
“we would love it if you did.”
you smiled. “really?”
she nodded. “really. no matter what Ghost says.”
you cocked a brow. “what did he say?”
“oh ya’ know. just the usual things he says when he’s scared.”
she stood from the bed, moving to the door and gently shaking Maria awake. when you still stared at her, feeling confused, she winked at you.
“he lies.”
at that, with her words bidding you goodnight, you turned to the wall again, listening to Kate and Maria and their footsteps and then the shut of the bedroom door.
that night, your nightmares felt lighter than usual.
it was three weeks since you woke up in Kate and Maria’s farmhouse, four weeks since you met Simon, a week since you finished all of Kate’s paperwork, a week since Maria leave to join the war effort in san francisco, and a week since Kate refused to leave you, incapacitated and healing, alone at the farmhouse no matter how you pleaded and prodded for her to go.
it was four days since you received a thick letter and heavy box in the mail.
you had dumped the contents out over your messy desk, a river of papers flooding out, unbound arm straining with effort just to hold the heavy box up. the skin of your arm was still tender and sore and a flushed pink, littered with textured scars like Kate had warned. at night, you ran your fingers over the leathery surface, discolored and shriveled. your fingers had survived the attack, miraculously, and you flexed them every once in a while just to remind yourself that you could. at least now, the pain wasn’t unbearable.
you carded through the messy pile of paperwork, finding different letters addressed to Henry’s daughter from an accounting company and several major shareholders of your daddy’s saloon chain.
you wondered how they had even found you, or the nearby town, where Kate fetched the mail. you had a very large suspicion Simon had something to do with it, as he usually did.
you had assumed the chain was being handed down to the next largest investor, or your daddy’s share would be split between the shareholders equally. your eyes almost bulged from your head as you read through the letter from your daddy’s attorney.
the saloon chain is yours now, miss.
you read through the line again. unmistakably, the words didn’t shift and morph on the page, and stayed a black bold statement on the paper. you scrambled to go through the rest of the papers, finding more paperwork. paper on your ownership.
your ownership.
slowly, you sat in the desk chair, unbreathing.
the next following days, you sent back eight different letters. one to your daddy’s attorney, who had stated in the letter he wanted nothing to do with your gang-affiliated family again, four different shareholders, one to your daddy’s bank, one to Simon, who had also been a shareholder, despite the fact you had no idea where to address it, and one to Yue-Yi. you addressed it to the brothel, urging her to respond as fast as possible, promising you’d slip away soon and see her as soon as you could.
the promise felt empty and cold.
you wondered if that was how Simon felt—promising you an endless list of things you hoped to believe with a pang of desperation. thoughts of him only circled. when would he come back? would he ever come back? could you believe his promises again?
but you held Kate’s word true above anything. she said that Simon wouldn’t abandon you, that he wasn’t just using your body for revenge. you trusted her.
now, you delved into your daddy’s paperwork, creating a thorough list of important names, contacts, addresses, and deciphered the financial books that needed to be cleaned up. the accounting company had done half the work but you tidied it to the best of your, now, advanced abilities.
you had the materials spread out over the kitchen table, Kate watching you with a careful eye from the living room couch. she clutched at her mug, knee bouncing, foot tapping against the floorboards, periodically glancing from you to the horizon through the windows.
you scribbled down some more notes into the journal Kate lent you before putting down the pen, taking in the women fully.
“what’s wrong?” you asked, rolling your tense shoulders back. she took a sip from the mug, immersed in a prolonged silence. you could only hear the tick of the clock by the front door.
“Kate.” her gaze finally fell on you, and you were stunned to see the glossy look in them. you softened your voice. “what is it?”
“i’m fine,” she insisted, voice tight and gruff, looking away from you again.
you eyed her for a long moment. you had noticed a difference in her behavior—distant, shifty, impatient, and significantly quieter since Maria left.
you didn’t believe her for a second.
“tell me,” you pressed, and she made a noise of frustration which almost made you feel bad.
she moved to sit at the kitchen table, dragging the chair back in a rough manner, before settling down at the table with a deep scowl. you raised your brows slightly, nudging her under the table with your foot.
“i miss them,” she said, so quiet you almost couldn’t hear her. she turned the mug on the table mindlessly. you followed the movement with your eyes.
“i thought they would be done soon?” you asked, and she only frowned more.
“not soon enough.”
there was that heavy, throbbing in your chest again. you pressed a hand to it, rubbing over the spot, but it didn’t ease. pure, solid dread.
“they’ll be back,” you reassured, totally unsure yourself, mind looping back to Simon as it always seemed to do.
“i miss Maria,” she said with an uncharacteristic sharpness, and you looked up at her, reaching across the table to hold her hand.
“i…” you searched for the words. “i miss Simon as well.”
it felt strange comparing a lover to a friend, but the kind of love Kate seemed to carry for Maria bordered on it. that thought became a strange prick of curious discomfort in your mind, and you waved it away, returning back to the documents spread over the kitchen table.
“John tried to get him to write you,” Kate said, and you stiffened.
“really?”
her foot nudged yours. “‘course, but he refused. John said he’s been mopin’ about all over the place, refusin’ to write anyone and barely talkin’.”
you grimaced at the thought, reading through the document but not absorbing any of the words.
“did John say why?”
you could see her shrug in her peripheral. “it started ever since that austrian guy started hangin’ around.”
your breath hitched, picking your head up to look at her again. “Konig?”
she gave you a strange look. “yeah. he’s helping one-four-one. John said he wants to see you.”
your mouth opened and then closed. that was a development.
“why?”
she shrugged again. “beats me.”
you mourned that John didn’t just write that information to you.
you had barely thought of Konig that past few weeks, despite him apparently saving your life, after almost killing you that night. you shivered at the memory of his cold eyes, revolver shoved under your chin, hand squeezing the air from your throat.
the thought terrified you enough to push it away and immerse yourself in the papers once more. Kate eventually retired to bed, trudging upstairs with a grave face. you kept writing, calculating, solving, in a long cycle till it became impossible to resist the droop of your eyelids.
you had begun to slump forward onto the table, placing your pen and head down for just a second, the soft, lulling tick of the clock a rhythmic snap in your ears till—
you jolted when the german shepherd yapped.
rubbing at your face, you peered over the table, seeing him standing by the door, tail wagging with a ferocity and tongue lolling out. he yapped again, ears flicking towards the door. you squinted out the window, finding nothing but the night pitched into a hazy ink.
a new sort of grating fear bubbled in you at the dog’s persistence. he paced around the entrance, tail still bouncing. you eyed the kitchen cabinets, remembering that Maria had told you the one on the far right had a revolver and ammo.
instead, you neared the window, squinting your eyes, seeing a distant light bobbing over the hill of the plain before many joined it. you pressed your forehead to the window, making out the shapes of horses nearing the farmhouse fast.
you stepped over the dog, opening the front door a crack to listen over the whistling wind. unmistakably, the beating of horse hooves echoed down the plan as well as—
your name.
you scrambled around for the lantern by the front door, striking a match to light it, and holding it up against the darkness as one-four-one and los vaqueros came thundering down the hill.
the dog shot out the door to greet them and you bit back a shriek, almost tripping over his paws before an arm came to hoist you up. Kate materialized beside you, laughing as you strode out to the approached figures, arm in arm.
you realized Soap was the one calling your name, and your heart soared at the sight of him, alive and happy and well and smiling as he slid off his horse, running up to you and Kate to pull both of you into a hearty hug, squeezing too tight. he pulled away to pet the dog who was running around in crazed circles.
your cheeks ached at the big smile stretching your lips.
your gaze swept over the men, at least forty of them, breath hitching at the sight of one, his black stallion stomping in the grass and the silver skull pendant of his stetson glimmering in the low light of the lanterns strung up over his saddle.
Simon’s face was bare, thumbs hooked in his belt, head tilted as he looked at you with a softness, dark eyes illuminated in the firelight. your hands curled into the skirt of your dress, grounding yourself as Gaz and John strode up to greet you and Kate. mindlessly, you spoke back, your eyes still flitting to Simon who turned away to adjust something on his saddle.
then, Alejandro took your hand politely and kissed the back of it with a curling smirk, Rodolfo at his shoulder, who only gave you a curt nod. a slew of vaqueros followed him, including Maria.
you watched in an amazement as Kate immediately yanked her into a hug, hooking around her neck and Maria’s arms snaking around her waist, pulling each other flush together.
but the other half of your attention was trained on the man who continued to fumble with his saddle gear. you edged closer to him, weaving between the vaqueros as they passed, a couple of them tipping their hats that you returned with a polite smile and a nod.
Simon leaned against the horse, looking at you from over his shoulder, face imperceptible and attention trained on you.
you stopped a marginal distance away, wary of some eyes lingering on the pair of you, hands twisting in your dress.
“not gonna say hello?” you called and his mouth only flattened into a line, making no move towards you.
your heart sank into cataclysmic depths, like all your worst fears had just been confirmed, like Simon had just opened a cavernous chasm between you and him.
he jerked his head to something behind you, something you couldn’t bother to turn and look at, before training his attention back to the straps of his saddlebags.
“we’ve got company.”
confused, you edged closer to him before a big, burly man strode into your path, his pale green eyes crinkled with a smile, and lacking his black mask from the party.
“little lady!” Konig said with a fondness, gripping your shoulders. you stood stiff in his hold, looking up at his crooked, tall nose and curly ginger hair.
“Konig?” you spluttered, and he looked smug at that, as if he was proud you remembered his name.
“your arm—” he reached down to slide the sleeve of your burned arm up, and you reeled back, hissing at the intimate gesture that was wildly inappropriate.
you held the wrist of your wounded arm, feeling a sliver of guilt from the hurt look that flashed across his face. then, you looked to Simon, leaning against his horse, arms crossed over his chest, face stoic and void.
you hoped for something you couldn’t put your name to, but that hope only deflated when he only shrugged, looking away from you.
you pulled your sleeve up a couple inches and watched Konig take in the marred skin of your arm with a pinched brow.
he took a hand and lightly brushed a finger down your forearm, and when Simon made a disgruntled noise, you pulled away from Konig, jerking the sleeve of your dress with flushed cheeks and a pit of writhing despair in your stomach.
“when i saw you on the floor in Turner’s mansion with…” Konig frowned, not looking at Simon when he said, “him, i was worried. you might’ve died, liebling.”
from behind Konig, Simon straightened with a tension in his shoulders you had never seen before. save for one-four-one, you had never really heard someone refer to Simon as something lesser than who his reputation portrayed him as—dangerous, deadly, and devilish.
although, as you watched an arrogant smile stretch over Konig’s face, the austrian ginger in front of you seemed no less dangerous and threatening as you thought Simon, or Ghost, to initially be.
that nickname had a bitter taste blooming in your mouth. your eyes flitted to Simon again. it just didn’t stick anymore.
“well, i’m fine, so thank you,” you said, setting your shoulders, jolting when Konig reached up to twirl a strand of your hair between his fingers.
