#*ignoring what happened at shady belle*

[fanworks-library]

bemerkt | △

(you get a tattoo at a shady parlor. It ends badly, or perfectly, depending on who’s doing the telling) - suggestive; bill x enthralled reader

—

It’s 1am and everything is funny. The people, the cars and even the buildings look hilarious, sliding and wavy as if the world is running on a damaged projector. It’s all so entertaining that you barely feel awkward when you duck into a late-night tattoo parlor, tacky neon signs screaming about $50 micros into the night. You laugh gregariously when the grim-faced employee tries to hand you the design book and wave it away, telling them to choose.

That was probably your first mistake.

An hour later, you stagger your way home with your shoulder stinging. Your eyes can't really focus too well on the final design, but you can vaguely make out the basic shape of a yellow-and-black triangle through the wrap, pain radiating out of the ink like you've been branded.

Every step aches.

—

The next morning the tattoo is gone.

Humiliation burns at the idea of paying 50$ for a temporary tattoo. You can't even remember the address of the little hole in the wall and like a moron you paid in cash, so you decide to eat the cost and pretend it never happened.

Foolishly, you think that's the end of it.

—

At first, you think it's bugs.

Little darting things flick over your legs, your arms, your face, so fast and uncomfortable you can't help but squirm. It takes you a few days to realize that it’s not even bugs, plural, it’s a single entity—the same size and shape every time. You try to get a better look at it and are rewarded exactly once with the sight of three sharp corners and a shell so bright it resembles gold.

—

That's when the twitching starts. Your limbs misbehave randomly, knocking over items and grabbing without any input from you. You watch as your hands stiffen around things that are, without fault, dangerous. Gasoline. Razors. Your fingers lock around a butcher's knife and you spend 10 minutes prying your grip loose, ignoring the odd sense of disappointment that follows. The gold hallucinations appear more and more often, too, something like whispering creeping into your mind. 

Move that. Break this. 

Then, eventually; Not bad!

At first you ignore it, but the volume gets louder and louder until you forget what else you’re supposed to be doing and relent, letting the alien movements pull you along like a fish on a line. In return the voice spoils you with praise, drenching you in flattery so thick you almost drown. You let it string you along, burning bridge after bridge in pursuit of more and more. Even your intimate moments are invaded, your sense of privacy burning away under the spotlight of a single glowing eye. What you want becomes what we want, what he wants—you stop bringing home hookups from the clubs and open yourself up to him, letting the voice talk you through the highs. You’ve perfected a system; through you he makes his intent known, breathlessly watching your own hands cup your chest, pinch the fat of your thighs.

He tells you that you can call him Bill. Says he doesn’t need your name because he’s calling you his. The best thing he’s ever had. With those words ringing in your ears like church bells you pack your bags, leave your keys with the landlord. It’s not important anymore. You have a bus to catch.

Heads up; we’re taking a trip, he says, his voice rushing through your head like the tide. Oregon’s not too far!

You nod, already dozing off. The distance is so irrelevant— you’d go to the moon if he asked. Almost asleep once more, you nearly miss when he speaks again.

…I’ll think I’ll keep this one.

—

(just being normal rn. don’t even worry)

ao3 mirror

[applepiesupreme]

American Apple Pie

Pairing: Low/Mid Honor Arthur Morgan and female OC.

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Savigne Ricci is a temporary guest at the Van der Linde camp. Her path crosses with the enforcer of the gang, Arthur Morgan, and despite their differences, a relationship develops between them. Whole lot of smut and fluff, slow burn-ish.

Chapter 30

AOC link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54945853/chapters/149566579

She was growing to like Shady Belle, or rather, disliking it less. If she were given a choice, she would have gladly returned to the former two spots, but the ride to work was considerably shorter and work was getting busier, so there was at least that.

Ecco hadn’t acknowledged her since the last incident. She had been on edge for a long time, but as he continued to ignore her day after day, her wariness had passed. Just as she was getting lulled by safety, thinking whatever happened had been it and that wasn’t so bad after all, he showed up at her station as if he could read her mind.

“Go to my office, Savigne.”

