#i’ll stop drawing cursed SAW art when i’m fucking dead
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#saw 2004#saw movies#saw franchise#adam stanheight#john kramer#david tapp#zep hindle#adam sandler#eight crazy nights#meme#i’ll stop drawing cursed SAW art when i’m fucking dead#art by audra
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Sorcery ~r.s.~
ceo!ryomen sukuna x gn!reader
warnings: sukuna in a suit??, fluff
synopsis: [request by @draconic-dumbass ] “two unlikely people bound together by what some call fate, but to them, it must be sorcery” OR the reader doesn’t take care of themselves and sukuna has to do it for them.
a/n: For fic purposes, Sukuna has his own two armed body. I wanted a CEO!AU where curses don’t exist, okay? Sukuna’s just a man who looks great in a suit. The curse aspect isn’t really needed in the way it’s portrayed in the show so i don’t wanna think about it😣 don’t hate me.
The door opens as you peek your head in the hallway to see Sukuna roughly loosen his tie with a huff and unbutton the top of his shirt as he takes off his shoes.
“Long day?” you ask.
“My assistant cried today if that tells you anything. They overbooked me, and didn’t realize it until this morning.”
Your eyes narrow, “What did you say to the poor thing? She didn’t cry for nothing.”
Sukuna throws his hands up defensively as he walks over to you with a teasing smile, “I didn’t say anything! Though, I wanted to say a lot. I think she got the message when I sent her home.” The last part came out in a mutter, but you heard it well.
You hit him in the chest, “This is why you can’t keep an assistant! You’re too aggressive. I liked that one, too.”
“Well, I had an amazing assistant for years, but they quit when their husband told them to focus on art. My days ran so smoothly, and I had a beautiful sight all hours of the day,” he says, wrapping his arms around you as he continues, “Was I too aggressive with you?”
“You could barely say a sentence around me when we first met, Ryo. Don’t get cocky.”
Before he could say anything else, there was a knock on the door and you moved to answer it.
“It’s just Nao. They’re being my other model for today! I can’t model and draw myself, so I needed an amazing stand-in. How about you rest for a bit and I’ll do Nao’s solo poses and get you when I need you?” you suggested as you opened the door.
“It’s been a while. Good to see you, Y/N. Sukuna,” Nao says, giving Sukuna a wave and you a small hug.
“Nao, don’t fuck up while I’m not there,” Sukuna jokes, turning around to walk towards the bedroom.
“I’ve been doing this longer than you. I think I got it.”
“Don’t take those clothes off! The more wrinkles, the better!” you call after him.
~
You softly shake Sukuna. “Ryo, I need you to model for me now.”
He groans, opening his eyes to see you beaming at him. “It’s not fair, your face makes it hard to say no.”
“Then get up, so I can finish for today!” you urge.
He follows you to the living area with sleepiness still extremely apparent on his face.
“No wonder you chose him to be your muse for the King of Curses. He’s like The Walking Dead right now,” Nao laughs, earning a glare from Sukuna as you drag him to the spot you want him.
“You still haven’t told me anything about your art show,” Sukuna reminds you.
“Hands in pockets please…” you gesture to your own pockets when you make the statement and Sukuna lazily complies as you continue talking and telling him what to do. “My theme is Sorcery. Take a step but don't step… There! I wanted to do three bigger panels for my main showcase. They have the King of Curses- AKA you- and the ruler of blessings- aka Nao but Nao is just modeling so I can shade the pose right and put myself in it. Then the middle panel will be them together. Look at the ground. Now, only bring your eyes up the look at me… Perfect! Stay still. Basically it shows two unlikely people bound together by what some call fate, but to them, it must be sorcery.”
~
You yawn, waking up the sound of Sukuna roaming around the penthouse. You check your phone to see the time. 4:36 A.M.
You suddenly find yourself wide awake and decide to get up and work on your rough sketches.
You go out of your shared room, rubbing your eyes as you adjust to the light and walk to the kitchen.
“Where the hell is my…” Sukuna’s muttering comes to a stop when he sees you sitting at the island, drinking a glass of water as you wait for the coffee pot to get ready.
“Good morning,” you softly say with a yawn.
“Why are you up? Did I wake you?” Sukuna asks, buttoning the cuffs of the shirt and walking over to you.
“I need to work on the rough sketches anyways since my canvases come in today. I’m so behind,” you groan, “What are you looking for?”
“My passport. I swear I grabbed it from home before I came here.”
He watches you tie his tie for him as he tries to recall where it might be.
“It’s definitely at home on the kitchen counter. I saw it before I left. I meant to grab it for you. Sorry, Ryo.”
He tosses his head back in frustration, “Why is this penthouse so inconveniently located. I have to go in the opposite direction of the office and the airport to go home and get it.”
“You’re the one that said my apartment was too small to be my studio.”
“I know.”
“And that I should separate home from work.”
“I know.” He squeezes your cheeks to stop you from talking. “I don’t regret buying this penthouse for your work. You get an ocean view and you have an entire space to do your work. I’d buy you the entire building if you needed it.”
He lets go of your face and you say, “Okay, Mr. CEO. All you had to say was that you love me.”
He chuckles and pours two cups of coffee, handing you one of them. “This business trip is pretty short, so I should be back around afternoon or tomorrow night at the latest.” He checks his watch, “I should go, so I don’t be late with my detour.”
He grabs his blazer off of the back of the chair, sliding it on as he walks towards the door with you right behind him. He slips his shoes on and turns to you, giving you a soft kiss.
“Be safe. I love you.” you say.
“I love you. Don’t overwork yourself while I’m gone.”
As soon as the door closed, you muttered: Sorry, Ryo. That’s exactly what I’m about to do.
~
A few hours later, you get a call from Sukuna and immediately answer.
“How’s the new assistant, Ryo?” you immediately ask.
He paused, glancing at the assistant beside him. “So this was your doing. I can’t say that I’m surprised. This one seems a lot more competent.”
“Don’t run him off. He knows how to run businesses well since he grew up with his father.”
“I got it. Mx. CEO,” he taunts, “How long have you been working?”
You glance at the time on your phone. 10:32A.M.
“Technically five hours but only been diligent for the past four hours. I finished my sketch for the King of Curses panel about an hour ago. So, I’ve just started drawing it on the canvas.”
“So, what I’m hearing is that it’s time to take a break and eat something,” He suggests, but you both know that it was a command.
“I’m not going to pass out on you again, okay? I can take care of myself.”
“As you’ve proven on multiple occasions, you can’t. I’ve got to go. I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.”
“I love you. Make good decisions!” You hang up and get back to work.
You didn’t know how much time had passed or how long you’d been actively moving around and working until your regular Wednesday at 11:30 alarm went off.
Wait… Wednesday??? You’d only been up for a couple hours. How has an entire day passed without you even realizing it?
At the same time, you received a text from Sukuna: I have to stop by the office before heading to you, so I’ll take you wherever you’d like around one.
“Shit!” you exclaim, typing back a quick response before rushing around the penthouse to clean and change your clothes.
Sukuna couldn’t know that you haven’t slept in the past 31 hours.
By the time you cleaned up and got dressed, Sukuna was already at the penthouse, leaning against the kitchen counter and holding a glass of bourbon in his hands.
“Let me see your hands,” he requests.
You stick out your hands, trying to calm them down because both of you knew that you get really bad tremors when you haven’t slept in a while.
“I didn’t think you’d be back so early,” you softly spoke.
“Darling, I texted you. I guess it makes sense that you don’t remember since you responded with a jumble of letters,” he sighs, sticking his hands in his pockets as he shakes his head, “What am I going to do with you?”
“I just got really focused. I’m so close to finishing the King of Curses panel. I started the Ruler of Blessings panel as well… I gotta keep the ball rolling while it’s hot,” you explained.
“That isn’t healthy. How have you been painting? With the way your hands are shaking, you shouldn’t even be able to hold a paintbrush straight.”
“I was focused! And before you say it, I’m not tired, so I’ll just get back to work.”
He looks at you in amusement as you walk away. “Still as stubborn as ever.”
“I’ll stop after I finish the curse panel, okay?”
Before you could even get out of the kitchen, Sukuna had picked you up by your waist and started walking away.
“Ryomen Sukuna! Put me down!” you exclaim, “I told you, my feet stay on the ground!”
He laughs and continues walking, “I told you that if I want to pick you up, I will. If you think you’re heavy, then you’re wrong. You’re like a feather compared to what I lift at the gym, okay?”
You fall silent, letting him carry you all the way to the bathroom. He sits you on the counter and starts running the water for a bath. As you wait for the bath to fill up, he stands in between your legs, bringing his hands up to your face and lightly grazing underneath your eyes.
“They’re puffy…” he looks at you with a hint of sadness, “I understand that the art show is very important to you, but this is the third time in the past few months that I’ve had to physically stop you from overworking yourself. If you don’t take care of yourself, your art will suffer, too.”
“I know. There’s just a lot of big names coming this time. I really want it to be good.”
“It will be because you’re an outstanding artist,” he reassures.
You give him a small thank you as he turns to stop the water and you shed your clothes, getting in and closing your eyes and enjoying the warmth.
“You see how nice hot water feels?” You could hear the teasing in his voice.
“Yeah, yeah. Self-care or whatever.”
Sukuna begins to wash your body for you, humming a soft tune and lulling you to sleep. He finishes washing you up and takes you to bed, putting one of his shirts on you and crawling in beside you, letting you wrap yourself around him to steal his warmth.
He softly smiles to himself and gives you a soft kiss on the top of your head as he whispers, “Sweet dreams.”
#ryomen sukuna#sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#ryomen sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x you#sukuna#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk#jjk fic#jjk masterfind
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The Last of the American Girls (Chapter 1)
Hello! I’m not sure if I’m gonna keep posting fics on tumblr, but I figured I’d give it a try. I guess let me know if you like this fic and I’ll be more likely to keep going. Anyways, it’s going to be kind of a songfic using The Last of the American Girls by Green Day. The first chapter is set up and beyond that, they’ll be memories. WARNINGS: angst, vague references to doing the nasty.
xxx
“Well, she’s the last of the American Girls.”
xxx
In the grand scheme of things, there wasn’t much that Daryl Dixon needed to survive. While some of his companions in the apocalypse yearned for a warm bath or a movie to watch, Daryl was used to living rough and tumble. He knew how to hunt, how to turn animal meat into an edible meal, and how to fend for himself. After all, the world had only just decided it didn’t want the rest of humanity there, but it had despised him since the day he was born.
However, he had to admit he was thrilled when he found out that the Greene’s farmhouse had electricity. It gave him one last opportunity to use the last item he had held onto from the past, to experience the only thing that had mattered to him before the world went to hell.
It took some uncomfortable explaining to one of Hershel’s daughters- the older one who had taken a shine to Glenn- to get him in the door and into the guest room. She left him for a moment with a curious expression, quickly returning with the only item he had asked for.
Daryl took the iPod charger and thanked her quietly, refusing to make eye contact. It didn’t take long for the woman to take her leave.
The younger Dixon could almost hear his older brother’s mocking, despite their estrangement. It didn’t matter where in the world Merle Dixon was, he always got himself the last word when it came to his brother’s choices. And, as Daryl could imagine, he would be getting mocked endlessly for what he was about to do. However, with little else to do as the small black device charged, all he could do was listen to the disappointed guffaws of his elder brother.
“Christ Almighty, Darylina. Not even the end of the fucking world could force you to grow a pair. Sittin’ around in some saintly man’s house, waiting on a useless brick of metal. And for what? All over some bitch that’s dead and gone.”
Daryl almost winced at the imagined scrutiny, his brother’s words cutting worse than when he had thought the things himself. This was remarkably stupid, even by his standards. There was nothing left for him in this. Everything on the little device covered in various, cartoon stickers charging in front of him was based purely on memory, on emotion. Even on a good day, Daryl found the routine, the desire to look through the iPod ridiculous. And he couldn’t help but assume that there weren’t going to be many good days left.
The world seemed to halt when the screen came to life, the usual playlist displayed in dark mode taking over for the first time in months.
His mind, as it always did, clouded at the sight of his name at the top of the track list. Dixon. He could almost hear her voice, the lilt that snuck into her tone every time she greeted him from behind the bar. He thought he had moved past this, that the end of the world had washed away what had come before. That he would be done with the emotional strain that the world had placed on his shoulders from a young age. The good, the bad, and the ugly, all rinsed away for the simple chaos that the walkers left in their wake. But now, sat in front of this stupid fucking box like a teenager looking at a love note, he knew that would never be the case.
xxx
She had been on her tiptoes, cursing as she stretched over the counter to wipe down a spilled drink when he had entered the dimly lit dive bar. It was a chilly evening in Atlanta, but the woman still wore a simple black tank top and grey jean shorts that hardly came halfway down her thighs. Her long, dark brown hair was pulled up in a high ponytail, clearly for practicality as opposed to preference, keeping it off of her face and neck as she worked. This, however, only served to draw attention to the work of art that adorned her body, a tattoo consisting of barbed wire wrapped around her neck that slithered down over the rest of her body, ending somewhere below her ankles. She didn’t seem too imposing, but her presence seemed to demand respect from those around her. In shitholes like this, men could hardly keep their drunken mouths shut around women, saying filthy things and copping feels. But the place was in order. People kept themselves in check and a single glare from her created a silence far more imposing than anything Daryl had ever seen.
He had come in looking for an alibi, an excuse to keep himself out of Merle’s illicit activities for the evening and a dose of plausible deniability should the Atlanta PD come knocking. Instead, he had found something else. Usually, he couldn’t give two fucks about what someone thought about him. But her? He wanted her to notice him…
xxx
Doors opening and closing on the floor below him brought him back to the present, the memory’s clarity fading almost as quickly as it came. The first time he had been able to see her in his mind’s eye in a long time. It had been a year since he had seen her, since he had left the city with his brother like the idiot he was. She had offered him a place in the world, a life of his own, and he had turned it down for Merle fucking Dixon. There wasn’t a day that he wondered if the choice was worth it… But since Merle had fled that rooftop in Atlanta, he knew that he had thrown in with the wrong person.
Everyone he cared for always left him. But not her. She had asked him to stay.
And he had left her in return.
Fucking. Moron.
A parting gift, in the form of her treasured iPod containing a playlist for him, was all he had left of her. He had no doubt in his mind that she was long gone, either fleeing from the dead or part of the dead herself. After all, happy endings and good fortune were never in the cards for any of the Dixons, least of all Daryl.
With unsteady hands, Daryl plugged in the pair of earbuds she had sent along, pushing one into his ear in order to keep himself sharp enough to respond to any possible threats. It was second nature, it always had been. As he stared at the unmoving screen before him, he asked himself whether he deserved this. The memory of Gloria alone overwhelmed him with a sense of bliss, one he wasn’t sure he deserved. It all came back in short bursts. The good, the bad, and the ugly of one of the best people he’d met in his entire life.
xxx
“Oh, eat shit, Dixon!” she cried, laughing through her words as she curled up in the passenger seat of his pick-up truck. “I was NOT that drunk!”
“Ya tripped over the curb, then curled up on the sidewalk screamin’ ‘bout how ya were sure to die any minute. I had t’ carry ya home and put a frozen bag of blueberries on ya elbow.”
“I was just… very concerned about gettin’ a bruise.” she defended adamantly.
“You didn’t even hit that elbow, Glory.”
“Like I said, eat shit!” Her smile was practically contagious.
xxx
“You’re such a fuckin’ prick, Dixon!” she screamed, stalking up the stairs of the empty bar towards her apartment above. “I can’t fuckin’ believe it!”
“Glory, I’ve got no goddamn clue what you are talkin’ about!”
“So I’m just not good enough for a little fuckin’ honesty, that it?!” she demanded, stopping short at the door and turning to face him. Daryl could see the tears hidden behind the rage, but knew that they wouldn’t fall, not in front of him. “Am I jus’ not worth the fuckin’ time?! If you don’ wanna take this anywhere, that’s fuckin’ fine! But don’ lead me on like I’m some idiot.”
“I-... I don’t wanna…-”
“But you are, asshole! I have been jerked around enough damn times to know what it looks like. And to think I thought you gave a fuck.”
“I do! I jus’ ain’t ever done this before!!”
She quieted down almost immediately, her demeanor eerily timid in comparison to her typical fire.
“You-You’ve never… never what? Like… any of it…?”
“No! I haven’t!” Daryl was still pissed, but he couldn’t quite tell if it was at her or himself.
“Oh fuck…. I am… Jesus, I’m so sorry, I’m such a bitch.” she murmured, burying her face in her hands. “Christ, I’m sorry.” she turned around to unlock her door, fumbling with the keys as Daryl fumed. As she opened the door with a creak of rusty hinges, she turned to face him. “You deserve a better first, Dixon. Don’t waste it on me, okay?” the words were filled with kindness, with a sort of compassion he rarely saw from her.