“i know, liebling, you can handle yourself very well,” he said, eyes twinkling, and you couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not before he was being torn away from you.
Simon dragged the big man back by a handful of his dress shirt, eyes a deadly cool tone and face an eerie calm. you shivered, thinking Simon didn’t really need the mask to be terrifying, as you curled your arms close to your chest.
“that’s enough,” he said, voice gruff as he looked up into Konig’s taller frame.
you realized, with a blink, how strange it was seeing a man taller than Simon.
Konig only scoffed, batting away his hand, neck craning down to get eye level with Simon in a dangerous, menacing manner. “you do not own her, no? little man?”
Simon settled his hand on the revolver lodged in his holster, straightening. “say that again?”
your eyes widened at the spectacle, Simon and Konig almost nose to nose, and you reached out to them in a panic, pushing Konig away from the terrifyingly seething brit who was seconds from drawing his revolver.
“stop it!” you shouted, a dizzying panic flurrying around your mind.
Konig only clutched at your hand on his chest, shifting backwards, and shot a smug look behind you at Simon. you didn’t even dare look back at the expression on Simon’s face, half-worried if you did, you’d see his revolver raised high and aimed right at Konig.
instead, with a frustrated huff, you scolded Konig. “just get inside already!”
Konig flinched, frowning at the harsh tone in your voice, and you only scowled more, wriggling your hand from his grasp. at that, he turned sharply, grumbling something out before descending the rest of the way down the hill in easy, long strides and into the farmhouse—stuffed with people and loud and lit up against the stark night.
turning back to Simon, who was stock still, face blank, and a hand firmly wrapped around his revolver, you only cocked your brow.
there was a new, writhing anger building in your chest so fierce you almost choked on it. brows furrowed and throat tight, your hand clenched into a tight fist around the skirt of your dress, the very sight of Simon in front of you sending you hurtling toward a razor sharp edge.
“you too,” you hissed, jerking your head towards the farmhouse.
without a word, and a sour look, he snatched up his horse’s reins, and trudged to the farmhouse to tie up his stallion at the pasture fence with the other couple dozen horses.
cross with his erratic behavior, you didn’t wait to go inside with him, instead launching yourself into the messy fray and overcrowded house.
Soap and Gaz poured glasses of bourbon at the kitchen table, swept clean of your documents, and surrounded by more vaqueros knocking back drinks between loud banter. someone played a lively, bumbling tune on the piano that filled the living room with a full sweetness.
it was a miracle to think that only a few hours prior, you and Kate had been missing them all with such a fierceness that there were tears in your eyes. now, searching the room for Kate, you saw her spread over the couch, flush to Maria, explaining a story in slow spanish that had other vaqueros laughing and Maria curling an arm around her shoulders.
the image only soured when the sight brought you back to thoughts of a certain blonde brute.
you moved to Soap, wriggling between him and Gaz to snatch a glass of bourbon. Soap shouted over the noise with an impish smirk, “you drink now, lass?”
with a nod, you tipped back the drink, cringing at its burn that pricked your eyes, and Gaz laughed loud and sweet in your ear, obviously drunk as he wrapped a friendly arm around your shoulders.
“missed you, miss,” he said, lips in a wry smile, and you could only smile back.
“let me stick around then?” you offered and Soap nodded eagerly, pressing his knuckles to your shoulder in a friendly gesture.
“we were plannin’ on it!”
John materialized behind you to untangle Gaz’s arm from your shoulders, much more sober than the other two men as he reached around you to grab a glass with a wink.
“good to see you, darlin’.”
feeling indulgent and mellow, you pulled him into a quick hug, and he pressed a palm firm to your back with a laugh.
“Ghost’s been dyin’ to talk to you,” he said, tipping his hat to the man sulking across the room with Alejandro and Rodolfo who were locked in conversation. you spared him a quick glance, seeing his arms crossed over his chest and staring off into an untrained point, not at all enjoying the lively atmosphere of the room. just the sight of him sent slithering curls of something crawling under your skin.
“well he hasn’t been acting like it,” you said, not even trying to filter the exasperation from your tone.
John only raised his brows, sipping at the bourbon. “since when does he ever act true to how he feels?”
sending him a look, he only smiled with a shrug, turning away to disappear through the crowd of cowboys.
you sidled up beside Kate and Maria instead, the women inviting you into the couch with open arms, and you listened in on their conversations—a muddled mix of english and spanish. a vaquero got your attention, conversing with you in a strained english and a mix of sign language that had you both keeling over with laughter at the bizarre form of communication.
across the room, Simon’s burning, dark gaze on you caught your eye, and between exchanging words with the friendly vaqueros, your eyes fluttered to him. he was leaned against the wall, Soap flanking him now, Gaz leaning an arm over his shoulder, as they prodded Alejandro and Rodolfo in loud, tipsy voices, but his eyes never left you.
you leaned forward in your seat, elbows braced against your knees, and conscious of the way your loose blouse dipped, exposing an indecent amount of your skin as you swept your hair to one side of your shoulder, brushing against your neck.
he cocked his head, deep, murky eyes roaming down, and then back up to your gaze.
you don’t know whether you should be mad at Simon or not. you couldn’t decide what was more logical—the seething tick in your mind, or the horrible ache in your body for his touch. the sliver of affection you craved from him.
Simon pushed off the wall, and you were about to stand when Konig, much bigger than you, squeezed into the spot next to you by the couch, his arm braced against the back of it.
“i’m sorry, liebling,” he said suddenly, and you stilled, sinking back down into the cushions. “i couldn’t help myself earlier.”
“that guy—” he tipped his head towards Simon, who was stock still, hands curling into fists around his holster, “—is a nuisance.”
you scoffed at that, playing a long for a bit, and enjoying Simon’s attention on you with a mouthful of guilt you swallowed down quickly. you decided that being mad at him was more logical.
“really? i heard he’s not fond of you either, mister,” you said with a smirk, mind buzzing around as you took another swig of bourbon. he watched you with a wicked smile.
“i did not know you could handle so much alcohol, little lady.”
you shrugged. “neither did i, sir.”
he cocked his head, leaning so his shoulder was pressed against yours, and a distant, fuzzy call in your brain told you to move away, but your sense of direction was muted and muddled with the buzz in your mind.
“i heard rumors about you,” he admitted, and your brows only rose as you slurped down more bourbon. “that Ghost had stolen Turner’s property.”
that irked you, and you put down the glass on the coffee table stacked with other half-empty glass cups, wiping at the back of your mouth.
“no,” you said, with a strange drawl. “m’not Turner’s property.”
his gaze was long and imperceptible. “i also heard that Ghost owns you. is that true?”
your breath hitched, brows pinching together. “s’not your business.”
“is it true?” he pressed, and you shoved him away a bit, standing and weaving between some dancing vaqueros to get away from him.
but he only followed, snatching at your wrist, catching your bad arm and jerking you back with a tight grip. you clawed at his hand.
“lemme go—” you said, struggling between the drunk bodies, but he only grabbed your hip with the other hand, forcing you still. a new panic rose in you.
“just, listen, liebling, i don’t wanna hurt you—”
“well you are—!” you shouted, on the verge of giving his hand a good, strong bite, when an ear-splintering bang filled the room.
you screamed, clutching at your ear with your free arm, and a rush of sawdust came down over you and the wildly sober vaqueros around you that drew their revolvers with a scramble. there were a pair of dark brown eyes over Konig’s shoulder.
“let go.”
Simon was just behind Konig, revolver aimed high at the ceiling, coming down to press right against the pulse point in Konig’s neck, gloved finger heavy on the trigger.
Simon’s face was rigid, calm and cold, jaw clenched tight, but his eyes swirled with something sinister and so menacing, you wanted to reel away. the music of the room was dead now, all eyes trained on the two men, and you in Konig’s grasp.
Konig stared down at you, face blank, but pale green eyes strained. you saw them flick up behind you, then around the room, and only seeing a dozen revolvers staring back. you could see Gaz creep up in your peripheral, gun trained on Konig, and with a low, frustrated noise, he released you.
you immediately scrambled back, your muddled mind throbbing with a sharp clarity now, and you looked between Simon, seething, and Konig, face downcast and turned away with a clenched jaw. a familiar burn pricked you eyes, and you swallowed around the tight vice of your throat, chest thick and laden and aching.
“you—”
you choked on your words, unable to find what to say before you were barreling out the farmhouse, Simon shouting your name in your wake.
you didn’t turn to see if he was following you, crushing your hands to your ears as more tears spilled down your face. eerily, you were reminded of your dream, jerking away when you felt someone’s hand at your back, only rushing up the hill faster, not bothering to hike up your dress over the grassy plain.
wracking sobs left your throat, and you felt confused, the wetness blurring your vision, and ragged breaths making your head spin. why were you crying?
you collapsed into the grass, trying to catch your short, ragged breath, but there was such a tightness in your throat that you couldn’t force any air through.
when you realized you couldn’t breathe, you clutched at your throat, screwing your eyes shut as the world spun and wild, frenzied panic consuming you.
all your nightmares came flying back to you. Turner, Charles, the men you had killed, demonic twists and a thick, sandy sludge, the world burning around you and one-four-one with it, Yue-Yi, broken and bloodied, and your daddy and mama. gone and dead.
and Simon—evil and full of hate.
arms wrapped you into a solid body, smelling smokey and woody and earthy, Simon’s deep voice in your ear.
“shhh. it’s alright.”
his hand snuck around to your chest, right where that throbbing, painful ache of dread was, and his big palm rubbed over it, the warmth of his hand seeping right down to your bones.
you choked on your sobs and his voice was soft. “deep breaths.”
he breathed against you, strong and steady, and you tried and failed to match the slow drag of each one with a shaky inaccuracy, chest stuttering and whole body shaking violently. he moved you down slow, sitting you so you were between his legs and back flush against his chest, pulling you against him in a tight hold that became an anchor.
you clutched at the wrist of his sleeve with desperation.
“hurts,” you forced through painful gasps, and the warmth of his cheeks was against the side of your head.
“where?” his voice was harsh and intense now.
you slapped a hand over his at your chest, willing it to move it in those small, soothing circles that slowed the shallow, sharp gasps wrenched through your constricted lungs.
“what can i do?” he asked, a sharp edge of desperation slipping into his voice, and you could only cry, letting him rock you gently.
time stretched, agonizing and forever and never-ending, till your breaths finally, finally slowed, and the flashing kaleidoscopic dance behind your eyelids faded, lungs aching with an acute pain.
“you didn’t write me,” you said between sniffles and sharp, uncontrollable gasps, and he let out a low, tortured and broken noise, wrapping around your body tighter.
“i wasn’t sure if you wanted me to.”
you wanted to scream. “of course i did,” you almost sobbed. “i was so worried for you, i thought i’d-i’d die. i missed-missed you more than anything.”
another strangled sound of frustration left him, and he shifted you in his arms, still tight and warm around you, but enough so you could peer up into his shattered face, a foreign gloss in his eyes you’d never seen before.