She froze and broke out in cold sweat. Several moments she lingered, unable to make her feet move. Even though nobody was paying attention, she felt like everyone knew, that all of Saint Denis knew and talked behind her back. She felt deep shame despite not having done anything at all as she slowly walked up the stairs. When she arrived at his office, it was empty. There was only one chair. So she waited, standing across from his desk. 

A minute passed. Then two. Then ten. After twenty minutes she checked her pocket watch and wondered if she was going crazy, if she had dreamed up the entire thing. She watched the slow, tedious crawl of the hands of the watch. Thirty minutes. She vacillated between going back down and waiting on. Maybe he had forgotten? Maybe he was sidetracked? She remained rooted, too afraid to go against his word. Her feet hurt from standing all day but there was nowhere to sit down, so she stood on. The days were shorter now, she watched the window darken and looked at her watch again. Forty-two minutes. He must have forgotten she told herself. I’ll wait five more minutes and then I’ll leave. 

Five minutes later she thought what's another five minutes. She shuffled on her feet and timidly eyed the desk. The temptation to lean against it was overwhelming. The pain on her feet moved up to her lower back. Next time she checked the time, it was an hour. She went to the door and looked out. Chef Ecco was nowhere to be seen. Again she thought she should leave. It was getting late and she was tired. And yet, she returned to the room and stood around. The fear of offending Chef Ecco even more than she had and inviting his ire intimidated her. He was already clearly displeased with her and he could fire her. Then she would eat into her savings and her savings were for the cabin. 

The notion of the cabin gave her strength and she ignored the pain pulsing in her lower back by going over recipes in her head. When she ran out of those she wanted to check the time again but didn’t, afraid to see how late it was. The room got dark. She didn’t know if she should turn on the gas lamp so she stood there in the dark for what felt like hours as the pain in her legs became unbearable. She felt shamefully weak and small, debating how she could allow herself to be treated like this and counter-debating that after all the waiting she had done, it would be foolish to leave now.

Saint Denis transformed outside the window as the arc lights in the streets flickered on. She started to fall into a dreamy state of mind where she hung in limbo, separate from everything. She thought about her childhood and all the orphanages she'd been through and the friends she had lost contact with one way or another and Sister Rodriguez and Sister DuBois and her ex flames, her ex bosses - the entire arc of her life that had started with her carried off the ship with only a tattered book and a photo pressed between the pages, cared for and fed by strangers to now: the chapter where she had somehow, some way managed to find her own family. Sometimes, when she was tense like she was now, she liked to construct imaginary moments in her head. Like introducing Arthur to her parents. Who - because she conveniently could 'remember' them however she wanted - were funny and mischivieous and warm. She imagined helping her mom in the kitchen but her mom would be the superior cook, teaching Savigne the best tricks while her dad opened the door and there was Arthur, with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. Scratch that, that didn't look right at all. Maybe a box of sweets? No, not right either. More like with a deer slung over his shoulder? God, that sounded absurd. 

When she heard the door close behind her she jumped and broke out of her reverie. She looked over her shoulder and saw his silhouette standing by the door, a shadow against other shadows. He didn’t light the lamp and he didn’t move. There was a long silence.

He didn’t apologize, but simply said “Good.”

She turned back to stare at the window. “I need to go home,” she said finally, a tad irritated. “My boyfriend…”

“I want to talk about your future prospects,” was the smooth interjection.

She heard the rustle of clothes behind her and for a moment panicked, thinking he was undressing. She was terrified to look, and so she didn’t. Her heart was thumping in her chest. When he glided to stand right behind her she felt herself start to tremble.

“You’re a good cook Savigne,” was the sigh in her ear. “But that’s not enough. Good cooks are a dime a dozen.”

She cleared her throat but when she tried to speak, her voice was gone.

She flinched when she felt his hand on her upper left arm, light and ephemeral, crawling up to her neckline to casually tuck loose strands of hair behind her ear.

“Don’t move!” he ordered when she tried to shift away and she froze with the low command. She hated the idea that he could feel her tremble.

“Do you like it here?” was the same mild question he had asked her the first time and it triggered something in her, as if she was a lab rat, conditioned for it.

Not anymore, she thought but what she said was “I’m learning a lot, Chef.” 