As the door shut, he understood one fact more clearly than he had ever understood about the retreating woman. He was stupidly in love with her.
xxx
Her scars were so different from his. While his were big, ragged gashes, hers were small, smooth indentations in otherwise perfect skin. But, like his, they were everywhere.
He discovered each and every one, his calloused hands tracing ever so lightly over her skin. She leaned up to do the same with her lips, letting them ghost over his neck as he held back a satisfied groan at her efforts. It didn’t take long for him to reach his destination, his nimble fingers pulling melodies from her lips that he was so sure proved the existence of a god. Only the divine could create something so heavenly.
Once she had her fill, he took what he so desperately needed, murmuring praises the entire way. Her nails dug into his arms as she clung to him, begging for more, to be closer to him. To say that having this unwavering force of a woman beneath him crying out in ecstasy was anything short of magical would have been a goddamn crime.
For the first time in his entire life, Daryl Dixon found peace in baring himself to another person, falling soundly asleep with Gloria tangled in a gentle embrace.
xxx
Daryl Dixon refocused his gaze on the screen in front of him and pressed play.
#the walking dead#twd#twd fanfiction#the walking dead daryl#daryl fanfiction#daryl dixon/oc#daryl dixon x oc#oc#songfic#last of the american girls#green day#fanfiction#mercdoesfanfic
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Kairos trudged through the snow, head bowed against the howling wind, cursing themselves for forgetting how bitter the weather was out here. Of course, they used to love these raging blizzards...When they were out of the wind, in the safety of their castle.
At least their new ‘lusus’ seemed to know the way. She trudged on, pressed almost to the ground, and Kairos had to keep close watch on her tail to make sure they didn’t lose sight of her.
Getting the time off work for this excursion was difficult, but in order to delve again into the art of necromancy, they needed their old research. If it were even still intact; Those rebels might have destroyed everything.
Still, even if it were all gone they had their reasons for paying their old hive a visit. The treasury, for starters. They could live a bit more luxuriously- Not that they had much of an eye for it, anymore- With the help of the copious amount of relics and gold artifacts from there. At the very least they wouldn’t have to worry about rent.
The rest was just nostalgia. Seeing if their original lusus was still around, so on and so forth.
They had all but stumbled through the castle gates by the time they realized they’d even reached their home. The blizzard had created full white-out conditions, and they could scarcely see a few feet in front of them.
They heard their lusus call from somewhere ahead, and trudged through the large courtyard to the safety of the entrance hall.
Immediately, they realized the castle had not been left derelict. Torches were lit inside, and they didn’t immediately see any signs of disrepair. They caught sight of their lusus slipping away down one of the halls and, judging by the fact that she wasn’t calling after them or trying to drag them along, they assumed she did not want them to follow.
They drew a dagger in favor of their sword- Too unwieldy if they came upon a foe suddenly- And proceeded with caution.
They made a beeline for their main study first. This was no longer a casual jaunt down memory lane; This was practically home invasion.
They immediately saw that the study had been rearranged and many books were missing off the shelves. They hastily began searching, though they were unsure exactly of what they were looking for. They’d written far too many research notes to take everything, so they needed things pertaining specifically to necromancy. At least they still recalled their organization system, not that it wasn’t in complete disarray.
They weren’t finding any of their research notes at all, related to necromancy or not. They found plenty of books on magic, their personal journals, but none of their notes.
“Dad?”
A voice called down the hall outside the study. Kairos grit their teeth, mentally cursing and backing away. They pressed their back against the wall behind the open doors, waiting. Footsteps padded along the thick carpet down the hall. Kairos heard him stop in front of the open study doors. His breathing sounded shallow, tense. They could sense his trepidation. Their grip tightened on their dagger as they estimated exactly where he was, what path he would take into the study- How easily they could land a surprise attack and gain the upper hand.
The troll took a few cautious steps in, and then moved further ahead, heading towards the desk apparently without looking behind the doors.
Kairos lunged, grabbing one arm, twisting it behind his back, and pressing their dagger to the troll’s throat. Kairos had seen a hint of fuchsia fin, which meant they couldn’t easily overpower him.
“Be still, or I’ll slit your throat.” They hissed, when the troll attempted to struggle. He froze, taking a few moments to gauge the situation, and then made a demand.
“What do you want??”
“My research. Where is it.”
“What?”
“I wrote many notes on various schools of magic, that were kept in this study. Where are they.”
The troll hesitated, and Kairos pressed the dagger closer to his throat. They could sense this troll’s magic; He had to know what they were talking about.
“I-Is your name- Kairos?”
“So you’ve read them. Where are they.”
“H-Hey- Listen! I’m your descendant! Ramira Mikari!”
“I have no descendants.” Kairos hissed, but glanced up to the troll’s horns. Sure enough, they matched their own, minus the icicles. That didn’t mean Kairos was about to let him go.
“Just look at my horns! We share a name!”
“A sibling, perhaps, but not a descendant. My research, Ramira.” Kairos pressed the blade hard enough to draw blood.
“It’s in my room!”
“The master bedroom?”
“The one next to it...”
Kairos paused. They couldn’t just bind his arms and leave him; He could easily get free with a spell. They relaxed, letting him go, and Ramira darted forward out of their grasp, rubbing his throat.
“Christ,” hissed Ramira. “I thought you’d be kind of a dick, but...”
“Ah, for once I am not a disappointment.”
Kairos stepped back out of the study, turning and stalking down the hall- Only to come face-to-face with a snow leopard. A glance at the eyes confirmed it was neither their current lusus nor their original one, but related all the same.
The leopard meowed at them and sat down. They hesitantly reached out, and then gave the leopard a pat on the head when it seemed to consent.
“Did you have a snow leopard lusus too?” Ramira had followed them out of the study.
“Yes. Is he around?”
“Uh...This is the only snow leopard I’ve seen. I found the body of one in, uh, I think the master bedroom.”
Kairos furrowed their brow, and continued onwards past the leopard. “What did you do with it?”
“I put it in the catacombs.”
Kairos hummed in response. Ramira followed them all the way to the master bedroom, though Kairos stopped and walked right into the room next to it that Ramira had claimed as his own.
Ah. That was definitely a heap of their research notes. Kairos immediately began digging through it; It wasn’t even remotely organized. They were surprised Ramira wasn’t more aggressive towards them, all things considered, but apparently he wasn’t too willing to attack his sibling.
“If you aren’t my ancestor, then who is?”
“Cataclysm, likely. There are books on him in the ancillary study.”
“Oh. Haven’t really looked through that one, yet. What was he like?”
“Do you think I know?”
Ramira put up his hands defensively, making a face and looking away. “Okay, okay. Sheesh.”
“I put a knife to your throat and you still see fit to bombard me with questions?” Kairos hissed.
“You didn’t kill me, so...”
“I am starting to think I should have.”
Ramira backed away a few steps. And then decided to ask another question. “What are you looking for?”
“My studies on necromancy.”
“There’s one on the desk.”
Kairos looked over towards the desk, and then resumed digging through the pile. Ramira cautiously approached, sitting down on the other side of the pile and starting to sort. “Sorry. I should’ve organized this sooner.”
Kairos hummed in response again. By the end of it they had four of their research notes on necromancy, including the one that had been on the desk, and a fifth book they had grabbed on their studies of their own magical ability. That might hold some insight on their current, uncontrollable state.
Shoving the books into their backpack, Kairos stood and began making their way towards the catacombs.
“Hey- Listen- Can we just talk? For a second?”
“About what?”
Kairos stopped, rounding on Ramira, who also stopped dead and faltered.
“Um- Well- We’re related, and all. We’re both mages. And you lived here a while. There’s gotta be...Something you can tell me.”
“There no doubt is. However, I do not care nor do I have the time to share it. Learn on your own. There is nothing I could tell you that is not already contained here.”
“Jesus christ, are you always like this?”
“Yes.” Kairos turned and continued onwards. Ramira apparently thought twice about following, but still ultimately did so. At least he followed in silence.
The already-freezing temperature dropped as they descended the stairs leading to the catacombs. The air shifted, and with it came a horrible crawling sensation. It felt as though the air itself were writhing, heavy and toxic. The stones themselves seemed to be twisting in agony.
This place was cursed, sickening, unfit for life, and still Kairos pressed on.
“Can you at least tell me what the fuck is up with this place? Why is it like this?” Ramira said, finally. At least he had the sense to keep his voice low- And even then, a shriek echoed from some distant depth in the catacombs in response. “Jesus-” Started Ramira, stumbling a few steps back. Kairos ignored it.
“Our dear ancestor trapped the souls of his most detested enemies here. Being a highly successful conqueror, his enemies were many.”
“What was that scream??”
“A banshee, perhaps. Or one of the many twisted souls here.”
Kairos reached the treasury- Kept on the same level of the catacombs to deter ordinary thieves, who could scarcely set foot below the castle without being overcome with fear. They dumped their backback on the ground and began filling what space remained with treasure.
“Seriously??”
“This is as much my inheritance as it is yours.”
“Yeah, but...Jeeze, have some dignity.”
Kairos just scoffed, and once they’d gathered a decent amount, they straightened. Ramira seemed about ready to book it, nervously glancing over his shoulder as though something might come creeping up behind him.
“Show me to the snow leopard you brought here.”
Ramira rubbed his arms anxiously, and then turned to lead Kairos into the catacombs.
He hadn’t brought the corpse far, just into the next room where there was an empty slat in the wall. Kairos scooped the frozen corpse out, glancing towards a half-frozen zombie that had noticed them and was attempting to shamble towards them.
Ramira was bristling with fear. Kairos snorted and moved to carry the leopard’s corpse out.
“Please. It couldn’t bite you even if you let it,” they said, brushing past Ramira.
“This is fucking scary! Don’t tell me you can’t feel it!”
“I can, likely moreso than you. I spent much time down here, however.”
“So you were a necromancer?”
“To some extent. I studied many things.” Though they couldn’t deny that they had a particular interest in death and the beyond.
Kairos carried the leopard’s corpse to one of their old workrooms by the study; This, it seemed, had been untouched. They cleared a table and set down the corpse. Ramira had followed them the entire way.
“Can you light these sconces?” Asked Kairos, picking up an old tool from a tray.
“Can’t you?” Ramira said, still moving to light them anyway.
“My magic is all but useless.”
Ramira looked to them, confused, but Kairos didn’t care to elaborate. Their surgical tools were ruined, unfortunately, and they had to wait around for the corpse to thaw before they could handle it.
They opted to check the eyes first. They were half rotted, but Kairos still recognized the iris’ pattern.
It was their lusus, without a doubt.
Not that they were surprised.
They stayed for two nights to handle the corpse. Ramira- Or Mira, as he preferred to be called- Came and bothered them a few times, pestered them with questions, but ultimately did his best to be helpful. Not that he couldn’t do much; It turned out he was almost as useless as Kairos when it came to magic.
By the end of their stay, Kairos had the bones and fur of their lusus in a duffel bag provided by Mira. The bones were badly cleaned, but that was fine; They at least had something to bring back to Eirene.
As Kairos stepped towards the kitchen portal that lead to a nearby town, Mira spoke up. “Are you going to come back?”
“Likely not.”
“...Can I have your number?”
“...Fine.”
Kairos stopped to enter their phone number into Mira’s phone, and paused as they handed it back. “Do not rapid-fire text or call me.”
“I’m not that much of an asshole, jeeze...”
“You’ve been doing the physical version of it for the past two nights.”
“I have not!”
Kairos didn’t care to argue. They turned to step onto the teleportation circle, before stopping again. “One more thing. My lusus; How did you find him?”
“Uh...He was curled up on the bed. Almost like he were sleeping.”
Kairos narrowed their eyes, and then stepped onto the teleportation circle, vanishing in an instant.
#bastdrabbles#kairos mikari#kairos ic#kairos writing#ramira mikari#mira writing#mira ic#long post //#this got. really long#gonna proofread tomorrow#gnight
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in too deep (part 5) - jules
jules x reader
TW: drugging
warnings: beating, homophobia, threat of death, i think that’s pretty much it??
notes: ooooohhh we’re getting closer to the end! not that i’m excited for this to end, but i’m just excited for you guys to see it
i really hope that me putting homophobia in this story doesn’t make you guys think i’m homophobic bc that’s the farthest thing from true. since i changed the gender of the mickey stand-in, i felt like it might be more interesting to add another dynamic into the story so it wasn’t just a word for word copy of the original except with a girl, bc that seems really one-dimensional to me. i feel like i need to put one of those things they have in movie credits like “the views in this film in no way reflect the views of the studio that produced it” kinda thing
also i think this may be my favorite part that i’ve written, bc if you didn’t notice, i’ve never left the reader’s perspective during the whole thing, so i had to improv a bit during the parts of the movie we didn’t get to see with mickey, and maybe i’m just a lil proud of myself :’)
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for the first time since you came up with your brilliant plan to siphon the gas, you actually felt a glimmer of hope. jules was smart, she’d surely find a way out of the house; and she was damn loyal, too, so you knew there was no chance she’d leave you behind.
sadly all those hopes were dashed when you heard the basement door creak open again.
fuck, this whole plan was dependent on the fact that no one else came downstairs! your hands clammed up, your heart rate quickening as footsteps descended the stairs, stopping dead in their tracks once they reached the bottom.
“where the hell’d that little bitch go?” george roared, scanning every nook and cranny in the basement to see if jules was hiding anywhere. “answer me!”
you stayed silent, more out of fear than some sort of strategy. you quickly realized this was the wrong decision as george viciously backhanded you across the face. your head whipped to the side, eyes blinking back into focus from the impact. you felt something sticky on your lips and realized it was blood.
“you’re so angry,” you groaned. “why? just ‘cause you’re shooting blanks?” you pouted in mock sympathy. this sudden boost of confidence seemed to be a mistake as you saw george’s expression shift into a dangerously content one.
“i’m gonna rip your fuckin’ heart out.” your face dropped as he spoke. “i understand you not wantin’ to tell me where she is. in fact, if i were in your position i suppose i’d do the same. but god almighty i’m gonna watch ya’ die. i’m gonna hurt ya’.”
you were stunned into silence but you decided saying something, anything, would be better than nothing. “she’s gone, man. you just need to give it up.”
this seemed to strike a nerve in him. he turned towards you again and delivered another swift slap, knocking the wind out of you. he smacked you again, the back of your head knocking into the pole and causing your consciousness to fade for a moment.
“you think i’m full of hot air, don’t you? only good on roughin’ you up?” he asked rhetorically. “you know i worked as a door-to-door salesman for a few years? learned a lot, but the most important thing i learned was how to read people. and at the end of the day, you’re just an open book, sweetheart.”
the name sounded like poison dripping from his lips. it made you sick, that name belonged to jules.
“i know your type, believe you me, i’ve seen quite a few in my time. you see, you like to think you’re tough, strong, resilient, but at the end of the day, you just value her life above yours.” he laughed to himself. “am i right?”
he chuckled again when you didn’t answer. “that’s alright, you don’t have to answer, i know i’m right. well, you people are more loyal than i thought. guess i gotta give credit where credit’s due.”
“fuck you.” you spat. “don’t fucking talk about her like that.” he stood up again, this time grabbing something from a shelf before making his way back to you.
“alright, no more pussyfootin’ around, time to get down to business.” he revealed the knife, positioning it under your ear as he prepared to slice it off.
“sheisn’tgoingtothecops!” you breathed out quickly, hoping he’d let you keep both ears with the statement.
“what? what’d you say?” he seemed caught of guard by the sudden admission, backing off of you.
“not yet, anyway.” you took a moment to catch your breath. “i told her to wait. yeah, we got a little meet up spot. now if i don’t show up there in an hour or so, then yeah, cops galore. you’re fucked, buddy. but, if i do show up, we just continue on our way like none of this happened.”
you took another shaky breath before you continued. “if we’re being honest here, i don’t want the cops involved any more than you do. y’know, the whole ‘not gainfully employed’ thing? the cops aren’t a huge fan of that one.”
george seemed to take this into consideration, nodding quietly to himself. “what about sweetiepie?”
“her? i don’t give a fuck about her, she’s the whole reason i’m in this mess.” you winked at her, hoping she’d understand the message.
george snapped the blade shut, producing the key from to the cuffs from his jacket pocket.
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“any last words for this son of a bitch?” george asked gloria as he trained the pistol on you.
“oh, i do wish you’d handled things differently. we could’ve had somethin’ beautiful here.” she smiled sadly, mourning what could’ve been.