“i almost didn’t survive without you,” he said, voice strained and hushed, and you wanted to slap him, but your whole body felt leaden and too light.
“i thought about you everyday,” he admitted, nuzzling his nose against your cheek, and you let him, screwing your eyes shut. “i couldn’t get you off my mind. i thought about you almost every second.”
“i don’t believe you,” you said, voice shaky, but he shook his head against you.
“then don’t take my word for it. ask Price. ask Soap or Gaz. they’ll tell you.”
“i’m so mad at you,” you said, a rage clawing up your throat and mixing with the dizzy grief of your body.
he said nothing so you pressed further. “i can’t believe you. you left me here. you’re still injured, and you left me at that brothel. i thought we were dead in Turner’s mansion,” then voice breaking, you remembered, “my daddy and mama. they’re dead—”
you worked yourself up again, choking, and Simon soothed you with soft hushes, your body wound up tight.
“i wanted to leave here,” you said in a panic, “i wanted to leave.”
“wasn’t safe,” he retaliated, his lips against your neck, and that only made you angrier.
“i don’t care.” tears slipped down your cheeks that he quickly brushed away.
“i thought you wanted to be with me all the time,” you said, grief shattering over you like glass.
he turned you and pressed your body down softly into the grass, caging you between his arms, and you wrapped around him easily, arms around his neck, legs winding around his hips as he crushed you down to the earth.
the solid weight of his body calmed every loud thing clattering through your broken mind.
“i always have,” he admitted lowly, face pressed to that spot where your hair pooled against your neck. “i needed to fix things in san francisco. now, the city’s yours.”
he pulled back, and you looked up into his warm brown eyes that were splintered and honest. “i’ll give you anything. you can have the whole city and you can be with me all the time. everything’s safe now. no one can hurt you. no one can hurt us anymore.”
with two fistfuls of his shirt, you tugged him back down to you, and he burrowed into your touch, arms coiling around your waist and pulling tight.
“just be with me,” you gritted out, your hand clutching at the softness of his hair, and he only let out a coarse, affirming noise, stock still and like a rock.
you curled into him—something you could anchor to as your eyes slid shut.
“i dreamed about you,” you rambled, and he laxed further into you, but then tensed when you said, “nightmares.”
his voice was strained. “like what?”
“it was different than this,” you said, mind hazy and fatigued, “none of this ever happened. you were never an outlaw and we lived in your cabin in the woods and we were married.”
“if that’s what you want,” he shot out, fingers curling into your hair, “i’ll give it to you.”
he deflated when you shook your head.
“you were evil,” you whispered, and he flinched, before you finished, “but i knew it wasn’t you.”
he pulled back again, leaning over you. his face was shadowed in the night, lips screwed into a tight line, but you could still make out the curve of his features.
“i prefer you like this,” you admitted, brushing your fingertips along his bare face, thumb tracing over the silvery scar on his upper lip. “an outlaw. the scars.”
“you’re crazy,” he said with a tinge of wonder, and you almost smiled at that, melting when he stooped down to kiss you softly.
his lips were warm, and you gripped at his hair, pushing his head further into you. it felt too brief once he pulled away.
“could you ever forgive me?” he asked.
you looked at him for a long moment, feeling all muddled with unease. the better question was, could you ever trust him again?
“maybe.”
he nodded, betraying nothing but the cold, hard lines of his face.
“can i at least carry you?”
“i can walk myself,” you insisted, though not unkindly, as you pushed him off you. the big, heavy man giving easily to your touch and he stood, offering a hand that you took, and lifting you with an ease.
you walked side by side in silence, only the soft rustle of the prairie grass pulled by the wind filling the darkness, the farmhouse still lit like a beam and vaqueros snaking through the interior.
when you neared, Simon snuck an arm around your waist, and you quickly wiped at any stray tears on your face, fixing your hair and pulling at the new wrinkles of your dress. Kate was standing by the door, arms crossed over her chest.
“you shot a hole through my ceiling, Riley,” she called, brow furrowed with irritation. Simon stiffened beside you.
“i’ll fix it.”
she gave him a long look void of sympathy. “not with those injuries you won’t.”
then, her eyes were on you, and she softened. “are you alright, angel?”
you cleared your throat, nodding with a quiet hum, and Simon inched closer to you.
she shot him one last nasty, dirty look, turning on her heel and reentering the party. you felt a creeping awkwardness with all the eyes crawling over you and Simon’s possessive hold, hyper aware of Konig's gaze from across the room, splayed out in an armchair as he took swigs of a flask.
“party’s over,” Kate shouted over the music, glancing briefly at you. “lights out in five minutes.”
you mouthed a thanks to her, and she only shrugged with a light smile as the men in the room grumbled, taking glasses and bottles of bourbon with them as they moved to their horses outside the farmhouse. you watched through the window as they unpacked blankets and rolled them out over the grass, some trekking towards the barn to take cover in for the night.
you watched a half-awake and intoxicated Soap struggle into a sleeping bag, Gaz already passed out near his feet and curled up in some blankets. John was only a couple feet away and staring up into the night sky.
you jolted when you noticed Konig stop a comfortable distance from you, standing in front of the farmhouse entrance and gaze trained outside. Simon sidled up closer to you, leaning against the window with crossed arms and a furrowed, serious look.
“sorry liebling,” he said with a shrug and a distant expression before taking another swig of his flask, not looking at you as he walked out the door to his horse strung up along the fencepost.
staring after him, Simon reached out to touch your cheek, and your eyes snapped to his. looking over his face, the soft moonlight poured over it, as Kate moved around the living room to put out the oil lamps. you brushed your fingers along his strong jaw, watching in amazement how it flexed under your touch.
“we’re sleepin’ outside.”
you startled with a muffled squeak, stepping towards Simon, and he easily wrapped an arm around your waist as you twisted to look back at a smug looking Kate and a tipsy looking Maria by her shoulder.
you flushed deeply, a fluttering heat in your cheeks.
“goodnight,” you said, and Kate’s smirk only grew, as she pulled Maria out the door.
“sweet dreams,” she called, a knowing lilt in your voice that only made you blush deeper.
you jolted when you felt Simon press his cool lips to your flushed skin.
“tired?”
you nodded weakly, and he smiled against your cheek.
“you sleep,” he said, patting your sides. “i’m gonna wash up.”
hesitating, the man skirted around you and headed towards the stairs, waiting at the foot of them with an expectant look over his shoulder as he watched you move to your bedroom door.
he cleared his throat, shifting from foot to foot. “night.”
you bit down on your lip, hand fidgeting around the door knob. “good night.”
you watched him walk up the stairs, heavy boots clunking against each step, a well of disappointment blooming in your mouth.
lips twisting into a scowl, you opened the door and shut it behind you too loud, not looking for Simon’s last look in the darkness.
you crawled over the bed, huffing out in frustration as you rolled in the sheets, on the verge of punching your pillow, before sliding off your bed in defeat and redressing in your thin nightgown and pushing aside the messy stacks of papers lining your room, building in an unattractive pile on your desk.
sliding into the bedsheets, you turned to the wall, feeling strange with Kate’s vacancy at your back. you rolled over and fiddled with the bedsheets, careful on your healing arm.
you had been so tired mere hours ago and now you couldn’t even shut your eyes, and you mourned it, wriggling in the sheets with restlessness and craving for something…
you eyed the door of the bedroom. you had been so mad at Simon only moments ago, the way a cataclysmic divide manifested as soon as he arrived, his immature, jealous squabbles, his ignorance, his stupidity, his strange self-destructive logic that involved pushing you away that persisted for the past three long, torturous weeks…
you would never stop being mad at him. you weren’t even sure if you could ever trust him, but, maybe, you realized, you wanted him close nonetheless.
you felt like you were thinking with a new clarity when you lurched off the bed, throwing off the quilt, and striding to the door, your hand in mere inches of the door when it was wrenched open.
with a surprised squeak, you looked up to see Simon standing there, dripping with water and holding up a towel around his waist, blonde hair tangled and matted against his forehead.
your eyes immediately slid down to the width of his hips, his deep v-line and the definition of his stomach, the bullet wound healing nicely with a healthy flush and new stitches. you bit back a gasp when you looked over the right side of his upper chest and shoulder—an angry, tender looking fleshiness that must’ve been painful.
he slowly stepped into the room, dark eyes on you, as he closed the door behind him and edged you closer to the bed with every step.
you almost whimpered, shuffling backwards, Simon looming tall and broad over you, and it wasn’t anything like that scary dream you had weeks ago. a slithering ache that you hadn’t felt in weeks return to the lower regions of your body.
he reached out, snaking a hand behind your head into your hair and gently pulling you to him in a kiss that you eagerly returned.
wrapping your arms around his neck, stretching through your tiptoes to reach him, he made a low, carnal sound in the back of his throat that had you squirming in his grasp.
“is this okay?” he asked between kisses, and you only hummed a pleasant yes, enamored by the soft movement of his practiced mouth, your legs going jittery.
he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you flush to him to keep you steady, tongue pressing against your lower lip.
you squeaked, jerking back with a jolt of confusion.
he only smiled, voice rough and low. “never kiss someone before, princess?”
you flushed, mumbling, “yes. you,” with embarrassment, before trying to pull him back down by his neck, but he didn’t budge, smile growing wider.
“let me teach you?” he practically purred, and you blushed with a shy nod, letting him hoist you onto the edge of the bed with a yelp, your hand accidentally sliding against his raw shoulder.
he winced, and you snatched your arm back, squeaking a sorry but he just shook his head with an impatience, dragging you forward by your hips closer to him, your hands pressed to the wet skin of his torso as he nuzzled his nose against yours.
“part your lips, pretty girl,” he said, voice a low, seductive rumble, and you immediately complied, letting him lean forward and slide his tongue between your lips.
you startled at new feeling, flinching away, but he pulled you back in with a softness that had you melting, and you tried to match the wet, slick movements of his tongue with your own.
he hummed in approval, angling his head to kiss you deeper, and you almost thought you saw stars, heart thudding too fast against your chest. it was strangely hot and sensual and the sensation of it only spurred on a curiosity in you.
when he leaned back for a breath, you only felt disappointed and lurched forward to bite his lower lip, willing him to stay right there against your lips.
he let out a low groan and you jolted at the vibration that traveling straight from his throat into your own, pulling whimpers from you. that seemed to only urge him on, because his grip on your the back of your head tightened, pushing your head to his so your noses pressed together, the movement of his lips, tongue, and teeth aggressive now.
once your head spun, dizzy and light, you pressed against his chest and he finally parted from you. he was panting, lips swollen with a redness that you reached out to touch in the darkness, brushing a forefinger over his lower lip that he kissed, then kissed down your palm, the underside of your wrist, up your arm until his lips were suddenly on your neck.
your moans were involuntary, drawn from your throat like magic as Simon worked your body, fingertips slowly tracing up your thighs beneath your nightgown.
he let out a noise of surprise against your neck. “no undergarments?”
you flushed, shaking your head, and he hummed in approval, searching the skin of your legs with his palms till he found that sticky, wet source that pulsed with an ache. you squirmed against his touch, gasping when he found your clit, thumb against it, and two big fingers stretched your core as they slowly pushed in.
he pumped them between your thighs, lips and tongue and teeth still sucking along your neck and the underside of your jaw, then licking over your ear. you shook in his hold, clutching onto his forearms for purchase, head tipping back from the feel of his fingertips rubbing sensitive spots inside you that had your breath sharp and full of gasps.