He chuckled at her answer, fingers brushing over the shell of her ear as she resisted the urge to slap his hand away.

“Have you learned that everything has a price?”

She wasn't sure how to answer this loaded question and for long moments just watched the dust motes lazily dance in the beam of light that was coming from the streetlamp.

“I need to go home,” she droned again finally, feeling short of breath. “My partner will be worried.”

She couldn't see his face as he stood behind her left shoulder but sensed the flare up of his anger. A huff of disappointment as he shifted to her right. She held very still as fingers spidered down her chest, lightly circled a breast. Suddenly a flash of the Murfree incident sparked in her mind and it was like a gut punch. These two men touching her against her will overlapped and for a moment a sense of dislocation and confusion washed over her and she wasn’t sure where she stood in space and time. 

“When you’re here, be here,” he snarled and the feeling passed as the present solidified. 

She felt his palm ghost down her breast and bile rose in her throat as her shuddering intensified. The slow, deep intake of a breath behind her right ear told her that he enjoyed her discomfort. 

“I have an excellent job for you,” he muttered as he came around to stand before her. His hands, deceptively strong after years of kneading and scrunching and molding, held her waist, before they traveled up. His breath smelled of peppermint as he puffed in her face and she had a distant thought that she would hate the scent from here on throughout her life.

Then something very strange happened - Savigne felt herself fracture into two.

She stood there as he gently palmed her breasts, sensitive and swollen with her expected period, revolted at herself for letting it happen but too hypnotized to act. 

But she was also outside the window, screaming mutely and beating on the glass to wake herself up. 

His lips moved but she didn't hear him. What she heard was the smack of the palms on the window pane - tha thump, tha thump, tha thump - a deep, primal sound she heard whooshing and beating in her ears.

Only when the hands on her breasts clenched and a needle sharp pain jolted through her, did she manage to whimper and take in a shuddering breath and the cotton in her ears fell off. The world became louder, sharper, warmer.

“…good,” she caught the last bit of the sentence cooed softly in her ear.

She stood swaying on her feet, trying to gather her thoughts when he idly stepped around her and disappeared behind her back.

A match was struck and the light that flicked on in the room startled her and hurt her eyes.

Footsteps approached, then passed her as Ecco walked around his desk and sat in his chair. 

He huffed at the paperwork piled on his desk and casually checked the folders, stacking them up in their proper order. She watched him, marveling how she had thought him handsome and charming. He looked slimy and dirty, beads of sweat lined up on his greasy mustache; hair caked stiff with pomade, littered with specks of dandruff.

“This job I have for you…” he sighed, distracted by the folder in his hand. “There is this ball coming up. I was invited to cook for it. And I’m going to pick a few people to come along…” His dark eyes turned up to her, dull and lifeless. “Interested?”

She felt incapable of speech but someone did it for her and she heard herself stupidly say “A ball?”

He nodded. “Extra money.”

She blinked at him. The speed with which he entered and left his moods intimidated and unbalanced her because she never knew what he would do a moment later, and she suspected that this was intentional. Very little with Chef Ecco, after all, was accidental. The precision and mastery of his meals, of his plating, of the set up of his menu - all things practiced and perfected through years of observation and mastery. This was no different to him than cooking she realized - something to be done with excellence and unsentimental perfection.

“Good money,” he pushed, taking her silence as hesitation.

Whoever was working her vocal cords, did it again:

“I never cooked for a ball before.”

He waved her argument away, all amicable smiles and easy banter. “Same thing. Easier if you ask me. Lots of cold hors d’ouvres and whatnot, so a lot of the cooking happens ahead of time. Lots of pastries. You’re good at those.”

“If you say so, chef,” she droned listlessly.

“I know you are,” he said warmly. “I actually have something particular in mind. Something…more traditional. Something a bit more Italian. Anyone can make a pie,” he said with mild disdain, “I want a desert that’s more unique.”

“Like what?” It was a surreal experience - hearing herself speak but not doing the talking. Like listening to her own voice on a gramophone but having no memory of the recording.

“How is your frutta martorana game?”

“I haven’t made that…in ages,” she heard herself concede.