“i’ll see you in hell,” george mumbled as he opened the door for you. you stepped into the doorway, only to stop dead in your tracks when you heard your girlfriend’s voice. shit.
“stop, don’t kill her!” jules shouted from the top of the steps, baby doll in hand. “i will smash it!” she held it over the railing, dangling precariously above the hardwood flooring beneath.
“whew, that was close.” george laughed, closing the door behind you. “unhand my baby!” gloria whined.
“alright, missy, calm down. no one’s gonna get hurt.” he kept the gun aimed at your head, but gloria quickly pried it out of his hands and took a shot at jules. she crouched to shield herself from the bullet that thankfully missed, but in doing so let go of the baby that plummeted to the floor, shattering into hundreds of pieces.
“get your ass down here or i’ll blow her brains out!” george shouted gruffly as jules descended the staircase. she ran to you, hugging you close and helping you to stand on your injured leg.
gloria rushed out of the room, bloody pieces of ceramic in hand as george turned back to you. “look what you gone and did. what did i do to deserve you two?”
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“cooking’s a zen art for my dear gloria. i’ve found there’s a method to it: the more upset she is, the bigger the dish it takes to pull her out.” george explained. “needless to say, i think the two of you just summoned up a banquet.”
the two of you had been crudely duct-taped to some chairs in the dining room, forced to listen to the stuffy dialogue between the husband and wife. “why? why do you keep her down there?” jules asked.
“it’s not what you think.” he looked over his shoulder to make sure she wasn’t listening. “my gloria, she’s always wanted a child. unfortunately, the good lord did not have that in his plans for us. so, i had to take matters into my own hands.”
“oh, so you kidnapped her.” jules stated bluntly. george glared at her, but continued his explanation.
“as you get older, things get... complicated, and i swear to god i had no ill intentions. i just wanted to make my wife happy.” he smiled. “and she was for a bit, until she started to remind her of what she couldn’t have. she asked me to make her go away, but i couldn’t bring myself do that, so the basement is our compromise.”
“dinner is served!” gloria announced, wheeling in a cart full of dishes of shepherd’s pie. she placed one on everyone’s plate before she sat down. they quickly said grace before digging into their food.
“so are you guys gonna kill us or...? what’s the deal?” jules asked matter-of-factly. you wanted to nudge her shoulder and ask her what in the hell made her so bold, but you didn’t want to cause a scene.
“george, you didn’t tell them?” gloria asked confusedly. “i wanted to make ‘em squirm a bit,” he smirked.
“t-tell us what?” you cursed yourself for stuttering but you couldn’t help it, it came out when you were anxious.
“we’re not gonna kill you.” george mumbled, almost sounding disappointed. “i said we’re not gonna kill ‘ya, what are you deaf?” you stifled a grin at jules, not wanting to change their decision to set you free. “we’ve decided that, despite your piss-poor behavior, the logistics of it just don’t make no sense for us.”
“sooner or later someone’s gonna come lookin’ for you two. now, i can hide a body like the easter bunny hides an egg, but the two of you have been sweatin’, spittin’, and pissin’ all over this place.” he paused to take a sip of his drink. “anywho, i’m bound to miss a spot. i figure we have a better chance of hitting the road. we’ll give it 48 hours, tip off the police, they’ll come by and pick ya’ up. i reckon you’ll do some time for whatever the hell you two did, but at least you’ll still be drawing breath. so congratulations, you should be thankful. you just won the damn lottery.”
jules spared a glance at you as if to say, what now? “take your time eatin’ you got another couple days in those chairs.” george muttered as he took another bite of his meal.
screw it, you thought. we’re hungry and going to jail in the next two days, what harm could a nice meal do? you both picked up your forks and knives and tucked in to the plate in front of you. you nearly let out a moan in satisfaction as the food hit your tongue. you scooped up more greedily as you had no clue if and when the next time you’d get fed would be.
“wait,” jules swallowed the food in her mouth. “what’s gonna happen to her?” gloria glanced over to george, waiting for the answer to the question as well.
“well, i’m sure they’ll put her some place nice. these orphanages, i hear they’re like five-star resorts.” george answered.
“does that upset you?” gloria turned to jules, a smile of mock empathy on her face. “anything’s better than down there.” jules mumbled.
“you got a heart of gold, jules. is your full name julia?” jules nodded in response. “my mother’s name was julia. she had a good heart, too, you remind me of her.”
“she died of cancer when i was real little. it was a slow, painful process, but i was with her every step of the way!” she grinned as her husband blew her a kiss. “the day before she died, she told me to look in the closet, that i’d find a special surprise for me in there. it was a package, wrapped up nice and pretty, with a tiny card with my name on it. she insisted i opened it, so i wiped away my tears, tore open the paper and there it was. a doll.”
everything stilled. every sound, the scraping of cutlery on the plate, the sound of everyone breathing, even the breeze blowing through the window decided this was a nice time to take a break.
“she said it was a magic doll,” she continued. “that no matter how sad i became, and believe me, i became very sad, i’d always have him with me. my ethan.”
your gut instincts finally kicked in as you spat out the food that was in your mouth, the gross pile of chewed up beef and potatoes looking oddly blurry to you. jules looked equally as mortified, probably even more since she was the one who brought about the end of the magic doll.
“and she was right; he was magical. and you took him away from me.” she grinned her creepy stepford wife grin once more. jules mumbled something but everything sounded miles away from you as your head swam.
“wha-what is this?” you slurred, the bright colors of the table morphing into one another.
“this is a drug overdose, y/n.” he chuckled when you sluggishly turned your head towards him. “i know, i know, i fibbed about lettin’ you live, but see, you had a veritable pharmacy in that bag of yours. you two just munched down enough pills to put a bull to bed,” his voice muffled into indiscernible nonsense, though you knew he was still speaking.
“f-fuck you,” jules managed, still keeping her head up. you, on the other hand, were slumped over, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness.
george got up from his seat, pulling your head up by your hair. “not so tough now, are ya’?” he jested.
jules muttered something in your defense, but as soon as your head dropped, you were down for the count; just missing the hopeful ring of the doorbell, possibly signaling you might live to see another day.
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i should probably put a link to previous parts at the top but i have no clue how to do that lol
tags: @emmyrosee @flowers-in-your-hayr @willyourecognisemee @bill-skarsgard-owns-my-ass
#jules#jules x reader#jules oneshot#jules imagine#jules fanfiction#jules fanfic#jules fic#jules villains#villains#villains 2019#maika monroe#maika monroe character#my writing
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“Bloody Knuckles” High Honor!Arthur Morgan x Low Honor!Reader
Okay, it took me forever to get this fic out because I had the separate ideas for art supply store and low honor reader/high honor Arthur but couldn’t quite come up with a solid plan. After playing some Red Dead, I had a very strong urge to beat there ever living shit out of Micah and that sparked this idea! I honestly really like the idea of High Honor Arthur and Low Honor Reader so you’ll probs see more fics like this one in the future!
Fluff with lots of adorable pining!
Trigger warning: Violence, sexual harassment, mention of rape (just a threat, but just in case.)
After Arthur fills the pages in his journal, you take him to a small art supply shop to help him pick out a new one.
You rolled into camp mid day. You had been gone for three days to work a robbery but the Pinkertons arrived at impeccable timing. You spent the last two nights sleeping in the woods and you were pissed. Ever since Micah joined your rag tag group, trouble has been behind every corner. At first you thought it was coincidence when your jobs went smoothly while Micah was in jail or camping up near Strawberry. You told yourself it was because he wasn’t there to fly off the handle, but ever since he returned to camp, you weren’t so sure. Blood was dried to your clothes and you were covered in dirt head to toe.
You hitched your horse and made a beeline for your tent. You felt grimy and exhausted. “Come on, girl. Let me get a taste of that chocolate skin.” Your head twisted up in disgust to see no other than Micah cornering Tilly. Usually you don’t have time to get caught up in camp drama, but when Tilly caught your eye, the fear you saw there sent you off the handle. You stormed up behind Micah and grabbed his shoulder, spinning him to face you. “Y/N!” He said in surprise. “So quiet, I didn’t even hear ya come back to camp.” His voice was nervy, knowing he had been caught. You looked at Tilly. “Go on, Ill take care of this trash.”
Tilly nodded and quickly walked in the direction of her tent. Micah sneered at you. “Ya know, I like seeing you get all jealous, warms my heart. You know you’ll always be my favorite.”
You spit at his feet. “I don’t know why but Dutch trusts you. My personally, I wouldn’t trust you farther than I could throw you. I hear one more disgusting remark, see you put one more hand on one of the girls round here, you’ll be dead. Hear me? No questions asked, I can deal with Dutch later.”
“You think killin’ me is gonna be that easy cowpolk?” Micah straightened his back, he was bigger than you and trying to assert dominance.
You laughed, “trust me, had weapons been allowed in camp, youdve been dead long ago.”
Micah scoffed. “Careful sweet thang, or I’ll be comin’ after you next.” He leaned in close and whispered in your ear. “I’ll slit your throat before you wake up, that way no when can hear you scream while I fuck your-“
“Well well, if it ain’t my two favorite people!” Dutch approached you from his tent.
You pushed Micah off you and brushed your clothes. “You May want to reevaluate your favorite people Dutch, it’ll get your throat slit in your sleep one day.” You glared at Micah as you shoved passed Dutch. You gave up warning Dutch long ago. He wasn’t the man you once followed, the Dutch you knew would’ve never let a piece of scum like Micah into their ranks. The Dutch you knew would’ve sent him packing the first time he touched Mary Beth, or tried to pay Abigail for sex. Just about every woman in that camp went to Dutch, voicing their fears and uncomfort with Micah. You recalled Mary Beth crying to Dutch about how Micah had groped her and whispered vile things in her ear and if Charles didn’t walk by when he did, she wouldn’t have gotten out there so quickly. You remembered listening in wholehearted disgust as Dutch defended him, told her not to be so sensitive and Micah didn’t mean it. When Mary Beth ran from Dutch’s tent crying, you barged in and gave Dutch an ear full. The whole camp could hear you screaming at him and he just watched you with cold uncaring eyes. That was the day you decided Dutch wasn’t the man you once knew, nor would he be the man you followed. There was one reason you stayed, and one reason alone. There he was, sitting under a shady oak tree with his nose buried in his journall. Nothing in this world had ever softened your heart like he did.
Your body was tired and you were angry, but there he was, so peaceful and calm. His hair moved with the gentle breeze, this was your destresser. You smiled as you approached him.
“Whatcha workin’ on?” You asked as you approached him from behind.
He looked up at you and smiled. “Ran into Albert again today. He was tryin’ to get pictures of alligators.”
You rolled your eyes, “that man is going to get himself eaten one day.”
Arthur handed you his journal. “I know, that’s what I keep telling him, but the man’s a damned fool.”
You admired the beautiful sketch that took up the last two pages in his journal. Arthur didn’t let anyone look into his journal, most the camp didn’t even realize he could draw much less write. “Arthur, this is beautiful! In another life you would’ve been a famous artist.” You frowned. “Sucks it’s your last page though.”
Arthur rubbed his neck and you handed him the journal. “Yeah, I’m in need of a new one. I already checked at the store in Rhodes and they don’t have any. God knows how long it’ll take me to find another one.”
“I do!” You cried. “In Saint Denis, I saw an art store right beside the tailor!”
“Well alright!” Arthur said as he stood. “I’ll head that way.” He extended a hand down to you. “Want to come with? Looks like you could use a visit to the tailor. And a bath.”
You laughed, “I suppose you’re right. Let me change into some different clothes and splash some water on my face and I’ll be ready.”
“Sounds good!” Arthur turned and waved as he walked towards his tent. Suddenly your body wasn’t so tired and you weren’t in such a bad mood when you made your way to your tent. You dug around in your trunk for your favorite shirt. “Shit, where is it?” You cursed to yourself. You looked down. That’s where it was. You had mistakenly grabbed it and shredded it for bandaging just before you left for your robbery job. You sighed and called to Abigail who shared a tent with you. “Can I borrow one of your shirts? I’m taking Arthur down to Saint Denis.”
She raised an eyebrow at you, “How gentlemanly of you.”
You rolled your eyes. “Shut up. I guess I’ll stop at the tailor to grab a new outfit if you just let me borrow one.”
Abigail crosses her arms. “You gotta let me pick it out.”
You groaned. “Fine, but no skirts, you know I don’t like skirts.”
Abigail rolled her eyes as she went through her blouses. “I know I know. I wish you would just try them though, they’re perfect for this weather, plus I bet Arthur will think it’s cute.” She gave you a knowing look and you turned red.
“No he won’t, because I ain’t cute period.” You crossed your arms stubbornly then sighed. You did like the idea of Arthur thinking your cute. You bit your lip. “Just find me a cute blouse and I’ll be out of your hair.”
“A cute blouse eh?” Abigail giggled. “How about this one?” She lifted up a button down pale blue shirt with little white flowerrs.
“I like it, but they won’t match my pants.”
“Then wear a pair of mine!”
“All of yours are too tight!”
She rolled her eyes and threw you a pair of golden khaki riding pants. “That’s because they’re actually made for women. They wouldn’t feel too tight if you didn’t wear men’s clothes all the time.”
“They’re comfy.” You responded as you changed pants.
“Yeah well comfort won’t catch a man now will it?”
You sighed as you pulled off your top and began buttoning the new one. You turned and looked at your reflection. It always surprised you to see how much curvier you were in women’s clothing. “And a final touch,” Abigail sung as she replaced the old beat up hat on your head for a more feminine sun hat. Floppy yet simple. You groaned. “I dunno Abigail, I think I look funny.”
She leaned her head against your shoulder as you looked in the mirror. “You look adorable, you just ain’t used to wearing proper clothes. Now get out there!” She shoved you hard and you stumbled out of the tent. You almost fell when heavy hands caught you. he chuckled, “careful now.”
You smiled up at him as you leveled your feet. “Thanks Arthur.”
“No problem.” He backed up and looked at you. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in women’s clothes before.”
You blushed and turned away, “I know, I look silly. I just-“ you sighed and felt ridiculous. “Abigail let me borrow some clothes since most of mine are in rags.”
“You look lovely.” He extended his elbow to you, “you ready my lady?”
You tucked a fly away hair behind the sun hat and took his arm. He led you to the horses and unlooped his arm from yours. “You can ride with me if you like.” He offered.
You nodded. “Thank you Arthur, Blue deserves a rest, he’s been on his hooves since the morning I left.”
Arthur mounted his horse and offered you his hand. You took it and he helped you up his horse. “What happened back there by the way? I thought it was only gonna take a day.”
You rolled your eyes as you wrapped your arms around his waist and the horse bolted off. “Pinkertons showed up and ruined the whole damn plan. I swear, its like every job we plan with dumb ass Micah ends with the law knowing exactly how to catch us. Something’s up with him and I know it.”
Arthur nodded. “I can’t stand that snake. I don’t know what Dutch sees in him.”
“Me neither. One of these days I’m gonna knock his teeth out.”
Arthur laughed, “I’d pay to see that.”
“Well, stick around because if I see him touch Tilly one more time I’m gonna rip his arm right out of its socket.”
Arthur laughed, “so violent!” Arthur’s voice changed more serious. “Seriously though, don’t go gettin’ yourself hurt by messin’ with a fool like him. If he ever bothers you, you tell me. I’ll take care of him real fast.”
You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “What, you think I can’t take him on my own?”
“I never said that.” Arthur’s horse slowed to a casual trot as you entered the large city. “This is Saint Denis?” He coughed and gagged. “Smells terrible.”
“Turn here. Yeah, humanity’s greatest advancements. I’m not surprised, humanity has a way of painting a pile of shit gold and calling it divinity.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more.” Arthur tipped his hat to a passing carriage. “The sooner we get outta here, the better.”
“Just keep heading straight. At the end of this street take a left and it should be on the corner up here.”
Arthur followed your directions to the art supply. He pulled his horse to a halt and hitched it in front of the building. He dropped from the horse to let you down. “Such a gentleman!” You laugh.
You walked up the stairs to the shops and Arthur took your hand to lead you through the crowds. You looked down at his big hand wrapped around yours and swallowed the lump growing in your throat. He released your hand when you entered the small art supply shop. “Welcome!” Greeted the shop owner.
“Afternoon, partner.” Arthur responded. You were always so taken aback by Arthur’s polite manners. For someone who grew up as rough as he did, you wondered where those polite mannerisms came from. You split off to explore the store. Art supplies lines the walls, everything from canvas to paint to pencils to things you didn’t even have names for.
“Y/N!” Arthur called in a hushed voice. “Over here.”
You found him surrounded by note books, journals, and sketchbooks. “Wow,” You whispered. “There’s so many to choose from.”