“want you to come on my fingers first,” he whispered, licking over your cheek, “can you do that, pretty thing?”
you nodded eagerly, rolling your hips down onto the delicious circles rubbed around your clit and the shooting pleasure each time he pressed against that sweet spot inside you.
“more,” you whined, eyes closed, and he huffed a laugh.
“more? more what? this not enough?”
“no,” you gasped, dragging your nails down his abdomen to the edge of his towel. with half-lidded eyes, you eyed the spot curiously, then blinked up at Simon, and he just smirked, leaning down to kiss you again.
“patience, princess.”
you screwed your eyes shut, the sensations over your entire body overstimulating—his hand gently tugging at your hair, his hot tongue against your own, and your hips rolling down to the sensual movements of his other hand.
it was too much, and soon you were gasping, muscles bunching and then releasing as you came all over his fingers with pitchy moans that he swallowed into his mouth.
he didn’t waste a second to push you down over the bed, flipping up your nightgown and bunching it in a hand against your stomach, dropping to his knees at the edge of the bed. tugging your forward by your hips, his tongue was against your folds in an instant and you squirmed with little squeaks, twitching with sensitivity. but he was so much stronger than you, pinning you down to the bed easily, blonde head between your thighs.
you gripped at his hair, tugging, as your back arched against the hot, wet movements against your cunt. it was overwhelming. too good.
“Simon,” you gasped, and he just hummed in response, tongue sliding into you and reaching up to press his thumb to your twitchy little clit.
“missed hearin’ you say my name like that, pretty,” he said between kisses against your cunt, dark eyes flitting up to gaze at you, half-lidding and smokey.
that same sweet feeling unfurled in your chest so much faster than you expected, and you had no time to warn him before your core was convulsing, thighs tightening around his head as your hips bucked up into his mouth.
but he wouldn’t stop, even after your body started shaking, and you pulled at his hair, little gasps and whimpers of pleas to stop. finally, after a loud, pitched whine left your lips, he suckled against your clit one last time before popping off.
there was a reflective wetness over his jaw that made you blush, a stupid smile on his face and hazy, dark eyes flitting over your body, splayed out, twitching, and completely unwound.
you chided him. “greedy.”
he laughed, crawling up over your to kiss you, a strange salty and sweet taste on his tongue that had your stomach twisting with want again. when he pulled away, you licked over the wetness on his chin and jaw and he groaned, pushing you down to the bed with a hand against your neck.
“you…” he gaze was so hot and wanting that you shivered, clutching at the loose grip of his hand around your throat.
“you don’t even know what you do to me,” he whispered, and you licked your lips, tasting the last of the wetness. he eyed the movement with an intensity.
“i have an idea,” you whispered back, reaching down to grip at the edge of his towel again, and he smirked.
he slid off you, letting his towel drop to the floor, and you eyed his swollen length with a greediness, whimpering just at the sight of it.
already, your cunt was pulsing back to life with a wild aching desire. you squirmed against the bed.
“please?” you offered him, and he only gave you an amused look.
“please what?”
he crept over you, knuckles pressing to the bed beside your head. you spread your legs wider.
“please,” you whimpered, and his brows raised slightly.
“i don’t know what you want,” he said, low and grating, and you huffed with frustration, pressing your heel to the back of his thigh to push him further forward. but he wouldn’t budge.
“want…” you looked between his legs, shivering, and he hummed, shifting his hips forwards so that he was flush to the back of your thighs, length brushing against your cunt. you gasped, bucking your hips up.
his gaze was imperceptible, just dark and wanting, head tilted. “want my cock?”
you whined, nodding, reaching down to rub your fingers gently against the head of it where that milky substance was spilling out over your stomach. he made a noise of disapproval, snatching your wrist and pinning it above your head.
“use your words.”
“want you to fuck me,” you whispered with a blush, glancing down at his cock again, and he went still.
“supposed to save that for marriage, lovely,” he said, voice honest and soft as he brushed a palm against your cheek. you looked up at him and the tender look on his face, jaw clenched, but his eyes still blown wide with need.
“it doesn’t matter,” you said, before adding in a whisper, “i’m already yours.”
you wanted to say that you needed him—desperately needed him close, but you bit the words back, hoping he would understand.
it seemed that he did from the way he pushed your nightgown up, pulling you up so he could gently tug it over your head and throw it to the floor. he immediately eased you back down, lips roaming your bare skin, his lips over your chest, breasts, and stomach, hot and overstimulating. you clutched at his hands holding your hips down.
“hurry,” you whimpered, and he reached down to stroke his cock before sliding it between the sticky, wet folds of your cunt, catching against your entrance.
then, he hesitated and you almost wanted to scream in frustration. “remember that it hurts?”
there was a distant, little spark of fear inside you, but you were so impatient that you almost didn’t care.
“just… please, Simon.”
he leaned down to kiss you briefly. “relax. m’not going anywhere, pretty.”
that eased a place in your chest that you didn’t know was panicking, and you laxed back into the mattress, letting him touch you where he pleased as you wrapped your arms around his neck. his hands smoothed over the skin of your torso, then pressed your legs wider.
“take a deep breath for me, sweet girl.”
you complied, letting your eyes shut and you took a deep breath, the air punched from your lungs when you felt something impossibly thick pushing past the rim of your entrance. you couldn’t breath, nails sinking into his skin.
“good girl,” he mumbled against your skin, voice soft as he pressed even softer kisses to your neck and shoulders. “doin’ so good for me.”
the pain was sharp and uncomfortable, growing as he stretched you even wider. tears pricked in your eyes and he immediately kissed them away.
“want me to stop?”
you shook your head, eyes screwed shut, hands snaking into his hair to pull at it and somehow ease the pain. “no. please.”
his fingers were brushing against your jaw. “look at me, pretty girl.”
your eyes fluttered open, a tear escaping down your cheek as you looked up to him. his eyes darted over your face, a crease of worry in between his brows that you willed away with your thumb, pressing against it.
he stooped down to kiss you, swallowing your gasp when his hips pushed forward a little more, and suddenly his hips were flush to the back of your thighs, an overwhelming, throbbing fullness in your stomach. he was crammed against that swollen spot inside you that had your head falling back, seeing stars.
“alright?”
you nodded slowly, swallowing, and ground your hips against him experimentally, a new sort of pleasure racing down your spine. he let out a low sound, gripping your hips to still them.
“not yet,” he scolded, “you need to relax more. i don’t wanna hurt you, princess.”
he reached between you to rub at your clit in gentle circles, and you squirmed a little, feeling impatient.
“relax,” he reminded you, and you bit back your frustration, letting him wrap your legs around his waist.
he leaned back, enough so the moonlight from the window spilled over his muscled body, and you could see the light catch in his smokey eyes. he tilted his head, gaze full of affection as he traced a thumb over your throat.
you held his hand, moving it to clasp around your throat and pressing your heels into his back. that unbearable stretch inside you had turned achy with want, and that sweet spot inside you begged for some kind of stimulation.
“ready?” he asked softly, and you hummed a yes, watching the way his hips drew back a little and then snapped forward again, gasping when he pushed against that amazing sweet spot in you again.
then he did it again, and again, and every time it bunched a breathy moan from your lips till he was building a pace, and you couldn’t stop the little whimpers falling from your lips, clutching at his hand wrapped around your throat, using it as leverage to pull you back down on every thrust. it left your mind hazy and dizzy, your other hand searching the sheets for something to hold onto.
he leaned down, grabbing your hand and pushing it to the bed, his rough fingers interlocked with yours.
“good?” his gaze was hot and piercing.
“mhmm,” you hummed, infatuated with the strange pleasurable stretch between your hips and the rolling, hot waves of pleasure in time with his hips that overwhelmed you completely.
“pretty girl,” he said, tightening his grip around your throat, though his voice was so distant and he felt so far.
“closer,” you mumbled, and his movements slowed.
“hm? speak up, sweet thing.”
“closer,” you whined, eyes glossy and fluttering your eyelashes up at him.
he shifted above you, dropping down so he was caging your head between his forearms, pressing you down into the mattress with a pleasurable weight that had your head spinning. you wrapped around him tighter, reaching around his sides to clutch at the muscles of his back so your chests were flush together.
“better?” he asked, pecking your nose softly, and eyes so warm and full that you shuddered.
you nodded and craned your neck up to offer your lips for a kiss that he took eagerly, tongue slipping into your mouth, his hips rolling down into the hot clutch of your heat.
you gasped at the sensation, his thrusts more shallow, deeper, than before—cock so thick that you were pulsing around him in time with his thrusts. it’s like you could feel him in your ribcage, hammering against the quick thud of your heart.
overwhelmed, your nails sunk into his back, and he let out a low groan, ducking down to whisper in your ear.
“so tight, princess.”
you moaned, only tightening at his words, and that spurred him on, fucking you faster with a dizzying pace now, hips slamming so hard against yours the pain mixed into a muddled pleasure—
“Simon,” you gasped, clawing at his back, and you could feel his smirk against your skin.
“yeah that’s it. say my name, pretty girl.”
you did, gasping it under your breath with each of his rough thrusts, a familiar burn building in the crux of your stomach.
“Si—m’gonna—”
“shh, don’t talk, just take it,” he whispered, low and throaty and voice grating.
your moans were breathy now, coming in short bursts, as more overwhelming waves of pleasurable sensations hit you, burning you inside and out.
“fuck,” he growled, hand closing into fists around the sheets by your head.
you peered up at him to the best of your ability, eyes half-lidded and drooping, watching the clench of his abdominal muscles with every thrust, his body in a sheen of sweat and brows furrowed with concentration, dark eyes boring down at you with a predatory gaze.
want you to come all over this big cock, princess. come for my lovely, just come luvie, come—
on command, your whole body contracted, bright lights flashing behind your eyelids as you shook with a couple last breathy moans, Simon’s words swept away somewhere far and distant as you peaked on a delicious high.
you were crashing through it, barely registering his gentle words in your ear.
good girl. good girl. my good girl.
once you were coming back down, dizzy and sleepy, Simon’s thrusts had grown shallow and slow, moaning lowly when he pulled out and pumped his cock quickly, those white ropes spurting over your stomach in hot, sticky layers before he crashed down over you again.
you drifted through a dreamscape, humming lightly at the feeling of his hot skin against yours.
you traced over his shoulders, avoiding his burn wound carefully, listening to the pant of his breath slow, and then still, as you laid there tangled together.
you brushed a hand through his hair, carding your fingers over his scalp and scratching lightly. with a low hum, he shifted his head to look at you, face relaxed and content and his nose pressed against your breast.