“You’ll be great, I know it,” he waved her discomfort away. “You’re great at anything you set your mind to.” The warmth of his voice bolstered the idea that she was dreaming because surely this couldn't be the same man from minutes ago?

She felt her facial muscles strain as her mouth was pulled into a smile. “Where is this ball?”

“Mr. Bronte’s mansion.” The panes of her face moved and whatever expression that resulted in, made him ask “You know him?”

“I know of him.” She heard the tone of wariness in her own voice but he didn’t. 

“Important man,” he said and she noticed his nod of approval. “Anyhow, I mean to surprise him with something from the motherland. What do you think?”

“I think it’ll hit the mark,” Savigne said and her voice sounded muffled to her ears, like it was coming from the bottom of a well. “Especially if he’s Sicilian.”

He smiled conspiratorially when he replied: “I think so too.”

Then a jolt of her inner voice: Refuse.

“I…” she cleared her throat, “I’m not sure if I’m the right choice for the job, chef.”

“Don’t be silly,” he said dismissively, thumbing through the folder again.

Don’t take this as payment for what he did.

“Why, what did he do?” she thought morosely and the memory of minutes ago flared up in her. She was alarmed by how efficiently and quickly she had managed to rugsweep it.

Refuse!

“I don’t want to embarrass myself.”

He blinked up at her. 

“But what about the cabin?” she thought helplessly. “He said good money.”

Her inner voice was sharp like barbwire she had curled a fist on: REFUSE!

“I’m not a good fit,” she said with more determination.

His eyes hardened at her rejection and her breath caught in her throat. “Nonsense,” he said, giving her a weighed look, “You’re perfect. You will accept. I don’t do charity, you earned it.” He looked her a long moment, eyes boring into her, daring her to argue and to her own horror, proud as she imagined herself to be, she wilted under that stare like a child. Not that long ago she had believed Dutch to be intimidating, but when the moment came, she had easily stood up to, spoken back at Dutch. Ecco, not so much.

“Yes, chef,” she whispered at last.

He nodded curtly. “I stocked up marzipan. Practice until the ball. Now go.”

She dreamily marched out of the room on stiff legs and found herself in the street. Then she walked around for a while, her mind blank and dim, turning random corners, brushing against strangers. When she found a deserted alley she doubled over and threw up. One half was horrified to be vomiting in public like some drunkard, but the other half felt relieved as if she had thrown up all the dirt and ugliness and she was clean again. She stumbled away in shame and found a fountain and washed her mouth and her face. Then she walked some more and as she walked, like the focus of a pair of binoculars being adjusted until the image became crisp, her shattered halves glided over one another and solidified into one person again. 

When she looked up, she was surprised that she was standing across the door of the steakhouse. She stood there for a long time, watching the door, unsure what to do. 

Go home, said her inner voice eventually. It’s late.

She knew it to be true but still hesitated with indecision.

It was nothing. You're fine. Go home to your family.

The word mushroomed a deep feeling of warmth and safety in her gut and she turned around towards the stables to pick up Cricket.

Whenever she was late, he would sit by the main camp fire because it was right across the horses and today was no different. He jumped up and strode over when she rode in. 

"Was 'bout to ride out for ya," he said when he arrived. "Yer late."

She turned around and hugged him tightly and he stiffened a little with surprise. Embracing him all the way out by their distant tent used to make him uncomfortable, now he merely tensed up here in full view of the gang and it made her inexplicably but also immeasurably happy.

"Woman, yer drunk again?"

"No," she chuckled into his chest.

He gripped her shoulders and held her out to look at her face. He must have smelled the droplets of vomit on her clothes. "Ya got sick?"

“Threw up,” she sighed. “Did a lot of tasting today. Something I ate must have been off.” If he heard her lie, he didn't push. Instead he pulled the saddle off Cricket as she fed him an apple. Then he took the basket from her and strolled alongside her to their tent.

She thought about telling him about the ball but she knew he wasn't going to like it and she didn't have the energy to fight him about it tonight. “How was your day?” she asked instead.

“Fine,” was his typical stoic retort.

"My back is hurting something fierce," she sighed, giving him a side eye. "A massage would be nice."