“Which is your favorite?” He asked.
You rolled your eyes, “we’re here for you Arthur, not me.”
He shrugged. “I know, just curious.”
Your eyes studied the books, various styles and shapes. You smiled down at a red brown leather journal, small flowers ran embellished the border and a fox ran down the spine. “I like this one! How about you?”
Arthur was holding one similar, the leather was more brown and it had a deer stamped with ink on the front. He nodded, “I think I’m gonna go with this one. Why don’t you get that one?” He asked as you set yours back on the shelf.
You shrugged. “I’ll come back for it later. I really need to spend my money on some new clothes right now. Although, if you distract the shop keep I can steal it.”
Arthur raised a brow at you then shook his head disapprovingly. “Fine.”
His broad shoulders bumped you as he squeezed between you and the shelf of journals. When Arthur got to the front to pay, you looked down at the shelf and the journal was gone! You frantically looked around the shelf and shifted books out of the way. It was just there? You bent down to search the floor when Arthur called to you from the door. “Let’s go!”
You frowned and met him at the door. He was clutching the brown paper bag the clerk had put his new purchase in. “What’s wrong?” He asked.
“I couldn’t find the journal! One minute it was there and then it was gone, I guess it’s no big deal but I was hoping you could teach me to draw.”
He looked at you surprised. “Really? Would you rather someone more talented teach you?”
You scoffed and gave his shoulder a shove. “Of course! You’re a very talented artist, Arthur.”
His cheeks turned a slight shade of pink as he rubbed his neck sheepishly. “Nah, it’s just little doodles that’s all.”
The look on his face when he talked down to himself always made your heart ache. You could see through the sad smile he was trying to pass off. “Why do you always do that?” You asked.
“Do what?”
“You always talk about how bad you are and how ugly you are. You can’t even admit that you’re good at the things you enjoy like drawing and writing!” You huffed. “I just hate seeing you put yourself down, you’re your own worst enemy and you’re just so-“ You cut yourself off. You could feel him staring at you and your cheeks flushed. You looked away and quickly changed the subject. “So, do you need anything while we’re at the tailor?”
He cleared his throat and stroked his thick beard. “I guess I could use a new vest.” He pulled his finger through a hole in the side seem of his worn down vest. “What kinda clothes are you thinkin’?”
“I definitely need some new shirts and pants. I uh, I was thinking I would buy some more women’s clothes.”
“Like a skirt?” Arthur asked. He didn’t laugh, but you still felt embarrassed.
“I dunno, I feel like I look weird in ladies clothes.” Your eyes stayed on the ground feeling rather self conscious.
He put his hand on the small of your back and you looked up at him. He greeted your gaze with a kind smile. “I think you’ll look lovely in whatever you choose.”
Your whole face turned bright red and you tripped over your words. “Oh I...t-thank you Arthur.”
A small bell chimes as he held the door open for you. The boutique was filled with fancy dresses, trousers, skirts. Blouses of every style and color hung from the walls. Arthur’s hand did not stray from your waist and you took comfort in the warmth of his hand. Arthur seemed to be having more fun with this than you, pulling pieces out to show you left and right. He did always have such nice style, so you trusted in his opinion. You laughed as he pulled ridiculous things and he made silly faces. He draped your pieces over his arm, not allowing you to hold any of it. Even when you pulled out a lovely vest he quickly snagged it and threw it over his arm. After you exhausted the women’s side of the boutique, you moved to the men’s side. Arthur shook his head in disapproval every time you lifted an over sized ranch shirt up for yourself. You’d roll your eyes, but you couldn’t help but recall your conversation with Abigail. You decided to step out of your comfort zone and Arthur was helping.
“Just a vest, my ass.” You taunted as Arthur added a pair of pants over his shirt and two vests. “Are you sure you don’t want me to carry anything?”
“No!” Arthur said defensively as you tried to snatch the clothes from his hand. “Damn it woman I’m finished lookin’ anyways.” He led you to the fitting rooms and handed you your pile. As he turned to his separate room he pointed a finger at you, “now I want to see those on you before you go sayin’ they look ‘weird.’”
“Fine fine, but if I should you mine you show me yours!” You joked as you closed the door to your room.
“Ha ha, very funny.” You heard him call sarcastically from his room.
The first outfit you tried on had navy riding pants and a fitted pink button down, accented with navy buttons and outlining. You added a white floral vest to it and examined it in the mirror before stepping out. “I dunno,” you called to Arthur. “I like the colors, but do you think it’s, I don’t know...too frilly?”
Arthur stepped out in his new chocolate pants, beige button down, and a paisley vest, mostly dark crimson with accents of various shades of brown. The clothes hugged his body perfectly and the vest accented his broad shoulders and chest. You cleared your voice, trying not to stare. “Looks good.”
He looked over your outfit and smiled as he adjusted his sleeves. “Back at ya, I think it looks perfect. You just ain’t used to something that isn’t a hand me down from Hosea or John.”
You punched his shoulder as you stepped back into the dressing room. “Thanks.” You said sarcastically.
Your next outfit had brown high waisted trousers and a red blouse, the material was thin and felt soft against your skin. You tucked your shirt in and smiled, this felt more like you. You fixed your collar as you walked out of your fitting room. Arthur was leaning against the doorway, the only change in his outfit was the color of his vest. This one was olive green with golden accents. “Very nice.” You said. “That one is definitely my favorite, which are you gonna go with?”
He shrugged. “Both probably. I like the red, but I gotta go with what the pretty lady says.”
You rolled your eyes as you turned back into the dressing room. “I don’t know about that.”
“I do.” He muttered.
You picked up the last outfit. A good pair of denim work pants and a linen top, perfect for the upcoming warm weather. Arthur had just stepped out of his fitting room in his original clothes, the pieces he had just tried on slung over his arm. “Whatcha think?” You ask.
He looks down at you and smiled. “Looks like it’s your favorite.”
“It is.” You smiled back.
He put a hand on your shoulder. “Then it’s my favorite. Hurry up and try on that last outfit.” He took a seat in a chair just outside the fitting rooms. “I’ll be right here.”
You gave him a confused look and turned back to the fitting room. “There isn’t anoth-“
“Yes there is!” He called back to you. You looked down and saw the chemise first. It’s material was soft and sheer. Underneath it was a beautiful blue material with tiny pinstripes, it reminded you of Arthur’s favorite shirt. Your cheeks flushed when you picked it up and it unfolded into a skirt. Abigail’s voice rang in your head, “I bet Arthur will think it’s cute.” Her teasing voice echoing in your mind.
You sighed and pulled on the chemise then hitched the skirt to your waist. You turned to the mirror and looked over the outfit. The way the skirt hugged the small of your waist made you look so tiny and the chemise was more low cut than you were comfortable with, but it silhouetted your body perfectly. When you walked out of the fitting room, Arthur was fiddling with this fingers. You cleared your throat and smiled shyly. He cleared his throat as his eyes trailed up and down your body. “That’s uh, that looks real..good.” He tripped over his words and his cheeks flushed. “I know you don’t normally wear skirts but I saw it and I just” He sighed. “It was my favorite color and I thought it would nice on you.” He looked up at you from under the brim of his hat with a sheepish smile. “You can put it back if you don’t like it I just-“
“I like it. I want to wear it out.”
He cleared his throat again, “good I’m glad you like it. I’m gonna go pay for my stuff while you get your stuff. Meet me outside when you get done.”
You nodded and turned to the fitting room to gather your things. Arthur has already paid and was standing against the building outside when you came out. When the owner gave you your price at the register, you tried to correct him; surely it was supposed to be more. He pointed out the window towards Arthur. “The fella you’re with paid for the clothes you’re wearing. He seems like a keeper, that one does.”
“Yeah, he does.” You said as you handed him your money. You gave him a wave as you exited the store. He looked up and smiled as you walked out of the store. He put his arm around your waist. “Want to grab a bite to eat before we head home?”
“I’d love to, but you’re letting me pay this time.”
He looked down at you, his brows furrowed. “What? No. I’m paying.”
You groaned. “Arthur, I can’t let you buy me clothes and dinner, you’ve already spent enough on me. It’s not like this is a date or anything.” You joked.
Arthur tried to hide the disappointment on his face under the brim of his hat as grip on your waist loosened. “Oh. Well, I was hopin’....”
You looked up at him in surprise and pulled his hand back down to you. “It’s a date then.”
He smiled and his grip on you tightened. As you walked together to the saloon you flirted and laughed and it felt so natural. He held the door open for you and led you to the nearest table. “I’ll be right back.”
You watched as he walked to the bartender and ordered. After a few moments he returned with two plates. Your mouth watered as he sat your plate in front of you. A big piece of prime rib took up the majority of the plate with a side of potatoes. You were both quiet as you ate, both too focused on how delicious the food was. After you finished your plate you let out a loud belch, awarding you with a hearty laugh from Arthur. “I’m stuffed. Thank you Arthur, that was great. A whole hell of a lot better than whatever Pearson cooked up tonight.”
Arthur wiped his mouth. “Damn straight. It’s starting to get late, you ready to head home?”
You nodded. “Sounds good to me.” Arthur stood and offered you his hand. You took it and he intertwined his fingers with your as you walked out of the saloon. The sun was barely visible on the horizon, the sky mostly hues of dark blue. With his spare hand, Arthur whistled loudly for his horse.
“I’ve been meaning to do this for awhile now, take you out I mean.” He stroked his beard, “probably about as long as you’ve been riding with us.”
His horse came around the corner and you moved into the street. He put his hands around your waist and hoisted you onto the saddle. He sat behind you and pulled his arms around you to give the reigns a quick flick. You leaned back and he settled his chin on top of your head. “What a silly ol’ fool I am for waitin’ this long. Guess I always thought I wasn’t good enough for this.” He held his reigns loosely in one hand as he snaked the other around you and gave you a squeeze.
You buried your face into his chest. “I don’t know where your self hatred comes from, but I wish I could take it away from you. I wish you could see the you I see. The funny handsome man who is the kindest soul I’ve ever met. You’re so genuine, I’ve never met someone quite like you. You give me hope that maybe I could be a good person one day.”
His voice was soft in your ear. “You’re already a good person. “
“Not as good as you. I’ve killed and robbed more men, women, and children than I can count. I never really cared til I met you, you make me want to be better.”
He kissed your ear softly. “I don’t believe you could get any better than this.”
He half buried his face in your hair, keeping his eyes on the road. The soft buzzing of the crickets around you soothed you and your body began to fall back into the exhaustion you felt this morning. Your eyes felt heavy as you rested against his chest. “We’re almost there darlin’, I’m sorry I’ve kept you out so late.”
“S Okay, I’m not tired.”
He smiled. “You’re a bad liar.”
“I know.” You yawned and closed your eyes.
You didn’t even feel the horse slow to a stop. Arthur placed a kiss on the top of the head. “We’re here, sweetheart.”
He slipped down the horse and pulled you down gently. “I had so much fun today Arthur. I came home feeling terrible and you turned my whole day around. I wasn’t expecting this.” You spoke softly as he walked you to the tent, most of the camp already asleep. His fingers brushed yours and you tangled yours with his. “Me neither.” You approached your tent and you heard Abigail snoring softly. You stood staring at each other under the moon light. His thumb rubbed your hand softly. “I should let you go on then, it’s getting late.”
“Okay.” You whispered.
He let out a shaky breath and put his large palm on your face. You leaned into him as he pulled you close and gave you the softest kiss you had ever had. His lips were smooth on yours and you wrapped your arms around him, pulling his body tightly against yours. When he pulled away from you, you could see the redness on his cheeks and could feel his heart pounding against his chest. “I uh, I should go. Good night, Y/N.”
“Good night, Arthur.” You watched has he walked away, your fingers against your lips.
You almost jumped out of your skin when you entered the tent, Abigail was sitting wide awake on your bed. “Shit! Abigail, were you awake the whole time?”
She smiled at you widely, “I dunno, was that the sound of lip smacking I just heard out there?”
You threw your pillow at her. “Shut up!”
“Ahhh no way!” She squealed. She looked you up and down. “I see you changed your mind on skirts.” She said pointedly towards your new clothes.
“He picked it out for me, he said he was his favorite color.” You smiled down at the skirt as you fummed with the material.
“Shut up, that’s adorable. Tell me everything!” You stayed up late with Abigail and gave her all the details as you showed her your new clothes.
Arthur woke up early the next morning and pulled himself out of bed to make the morning coffee. Arthur couldn’t help but play back the night before on loop in his head. He couldn’t get over the way your lips felt on his, the way your body felt against his. When he finished the coffee, he turned and found the ususal early morning coffee group talking as he approached. He poured his own cup then handed the kettle to Sadie. “Mornin’ Arthur.” She handed the kettle to Abigail, who then handed it down to Tilly.
“So Arthur,” Tilly said in a mischievous tone. “I heard you and Y/N didn’t get back from Saint Denis until late last night.”
He rubbed his neck sheepishly. “Oh hush, its not like we did anything promiscuous.” He stared down into his coffee and could already feel the heat rising in his cheeks.
Sadie smacked him in the gut, “Arthur! I didn’t expect you to be such a lady killer.”
Arthur his his face under the brim of his hat, “Shuddup.”
Tilly giggled, “I didn’t think you had such a soft spot Arthur. I think it’s sweet.”
Abigail smiled as she took a sip from her coffee. “I do too.”
Arthur was bright red now and he stammered over his words. I don’t- you sh-“ he groaned. “Don’t you ladies have something better to do right now?”
Tilly laughed and Sadie rolled her eyes as the girls turned to walk away. When Abigail turned to leave, Arthur caught her shoulder, “Wait, can you do me a favor?”
She turned to him. “Sure, whatcha need?”
He pulled a small brown bag from his satchel and hands it to Abigail. His voice grew soft and his eyes were full of admiration as he stared down at the small brown parcel. “Can you leave this on her nightstand?”
“Of course.” Abigail turned to leave then turned her head over her shoulder. “You did a good job picking out that skirt by the way.”
“I thought so too.” He muttered to himself as he finished his coffee.
“Arthur!”
He looked up to see Dutch approaching him. “Good morning, my boy!” He hooked a heavy arm around Arthur’s shoulders and pulled him towards the horses. “I’m meeting Sheriff Gray in town and I want you to join me.”
“Okay, how long’s this gonna take?” He said as he looked longingly to your tent.
“Not long. We’ll be back by early afternoon.”
Arthur nodded and he mounted his horse. He knew you wouldn’t be awake for a few more hours, but he was disappointed he wouldn’t be there when you found your gift.
“Let’s go.” Arthur said and dug in his spurs.
When you woke, the morning sun was already high in the sky. You stretched and slowly pulled yourself out of bed. You yawned as you pulled on your denim work pants and linen shirt. You reached for your hat on the night stand and stopped. Sitting beside your hat was the small paper bag from the art store, your name scrolled across the top in Arthur’s beautiful handwriting and a fox drawn under your name. You reached in and pulled out the journal you had picked out in the art store. “That sneaky bastard,” you whisper as you run your fingers across across the cover.
You put the journal into your satchel and grabbed your hat, eager to show Abigail. You found her doing laundry and as she saw you turn the corner, she jumped up and ran to you. “What was in that bag?” She asked excitedly before you could even say anything.
You reached into your satchel and pulled it out. Her hand came to her mouth as she gasped. “This is gorgeous! He gave me the bag to give to you this morning at coffee and I’ve been dying to know what it was!” She handed it back to you. “He’s got it bad for you, ya know.”
You smiled sheepishly, “you think so?”
“Pfft, you should have seen him this morning! Sadie and Tilly were grillin’ him about you two getting back so late. I’ve never seen that man get so flustered. I’ve known him a long time and I ain’t never seen him like this before.”
The image of Arthur’s blushing cheeks in the moonlight and shaky breath came to the forefront of your mind and butterflies formed in your stomach. You looked around the camp, “where is he anyways?”
“Dutch took him out early this morning. John said they’ll be back soon.”
You smiled. “Good.”
You looked at each other when you heard Ms. Grimshaw cussing Karen. “I gotta get back to work. I’ll find you later when I’m done.” She waved as she turned away.
“See you.” You called as you turned away. You made your way to Arthur’s spot under the oak tree and pulled out your new journal. This spot had a perfect view of the camp and the lake behind it. No wonder Arthur spent so much time here, it was beautiful. You watched as Kieran and Lenny cared for the horses. You began drawing all the gang’s horse, starting with your own. With each new horse you drew, they slowly improved.
The last horse you drew was Silver Dollar. You flipped through the pages of different horses you had drawn, playing with different styles and angles.
The air was warm and the shade from the tree kept you comfortable. You closed your eyes and rested against the tree.