“satisfied, princess?”
you tried and failed to bit back a smile, nodding slowly. he smirked back, playing with the ends of your hair.
“insatiable, greedy thing.”
you couldn’t help but giggle, tugging him up to your face, and he relented, smushing your cheek with his nose and lips. with little squeaks and giggles, you swatted at him when he crushed you down into the bed with too much force until he pulled back.
he slid into the space between you and the wall, tucking you into his chest and arms locking around you in a hold that felt possessive.
once you were settled and content, his lips against your hair, you asked him, “are you satisfied?”
he brushed some fingers along the scars of your arm for a pause. “mhmm.”
the sound was unconvincing, and some part inside you broke a little. you turned in his arms so you could see his face.
“don’t lie…”
he scoffed but looked amused. “you make a man greedy, princess.”
you tilted your head. “what do you mean?”
he kissed your forehead softly. “i wanted it to be different.”
you almost deflated, heart dropping into your stomach and skin growing icy cold.
“what do you mean?” you asked again, voice flat now. he peered down at you, blonde lashes full and long in the moonlight.
“in different circumstances. after your marriage.”
your throat tightened. “my marriage? do you mean…?”
he looked away from you when he mumbled, “our marriage.”
“why? was it not good?” you felt a spiral of panic. “do you care about… virginity?”
he only gave you a wry smile. “‘course i don’t care. you’re perfect just like this.”
his eyes darted down to your body, and you followed his gaze, suddenly conscious of your bare skin against his, and the remnants of your shared pleasure still sticky against your stomach.
with a blush, you grumbled, “what’s the problem then?”
he pulled you closer to him. “s’what you deserve.”
you wanted to scream. “i don’t get it,” you whined and he chuckled, tucking his chin over your head.
“you’re such a good, innocent girl. you deserved all that…” he spoke so low you almost couldn’t hear him, “...doting marriage stuff first.”
you pushed him back by his chest, and he blinked down at you, confused. when he reached to pull you against him again, you kept your arm extended, and he gripped at your hip instead.
“do you really want to marry me?” you asked softly, and you watched him swallow hard, before nodding slowly.
“if you’ll have me.”
there was a bitter taste in your mouth. innocent, good girl.
“even after everything?”
he tilted his head against the pillows, stroking your side. “what’s wrong, lovely?”
you struggled with the words. “i’ve killed people.”
he only blinked. “me too.”
“i felt happy when Turner died,” you admitted, the words sounding so foreign on your tongue that you wanted to puke. “you haven’t seen me kill someone.”
his brows rose slightly. “i can imagine it’s a sight.”
you felt frustrated, unable to keep yourself from confessing, “i’m having mental issues.”
you screwed your eyes shut, unwilling to see his reaction, thinking back to just prior when you ran from the farmhouse. Simon had witnessed it with his own eyes. he had seen just how insane you were. there had been one old man in your town who was insane, saying he saw things, always switching between hyperactivity, anger, and isolating himself to lie in bed all day. then, they eventually took him to an insane asylum when he had an episode in public.
you shook just at the thought of it, jolting when you felt Simon’s soft lips against your brow.
“yeah?”
your eyes snapped open, brows pinched together as you looked up into his relaxed expression. “yeah? that’s all?”
he shrugged. “me too.”
your throat felt dry. “what do you mean?”
he pointed to his own throat. “not bein’ able to breath. racing thoughts. uncontrollable crying. it happens, lovely.”
your mind spun but he continued on. “how long has it been happening?”
“since that night on the train,” you chewed out, feeling light and airy and scared when he paled in response.
“when we fought?” he asked, face pinched and stormy. you nodded and he wrapped you up in his arms again, tightly squeezing. despite your grumbles of protest, you whole body melted, a wet burn in your eyes.
“i’m sorry,” he gasped, crushing you, and from the strain in his voice, you knew he was being sincere.
“i have this feeling, ” you started, then choked, unsure of how to finish.
“tell me,” he prompted and you pressed your forehead against his strong chest.
“it’s in my chest. it’s heavy all the time. kind of like dread, but not really.” you screwed your eyes shut. “i hate it.”
he rubbed a hand over your back. “i know it well.”
“you do?” you squeaked, so sure that there was no one else in the world who felt a sliver of semblance to you.
“mhmm. breathing helps.” he snaked a hand between you, rubbing his fist in slow circles over your chest. “this helps too.”
as promised, your body relaxed, the touch warm and a pleasant pressure against the thrum of your heavy heart.
you reached up, wanting to return the favor, and rubbed your own palm against his broad chest. he smiled softly, snatching your hand up to kiss all over it, and you squirmed at the ticklish sensation, swatting him away.
he laughed, pushing you onto your back so he could slide off the bed.
“let me carry you?” he offered, but you just shook your head, swinging your legs over the edge.
“i’m fine—” your toes touched the cold floor, and you put a generous among of pressure onto your feet, before your knees buckled, legs shaking.
with a yelp, you almost tumbled to the floor before Simon easily caught you.
“careful,” he said, sounding too happy, and you sent him a dirty look.
“you did this on purpose, didn’t you?” you gritted out, clutching onto his arms, and he only scoffed, shaking his head with an amused look.
nonetheless, you hooked an arm around his unwounded shoulder, letting him curl an arm beneath your knees and haul you up into his arms.
he left your room to trudge up the stairs to the bathroom, and you couldn’t be more grateful for the dark, because as much as you protested it to Simon, he couldn’t seem to care less if someone spotted you both bare in the night. you protested enough for him to throw his towel over you before leaving your room.
he sat you down on the counter of the sink and filled the bathtub with water, peering at you softly over his shoulder every once and a while. once it was filled, he picked you up again, and gingerly set you down in the lukewarm water before sliding in right behind you.
it was a cramped space, your back pressed to his chest, and his legs around your own, so long that his toes were against the other wall of the tub.
“comfy?” he asked, and you nodded as he reached around you for a bar of soap and a washcloth, gently washing away the after effects of the intimate night you shared together.
for once, you realized, you didn’t feel an ounce of guilt for what you had done. even if he wasn’t your husband, and even if your mama had taught you against it your entire life, as you sunk back into Simon, you found yourself absolutely uncaring for what sins you had committed.
maybe things changed when you really, truly believed he was going to die. you looked up, finding Simon already peering down at you, and reached out to touch his jaw gently.
he took your arm, cleaning it gently, thumb brushing over its marred scars. he brought it up to press his lips against the scars that stretched over its surface, face twisted and somber.
“Turner tried to trap me in that room with him,” you said, voice almost at a whisper. “i fell and my arm went straight into fire.”
he made a low noise of disapproval, but you continued anyway.
“it was almost like he didn’t want to live,” you ruminated, remembering the way Turner had promised, if you try to kill me, you’ll burn with me.
he was half-right in the end.
“he didn’t even try,” you said, “threw away his gun almost immediately. just tried to strangle me.”
Simon’s arm curled around you and rubbed a palm over your chest. you clutched at it gratefully.
“i’d say i would kill him,” he said, voice so soft it was betraying, “but you already did that. you handle yourself well, little gunslinger.”
you almost giggled. “little gunslinger?”
“mhmm.” he picked up the washcloth again, wiping over your stomach and between your thighs under the water. “little gunslinger.”
“what’s my code name then?”
he mulled over that for a moment before saying, “Angel.”
your brows rose a little. “Angel? like the devil’s Angel?”
you peered at him from over your shoulder, taking in his stupid, lopsided smile with a cocked brow, and he only leaned forward to kiss you softly.
“that’s exactly what you are, princess.”
you hummed. “what about my mask?”
he smiled against your lips. “don’t need one anymore.
you parted from him. “why not?”
“no one to be afraid of anymore,” he said, tracing a finger over your lips.
and you were grateful for it because you could look at his face—all bare and handsome—as much as you wanted now.
“thank god,” you whispered and he nodded.
“thank god. now kiss me, Angel,” he whispered in a mock sultry tone, and you rolled your eyes at the smirk on his lips, before sealing them with your own, loving the way his hands traced over your wet skin.
one stopped to clutch at that spot over your heart, rubbing in slow, soothing circles that lulled you into a soft, distant place with Simon bound to your side.
okay istg i don't want Konig to appear like the villain or the asshole here, he's just a bit… arrogant and insensitive but socially anxious and has a good heart at the same time :( just a lot of built up complexes as a self-defense mechanism :(
also obviously we got jealous ghost here but how possessive was he? not very much. possessive ghost will probably appear later on... 🌚
edit: okay soooo idk what's going on w the tags on this post they are like breaking my posts???? bc i can't edit the posts with tags on the post and IDK WHAT'S GOING ON BUT if i accidentally tagged you multiple times i am sorry... tumblr is making my life a little bit harder rn 😵💫
#simon riley smut#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#cod mw2#ghost cod#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty modern warfare 2#ghost smut#ghost angst#ghost mw2#simon ghost riley#simon riley x you#simon riley#ghost x reader#ghost x you#ghost fluff#simon riley fluff#simon riley angst
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Midnight Muse (Part 17)
Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]
Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.
Warnings: N/A
Word Count: 2,902
[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16] [Masterlist]
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There’s a knock on your door and it’s the one time you’re thankful that Rhysand has taken Feyre out on a date.
Your heart thuds uncomfortably fast in your chest and your hands shake with nerves as you smooth them across the skirt of your dress one last time.
After you had parted ways with Lucien at the coffee shop yesterday, you’d taken a solo trip to the mall to search for something to wear to the opening of Azriel’s exhibition tonight.
After trying on too many dresses to count, you had settled on this one, black and elegant, the fabric clinging to your curves in all of the right places. The store employee had halted in her tracks on her way through, as you stared at yourself in the full length mirror, contemplating whether it was too simple, or too fancy for the event.
The woman had been overcome with emotion, complimenting you so many times that you weren't even sure how to acknowledge her gushing after the plethora of nervous thank you’s you’d offered in response.
You don’t know why you’re so nervous. Azriel has made it clear that he’s not trying to impress you tonight, and you shouldn’t be trying to either, but you want to look nice for the occasion anyway. This is a real exhibition, not put on through the art school, and it’s the first you’ve been personally invited to, by someone you like or not, and you wanted to be dressed appropriately.
You’d done up your hair in a simple, yet elegant style. Your makeup accentuates your staggering beauty, matching the dress, and you’ve slipped into a pair of black kitten heels, low enough to be considered appropriate for the occasion, but tall enough to give you that boost of confidence.
Overall, you look smoking hot.
But you’re still facing nervousness as a knock on the door sounds again. It’s gentle, not impatient like you’d expect Azriel to be. He’s promptly on time, seven thirty just like he said he would be, and you have been ready for fifteen minutes, making sure you were punctual as well as not to piss him off.