"That so?" he grinned.

"But someone has to clean me up first."

He hummed with amusement. 

"Think you can help me with that?"

"I can try, ma'am."

The next day Chef Ecco was gone out of town and Savigne burst with so much joy at the news, she got into a work frenzy. It was as if she had twice the energy to spare as she chopped and whisked and shucked, food appearing in front of her like magic. One of the plates she prepared as a suggestion for the upcoming winter menu was so brilliant, the sous chef came over and inspected it from all angles and praised her until she turned red. She grinned self consciously, shy but proud and Sarah gave her a ‘well done’ smile from her station which boosted her spirits further.

Then she left Antoine’s and headed right to the market and shopped until her basket grew heavy. She saw a little dirty kitten in a corner and cried a little, then almost lost her head in a heated argument with the butcher, then went to pick up Cricket and found herself prattling to Jebediah about how to make remoulade, all the while ignoring the deep confusion and disinterest in his face.

That evening she cooked Arthur meatloaf and sat watching him eat with gusto after her own meal was done.

“Do you chew? Like, at all?” she said with a mixture of concern and disgust. 

He grunted and nodded in confirmation, her sarcasm lost on him.

She sighed and watched the gang idle about, feeling antsy and restless and brimming. In her mind, she was gearing up to have a fight with him because she knew he wasn't going to like her cooking for Bronte and just then the universe decided to trip her:

“Bronte’s gonna have a ball in a few days.” he said around his food. “‘M tellin’ ya so you don’ spin tales in that head o’yours when ya see me all fancy.”

She blinked at him, stupefied. “W-what?” was all she managed a long while later.

He ran his tongue along his teeth and took a sip from his whiskey before he clarified: “‘M goin’ to some silly ball. Don’ want ya to think 'm meetin' a woman or some other nonsense cause I cleaned up.”

“First of all..." she said coolly "...I don't have a single jealous bone in my body." She ignored the dry side eye he gave her. "And second, I guess I'll see you there!"

"How d'ya mean?"

“I have been asked to cook for the ball," she gloated and sat back in her chair. He gave her a sharp look and swallowed his food. “What?” she said with unease when he remained quiet.

“Waitin’ for ya to say you refused.”

“What!? I can’t refuse.”

His eyebrows rose. “Said you was asked, didn’ ya?”

“It’s not that kind of asking,” was her annoyed answer. “I was politely told.” When he didn’t divert his gaze: “What now?”

“Aint’ a good idea.”

She huffed in disbelief. “You just told me you’re going yourself!”

He completely breezed over that point. “Ya don’ wanna mingle with these folks, Savigne.”

“Who’s mingling? I’m just going to be in the kitchen, cooking food.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yer excused,” he said around his food after he stuffed an enormous piece of meatloaf into his mouth.

There was a long silence as she watched him chew with disbelief. “You know, it’s sort of amazing, your hypocrisy.” She enjoyed his startled pause. “Are you seriously telling me you’re going but I can’t?” Her anger sizzled.

His eyes flicked at her. “This man took Jack.”

“You think I hit my head or something? I know he took Jack.”

He continued his dinner for a few moments. “Then ya know it ain’t safe.”

“How come you’re going, anyway?”

“Was invited. With Dutch and others.”

She blinked again and almost laughed because he had to be joking. When he ate on as if it was perfectly normal, she said “Are you serious?”

He did his ‘sure, why wouldn’t I be?’ shrug. 

“The man who took Jack invited you guys to a ball?”

He hummed in affirmation. Still maddeningly eating. Her temper flared up properly.

“And you accepted?”

“Dutch wants to go,” he said, taking a sip from his whiskey. “Thinks we can…find something for us there.”

She gaped at him as he refilled his bowl.

First of all, that meatloaf was heavy and rich and a third bowl was obscene.

Second, and more importantly, he actually had the audacity to ask her not to attend while he himself was going to…what were the words he used… ‘mingle with these folks’.

A few moments later he did a double take at her face. 

“Y’alright?”

“Actually no,” she sputtered, feeling the heat rising to her cheeks.

“What’s the ma-”

“The matter is that you’ve been lecturing me on not getting mixed up with these people and you’re actually going to the damn ball!”