“Get yer hands off me Micah.” Abigail hissed.
You opened your eyes and turned towards the sound of her voice. Micah had Abigail cornered down alone down the small hill outside of camp where the extra supply wagon was. He had a hold of his wrist. “You’re fiesty, I like that.” He grabbed her waist. “I like you.”
You grabbed your journal and ran down the hill towards them. Micah dropped her hands as he saw you coming towards them. “Abigail!” You called. Out of his grasp, she ran to meet you. “I think John was lookin’ for ya.” You told her loudly as you eyed Micah. As she passed, she gave you a concerned look and you gave her a small nod.
“Well well, already tired of ol’ Morgan? I knew you’d come running eventually but not this soon.” Micah’s tone was sarcastic.
“I don’t know what yer talkin’ about.” You responded flatly as you approached him.
Micah moved closer. “I saw you two sneakin’ back into camp last night, all cozied up” He closed the distance between you and whispered in your ear. “I always knew you were a little whore.”
“Shut her goddamn mouth.” You spat. “I told you, next time you harassed them you’d be dead.”
Micah spoke low, his tone menacing. “And I told you I’d slit your throat in your sleep.” He paused and a smiled twisted on his lips. “But ya know, now that I know you and Arthur are so close now, I could just tie ya up one night.” He pulled his knife and ran it across your chin. “I’ll tie you up while you sleep, cut off your clothes, and I’ll let all the trash in Rhodes take their turns with you and when they’re done I’ll take my turn. when I’m done I’ll dump you at his feet like the used up trash you are.”
You leaned in close to his face. “Ya know Micah,” You whispered. “I can’t understand a goddamn word yer sayin’.” You quickly jabbed him in the stomach, causing him to drop his knife. You kicked it out of reach when he doubled over. You looked over him coldly. “I can’t understand ya over all the shit fallin’ out of yer mouth.”
He groaned in pain. “That was a mistake, cow Polk.”
You pulled your leg back and kicked him hard in the stomach while he was still doubled over in pain. “You’re the mistake, you piece of scum.”
You underestimated how fast he was as he grabbed your leg and jerked you towards him. You fell to the ground in front of him and he grabbed your face in one hand. “You’re out of your league girlie.” His fist crashed into your cheek.
You sneered at Micah, “that’s my advantage cowpolk.” He was knelt down on one knee, leaving himself stupidly open. Your fist came up straight into his crotch. “You’re not fighting a man and I could care less about fighting dirty.”
You stood quickly and stomped his back hard, forcing his body down onto the ground. As you raised your leg for a second stomp he rolled out of the way quickly and swept his leg under you, throwing you back to the ground. He kicked you in the ribs and you cried out in pain. “Damn you,” you growled as you crawled to your feet. You threw a punch but he dodged, and caught you right in the mouth. Blood drenched your chin and ran down your shirt.
“Hate to ruin that pretty little mouth” Micah mocked. “But I just can’t wait to see how Morgan will be when he sees what’s left of you when I get done.”
You looked down at your now ruined shirt, covered in your own blood. You were boiling with your own rage as you tackled him to the ground and began slamming your fist into his face. “This was a new shirt you son of a bitch!”
“Everything okay down there?” You looked up to see John and Abigail standing at the top of the hill.
Micah’s fist caught you square in the jaw while you were distracted and he pulled himself on top of you.
“Holy shit!” You heard John yell.
“I’m gonna kill you.” Micah growled as he wrapped his hands around your throat and began to strangle you. You clawed at his face, “we’ll we about that,” You croaked as your nails found his eyes and you dug in hard. You felt his grip loosen and Micah’s hands flew up to his eyes as he howled him pain. You shoved him down and looked down at him in pure hatred. “Going for the kill this quickly in a fight? I always knew you were a coward.” You brought a strong blow down onto his nose. Your vision was turning red in a blind rage. “I. Am. Going. To. Destroy. You.” Your fist collided with his face between each word.
Someone tried to pull you off and you jabbed your elbow up into them, determined to beat Micah’s skull into the ground until it was a pile of goo.
“Son of a bitch!” John shouted. “Abigail, go get Charles, I need some help.”
You barely heard him over the buzzing in your ears. Micah’s face was completely covered in blood. Your knuckles were split and bleeding but you couldn’t feel them over the adrenaline. Micah was now unconscious under you but you gave him your word, if he touched another woman in camp, you would put him six feet under and you intended to make good on your word.
Two pairs of hands now grabbed you and lifted you effortlessly off Micah. You kicked and fought, “Let go of me!” You hissed.
Charles kept a tight grip on your arm. “It’s done, Y/N.”
“You’ve beat him enough, it’s done. He’s out cold.” John urged.
“He was touchin’ Abigail!” You shouted back. Your vision was beginning to clear and you noticed the small crowd that had formed at the top of the hill.
“She told me, and we’ll make sure somethin’ is done about it this time. You just can’t kill him before Dutch gets back. You’ve got blood all over your face and hands, you may want to get yourself cleaned up.” He put a hand on your shoulder. “You did good.”
You nodded, before you turned to leave, you spit on Micah’s face. “I ain’t done with you.” You said angrily down at his unconscious body.
Arthur tried to keep pace with Dutch, but he kept pulling ahead. He was anxious to see you, they were getting back later than intended which was no surprise to Arthur. “What’s got you in such a rush?” Dutch called to Arthur.
“Nothin’. Just ready to get home.” Arthur responded.
“Arthur, don’t take me for a fool. I hear the gossip just as much as you.” Dutch’s voice softened. “Where’d you take her?”
Arthur sighed. “We went to an art supplies store and had dinner in Saint Denis.”
“Well that’s splendid son! Good to see you finally makin’ yer move.” Dutch crossed in front of Arthur’s horse. “Since you’re in such a hurry to get back, how about an ol’ fashioned race back to camp?”
Arthur smiled, “You’re on, old man!”
The two took off and left clouds of dust in their wake. Arthur’s heart was pounding. He found himself longing for your touch, now he had a small taste he couldn’t get enough. The familiar tree line came into view, “yah!” He cried as he pushed his spurs into his horse. You were so close now, it was all he could think about. He didn’t even notice Dutch slip passed him until the last second. “Shit!”
Arthur charged into camp just behind Dutch. “You got lucky this time, old man.” He called as he dismounted his horse.
“Luck don’t got nothin’ to do with it, son.” Dutch teased as he hitched The Count. Arthur barely heard him as he made a beeline for your tent, but he stopped to investigate the small crowd around Micah’s tent. He grabbed Sean by the shoulder, “Whats goin’ on here?”
Sean grinned, “You and Dutch missed the fight of the century, ya did. Micah got the hell beat out of him.”
He looked over Bill’s shoulder and saw Micah’s unconscious body, covered in dried blood and bruises. He raised his eyebrows. “Shit, I’d hate to see the other guy.”
Sean slapped Arthur’s back, “That’s the best part, he got himself handed to him a little girlie. It took two men to pull her offa him.”
“Aw hell,” Arthur knew right then and there you were responsible. He half ran to your tent. When he ducked him, you were sitting on your bed, wearing your chemise with your denim work pants. The chemise was clean but the pants were covered in dirt. You looked up from your book and smiled. “Welcome back.”
He frowned when he saw your face, no where near as badly beaten as Micah’s but your lip was busted and your cheeks were swollen. “What the hell happened?”
You laughed nervously. “I kinda...got into a fight with Micah.”
He sat beside you on your cot and eyed your face worriedly. “I heard. You gave him one hell of a beating.”
You smiled smugly, “I told you I could take him.”
He gently took your chin between his thumb and pointer finger and investigated your face. “You did, but look what he did to this pretty face.” His thumb gently brushed your broken lip and you flinched. “I ought to kill him for this.” His voice was stern. “What happened?”
“I-” Dutch burst into your tent.
“What the hell happened between you and Micah?” Dutch looked over you in shock, your wounds minimal compared to Micah’s.
You crossed your arms, “Jesus Dutch, what do you think happened? He was trying to touch Abigail again. Last time I caught him cornin’ Tilly I warned him I would kill him if he decided to touch us again. I intended to keep my word until John and Charles pulled me off.”
“That doesn’t give you the right to beat the man close to death!” Dutch raised his voice.
You stood, you could feel your anger rising again. “If would’ve done something about him sooner, this would never have happened! I’ve came to you time and time again about Micah harassin’ us and you never did shit. He threatened to rape me Dutch, what the hell did you expect me to do?”
Arthur looked from you to Dutch. “He what?” His voice heavy with anger.
Dutch huffed. “Fine, fine! You’re off the hook. But no more fighting in camp. You know the rules.” He turned and left. You rolled your eyes and floppped down beside Arthur. “‘YoU kNoW tHe RuLeS’” you repeated in a mocking voice. “One a these days I’m gonna ring his neck.”
Arthur just stared at you in disbelief. “How do you have more balls than all the men in camp combined?”
You laughed and laid your head in his lap. “I guess you boys just need to toughen up.” Your tone softened. “I never thanked you for the journal, by the way. I found it when I woke up this morning.”
He stoked your hair, “I’m glad you like it darlin’.”
His eyes fell on the blood splattered shirt on the ground. “Is that your new shirt?”
“Oh yeah, it may or may not have gotten ruined when Micah busted my lip. I’ll have to go to Saint Denis and get another if you’d like to join me?”
He smirked, “are you askin’ me on a second date?”
You grinned up at him. “Sure am.”
#arthur morgan#arthur morgan x reader#arthur x reader#Red Dead Redemption 2#rdr2#van der linde gang#fan fiction#reader insert#fluff
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The Ball Chapter 8
Description:
Daryl goes looking for Carol. He finds her in a strange way.
The Ball
Daryl had searched the party floor but had found no sign of Carol.
He talked briefly to Jerry, who knew the place better than him. The large man had advised him of some old dressing rooms backstage.
Daryl wasted no time in jumping up on stage and heading down the corridor he could clearly see now. It was dark, but not overly so.
He came to one door first, but from the sounds inside, he definitely did not want to open the door.
He reached the next room and could hear nothing from it. He gripped the handle and the door opened inward. He stepped in slowly. His eyes widened at the sight.
He had found Carol alright, but he had not been anticipating this.
She was only in her underwear, which he firmly forced himself not to study too intently. She was currently in the process of drawing on the mirror in front of her with bright red lipstick. There was already an array of flowers and hearts all over the surface of the mirror, along with some colourful curse words.
He cleared his throat and she looked around finally. She gave him a tiny smile. He was surprised by it considering how pissed she had been before.
“What are you doing?” he asked as he read over her lipstick art. The phrase ‘Fuck you’ was repeated several times.
“I’m leaving a present. I got a present so I’m leaving a present!” she replied as she looked over her work.
He couldn’t help smiling a little. She was acting so childlike that it was adorable. If he wasn’t so worried about her it would have amused him more.
“That present wouldn’t be the shit storm cocktail Tara gave you, would it?” he questioned as he watched her carefully.
She looked back at him with a frown.
“No!” she cried childishly, and she pouted a little.
Daryl frowned, not getting it.
She stared at him for a moment before she huffed. She stood from her seat, dropping the tube of lipstick on the table. She marched over to him and put her hands on his shoulders. He looked down at her curiously. He tried not to look down further than her eyes. She pushed him.
“Go look for yourself! Next door. The door is unlocked. I’ll wait here,” she ordered and for good measure she pushed him again, indicating with her head to the door.
He really didn’t want to leave her alone, but he was burning inside with curiosity now. She seemed okay enough in here. She’d already left his side to go back to her mirror. She had started writing out another ‘Fuck you’ and added a small heart underneath it.
“I’ll be right back,” he informed as he watched her. She waved her hand at him dismissively.
With a sigh of reluctance, he walked back out into the hallway. He shut the door behind him just in case. He approached the other door apprehensively. There was something off about all of this. When he opened the door, he understood.
He understood her strange manner and the words she had scrawled on the mirror.
“You fucking prick!” he roared as he looked in on the scene.
The two offenders turned to him in surprise.
“Daryl…” The King muttered awkwardly, stepping back from the unknown woman.
“You don’t even fucking know, do ya?” Daryl spat with a bitter laugh. “Save any of your bullshit excuses ‘cause your wife already fucking knows!”
Ezekiel’s eyes widened with alarm and the woman gasped. She had scrambled to cover herself.
“What do you mean?” Ezekiel asked sounding nervous.
“She’s right next door! Must’ve come in here first and saw your cheating ass!” Daryl informed him with an accusatory glare.
Ezekiel leaned back heavily against the opposite wall. He was staring at the ground.
“Is she alright?” the King muttered as he looked up again.
Daryl’s eyes narrowed hatefully.
“Like you fucking care! And you don’t got a right to know!” Daryl spat with disgust.
He took one last look at the scene before leaving the room. He slammed the door behind him.
He re-entered the other dressing room. He looked at her. She was still sitting at the dressing table, but she had her head tilted down now.
“You saw?” she asked quietly.
“Fucking bastard!” Daryl replied, still unable to believe what he had seen.
Carol sighed and lifted her head.
“It’s not surprising, I guess. I can’t expect him to be satisfied with me,” she said blankly, her gaze on herself in the mirror.
Daryl frowned. That bullshit again.
“Fuck that!”
She whirled around to look at him. She looked baffled.
“What?”
“Ezekiel’s a fucking idiot! You’re perfect, woman.”
“You really think so?” she replied in a small voice.
“Yeah, I do.”
She stood shakily from the chair again and stumbled over to him. She threw herself into his arms and he caught her quickly. She buried her face into his neck.
“Why won’t the world let me be happy, Daryl?” her voice came, muffled against his skin.
That was a good fucking question.
“I don’t know. I hate what this world has done to ya. If I could I’d take it all away.”
He felt her nod against him.
“I know you would. You’re always so good to me,” she softly murmured. He felt her nuzzling her head into him.
She pulled back from him soon and stared at him intently. He watched her eyes rove over him. He shifted under her scrutiny.
“Daryl, do you really think I’m pretty?” she said in her childlike voice.
“I think you’re beautiful,” he replied honestly.
Carol looked down at herself with a frown.
He unconsciously tracked her movement, his eyes roaming her delicate curves, before he quickly looked away.
Damn it, he needed to control himself!
“I don’t mind if you look,” her voice came again. He looked at her in surprise. She was biting her bottom lip and looking at him shyly. Her expression became determined after a beat.
She brought one hand up and ran it over her throat, sliding it down over her breasts before moving it further downwards ending at her hip. He watched the action entranced. He licked his lips.
“What are you doing?” he breathed with strain. She moved back in closer to him. She placed her hands on his chest and brought them up until she could wrap them around the back of his neck. He stared down at her transfixed.
“Tara told me something earlier and I thought it was bullshit. Now I’m thinking she was onto something,” she explained while flicking her gaze between his eyes and his lips.
“What did she tell you?” Daryl rasped. His heart was pounding in his chest. He wouldn’t be surprised if he died right then. Maybe he was already dead. This seemed too good to be true.
She gave him a coy smile. She leaned up onto her toes, bringing herself up to his height. She brought her lips to his ear. His eyes fell shut as he felt her breath brushing over him.
“That you’ve been looking at me. And not just in any way. You’ve been looking at my body,” she whispered, and he swallowed. As much as she was turning him on right now, he felt guilty about the truth of her words. She pulled back to meet his gaze again.
“I’m sorry. I swear I never did it on purpose,” he rambled, trying to let her know that he really didn’t mean to abuse her trust like that. She shushed him slowly, even brought her finger up to rest on his mouth. She smiled sweetly.
“It’s okay. I’m not mad.”
He relaxed at her words a little. He was glad she wasn’t pissed at him about it, but he still felt embarrassed as hell to be caught out. He knew his face had to be red as a tomato.
“I’m flattered.” She giggled a little, looking him up and down again. “I never thought I could be sexy. Now I’m feeling a bit more optimistic with the evidence right in front of me,” She finished with a smirk.
“Evidence?” he questioned, watching her intently. She chuckled a little and looked down pointedly.
Oh.
For fuck’s sake!
“Fuck, sorry!” he spat as he whirled around, facing the door. Stupid body.
He heard her giggle again. He jumped a little as her arms slipped around his middle from behind. She pressed her head into his back.
“It’s alright. I told you, I’m flattered.” She let him go and grabbed his hand, using her grip to turn him back around. He looked down at the ground, still feeling shitty about his unwanted reaction. She lifted his face with her hand. He looked at her through his bangs. She really didn’t look angry.
“Tara said you love me. It’s true, right?” she pressed.
He couldn’t speak right now so he just nodded nervously. She blew out a breath, looking relieved and grinned.