With a last breath, you open the door.
It’s Azriel, of course, and the sigh you were in the middle of releasing wooshes out of you with force as you drink him in.
You know that he’s a handsome man, shockingly so, but tonight he looks like a god. He’s wearing simple black trousers with a matching black button-up, the top three buttons undone to show off the tips of the tattoos across his collarbones and his golden skin.
His hair is clean and brushed, and it looks like he may have taken a pass at it with a bit of gel because it’s perfectly set in a naturally tousled look.
He looks incredible. Good enough to eat.
In your trance, you hadn’t noticed that Azriel had fallen into a similar one, golden eyes going molten at the sight of you in your dress. You don’t see the way that his heart picks up in his chest, how his fingers curl into fists to stop himself from reaching out because they’re stuffed deeply into his pockets.
Shaking yourself from your stupor, you clear your throat lightly, trying to dispel the tightness lingering there.
Azriel blinks once, twice, and his eyes meet yours again.
“You look…” he trails off, eyes dipping down again. He needs you to turn around so that he can get a full view of you, but he shoves that thought from his head as quickly as it enters. “Yeah,” he finishes awkwardly, lamely. He wants to punch himself, because your cheeks go red.
“Uh, thanks, I think,” you respond softly. You don’t invite him in because you’re still too stunned to say anything more. Of course, Azriel looks amazing in his normal t-shirt and jeans, but seeing him dressed so smartly has something warming in the pit of your stomach.
“Don’t overthink it, princess,” Azriel continues, schooling himself back into his stoic self. “Are you ready to go?”
You nod, “Let me just grab my bag.”
Azriel waits by the door while you turn and now he has the entire view. The back of your dress is low, showing off the length of your spine. It curves around your bottom like a fucking peach and it’s difficult to force his eyes away from the sight of you like this, but he manages, shifting on his feet as his cock twitches in his pants.
You lock your apartment door and follow Azriel down the hall. You can see the muscles of his shoulders straining against the fabric of his shirt and you wonder if that’s why he hadn’t buttoned the top buttons of his shirt, because they’d surely burst. Your gaze travels lower, into betrayal territory, and you bite your painted lip at the sight of his taut waist and tight ass.
Good enough to eat, indeed.
“Elevator or stairs?” Azriel asks you as you approach the end of the hall. There had been a maintenance team who had been working on the elevator after you’d been trapped within its metal confines, and it is now back up and running. You haven’t been on it since yesterday morning, and you’re still feeling a little weary of it, so you opt for the stairs.
Azriel slows his pace as you carefully make your way down the stairs in your heels. They’re not tall, but the dress is snug around your calves and ankles, and you really can’t trip up not only because you don’t want to embarrass yourself, but because you don’t need to give Azriel the ammunition.
“Are we taking your bike?” you question as you reach the lobby landing. You pause for a moment to tug your dress back into place. You wince. You hadn’t thought about trying to wear a dress on his bike. “Because I don’t think I’ll be able to get on it in this.”
Azriel thinks that he could help you out of it, and he doesn’t dare look at you as he pulls out a pair of keys from his pocket, showing them off. There’s a few keys attached to the ring, along with a fluorescent keychain with the words ‘getaway car’ scrawled in bright ink.
“We’re taking Cassian’s car,” Azriel says, holding the front door of the building open for you. “If that’s alright.”
“More than,” you exhale thankfully, shoulders relaxing their tension. You hadn’t wanted to start an argument this early in the night, and thankfully Azriel has been nice enough to accommodate you.
He seems so unlike the Azriel that you know that you almost ask if the real him has been abducted or something because he’s opening the passenger door for you, telling you to mind the rust and hole in the floorboards, waiting for you to put your seatbelt on, and shutting the door behind you before making his way around to the driver’s side.
“Cass staying home tonight?” you question, breaking the silence. The vehicle had started up with a rough cough, and the ride is bumpier than you remember it being the first time you were in it, but you’re sure you’re being hyper aware of everything right now because you’re nervous.
Azriel shrugs. He’s tapping his fingers nervously against the steering wheel and you can’t help but to stare, noticing each groove and patch of marred skin. The beauty of something so torturous happening. You still don’t know what it is that caused that scarring, but for him not to let it stop him from creating his art, you’re in awe.
“He lets me use his car sometimes, if I let him use my bike.”
You raise a brow in shock. “You really trust him on that thing?”
Azriel huffs a laugh and your heart stutters. He glances at you and your heart completely stills at the gleam of amusement in his golden eyes. “I trust Cass with my life.”
The rest of the short ride is silent, except for the loud sounds of the hardly running Bronco and the tires against the road seeping in through the hole in the floorboards between your feet. If it’s because Azriel is nervous, you don’t know. You don’t know him well enough to know his tells, but he’s still tapping along the steering wheel. Otherwise, he is as cool as a cucumber.
You, on the other hand, are stewing in your nervousness. You’re feeling jittery, on edge the closer and closer you get to the building Azriel’s exhibition is being held in. It’s not far from your apartment, but each rotation of the tiers closer sets your teeth on edge.
You know that this means nothing. Joining Azriel tonight isn’t anything more than someone not wanting to be alone. You know that he doesn’t care much for your opinion, he had made that clear yesterday in the elevator, but with the attention on him all night, there’s bound to be some on you as well.
On the other hand, it feels like more than just an event he needs someone to attend with. The mere twitching of his fingers gives away how important this night is to him. You can’t help but to wonder why he hadn’t invited Rhysand of Cassian, if he trusts them with his life. Why wouldn’t he want to share such a moment with them? And why bring you?
Azriel rolls the car to a stop between a packed, well-known restaurant and a jewelry store. Flanked by each store is an elegant, sleek looking gallery. The outside is covered in black marble, and the lighting looks expensive and bright, the sign above the door reads ‘Opulent,’ in large black letters.
The front matches the name.
There are black curtains pulled down across the large windows beside the door. They must be pulling them open later in the night or even later in the week when the exhibition is open to the public.
You turn, looking at Azriel who is staring out the front of the car, hands twisted tightly together in his lap.
In a move of confidence, you gently place a hand on his shoulder. He flinches and you watch him try to cover it up, but it’s too late, you’ve already seen the pain flashing across his gaze. You rip your hand from him as fact as you can.
“You ready?” you ask, and you don’t like the way your voice trembles a little.
Azriel nods once, then again, firmly. “Yeah.”
He opens your car door for you once more and allows you to find your footing before he’s locking up behind you. There’s a bit of a breeze now that the sun has dipped down behind the large buildings and you shiver a little, more so when Azriel places a warm hand at your lower back to usher you inside.
His skin doesn’t breach yours, touching only the sliver of silken fabric just above your ass. His palm is a heavy weight against you, and the mindless rubbing he’s circling his thumb in has your knees wobbling a little as you walk, warmth stirring to life in the bottom of your gut.
Your breath catches in your throat so harshly you nearly choke, stepping inside of the well lit area. The gallery is empty of patrons, but filled with art. The most beautiful charcoal drawings you’ve ever seen line the walls. Most of them are drawn on large canvases, bigger than your torso, and you can instantly tell how much work has gone into the creation of them, because they’re simply breathtaking.
“There he is,” a man greets with a broad smile. You tear your gaze from the artwork on the walls as Azriel gently nudges you further in the door. You blush, not realizing that you’d stopped in your tracks upon seeing the gallery. You don’t know where to look, it’s all so beautiful, but you politely drag your gaze to the man headed your way despite wanting to stare at all of the artwork. “The man of the night! And who is this lovely lady?”
His voice is rich and deep, much like the color of his upswept eyes, glowing bright with excitement. He approaches you and Azriel, patting the artist on the arm as if he knows that he doesn’t favor shaking hands or hugging. You watch, waiting to see if Azriel flinches like he had in the car when you’d rested your hand on him, but he doesn’. There’s a tightness to your body and an edge to his jaw that tells you he might have anticipated the move, as he eases slightly once the man’s hand is removed from his arm.
“Thesan, this is (Y/N). (Y/N), this is Thesan. He is the owner of Opulent.”
“(Y/N),” Thesan greets you with a firm handshake and a knowing look in Azriel’s direction. He rolls his gold eyes in response as Thesan turns back to you. “So nice to meet you.”
“You as well,” you smile softly in response. You don’t know why Thesan had given Azriel that look, and you’re not sure you’re going to find out because Thesan is whisking Azriel away, talking of some loose ends that need finishing up before the doors open to the show in fifteen minutes.
“Are you going to be okay out here while I go with Thesan?” Azriel asks you, and it’s almost jarring, how polite he is tonight. When you wave him off with a nod, he continues, brows furrowed a little like the thought of leaving you alone bothers him. Perhaps he’s worried you’ll do something to his art. A blasphemous thought. “I will only be gone for a few minutes. Feel free to look around if you like. I’ll bring you a drink on my way back.”
“Thank you, Azriel,” you answer, and his gaze lingers before he turns away, leaving you and his exhibition alone.
You look around at the empty gallery, unsure of where to start. The only sound throughout the space is the clacking of your heels on the floor. You refrain from pulling out your phone and texting Feyre and spilling the entirety of your night. You’re so nervous you hardly even know what to do with yourself. You feel awkward, like an imposter as you decide to start nearest the entrance to the street, keeping a few steps away from the large drawing lit brightly on the wall.
The piece before you is so dark you can hardly make out the forms. The entire canvas is black with deep sweeps of charcoal, only light areas have been reigned in by an eraser. You stare at it for a minute, two, allowing the painting to speak to you.
It feels lonely, despairing, almost, and the next one you move to is an angry stroke of work, lines thick where Azriel had clearly pressed harder into the rough canvas as he drew. A canister of something spilling across the floor in waves. Two eyes ripple in the reflection of the liquid, no, there are four, their pupils malignant and cruel.
The image sends shivers crawling up your spine.
Each piece is more beautiful than the next. You find yourself both enthralled and rushed, wanting to spend as long as you want in front of each picture while you have the room to yourself, rushed because you want to see all of the work before others arrive.
The charcoals become lighter, happier as you follow the path that you’re walking around the room. In the center, well lit and clearly the centerpiece of the collection, is a canvas that you’re not entirely sure could fit in through the front door of the building.
It’s titled ‘Not an Accident’ as per the plaque beneath the canvas. As it towers over you on the wall, you feel small, glued to your spot, throat thick and eyes prickling with tears as you scan the work, absorbing its utter, raw beauty.
A pair of hands, clenched together like they’re praying. Each finger presses into each other in a desperate way, as if seconds away from clawing through the skin. One is perfect. Smooth, clean skin, while the other is marred, so familiar that it makes your throat ache.
The skin of the second hand is puckered and ruined, tortured by something great, something that will always be carried, by both memory and sight. It’s Azriel’s hands, you would be able to recognize them anywhere, and the smoothed skinned one must have been what his hands looked like before whatever accident happened. It’s strong, healthy, fingers calloused with life. The other is tender, fresh skin pulled tight over jutting bones and weak muscle.