“Woman, I ain’t goin’ cause I wanna,” was his exasperated response.

“Same,” she quipped and crossed her arms.

“Ain’t the same.”

“Why?”

He opened his mouth but she was faster: 

“I tell you why,” she spoke over him. “You’re a damn hypocrite, that’s why!” she hissed. She hated how hot it was here. How stifling. She unbuttoned the top button of her blouse.

He seemed surprised at the fervor of her reaction and slowly put down his fork. 

“Now listen here…” He cleared his throat and took a moment to grab the napkin to wipe his beard. 

“No! Who cares what your explanation is? You’re a hypocrite. You’ll say this and then you’ll turn around and say that!” She glared at the campfire. People still lighting fires in this heat was also obscene.

He looked at her a long moment. Eyed his meatloaf with longing and then looked at her again. She wanted to strangle him for that alone. 

“I don’ like doin’ it,” he said, softer, with a timbre of appeasement as if she was a horse he was trying to calm down. It flared the fire in her hotter. 

“Who said I was?! It’s my damn job!”

“Fair. But...”

“But what?” God she wished he would say something outrageous. That fork was tempting her to grab it and stick it in his hand.

He gave out a frustrated sigh and tried a different angle: “Savigne. Darlin’…”

“Oh this should be good.”

“…don’ wanna worry ‘bout ya when ‘m on a job.”

“Sounds like a you problem to me.”

“Sure,” he said patiently. “But yer my woman and-”

“Arthur Morgan,” she growled as she felt the pulse starting to beat behind her eyes, “Do you actually think that means you can tell me what to do?”

“Course not,” he scoffed. A moment later: “Kinda.” He sighed at the glare he gave her. “Yer safety is my job, ‘member?”

“This is not a treasure hunt,” she hissed. “Or living alone in a cabin. I’m going to a god damn ball as a cook.”

“This man as dangerous as them Murfrees,” he growled. “More!”

“I’m around a dangerous man all day every day!” she said with some heat.

There was a moment of silence. “The hell that mean?”

She quickly looked away.

“Savigne?”

“I was talking about the gang. I mean you. Technically.” she mumbled a while later.

He leaned back in his chair. “Was you now?” was his narrow eyed question. Given the circumstances, that save was nothing but spectacular and yet Arthur Morgan didn’t buy it. He sat there like a bloodhound who had caught a whiff and was about to put his nose down to track it.

“You know what,” she flustered and rose up. “You go on and eat your meatloaf.” She turned towards the trees.

“The hell ya goin’?”

“Going for a walk,” she yelled over her shoulder and ran off before he could sink his teeth into the problem and shake it out of her.

"God damn hypocrite," she seethed, stalking through the dark forest, working herself up. "The problem", she mumbled as she pushed branches out of the way and tripped on roots, "is men." The more she thought on it, the more apparent it seemed. At the root of all her problems: men. Infuriating, despicable, outrageous men. Mr. Rochester? Man. Murfrees? Men. Bronte? Man. Dutch? Man.

Ecco her mind whispered and she flinched at the thought, then quickly stuffed it away.

She fanned herself, feeling all hot and bothered. Her head swam and there was an odd pulse between her legs. She wished her period would finally come so she could be done with it. For weeks now she had been stuck on this ridiculous Ferris wheel, going round and round from angry to aroused to anxious to elevated.

"Men are the problem,” she muttered. “They’re not good for anything.”

An image flashed in her mind of Arthur thrusting into her, his eyes devouring her as the table under her creaked furiously.

She halted and cleared her throat. "Okay now," she mumbled, "pull yourself together, what the hell? 

"The problem is men", she started again but then she remembered the feeling of his trigger finger inside her, brushing her sensitive spot and making her shiver.

She stopped, panting with confusion and a little horrified at the coiling in her gut.

"No, no, no, no," she hissed. "The problem is…"

The way he had moaned her name when she was on her knees, pleasuring him on his birthday.

She felt herself get wet and gasped with disbelief.

Suddenly she heard his running foot falls behind her. 

"Savigne!"