“I love you too,” she revealed finally. He blinked at her in shock. Tara had said as much, but he figured it was impossible.
“You mean it?”
“Yes. I love you!”
She leaned closer to him again and kissed him. It was a little clumsy and he figured that was the alcohol’s effect. She moaned into his mouth and he gasped as he felt her body press into him. He could feel her breasts pressing into his chest. He fought to keep his hands still. He kissed her back gently, gentler than she was being. As happy as he was, he couldn’t let this continue.
“Hey, you gotta stop,” he muttered between her kisses. She pulled back with a disappointed frown.
“You don’t want to?”
“Course I do, but you’re drunk right now, and you’re married.”
“Not for long.” She tore the ring off her finger and tossed it carelessly aside. He watched it hit the wall with satisfaction.
“Still not the right time for this.”
“But another time,” she pressed, scrutinizing him.
“Sure,” he agreed still amazed that she wanted him in the first place. Carol leaned back into him, resting her cheek against his chest.
“Can you take me home?” she murmured from her place on him. He rubbed his hand up and down her back. He hummed at her affirmatively.
“Don’t know where you live though.”
She pulled back and looked at him properly.
“No, I meant Alexandria.”
His stomach jolted at her words. He never thought she’d ever want to go back.
“Really?” he couldn’t help asking.
“Yes. I want to come home. I want to be with you.”
His heart felt ready to burst with every sweet thing she said to him.
“Alright but you still gotta show me where you’ve been staying, and you can’t go home like that,” he said pointedly towards her still half nude frame. She looked down and blushed. She gave him a sheepish grin.
“Oh yeah. Okay.”
She moved away from him over to the corner where she had shoved her dress and shoes. He tried his best not to stare at her ass as she went. She pulled her dress up over her hips and held it against her chest and came back over to him.
“Will you do me up?” she asked as she presented her back to him.
His shaky hands grabbed the zip and pulled it up slowly, being careful not to snag it on the fabric. He tried not to touch her as much as possible, but his fingers inevitably brushed her back along the way.
When they did, she gasped softly, prompting him to apologize. She shook her head at him and gave him a smile over her shoulder. He tapped her back when he was done, and she turned back around. He let her use his arm to balance as she put her shoes back on.
“Okay let’s go!”
#caryl#carylers#caryl on#caryl positivity#caryl fanfiction#caryl fanfic#carol and daryl#daryl and carol#carol x daryl#daryl x carol#carol peletier#daryl dixon
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Dead Leaves pt 2 (NCT Nightmare AU)
[submission]
“I want the you who meets my eyes again. I want the you who wanted me. Please don’t fall, please don’t try to collapse. Never, never fall. Don’t go far, far away from me.” Rose’s singing drifts up the stairs, echoing off the spiral stairwell from her place at the piano. Jisung silently curses her for being such a good singer, he doesn’t have to deal with all these extra emotions.
“Shut up Rose.” Jisung grumbles, burying his head deeper under the covers. It’s been months since his and Chenle’s fight, but he can still hear Chenle’s angry shouting echoing in his ears and piercing into his heart as if it had just happened. Even now, his heart aches with longing, reaching out for Chenle despite his knife-like words still cutting deeper and deeper in. He internally berates himself as he replays the fight again in his mind, screaming at the self in his memory who hurt his dearest Chenle. ‘Why did you do that? You love him, don’t you? So why would you hurt him? Seriously, you’re lucky he isn’t out for your blood now after something like that. How can you say you love him when you didn’t take his side in something so important!’
No, no, that’s not true. Jisung did take Chenle’s side in this entire fight. All those close encounters with Jeno or Renjun, who had been there to save Chenle? Jisung was. It’s just like what he had promised that day, when he had given Chenle the heart of another boy as a symbol of his love.
“I’ll always protect you.” He had said, “Remember that jerk who always called you a baby dolphin in school? This is his heart, as a substitute for mine.” He remembers he had pressed his finger to Chenle’s lips to keep him from freaking out at him. “I love you, Lele. I would give you my own heart, but that would mean I don’t get to spend any time with you. That would be worse than anything else I can imagine.” The image of Chenle’s gaze softening at his words flashes through his head, and Jisung forgets about all of his heartbreak for a split second. “I want to be with you forever. This heart is a symbol of that, even though it’s not enough. I’ll take as many as I need until they can accurately represent how much I love y-” Chenle had cut him off by kissing him, he remembers that clear as day. His heart races at the memory, he can still feel how soft Chenle’s lips had been against his own.
“You are so, so twisted. You’re lucky it’s in a cute way, or else you’d be dead where you stand.” Chenle had said. Jisung’s lips quirk into a smile despite himself as he remembers the exchange that had ensued.
“That’s hot.”
“That’s gay.”
“You’re gay.”
“Bi, actually.”
“That still counts.”
Happy thoughts, happy memories, all pouring into his memory and becoming tainted with pain, wedging into his heart and driving itself deeper and deeper until he can’t take it anymore. He pulls himself out from under the covers, his hand drifting to the dagger he keeps on his bedside table, the one with Chenle’s name engraved on it inside a little heart. He sits up and slowly unsheathes it, turning it over and over in his hands.
This knife is present in almost all his memories of his time in Nightmare, its silver glint lighting up many a dark room as he slashed through to the hearts of his helpless victims, often with Chenle watching him in the corner. These days Chenle hasn’t been coming with him, choosing to worry over Renjun or lock himself in his studio instead. Jisung can make it just fine on his own, but he can’t deny he misses his boyfriend, if he can still even call Chenle that. Things had changed too much after their fight, both of them walking on eggshells around the other in fear of getting into another fight. He’s tried apologizing to Chenle, but the other either avoided him before he could or snapped at him, so he really doesn’t know what to do.
The fact that Chenle’s art style has changed doesn’t really help settle his anxious heart either. He misses the old pictures, where there were always two things representing them together. That one the two dragons dancing together in the sky is his favourite, it’s hanging up on the wall right above his bed now. But any new paintings he gets are different. One of those two things is always dead or gone, and the meaning deeply unsettles him. Does Chenle want him dead? Does Chenle feel sorry about their fight? Does Chenle want to die? Jisung can’t tell, but he hopes his own gifts will successfully carry his message across. Nothing could stop his habit of giving Chenle those hearts, but they’ve changed a little too. While they were once whole and untouched, now they’ve been sliced in half, sometimes a little torn as Jisung’s hands are no longer as steady as they used to be. Broken and bleeding, just like how he feels now.
Something draws his attention back down to the knife in his hands, which now has a couple of wet drops on the blade. Strange, he didn’t realize he had been crying.
Right as he realizes this, a pain like nothing before comes stabbing directly into his chest, and it’s all he can do to not cry out in pain. All the emotions he had been repressing until now have finally started to spill out in an unstoppable wave of tears, dragging out of his heart like thorns and tearing him to shreds. His thoughts are sent into a frenzy, whipping around his head and growing in volume as the pain gets worse.
‘Why does it hurt so much? Why won’t it stop? I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I love you, I love you, I love you, IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyou. Make it stop, make it fucking stop. Nothing can make it stop, it hurts too much, it hurts like a thorn in my side, it hurts like a bullet in my head, it hurts like broken glass in my eyes, it hurts like a knife in my chest. It hurts because I love you, it hurts because I hurt you, it hurts because I hate myself, it hurts because I want you back, it hurts because I want myself dead.’
Memories flash behind his eyes as he cries, all the happy times turning black and burning until they crumble to ashes under the cold fire of despair. Everything burns away as he cries, unable to focus on anything else but the pain. He clutches the knife tight against his chest, so tightly that he can feel his heart pounding underneath it. That alleviates the pain ever so slightly, and then he finally realizes what he has to do. The thoughts swirl around in his head again, a little calmer this time as he steadies his hands.
‘This is how I can fix it. I’ve never given him my own heart. I know why, but that reason doesn’t matter anymore. He doesn’t want to spend any time with me anymore, but that’s okay. I just need him to know how much I love him. I’ve told him how much I love him, but it’s not enough. I need to show him. I need to show him that I love him so much I’ll rip my heart out of my chest.’
He puts the knife down on his lap and takes off his shirt, revealing his bony and bruised chest. Rose would flip out if she saw him now, but it doesn’t really matter to him now. She flips out and everything, anyway. He picks up the knife again, resting the tip against his skin just above his heart.
“I love you Lele.” He whispers, waiting not a moment longer before he pushes the knife into his chest, slicing down in a jagged arc over his heart. Surprisingly, it doesn’t hurt as much as he thought it would, although that’s probably because of the emotional pain overshadowing the physical pain. He can’t get the knife in deep enough, it just slices across his ribs. He pulls the knife out, placing it close to the outside of his chest between his ribs, and stabs it deep inside. There’s blood all over his hands and staining the covers now, dripping down his body in a hot stream. He drags the knife down in the opposite direction of the previous cut, occasionally feeling the blade scrape against bone. It hurts, it hurts so badly this time, and he can’t hold back a strangled cry of pain.
He can hear someone frantically knocking on his door as he raises the knife again, but he ignores it. This is more important. He’s breathing heavily now, every movement sending a burning, tearing pain through his chest. One thing he’s always hated about carving out hearts, the ribcage is a bitch to get open. No matter, he’ll find his way around it. Right as he’s about to bring the knife down again, the door bursts open and Lauren comes barreling into his room.
“What the fuck are you doing?! Are you fucking stupid!? What the hell, Jisung!” Lauren shrieks, nearly flying across the room to hold Jisung back. She grabs his arms and shoves them away from his body, pinning him down and twisting his arms until he’s forced to drop the knife. Ignoring his sharp cry of pain, she drags him off the bed onto his feet, using one hand to twist his arms behind his back while she covers the bleeding wound with the other hand.
“Lauren, what are you doing? Let go of me!” Jisung hisses, struggling to pull himself out of her grip. He is forced to stop when his body is racked with a coughing fit, a few red drops dripping past his lips.
“What the hell do you mean ‘what am I doing’, what the fuck are you doing?!” Lauren shouts, tightening her grip and holding him close against her. Her nails dig painfully into his skin, but it’s nothing compared to the pain from the wound on his chest. Blood drips out from between Lauren’s fingers and down onto the carpet, leaving a stain that Taeyong would surely kill him for, assuming he survived this.
All the shouting catches Rose’s attention, and she comes running up the stairs to Jisung’s room. She stops short at the door upon seeing the scene before her. Her hands fly up to cover her horrified expression, and Jisung can see through his unfocused eyes that she’s shaking.
“Don’t just stand there! Do something!” Lauren shouts into Jisung’s ear, making both him and Rose flinch.
“Wh-what happened? What do I-” Rose stutters, taking one step into the room and then two steps back out.
“Oh, I don’t know, get some fucking help!?” Lauren snaps, cutting Rose off before she say anything else. “I’m sort of stuck holding this dumb bitch back from killing himself!”
Rose hesitates for a second before turning a little down the hall. “JAEMIN! JAEMIN! IT’S JISUNG! COME HERE!” She waits for a response from the elder before stumbling into the room, gingerly brushing her hand against Jisung’s chest. She winds up smearing his blood on her fingertips, and she draws back as if she had been burned.
“Don’t… Don’t bring Jaemin here…” Jisung chokes out, but his words go unheard as Rose bursts into tears. He can faintly hear running footsteps coming up the stairs as Jaemin comes running, and he silently curses himself for not being quieter.
“You dumb bitch. What the hell were you thinking?!” Lauren growls into his ear, shaking him a little and aggravating the wound. He barely even heard her over Rose’s sobbing, and he feels a slight twinge of regret.
“Sorry Rose… I’ll be quieter next time, you won’t have to see it.” Jisung coughs, a few more scarlet drops trickling past his lips.
“No! Don’t say that!” Rose wails, “Why the hell would you do that?!” She shouts in unison with Jaemin as he comes barreling into the room.
Jisung is too dazed to respond and just goes along with whatever Jaemin is doing. He can’t make out what anyone is saying, but he can tell they’re frantic as he gets jostled around by Lauren and Jaemin.
“Get him to my lab, now.” Jaemin hisses. The last thing Jisung hears before he blacks out is Chenle’s voice calling out to him.
#bitch this is fucking intense im Crying what the fuck#WHY DO YOU PUT THE LIL BABIES THROUGH SO MUCH PAIN#WHILE LISTENING TO SEVENTEEN AT THE SAME TIME TOO#ASHDLK FDHKFJLSHF SD#YOU SHOULD LIKE#POST THIS ON AO3#PEOPLE WOULD LOVE IT OH MY GOD#submission
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AT, I’m levitating to the party
Plotting on a Tesla but I’ll prolly cop the rari
I’m with the fam we holding cyphers in the quarry
the daddy to yo style we ain’t gotta go on Maury
you can catch us planting trees while we on tour
these hoes steady calling ima have to hit ignore
they hit me when they paid and they call you when they bored
tell her step her racks up, I’m more than she can afford.
they tryna peep the lore, learn the story on the man
cross the globe I hit Japan, it was more than what we planned
speak the words o my mouth and yet they still don’t understand
tried to front like you my fam, ima need about a band to talk
all my haters stroke my penis till they wrist lock
I be in my bag, you niggas be on TikTok
Now I’m going hard it ain’t a joke, y’all think I’m Chris rock
——
Weatherman don’t make it rain he make it thunderstorm
funky like underarm sweat
You can peep the form
bob and weave cause when you feel the hit you’ll need a punching guard
me and the fam eat, don’t need to wait for lunch to start
shoot for the sky, when I land I’ll be amongst the stars glowing
I ain’t gotta pull your card I see you showing
my wifey coochie so wet that I gotta row in it
shitting on you niggas, my fault bro I was holding it
Im meditating with my lovers eating vegan chicken
the blind lead the blind so of course the oops can’t see the vision
my grandmother gave me game until her teeth was missing
told me do yo thing, you can’t stop till you complete the mission
Back in the days I used to front like I ain’t need to listen
Had to learn the hard way, I’m in tune to what the gods say
swear they ya people, till you see its all cosplay
left em all in awes, frontin on me was the cause, fuck niggas without the pause,
We all up in the sauce, gracefully with the loss, w/ my vocals in the cross fade
——
Divine Being. Still king. Rocking earth tones
And royalty what I receive yet it’s a cursed throne.
I’m pullin up off that water like a dolphin
My niggas on that Cheech, ladies on Sarah McLaughlin
left confusion in the dust, killed it dead off in the coffin
flexing on my exes cause all of the love was toxic
bob and weave like I’m boxing
got them trees, I’m talking noxious
ask me how I keep it green
when I just believe the process
my team is on the offense.
I’m out the pasta going deep inside the sauces
leaking out the faucets
had to early start spring cleaning out my closests
To find what really separates employees from the bosses
started curving these hoes because I could
I’m tryna get a bag I don’t think they understood,
they’ll treat you like a meal, free smoke and some wood...
——
divine being hit the scene like directors cut
eating good, lookin clean feelin fresh as fuck
jumping off the balance beam the way selector stunt
just got to stage 33 you still on level one.
these scrubs run and make memes when that pressure comes
Im in the village with them 10s and them 20s for you
Sht, you run off on my plug and he coming for you
they just love you for the perks ain’t no one fuckin loyal
niggas eyeing me when you should watch yo self
tryna get at me make sure you GOT yo self
fam like AT its like you not yo self
I feel like I’m the greatest, how I top myself?
the most electrifying man, sht I shock myself
ball so hard, sometimes I block myself
Killed it, call 12. I am not Wyclef
hit it from the logo, yeah my shot like Steph
——
Weatherman, I’m the captain till we capsize
Pull up and these hoes getting wet I leave em baptized
cheese come and rats rise. I’m supposed to feel you niggas when you get on here and rap lies?
my sht boomin, and your trap tries
Getting brunch wit my lovers, smoke a J and get a check today
can’t fuck with the make up they forgot to hit the setting spray
All Fenty for my ladies no Mary Kay
on my nuts now, we been dope y’all was very late
Pull up to the function lookin like we carry weight
Valet parkin Lincoln Towncars with the canary paint
Found a message in a bottle with a ransom note
everybody needy like I got the cure for cancer folk
Divine Being, encoded speech comes out the mandible
Pretty bitches say “he dress funny but he handsome tho”
saving for the desktop with the water cooling
riding with the fam we got enough swag to start a movement
——
Pockets on Snorlax, the raps is on Cinnabar
thefamilyo been on point like a scimitar
Navigating battlefields of love like Pat Benatar
she say Divine hit it so good give him eleven stars
out of Five
Divine, we keep the party live
Pushing limits then I draw the line at her women parts
evil taking aim at my brain like, pigeon farts
I copped a pen while all my niggas made kitchen arts
Whippin yams, flipping yams, sht is math
niggas saw me fall and laughed, them losses was a draft
they couldn’t feel me then but now they feel the wrath
I feel like I’m Moses these snakes wanna build with the staff
I wrote this out in Lakewood
Where we hustle hard like Ace Hood
smoke so loud the shake good
they can’t do what the gang could.
remember we would kick it reading manga, now we slang bud
all my haters looking basic but I can’t judge
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Otayuri Fic Recs #2
References:
Summary, Thoughts, * (Complete)
Note: This has been sitting in drafts for quite some time and the ones that were WIP are now complete. If you do want an Otayuri Fic Mayhem for the day, or week, or month for your vacation, here’s the second fic rec!