A tear escapes the corner of your eye, but you don’t wipe it away.
This artwork is a harrowingly beautiful sight.
You hear the soft footfalls of Azriel moving closer, but you can’t tear your eyes away from the masterpiece in front of you.
He strides up beside you, looking up at his work.
“Are you ready for the event to start?”
You nod, wiping the lone tear that has escaped. You don’t think Azriel notices.
“Yeah, are you?”
“Yeah,” he breathes, “I think I am.”
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
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#midnight muse#acotar#azsazz#acomaf#acowar#azriel#azriel x reader#azriel/reader#artist!azriel#tattoo artist!azriel#art school au#acotar au
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Based on this ask
Dark!Coriolanus, Delulu!Coriolanus, StepDaddy!Coriolanus, DaddyCoriolanus
You've known Coriolanus Snow ever since you were kids. Your fathers were serving in the war together, in 12, and you both lived in the same building. Hell, he was the one you ran to when an officer came to your door with the heartbreaking news that your father was killed deep in the woods of District 12 by rebels alongside General Crassus Snow.
Coriolanus’ father.
Coriolanus, despite being a young orphan boy, hugged you and tried to give you comfort. He told you that he'd be your best friend forever.
God, you both were 8 when that happened.
Fast forward 13 years and now, at age 21, you’re finding yourself running to his door once again over another life change.
This time though, you’re going to him to make an announcement. An announcement that would change your friendship. One that he'd most likely view as scandalous.
But you had to tell him before he found out from gossip.
When the elevator doors dinged open, you stepped out onto the 12th floor. Taking a deep breath, you closed the distance between you and the penthouse door.
You prayed that he wouldn't push you away after your announcement.
He was the only real friend you had left after Sejanus' death. It'll kill you if Coryo cuts ties with you because of the situation you're in.
Even though you were afraid of his reaction to your news, you balled your hand up into a fist and quickly knocked on the door. God, you were so nervous to see him. Maybe you should just tell him your news in the doorway and then run off in shame?
Yea, that's what you should do. No way in hell is Coriolanus Snow, an assistant game maker to Dr. Gaul and a University student only a year away from graduating with degrees in both military strategies and political science, going to stick by your side once you tell him your scandalous news. What you've got to tell him is a big no no in proper Capitol society.
God, he'll probably just call you a whore and turn you away once he hears it.
The door opened, revealing Coriolanus standing in the doorway. A wide smile cracked his face open as his icy blue eyes took in your presence. “Darling, I wasn't expecting a visit from you today.” Reaching for your hand, he said, “Come in, we'll have tea with Grandma'am.”
You snatched your hand away from him before his long fingers could grasp it. Your eyes fell to study his floor shines (damn, you never realize how big his shoes- well his feet, were til now. Like damn…), as you told him, “I can't stay for tea. I only came by to tell you something; then leave.”
“Surely you can come inside and sit with me. Grandma’am adores you and whatever you have to tell me, you can do it while we have tea.”
“Coryo, I can't.” You heavily sighed.
Coriolanus furrowed his brows, your words making him concerned. You've never declined the invite to come in and have tea before. Usually you'd just walk on in, shoulders brushing by his, whenever you came over. The fact that you refused to move an inch, never made any motion to come inside, concerned him.
Instantly, he was placing a comforting hand on your shoulder and tilting your chin up with his knuckles. Your worried eyes meet his baby blues. Baby blues that searched the windows of your soul for answers on why you were acting so unlike yourself.
Even tho he'd never admit it, Coriolanus was worried. The way you were acting was so unlike you; it scared him.“Y/N, what's wrong? What aren't you telling me?”
“I'm pregnant.” You told your best friend, breath shaky, afraid that he'd view you with the same stigma and shame that Capitol citizens viewed unwed mothers with.
You're pregnant?
Pregnant!
Coriolanus couldn't believe his ears. How did this happen? Okay, he knows how it happened. But he just didn't know that you were fucking somebody.
How could have Coriolanus missed the fact that you were seeing somebody; fucking somebody? Weren't people so disgustingly happy and flighty when they were young and in love? When they were having their innocence stripped away?
And then another thought struck him. One that made his blood boil. You had no reason to tell him that you were knocked up (since in the Capitol accidental unwed pregnancies always led to quick weddings) unless whoever got you in trouble abandoned you; forsaken and tricked you.
Had betrayed you.
And now you need your Coryo to fix everything; make everything all better.
“Who do I need to threaten?” The platinum blonde asked you, dead ass, and it took you by surprise.
You were expecting Coryo to be upset with you, disgusted even, but you weren't expecting him to ask who the baby daddy was and to offer to threaten them. Yea…That took you off guard.
“Coryo, you don't need to do that.”
“Of course I need to do that.” Coriolanus simply said. He rubbed your shoulders in a comforting manner while telling you, “Whoever got you into your delicate condition buttered you up with lies only to use you and turn their back on you. They betrayed you; broke your heart and I'm going to make them pay.”
“Coriolanus, no.” You shook your head. “You're not going to go hunting down my ex to maim him because he's not ready to be tied down.”
“Yes, I'm going to do exactly that because that scoundrel knocked you up and ran away from his responsibilities. He's living his life, without any second thoughts of you, while you're at risk of social damnation.”
“And here I thought you'd send me away and call me a whore, but instead you want to confront Livinius.” You scoffed incredulously.
“Livinius? As in Livia Cardew’s older brother, Livinius Cardew?” Coriolanus asked, his baritone full of disgust, as his icy blue eyes narrowed and turned cold.
Oh shit…did you just accidentally tell Coryo that Vinny’s the one that knocked you up? Yea…you did…
“I'm going to kill him.” Coryo swore as steam literally came out of his ears. He was so mad it wasn't even funny.
Hoping to calm him down, you placed your hands on his chest. “Coryo, please don't. Just leave it alone.”
Locking his eyes with yours, Coryo asked, “Do you love him?”
Did you love Livinius? No, you didn't. You only went out with him because your mother pushed you to. Your mother who had disowned you once you told her that you're pregnant. You did care about Vinny tho, even if you didn't love him.
“No.” You shook your head. “I don't love him, but I was with him long enough to care.”
Coriolanus was relieved that you didn't love Livinius, but he thought you were foolish for still caring about him. He didn't want you to feel worse than you did, so he gave you the well meaning advice of, “Well, stop caring about him because he surely doesn't care about you.”
You were feeling a bit overwhelmed emotionally (blame it on the hormones) so you told your best friend, “Thank you for not turning me away, but I think I better go now.”
“I know how much of a bitch Helenium can be. Where are you staying?”
“Coryo…” You heavily sighed, not wanting to get into things with him about your mother kicking you out and disowning you.
“Jesus, she kicked you out, didn't she?” Coriolanus concluded with bitterness in his voice.
“Yea.” You confirmed with a nod. “I've been staying at a hotel near the rail station for now. It's just until I can get a job and find an apartment.”
“You're pregnant, Y/N. You don't need to stress about working long hours in retail and finding some shithole flat to stay warm in.” The platinum blonde said, only to push his apartment door open as wide as it'd go. Ushering you in with a large hand on your shoulder, he said, “Come on, you’re staying with me.”
“Coryo, you don't need to put me up. Really, I'm fine staying at the hotel until I figure things out.” You told him, as he closed the door behind you.
Turning you around to look at him, he told you, “I know that I don't need to do anything, but I want you to stay with me because you're my best friend. It's always been my job to protect you; keep you safe, Y/N.”
How could you argue with that? He was only looking out for you. Was only doing what he's always done for you, which was to try and protect you.
You let out a heavy sigh, only to tell him, “Okay, but it'll only be temporary. I promise, I'll figure something out.”
“You don't need to figure something out because I said you're staying with me. And don't worry about the expenses, I'm more than capable of handling it.”
“Okay.” You gave in, knowing fighting your best friend (who was as stubborn as a mule) on livng with him was a losing battle. “But, please, don't tell Grandma’am yet. I can't bare to see her disappointment at me about once she finds out.” You told Coriolanus while letting him usher you out of the entrance hall.
“Okay, we won't tell Grandma’am until you're ready.” Coriolanus agreed to your request before the living room came into view.
“I still can't believe you have a car.” You told Coriolanus as he opened the passanger’s side door of his black luxury sedan for you. The car looked imported, but you weren't sure since you didn't know much about cars. Well, other than how to sit in them that is.
“I told you, darling, I’ve got money now.” Coriolanus told you, a smug smirk painted on his lush lips, before shutting the door and rounding the car to the driver's side. He opened the door and took his seat behind the wheel. “So, do you have a lot of things at the motel?”
“No.” You shook your head as your best friend cranked the car engine to life. “Just a cardboard box of stuff and a couple trash bags of clothes.” You told him as he pulled out of the parking lot behind the Corso apartments.
“You have your clothes in garbage bags!?” Coriolanus exclaimed, giving you a scandalous look. “Little dove, you should've came to me as soon as Helenium kicked you out. I would've moved your things from the 8th floor to the 12th.”
“I didn't come to you right away because my mother gave me enough money to rent a hotel room for a few weeks. I had things under control; I just came over today to tell you about my pregnancy so you wouldn't find out from gossip.”
“Y/N, you don't have things under control. You're living in a one star hotel by the Panem Rail station, you're living out of trash bags, and you're unemployed.”
“Corio-” You began, only for your bestfriend to cut you off with, “Don't, Y/N, don't you dare try to convince me that you're okay because I know you're not.” He switched lanes (without using his blinkers, which is a big no no), while telling you, “You need my help and I'm in the position to give it to you. The Plinths, after losing Sejanus, have made me their heir and are very generous to me and my family.” His icy blue eyes looked between you and the road, only to say, “I'm not that poor boy giving you most of his share of cabbage and broth after letting you sleep over. I'm able to help you; support you the way you need now.”
“I know, but I don't want to be dependent on you.” What you left out was that you didn't want him taking care of a baby that wasn't his problem. He had the world at his fingertips, he didn't need his best friend's scandal holding him back.
“You're not dependent on me, darling. We're bestfriends and I want to help you.” Coriolanus told you while turning a corner and nearly clipping a car.
Oh hell, how did he even pass his driver's test? He drives like a maniac.
Oh, wait a minute, Strabo Plinth probably just paid off the DMV to give Coryo his license.
Not wanting to talk to your bestfriend anymore, you leaned forward and turned on the car’s radio. You fiddled with the tuner until you landed on a station you liked.
The music filled the atmosphere for maybe a minute or so before Coriolanus turned it off. Looking between you and the road, he said, “Look, Y/N, I know how it is to be manipulated and used by someone you love. To give them everything only for it not to be enough; for them to turn on you and betray you.” He took one of his hands off the wheel, only to grab yours and say, “Darling, you're my bestfriend and the only person who's truly ever been by my side genuinely; not because you want to use me for something. You mean a lot to me and I just want to help you because I know how stupid and foolish you feel right now after getting your heart broken by Livinius.”