She dived into the thicket, slowly so the bushes won't shiver and crawled around as carefully as she could. 

"Ya gonna make me hunt you down?" he called, amused, and he already sounded closer. “Ain’t gonna take long, tell ya that.”

Silence. She stood stock still. The ego of this man, she thought, incensed.

"Last chance, Savigne," he drawled, closer still.

Even from here she could hear the grin in his voice and it did make the coil in her gut shiver. She listened to the crunching of his steps draw near and softened her breath. Moments later his boots appeared in her sights.

"So be it," he chuckled darkly.

He dropped down to his haunches, back turned to her and inspected the ground. This made her very uneasy and she almost jumped up to protest that it’s unfair. She hadn't taken tracks into consideration!

A moment later he rose up and walked off her field of vision. She took a silent breath of relief. She was about to move on but then thought that he was way too quiet. Maybe he was waiting for her to pop out? So she sat there, listening with utmost attention to the deep silence. Her hands closed on a thick stick and she carefully hefted it, rose just a little and threw it far to her right. The crunch of steps heading in that direction made her grin and she slowly slithered through the undergrowth in the opposite direction.

Idiot, she thought and shook her head. That was the thing about men, they always pranced around like they ruled the world but…She stopped in her tracks. Men did actually rule the world. Whatever, she thought, that’s not the point.

She emerged a while later and peeked up carefully to look behind her. Nothing. She smugly brushed her skirts and turned around with a grin on her face and almost screamed with surprise. He was standing right there, one shoulder pressed against the tree, arms crossed, hips angled away. She gawked at him then morosely turned to the direction she came from in disbelief, then turned back to him again.

“Ya know,” he drawled, eyes locking to hers, “that was kinda embarrassingly easy.”

“You cheated!” she yelped.

“That so?”

“Yeah, you tracked me! Doesn’t fucking count!”

He chuckled and bounced off the tree. “Next time,” he said lowly, “maybe don’ stomp so hard ya leave tracks.”

“You god damn…” she hissed as she marched towards him. The fact that he was utterly unfazed by her menacing approach irritated her to no end. “…smug…cocky…conceited…” He merely straightened to loom over her, rolling his shoulders, visibly amused by her fury. “…man!” she spat.

It was hard to say which one of them was more shocked when she found herself gripping the lapels of his shirt to pull him down and crushing her lips against his. He froze with surprise for a moment, then - always a man who never rebuked her advances - swung his arms around her and kissed her back just as aggressively, lips and tongue moving ferociously against hers.

“I’m going to that ball,” she hissed and grabbed his hair and jerked his head lower as she kissed him again. He grunted with the pain but followed her command, hands grasping her waist to crush her against him.

“The hell y’are,” he grunted as he walked her backwards and threw her against the tree.

She felt a shudder run through her from head to toe as her hands flew to his gun belt. “You don’t give a damn about what I want, do you?” she growled as she reached for his trousers next and almost yanked the buttons off in her haste to undo them while his hands hungrily clutched her breasts and his mouth descended on hers.

“Course I care,” he snarled but his breath hitched as she fell to her knees in front of him and immediately took him in her mouth. He flinched with surprise and couldn’t avoid the loud moan that escaped his lips. His cock stiffened in her mouth and she hummed with pleasure, gliding her lips up the shaft to take him deeper. One of his hands flew to the tree to support himself as a shiver went down his legs while the other tangled with her hair, undecided between drawing her closer and pushing her away. The decision was made for him when her nails raked the back of his thighs as she twirled her tongue around his swelling head and then proceeded to swallow him to the hilt while he moaned again and hissed a Christsakes above her. She moaned too, feeling the burn of the fire between her legs and the wetness soaking her bloomers. 

She sucked harder, setting a ruthless pace as he squirmed above her and his moans grew louder than he usually allowed himself to be. “Christ!…woman…oh…jeeeesus…ah…Savigne…damn”. It was like music to her ears, especially the soft cry that he let loose every time the tip of her tongue touched under his swollen head. She felt besotted with lust, absolutely drenched in it, she felt like she could fuck him till morning and then some. Her head was swimming and her cunt was aflame. Arthur was writhing above her, stunned and reduced to a blabbering mess and she felt like she would come just by listening to the sounds he was making. The power she held over him at that moment was like fiery whiskey, going straight to her head.