First Fic Rec is HERE.
1. A Heart Beats At Night by magicalyoyo
>> Otabek’s heart was pounding a sickening, dizzying rhythm, but he schooled his face into stoicism as he pulled his helmet off to get a better look.
“Yuri Plisetsky died two years ago,” he growled. “What the hell are you?”
>> ANGST, ANGST, DRAMA, THEN FLUFF. Full of supernatural beings and jargon. I might re-read this again, because I skipped some parts to gush and weep over the Otayuri angst and fluff moments. I missed the other portion of the story, but this is a great read! Several chapters to look forward to.
2. * Anatomical Accuracy by Fayina (Dayea)
>> Yuri has a secret talent in drawing, and he'd be damned if Otabek finds out about his shameful collection of the Kazakh's portraits. Oh and his skype call with Mila and Sara is getting out of hand.
>> This suits me. Why? Because I’m a sucker for anatomy (and because I’m in a Bio course with a slight art enthusiasm that I would be completely immersed into AU’s such as this one) and because I love College and Roommate AU’s. With Pining, of course.
3. Break Me Down, Down, Down by legolifesaver
>> Yuri refused to let anyone call his videos “pointless”. He spent too much of his time on them and he wasn’t about to let some asshole question him.orYuri runs a fashion channel, Otabek makes covers, and they both meet in the middle.
>> A Youtube AU. This AU’s rare for this pairing, but i’m not sure.. I’ll probably scavenge for more if I missed any. Three chapters in and my brains already spewing daydreams all over the place for this couple!!
4. More Than He Bargained For by FollowYourDreams
>> Yuri made one mistake. One. But, since it resulted in police bringing him home, his parents put their foot down. Now, he's being sent away for the summer to learn his place. He'll be staying with the Altin family and learning from their son, Otabek.Aka, the one where Yuri is a rebellious shit and ends up spending the summer with Otabek and falling in love and shit.
>> First heavy fic I’ve read for this pairing. There is a ton of dense and tear-drenched backstory for Yuri and he needs all the XOXO’s he can get and that’s from Beka himself. My heart kept tearing itself in pieces for my smol little son. Also, I adore a literature enthusiast Beka. Brilliant mentions for Jane Austen and Ernest Hemmingway (if you do want some classics, you could dive in to Ernest Hemmingway’s stories; maybe even a John Steinbeck?).
5. On the Cusp of Dawn by LoveActually_rps
>> Otabek bowed to the new Prince and offered the flower crown that his sister, Sabrina, had made and a basket full of fresh cherries which he'd collected from their small farm on the cusp of dawn. Carefully, he set them down on the overflowing heap of gifts.
The Prince, who’d just turned six, frowned at the basket for a long moment before raising his hand and shoving a fistful in his mouth. Otabek blinked at him, totally taken aback.
“Mmm-hum… ” the Prince hummed, closing his eyes, as he chomped on the bites of the plump fruits in his mouth. He opened his eyes, fixing his crystal green glare on Otabek. “Bring me more tomorrow,” he ordered, taking a few more from the basket.
“Y-yes, your highness,” Otabek stuttered, bowing again before he was shoved away by a royal guard to clear the area. He hadn’t missed the way the Prince had shot a burning look at the guard.
[Aka, AU where Yuri is a Prince and ranked highest among Omegas, whose life has revolved around his childhood friend, Otabek, who holds the lowest rank among Alphas. Their worlds suddenly comes shattering down after a loss they both isn’t prepared for]
>> What got me into this fic is the fresh concept of omegaverse. There’s a level of Alphas, Omegas and Betas, with a hierarchy that (idk if there’s a proper wording for this but I’m just word vomitting) dictates how people treat other people and it’s apparent here and it seems to relate in the society we’ve been living in for a while now. I like this concept, and it just sparks a rich dynamic between Otabek and Yuri. Otabek’s determination is also pleasing to read. Here you have an Alpha of the lowest rank who’s trained for years and it’s finally paying (which is fucking awesome). I’m excited for more chapters to come!
6. * I’ll take in stride, the consequences of falling by harajukucrepes
>> He wanted to ask to be touched, because in times like this intimacy would break him, and if he was broken enough, Otabek would finally see that he wasn’t ok. Stop having faith in me, stop idealising me, I’m not perfect.But Otabek would kiss him like he was the most wondrous thing to have happened to him, the most treasured, most beloved, and if there was one thing that would make him feel the worst he could humanly be is to be loved like that, because he would only want to lock this feeling, hide Otabek away and crush him underfoot if he could.He would bury his thoughts, destroy his voice, vanquish his own colours.
>> Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful MASTERPIECE. At least for me, it is. It’s just an awe-inspiring work of art! It’s familiar that it almost felt like a Haruki Murakami tale and I don’t see words, I see feelings, music, anything that explores the relationship of these two people. I just love how this author blends all timelines together without disrupting the mood of the story (I think that’s what you call it, I’m not sure). I LOVE THIS PIECE and I love it so bad. This deserves more than one kudos from me!
7. Fly by foreverhalo
>> Otabek Altin, CEO of Altin's Aviation Academy has a secret business not many know about. He meets Yuri Plisetsky and offers him a chance to become a pilot, a long awaited dream ready to be fulfilled. With no questions asked, Yuri accepts but he doesn't know what awaits him beyond a simple act of kindness. Then again, Otabek wasn't expecting for Yuri to open a side of him he wasn't aware of.
>> This deserves more attention. This fic is AWESOME. It’s a shady business in the guise of an aviation academy that features a darker, much more sinister (maybe? but the author seems to be leaning towards it, idk) Otabek. I haven’t really explored fics with a Dark!Otabek but this is a start. Maybe it’s a mild Dark!Beka for now, but it’s only been a few chapters and I love it. I love the story plot and how Yuri is dragged into this mess. I’m predicting it’s gonna be a bumpy ride for these two idiots.
8. * They're All Long Gone (It's Only You and Me) by JennaFlare
>> Five years after the show, Otabek visits Yuri in Russia and dredges up what Yuri thought was long-dead history.
>> Unrequited love dugged up into something reciprocated after a few years of friendship. My kind of tale, actually. This was an indirect inspiration to my fic ‘now i gotta wash my hands out with soap’ and ‘Reunions’.Maybe because of the events that occurred in my life or maybe because it’s absolutely relatable topic on a daily basis, I love this fic.
9. * Of Monsters and Men by RoseAnthem
>> Ever since the day dark, mysterious, and endearing Otabek Altin told Yuri Plisetsky that he had the eyes of a soldier, Yuri hasn't been able to stop thinking about him, the boy who saw him as something other than a beautiful, delicate fairy. Now three years later, Otabek has moved to Russia to live with Mila, his new fiancee and Yuri's skating accomplice, and train under their coach Yakov.Yuri knows that his skating career is more important, but he can't seem to ignore the tightness in his chest when he sees Otabek and Mila kiss or the tug at his heart when Otabek smiles sweetly at him. He knows that he isn't in love, so why does he feel this way? Yuri decides to bury his foreign emotions as he always does and focus on what makes him happy, but as they grow closer, he cannot ignore the pain in his heart; and neither can Otabek.This is a story about the tough choices of love and the sacrifices you have to make to be happy. The story about two boys who don't know their fate, because their futures are standing in the way. This is a story about love and life.
>> OtaMila is my NOTP. Friends are... fine, but essentially, I don’t really like otamila (sorry). But I love this story. So much drama! So much self-hate! So much self-deprecation! DAMN this is a monstrous fic! My waterworks filled a dam in my heart. This is so BEAUTIFUL YOU HAVE TO READ THIS FIC. If you want to of course and if you want drama, angst, and all that with a tinge of happy ending, this is your fic.
10. * Frayed String by Errolina
>> Nikolai Plisetsky always told his grandson that he was the one that got to make his fate and not a string. Yuri always hated the fact that he was always reminded that he didn't have a soulmate. Otabek always did want to defy what was left of his string and make his own fate.
>> Now this fic takes a bumpy turn on the concept of Red Strings of Fate Soulmates. It’s a fresh concept, one that I adore very much and love how it’s used in this three-shot. Go check this out if you’re up for some tears and fluff in the end. But there’s some angst too.
(For some reason, most of the fics involve pining, angst with happy endings, and more pining)
11. * Talk Flower To Me by ABoyWorthFightingFor
>> "Can I help you?" A voice asked, shocking him back into reality. Yuri gave a small jump at the sudden words, cursing under his breath for being startled."Otabek Altin?" He asked. The bassoonist gave a nod, but didn't offer anymore words, so he spoke on. "I'm Yuri. You're accompanying me, or whatever.""I know who you are," he spoke, starting to disassemble his instrument. "You're in my math class." Oh. So that's where the name's familiar. The black haired teen looked amused. "You didn't know? You sit right in front of me. Every single day." The Russian only scoffed with a roll of his eyes to try and hide his embarrassment.
>> In my own Filipino language, “Nakakakilig ‘to”. It’s so giddy and it’s full of fluff everywhere! This is a unique way to spice up the use of flower language. Happy endings coming your way! Read this if you’re having a bad day or nothing seems to get right. This cheers me up!
12. Watch Out for This by dovesnroses
>> “It could have been your guardian angel, ya know?” Georgi observes as he’s testing the soda dispensers the next night. Yuri reaches over the bar and takes an olive.“No such thing as guardian angels in this part of the city,” he retorts stuffing the olive in his mouth. Georgi gives him an amused look.“Well if they’d been planning on raping and or murdering you, they would have done it. ”Or: Otabek DJs at the club Yuri works at, and everything goes from there.
>> Awesome piece of work! I’m loving the dynamics of not just Otayuri but other people as well. I can’t really predict what’s gonna happen in this fanfic, because recently there was some angst, and while that angst was resolved, I’m not entirely sure it’s gonna stay that way.. After all it’s still a WIP, so I’ve got a feeling there’s more! After all, what’s a happy ending if there’s no angst? HAHA kidding kidding.. But I love this fic. I re-read the sentences over and over again until the plot’s in my memory cabinet. Go check this fic out!
13. crystallofolia by RennieOnIceCream (Hitsugi_Zirkus)
>> Yuri stared at the flower, utterly paralyzed, ignoring Viktor’s scandalized, “Oh my!”“What the fuck is this?” My eyes aren’t beautiful .Without wavering, Otabek continued to hold the flower out. “I call it a tulip. As well as an offer of friendship.”AU in which Viktor is a florist looking to start a family, Otabek is a flower vendor dreaming of home, and Yuri is an orphan wrapped in seven layers of teen angst that he can only get out by screaming profanities and shoving flowers in people's faces.
>> What other way to spice up the language of flowers than to put a gallon of angst, backstory, and more angst. It’s like embedding the scientific name of a parade craniates in a fanfic that has an involvement with the feelings, the plot.. everything! If you want a dose of new flowers per paragraph and chapter, this is the fic you’re looking for.
14. * Reaching out for Silver Linings by Muspell
>> There’s a whole life he didn’t know. A whole person he didn’t know. A whole person Yuri considered his best friend.
But who the fuck is he? Is anything Yuri thinks he knows actually true?
Who the fuck is Otabek Altin, after all?
Has he ever even known who his best friend was?-------------------------------------------
Warnings are there for a reason, please have that in mind.Second part of the KazGang series, sequel to To Judge a Book by its Cover.
>> Angst... So. Much. Angst. So much misunderstandings... I’ve been treading lightly when this fic first came out because I knew how I can’t get over an angsty fic easily, so I waited till the angst wavered for a bit before reading it. And it was mind blowing. Still mind blowing. I’m planning to read this again because I like how Otabek’s dark history was portrayed here. So mysterious...
15. * A Stiller Doom by Tessa on Ice (tessacrowley)
>> “It is in vain to say human beings ought to be satisfied with tranquility: they must have action; and they will make it if they cannot find it. Millions are condemned to a stiller doom than mine, and millions are in silent revolt against their lot. Nobody knows how many rebellions ... ferment in the masses of life which people earth.”
Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre
>> I saved the best for last. It revolves around the OmegaVerse, the major differences on how people treat alphas, omegas and betas and how it influences Yuri as a omega skater amongst the crowd of alpha dominant field of skaters. What I do love this if most is how the politics blends in chapter by chapter. It’s rare that I read such and I love how the socio-political aspect was dealt with in this fanfic. This is a great read, and if you are into stuff like this, you could try this out!
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Bonnie & Clyde - pt 9
Mason was at the door waiting for you. When he saw the car pull up he ran to open the door for you.
“Hey beautiful.” He said, kissing your hand.
You smiled and threw your arms around him, kissing him happily.
“Dessert is after dinner sweetheart.” He teased, leaning down to kiss your neck.
You gently shoved him away. “Your dad’s inside. He’s going to see us, it’s embarrassing.” You pouted sarcastically.
He smirked and pulled you inside of his house which was very modern and sleek. You expected it to be traditional and old like the commissioner.
“I’ll show you around first.” He said, commencing a grand tour of the house.
This was easier than expected. You didn’t even need to try, he was showing you everything you needed to know.
“This is my father’s office….and over here is my room…and this is my favorite place, the library.” He explained.
“You don’t seem like a reader. I want to see your room though.” You said excitedly, batting your eyelashes at him.
“Are you sure?” He asked wickedly.
“What are we going to do? Read books in the library? I want to see what secrets you hide in your room.” You said mischievously.
“Suit yourself.” He replied, letting you in.
His room was surprisingly normal. You expected art on his walls, video game consoles, or a messy desk.
The only interesting thing in his room was a desk filled with blank papers and unopened art pencils.
“You can draw?” You asked intrigued.
“I only have one secret.” He said standing in front of a closet door.
“Show me.” You asked patiently.
“I don’t give away secrets for free Y/N.” He said, stepping closer to you and kissing your cheek.
“What do you want?” You asked snaking your arms around his neck.
“Promise me you’ll spend the night here.” He said, brushing your hair behind your ear.
“I can’t. You have to drive me home. You know my dad.” You answered, trying to sound disappointed.
“Do you know how bad I want you Y/N?” He sighed. “You look like such a good girl in your red dress, but I know how bad you can be.”
“Did you like what you saw on your birthday?” You smirked.
He spun you guys around so that you were now against the closet door and he pressed his body into yours.
“Very much.” He breathed into your ear.
It was hard saying no to his gorgeous face.
“I thought you said dessert was after dinner.” You said innocently.
Suddenly he kissed your neck and sucked on the skin just enough to make you gasp in excitement.
“Yes, we should wait.” He said, backing off and leaving you flushed.
Maybe you should have sex with him. You wouldn’t see him for a while after tonight and maybe he could help you forget about Yoongi. That’s what you really wanted…to keep Yoongi as far away from your heart as possible.
“Are you coming or what?” Mason asked, walking out of the room.
You quickly followed and cursed at yourself for getting distracted once again.
“Y/N…what are you doing here?” The commissioner asked when he saw you enter the dining room with Mason.
“I invited her over for dinner.” Mason said.
“Mason,” you gasped, “You should have told your father I was coming over. Forgive him Commissioner Mott, he’s been really distracted. I can come over another time if you want.”
“No that’s okay. You can stay. We should all talk.” He answered seriously.
They only had one server and it was awkwardly silent as the table was being set. Mason kept eyeing his father wearily, seeming concerned about what he had to say.
After what felt like years of desperation, the food was served and you gladly accepted the glass of wine Mason poured for you.
“So Y/N. How are your studies going?” The commissioner asked.
You knew that he and everyone else in the city knew damn well that you weren’t in school anymore.
“I’m taking a break from school, maybe for a year or two.” You replied politely.
“Is that really what you want to talk about?” Mason asked, annoyed.
“I was just curious. I have the right to be concerned if my son was dating a drop out.”
“I didn’t drop out. My father was just concerned for my safety after the incident at my house a few weeks ago. I’ve been keeping up with my studies though.” You replied with a stern smile.
The last thing you wanted was for your cheeks to turn red, revealing how upset you were. Instead you took every word as courage.