You just nodded and squeaked out, “Okay.” You really didn't feel like talking about this stuff right now.
And when did Coriolanus become somebody that talked about feelings? For as long as you've known him he always ran away from feelings.
What you didn't know is that Coryo's been harboring a decade-long crush on you. A crush he never acted on because he was afraid of ruining your friendship. Afraid that you'd push him away for being too obsessive (he knows how he can be with his things). So, he just pushed his feelings for you onto the prettiest face he saw (Lucy Gray once he became her mentor). And when he came back to the Capitol, he threw himself into his studies and interning with Dr. Gaul that he only saw you occasionally.
Now he wishes he would've just acted on his feelings for you, then your child would be his. But, he was going to fix everything and make it all better. Starting by getting rid of Livinius Cardew.
“Just let me handle everything for you, my little dove.” Coryo said while pulling into the parking lot of your hotel.
A run down hotel right next to the rail station. The flashing sign reading ‘Vacancy’ looked about to burn out. The tall blue sign next to the hotel reading Motel 6 seemed to mock you as Coryo asked, “What room in this pre-Panem horror's yours?”
“205.” You simply said as he pulled into an empty parking spot.
He cut the cars engine and pocketed his keys, only to hold his hand out. “Key.” Was the simple word he said.
You grabbed your bag from the floor and fished your room keys out. When you dropped them into his palm, he cringed.
They were brass keys, not a key card like the nicer hotels had. Coriolanus didn't say a word, but the disgusted look on his face was enough to know that he didn't approve of your choice of room. Opening his door, he said, “I won't be long, wait here.”.
You just nodded, watching as he got out of the car and went to get your things.
How did you end up here, you don't know. You went to see Coryo earlier to tell him about that baby, you never meant for him to take you in. To drag you to your hotel to get your things. It feels like everything escalated so quickly and you don't know how to feel about it.
After collecting your things, Coryo brought you back to his penthouse and helped you get settled in the guest room.
At first staying with the platinum blonde man was hard, since you felt guilty about him taking care of you, but eventually after a few weeks you got over it.
Truthfully, it was nice spending time with your best friend (that you haven't seen in a while) and his Grandma'am, who you adored. You wish that Tigris, Coryo's cousin, was around more. But since Coryo helped her get a shop and become a stylist for the games, she moved out and into a luxurious condo that was located above her boutique.
But, unknown to you, in the last few weeks you've been living in the Snow penthouse, Coriolanus has been viewing you as more than his best friend. He, for some reason, has started viewing you as his girl. And that baby you're carrying, well…he's starting to view it as his child.
Especially when you came home from an appointment with the first printed scan of the baby. You waited until Grandma'am was tucked in bed before asking Coriolanus if he wanted to see the scan. You were scared he'd say no, but you asked because you wanted to share it with somebody.
You wanted somebody to be your partner during this time, this pregnancy, even if that someone was your best friend.
Was Coriolanus Snow.
Turns out that you had nothing to be scared of since Coryo flashed you a genuine smile and told you that he'd be honored to see the printouts of your first ultrasound scan.
You had a couple of copies, so you gave him one. And when you gave it to him, standing nervously in his room, next to him as he sat at his desk, he smiled and ran his thumb over the tiny bean shaped baby (well fetus) in the scan. “How far along are you, little dove?” Coriolanus asked, never taking his eyes off of the piece of paper in his large hand.
Going over to the edge of his bed and sitting down, you explained, “I’m a few days away from being 9 weeks. Dr. Wellock says I'm due during the summer, in mid-June.”
The platinum blonde ran a hand thru his hair while grumbling, “Of course, baby's due when I'll be at my busiest preparing for the games.”
“I'm sure I’ll be on my feet by then, Coryo. Don't worry about it, the baby's not coming for another 7 months.”
But Coryo had to worry about it. He didn't want to be so busy with helping Dr.Gaul prepare for the games come mid-June that he misses out on the birth of his first born. And in his mind you were carrying his first born. Just staring at that baby, no bigger then a bean, on the print out he was holding made something paternal (and delusional) snap in his head like a rubber band. Now, after seeing that scan printout, he was convinced that your baby was his.
Coriolanus has never fucked you (ever), but he's convinced himself that the baby's his. That you're his perfect, innocent, little dove. His darling rose of a best friend. His baby girl. So that the baby you carry has to be his too.
The little tiny baby had a strong heartbeat and stats according to the print out, so he knew it was his.
His, his, his.
“You and the baby are staying here with me, Y/N. And that's final.”
“Okay.”, You agreed, only because you knew that you'd need help with a newborn. Who were you to turn away your best friend's help. Coriolanus cares deeply for you; wanted to make sure that you and the baby had the things you deserved. You couldn't fault him for that.
If only it was that simple, that innocent.
But it wasn't.
No.
Somewhere in the platinum blonde's head wires got crossed and he blew a fuse. He thinks the baby's his, and since he thinks that he'll never let you or the baby leave his penthouse.
Ever.
Nearly 3 months into living with Coryo, he came home one evening hunched over; coughing. The handkerchief he was coughing into was stained with blood. He staggered to his room, ignoring the startled cries and pleas from you and Grandma'am.
Turning to the worried old woman, dressed in her jewels and bright tunic, you assured her, “I’ll go check on Coryo.”
“Oh, should I call that maid, the Plinth woman, to put on a pot of tea for our Coriolanus?” Grandma'am asked as you rose from your seat.
When will Grandma’am realize that Ma Plinth (who lives on the 11th floor) isn't the maid? Ma Plinth just happens to be the mother of your late friend, Sejanus, and is just a warm, kind person who cleans the penthouse a few times a week and spends time with Grandma'am (and watches her when Coryo has to go somewhere for a long period of time or when you have appointments). Is Grandma’am’s memory, her senses fading that quickly? You know she can be a bit…much, sometimes- but still, is her memory getting worse?
“No.” You shook your head. Lightly patting her hand, you said, “I'll put some on if he wants it.”
Grandma'am just nodded, watching you as you left the main room and went down the hall towards Coriolanus’ room.
You knocked once on his bedroom door before opening it and peeking your head inside. “Coryo, are you okay?” You asked, seeing that he was sprawled out on his side, nearly falling over the edge of the bed, while bloodily hacking into his handkerchief.
Looking up at you, icy blue eyes full of pain, he croaked, “I’ll be fine, Y/N.”
You didn't know if you believed him or not. He didn't look like he'd be fine. Sighing, you entered the room and went over to him. “What’s wrong, Coriolanus?” You asked, getting into the bed with him and pushing a stray sweaty curl that got loose from its slick back style, away from his face.
“Nothing, just suppose it's something I drank.
“Something you drank?”
“I had tea with Livinius, after my work with Dr. Gaul today, to speak with him about you and the baby. The tea must've been bad because he dropped dead at the tea room and I'm sick.”
“Coriolanus, what did you do?” You asked, knowing deep down that bad tea doesn't kill people and make them jack up blood. That your best friend had a hand in whatever happened.
“I didn't do anything, darling.” Denied the platinum blonde, clutching his handkerchief as he welt blood tickling the back of his throat.
“Don't lie to me, Coryo. Please, as my best friend you owe me the truth.”
Coryo let out a string of loud, bloody coughs; staining his handkerchief and soaking it crimson. Lifting his head up off his pillow and looking at you from over his shoulder he told you, “I killed him for us and the baby.”
“What? Why?” You gasped, eyes wide, searching for answers.
“Livinius offered to give me money for you to get rid of our mistake, before you got too far along. I wasn't going to let him get away with that, so I poisoned him.” Coriolanus told you, body wracked with uncontrollable coughs. Coughs that made him spit up thick spools of blood.
“Coryo, are you insane? Just because he wanted me to get an abortion doesn't mean you had to poison him.”
“He was dangerous to us, little dove. He heard you moved in with me and invited me out for tea to discuss your condition and I wasn't going to let him threaten our baby and get away with it.”
You blinked as you took in his words. Our baby. Our baby as in his and your baby. Not your baby, but ours. He considered your baby his despite the fact that you've never fucked him, ever, in your entire life.
What the hell's wrong with him? Has he lost it? Was he delusional?
What the hell?
“Just hold me, baby. Please, just hold me.” Coryo asked between bloody coughs that had him gagging in pain.
You were beyond shocked. Your best friend had murdered your ex with poison and had inadvertently poisoned himself to the point that he's currently knocking on heaven’s door right now. And all because he had some delusion that your baby, your baby that was fathered by the man that he just murdered, was his.
How do you deal with this? Is there any way to deal with this?
Sighing, you decided to give into Coryo's request. He killed your ex, Vinny, to keep the baby safe. A baby he’s convinced is his. But, he did it with good intentions.
They say hell is paved with good intentions.
So…
You held him as his body shook and he coughed up a concerning amount of blood. He was always there for you, the least you could do was be here for Coriolanus. His baby blues had so much pain swimming in them. You couldn't imagine how bad he felt right now as his body was fighting itself.
“You're not going to die, are you, Coryo?” You asked, afraid that you'd lose him because of a rash decision he made.
“No.” Coryo weakly shook his head. Slowly turning around, so that he could comfortably rest his head on your chest, he told you, “I'm partially immune to this poison; I'll just be sick for a few days. He cleared his throat, fighting off a cough, and placed his hand on your belly. “You're slowly starting to get a tiny bump.” His baritone was full of pride as he told you, “I think we should stop hiding from the stigma of being unwed parents and just tell Grandma'am that she's going to be a Great-Grandma’am.”
“She's going to insist that we get married, Coryo.” You pointed out, hoping that he'd drop the notion of telling Grandma’am. You're certain that he's not ready to settle down yet.
If he was, wouldn't he have somebody by now?
Little did you know that he did have somebody.
He has you.
And that's why, in between coughing up blood, he told you, “I can convince Grandma’am that we'll have to wait until the baby’s born to have the wedding, so that you’ll be able to fit into your dress and drink celebratory champagne at the reception.”
And those words cemented that fact that your best friend was delusional. He didn't just want to raise your baby as his own, but wanted to marry you too.
Then, as if that wasn't bad enough, he told you, “Since we're telling Grandma'am about the baby as soon as I'm feeling well enough to get out of bed, we can end our charade of chastity. You can finally share my bed, my darling.”
Coryo smirked, thinking that his words were charming, before hacking and soaking his already stained handkerchief with more crimson liquid.
With the metallic smell of blood and the sweet smell of roses mingling in the room, you found yourself giving into Coriolanus' delusions. You agreed to tell Grandma'am about the baby and to move your things into his bedroom.
Because what choice did you have? Coriolanus killed to keep you and the baby safe. It was clear to you that he'd do anything for you and your child.
At least he'd be a devoted husband and father, even if he’s a bit delusional.
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