“That’s good. You should concentrate on studying and avoid the media. They have a certain image of you.” He said.
Mason sighed.
“Don’t concern yourself with the tabloids father. If they only knew.” He said.
The commissioner look at his son and raised his eyebrows. “Your name has been getting a lot of attention too. I just hope it’s not because of this relationship you guys seem to have initiated.”
“Mason’s been such a positive influence in my life, I don’t go out as much anymore. You really raised an amazing person, commissioner. I just hope you know I love Mason more than anything, and I wouldn’t do anything to hurt his reputation.” You responded.
“Enough Y/N. You don’t have to explain yourself to him. I love you more than myself.” Mason said, kissing you hand.
You held back a chuckled and beamed at the fact that this was probably making the commissioner just as angry.
But all this heavy talk started to make you feel tired. Thankfully, the rest of the conversation remained casual, for a while at least.
“This ice cream goes really well after wine. I remember when Mason used to ask for ice cream every day.” The commissioner said.
“I remember asking my mom for ice cream every day too. I guess that’s just what kids do.” You smiled.
“There’s no one in the city who hasn’t suffered a loss.” The commissioner said gravely, and you knew it was a direct reference to you and your family.
“Nonetheless I wouldn’t wish revenge against those who caused such terrible things to happen. There are a lot of innocent people but there are equal numbers of the not so innocent. That’s just how the world works, don’t you agree?” Mason asked.
You nodded. “I think revenge is just a dangerous game that ends badly for everyone.”
“There’s just too much violence going on in the city right now. Sometimes I think it’s better to fight fire with fire, even if that means moving away from the law for a moment.” The commissioner added.
“Most rules are meant to be broken. The real heroes are the ones who can commit the greatest crime and take the fall for it, just to protect everyone else.” Mason said wisely.
“Like taking a life to save a million others.” You agreed.
“Well a taking a life is way past stretching the law.” The commissioner chuckled.
“Wouldn’t you do it? If you had the choice?” You pushed.
“I would.” Mason said quickly.
“If it meant saving the rest of humanity, wouldn’t you kill one person in exchange?” You asked once more.
“I guess I would, hypothetically.” The commissioner answered.
“Of course.” You smiled, feeling relaxed as he tensed up.
Mason was so over conversation, you could tell he’d rather be dead. You wanted to go home already, feeling exhausted now.
You excused yourself from the table and got to it.
Making your way back down the hallways of the house, you found the door which led you into Commissioner Mott’s office.
“I’m here.” You whispered into your phone.
“Okay, log in. If you can’t log into their email, just plug your phone into the computer.” Mr. Song instructed.
After two failed attempts you just plugging in your phone and waited.
“Okay it’s done.” He said.
You didn’t even answer, you just hung up and found the bathroom as quickly as possible.
Maybe it was the adrenaline, or nervousness but you felt dizzy. You took out your portable toothbrush and brushed your teeth, hoping to feel somewhat refreshed.
It didn’t help and because of your awesome job with your makeup, you didn’t want to wash your face.
When you opened the bathroom door to leave, Mason was right there.
“Hey. Should we go out or do you want to stay here?” He asked.
“Yeah let’s go out. I need some air.” You breathed, the words coming out slowly.
“Are you sure?” He asked.
You tried to take a few steps forward but he caught you in his arms.
“I’m tired Mason.”
“Just relax sweetheart. Everything’s fine.” He said stroking your head and holding you close.
“Is she asleep yet?” The Commissioner asked, and you barely saw him in your sight.
“Almost.” Mason replied.
“Mason.” You mumbled, confused.
The moment he lifted you up into his arms, you blacked out.
______
The lights were too bright and the house was too silent.
“What happened?”
It only took a few seconds to recall the events that had just occurred.
“Fuck…fuck…get up.”
Weak legs and a killer headache. Great.
There was no one in sight…just blood on the door.
There was water now…no tears. Tears of guilt and fear. Legitimate fear.
“No…not her.” Yoongi he breathed.
Rolling over, he put his fists on the ground and pushed himself up onto the nearby ottoman.
Right now he had two choices. See what’s on the other side of the door, actually who, or go to the kitchen and wake himself up.
He crawled toward the kitchen and told himself how stupid he was, over and over again.
Putting his head under the cold water, he hated how much time was going by without him being able to take action.
Only three minutes had passed by but he needed to know who’s blood was smeared on the door.
If you weren’t dead already, he would kill you himself and then actually kill himself for causing this.
He made his way to the door and prayed that it wasn’t you. Anyone but you.
If it was you,the he would run. He’d run and never stop. Not until he dies of exhaustion.
Turning the knob, he didn’t blink and pushed the door open.
It was your blood. Your father was there outside on the front steps just lying there like trash. This is the kind of death his enemies wanted. The word “pig” was painted onto the pavement with his blood.
This was not the way people of his status were to be killed. This was a clear sign of disrespect.
When leaders were killed, they were to be covered in a white blanket and a single flower was to be put on top.
But the great Zeus Altine was just slaughtered and deserted.
Yoongi knew that this had to have been planned for months in advance.
He also knew that he’d be lucky to even find you before The Clan did. The warmth of the blood meant that he only had been out for an hour or less. He had to get to you now.
_______
“Wake up.” You heard Mason say before cold water splashed onto your face.
You gasped and came to your senses within seconds. Ropes bound your limbs to a wooden chair, and it felt degrading.
“Hey gorgeous.” He said, leaning in close and kissing your lips as if he owned them.
You threw your head back and then forward, hitting his nose with much force.
“Ah…” he grimaced, stumbling back and blood ran down his nostrils.
He held his nose with one hand and with the other he smack you.
“You hit like a bitch.” You laughed, trying to ignore the stinging pain.
“Leave her.” The commissioner said, stepping into the room.
Only then did you realize you were still in the house.
Stupid idiots…
“What’s wrong Mason? Daddy still telling you what to do? I thought you were done with him.” You spat.
“Did you really think I wanted to be seen with you, Y/N? I did this all for him.” He pointed at the commissioner. “Someone of my status, to be seen with you? Would I ever fall in love with the daughter of the most notorious gangster? I fooled you, that was some performance no?”
“Don’t praise yourself too much. I’m not so heartbroken, really.” You assured him.
“I know. You don’t care about anyone but yourself. I don’t think you can.” He said, repeating the same words Yoongi said before.
“Mason. Go clean yourself up.” Commissioner Mott ordered.
Mason stormed out of the room and you were left alone with the commissioner.
“He just bluffing, he actually liked you. When that teacher of yours told us what you planned on doing, he got so angry that you didn’t tell him.” He said grabbing your chin and making you look up at him.
You met his eyes, showing him you weren’t scared. He was mistaken if he thought that you were scared of him.
“I told him that’s how snakes of your kind are. You’re no different than your father. Now he knows.” The commissioner said, punching your face and knocking you out instantly once more.
When you woke up once again, there was the unmistakable taste of blood in your mouth.
Your cheek was sore and so were your ankles and wrists. How long has it been? Minutes? Hours?
Spitting out the blood, you looked around and saw Mason sitting down watching you calmly.
“Wow. Look at your face. Still pretty even with that bruise.” He said seriously.
“Mason I know you’re mad. I’m sorry I hurt you.” You said and grimaced in pain, pausing for a second before speaking again. “Come here.” You pleaded.
He took a deep breath and got up. Each step towards you was like a long stride.
“You didn’t have to betray me Y/N.” He said, taking your hand.
You squeezed his hand and looked into his eyes. “I’m sorry Mason. I won’t do it again. I wasn’t thinking straight. I just wanted to keep you out of this, to protect you.”
“You should have told me Y/N. We could have done this together.”
“We still can.” You promised. “We can still frame him. My blood is everywhere. Untie me and we’ll hide while until your dad is proven guilty.”
He searched your eyes for sincerity.
“How am I supposed to believe you? Admit it already, you lost. There’s nothing you can do now.” He said, turning and walking towards the door.
“Mason did you mean every word about not wanting to be seen with me?” You asked, causing him to stop. “If you did then you’re the one who betrayed me. I thought you loved me.”
“Did I ever say that I love you, Y/N?” He asked.
“I know you do.” You whispered. “That’s why you’re so mad. You’re saying things you don’t mean.”
Tears started falling down your cheeks and it stung a little, so you guessed that there was a small cut on your sore cheek, due to the impact of the commissioner’s fist.
He noticed you flinch in pain and grabbed a small towel, making his was back to you.
“I don’t believe you.” He whispered, dabbing the towel onto your bruised face.
You shut your eyes and sighed. Every stroke he made hurt a little, but it was a tolerable pain.
“You think your dad’s just going to give you whatever you want? He’s just using you. We embarrassed him already. He’s going to make you go back into hiding.” You told him, trying to get him onto your side.
Mason wasn’t thinking straight either. His father got to him too easily but Mason was confused and you hoped that he was easy to manipulate right now.
“I’m done talking Y/N. Just don’t piss him off or he’ll break your jaw.” He warned.
Mason left the room and you started to cry for real. This was the worst outcome possible. If you made it out alive then the first person you were going to find was Mr. Song.
You should have asked what they planned on doing to you. It didn’t matter though. The moment you were found and rescued, your father would be sure to treat them worse than how they treated you.
Suddenly you thought about what your father would really do.
It scared you more than anything the commissioner had planned.
Your father would probably kill Yoongi first, for not doing his job and failing at keeping you safe. Yoongi was just a hired guard and assassin, not family, not blood. No matter how much he like Yoongi, your father wouldn’t hesitate to kill him.
Within seconds your body felt cold and your heart didn’t pound against your chest anymore. There was only one thing on your mind now and that was escape.
This is what murderers must feel…this is what it must feel like to have no guilt, no regrets and no fear.
_______________________________________
Part 10
#bts#bts fanfic#bts fanfiction#bts fanfics#bts fan fiction#bts imagines#bts min yoongi#bts min suga#bts suga#bts agust d#min yoongi#bts yoongi#yoongi#min yoongi fanfiction#suga#suga fanfic#bts angst#bts fluff#bts scenarios#bts bad boy au#bts mafia au#bts gang au#yoongi fanfic#ibangtanthings#bonnie&clyde
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Special Day
Noelle shifted anxiously as she approached the little general store, her soft palms were drenched in a sweaty clutch from holding a pot of vibrant flowers. ‘I asked Mom for weeks if I can take a day off, and now it’s finally happened’. This was the moment she was waiting for. She walked into the building, the twinkly ding of the bell chiming in a happy tune. There she was: A average size girl with curly chocolate bangs and a friendly smile greeted her at the door. Dolores kept her modest stature, but waved.
“Noelle, Noelle~” Dolores sung as she giggled.
“Hiya, NeNe, what’s up?”
Noelle blushes at her cute greeting before she decided to lighten up the mood. She casually leaned on the counter, checking her barely visible nails. All in curse of her biting them.
“Oh, uh, nothing much for this ol’ chick. Just stopped by to see how you were doing. It wasn’t too busy at the shop, so my mom said I can have a break. How about you?”
“Ha, dead as the people who pro--Oh wait, no, that's sad--Um..it's quiet? Yeah! So I’ve been doodling on my notepad. Wanna take a look-see?”
Noelle was stunned. Usually Dolores was the type to quickly cover it up, though she shouldn’t have any reason too; her art was mesmerizing. Maybe she was too hooked on her because of her personality, she didn’t care. Today was special, and she was going to make it count. She peered over at the picture of a small garden and a lonely debutante on a rickety swing. Though it was merely a sketch, Noelle saw the color and emotion from it. A reason why she liked comics so much.
“Holy crusaders, batman, that’s a really neat drawing!” Noelle exclaimed, looking in awe
“Heh, I really can’t take credit, I was referencing from the picture on the wall.” She pointed to a beautifully framed picture on the wall next to an old train set. Noelle blinked before staring at her sketch again.
“That’s one hell of a drawing then. So--uh, Dolores, when does your shift end?”
“Let's see, it's--4:30 right now so--30 minutes! Why?”
Noelle shifted her position from side to side before setting down the flowers. Dolores stared at them before getting the memo.
“Are these for me?”
“There--yeah, to keep you company and to look forward to seeing this old counter. I thought it looked pretty, so Kiki gave it to me…” ‘For this special occasion at least’. She took a deep breath and relaxed her shoulders.
“Uh--listen, Dede, this year has been super rough on me and--well--you’ve helped a lot as I’m trying to recover ‘n’ stuff. I really appreciate you being there for me. If I didn’t have you and Kami, I don’t what I would’ve done.” She looks up, her body now in a confident pose.
“So would you like to go out with me to the Fall Festival this weekend! On a date, I mean. You won’t even have to worry about money, I saved up just so we can splurge. Get some apple cider doughnuts, rent Hocus Pocus, make fun of the cheesy 90s lingo? I know, it seems sudden, but after last year, I felt like--I need to make a fresh start..if it means trying to forget her. And it may not ever go away--and if i wonder if she can come back so..we can..be…” she shakes her head
“Though, I don’t like dwelling on pasts no matter how memorable or hurtful--and you’ve helped me realize that I can make that change for myself--so--will you be the Nancy Wheeler to my Jonathan Byers Stranger Things of a life?”
Dolores looked touched, but she didn’t hold an expression of awe. It was a different type of expression--one of--guilt? She looked down at the bouquet of flowers before looking up.
“I’d gladly be your date to the Fall Festival--but I can’t be your girlfriend.”
Noelle’s smile faltered. She nervously fidgeted with her fingers.
“I--I came on too strong--I can--I can--”
“No! You didn't.” Dede waves her hands worriedly
“It’s my fault--I was getting too close, and I was flirting quite a bit, but in a joking manner. I didn’t mean for you to--develop feelings for me...NeNe?”
Noelle felt the rush of anger, embarrassment, and regret. She nodded solemnly before smiling, but not as brightly despite her colorful outfit.
“I’m sorry too, for putting this on you so quickly. I thought--I thought i could. Now I’m just wondering if this was all--puppy love in my head.”
“No, not at all. If anything I should be the one to apologize. You were fragile--”
“I’m not fragile. I was just going through something. Its--Its nothing.” she sucked back the water from her eyes. Dolores frowned.
“Noelle…?”
Noelle didn’t answer before she wiped her eyes. She gazed at Dolores. Her vision was blurry, but in sight, she saw a blur. A memory. She bit down her lip and looked away.
“It's okay--I can endure it, Dede. If you’re still up--up for it. I’ll pick you up at 8. Keep the flowers--I always over cared for them anyway.” she quickly rushed out, leaving Dolores in a stunned but guilty state. Noelle stopped running, cutting through the Thicker Woods, pulling out a small present from her satchel. She tugged it constantly as she slightly opened a pair of rustic gates. She huffed up a small hill, wiping her eyes on her sleeves as she stopped. Kneeling down and setting the present down as she sat as well. She glanced at the blended fall color sky, taking a soft,deep breath.
“You’re a long ways past the galaxy, princess,” a booming voiced chortled. Noelle glanced to see her dad smiling before she meekly smiled back.
“The sight helps me relax, a thing ya never do,” she replied lightly as he sat next to her.
“Your brain is in a fix, I take it the confession was an abort mission?” He frowns a little
Noelle was silent, but she nodded, pulling her knees closer to her chest.
“Gee, I don't know what I’m doing wrong--I guess I’m not built for relationships. You know how people have strengths and weaknesses---my biggest would be dating and trying not to put nerds in my slushies…” She sighs
“Fish out in the see---most of which don’t like me that way or just aren’t--in sight.” Her dad wipes her tear
“Well, the way I see it; change isn’t as easy. Don’t tell ya mom, but it's fucking terrible. Leave it to me, someone who had to move from time to time. It sucked. But, I kept going, and I’ll admit it's easier said than done, some give up--but...then you’ll never see the new things that await you--far far away. Happiness isn’t just having someone to be there in a loving way--but your friends and family.”
“Gosh, now you sound like an ending message from some saturday morning cartoon,” she laughs quietly.
“I--I don’t know dad…” He sighs before reaching for her and tickling her
“I COMMAND THEE, LAUGH NOW RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!” He kept on before she eventually laughed and lets go, wiping her tears.
“Come on, you had the upper hand!” They both laugh before it faded. He looked at her in a warm way.
“Her name is Noelle, i had a dream about her, she rings my bell. I got gym class in half an hour
Oh how she rocks in Keds and tube socks. But she doesn't know who I am .And she always give a damn about me…” he sang softly. Noelle looked down.
“I miss you so much it hurts…” He gave her a soft look of sorrow before someone called out for her. She gasps before looking off, leaving the present next to a gravestone that read
Robert Emegre
1977-2016
~Up in the stars, I’ll aways love you~
After all….today was a special day.
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ghost-104
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