She gasped with surprise and disappointment when he pushed her off and roughly grabbed her arm to pull her up. She was turned around and shoved against the tree. “Lies! You don’t fucking care,” she stammered as hands pulled up her skirt and ripped off her bloomers.

“Woman…” he growled into her ear as his fingers found her dripping folds. Her ass was pulled back harshly and she tried to steady herself, gripping the bark as he groaned and immediately pushed into her. She was so wet, he glided in smoothly despite his size. He gasped her name and swelled bigger in her with excitement.

“…would burn the world for ya,” he sighed in her ear, kissing her neck as he pulled out almost completely before the next sharp thrust that made her whimper.

This rendered her speechless for a moment and when she flustered and tried to come up with something witty, his hands pulled up her thighs, lifting her to the tip of her toes as he fucked the breath out of her lungs. She merely managed a raspy cry of ecstasy as he gently bit her neck and increased his pace. In the back of her mind there was a certain pride to have driven him this wild because even at his neediest, Arthur had never taken her rough like this. She bit into her lip to muffle herself and mewled with the pleasure, feeling every nerve in her body light up with fire. Just when she thought it couldn’t get any better he angled her slightly, making her eyes roll back and her toes curl and a few more smacks later she was undone as her mind turned white with the force of her orgasm. 

He whispered a curse as his motions became more vigorous and desperate and soon followed her, the pitch of his gasps rising as he emptied himself into her. Her eyelids fluttered and the sharp sensation of rapture spread through her before it slowly dulled like a forest fire that had run out of trees to burn. She listened to the drumming of her heartbeat in her ears, her head still swimming in ecstasy. He carefully lowered her back on her feet, then steadied her with a light grip on her hips as she almost toppled, her legs still shaking. His panting behind her was loud in the hushed forest. 

A few moments later he asked her if she was okay and she gasped a ‘yes’ as her hands crawled up the tree to straighten herself. He pulled his trousers back up and buttoned them, still breathing hard before he turned her around to look at her face. His thumb glided over her lower lip that she had punctured with her bite and his eyes, still churning and stormy, locked on hers before he lowered his forehead on hers. His harsh exhalations plumed down her face as he pressed her against himself with his hand on her lower back. 

“Savigne…” he managed between the puffs, “...ya possessed?”

“I think so,” she whispered, struggling to catch her breath, too. “Sorry.”

He scoffed, then kissed her temple. “Aint…complainin’…but…hate it when ya…run off.”

“Didn’t look…like you…hated it,” she wheezed. 

He chuckled lowly and retrieved his gun belt from the ground with a grunt. She looked around, suddenly anxious if they had been far enough away from camp. The forest looked dark and empty. She couldn’t hear the camp either but that meant little as her pulse was beating in her ears. She wiped her hands over her face, moist from the humidity and the sweat and tried to push her hair back into shape. Then she gathered her torn bloomers, gave him a pointed look that earned her a shrug and a grin and stuffed them into the pocket of her skirt. 

“You owe me…underwear.” she panted. 

“Me?” he said, running his fingers through his wild hair. “This is all…on you.”

She groaned, now feeling abashed as she was coming down from that insane lust spike.

He chuckled at her state and took her hand, kissed her palm as he led her back. Their walk back was understandably a lot slower and calmer and went on for longer than she expected. They had managed to get pretty far with their furious chase so that was good at least. She beat her skirts to free any dust and debris. She saw the gated entrance of Shady Belle and wasn’t pleased that they had returned this way.

“You think they’ll know when they see us?”

He gave her a look. “I would.”

She groaned again, tried to tame her hair once more as he grinned wider at her discomfort.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t followed me,” she hissed, annoyed by his nonchalance. 

“Course I followed,” he scoffed. “Ya ran like a wild beast. Sides…you know ya would have got lost.”

That much was true. 

“Ya cookin’ somethin’ in the food or what?” he asked, the grin on his face broadening. 

“Funny,” she said drily, then couldn’t help but click her tongue at his expression. He looked like the cat that ate the canary. “Don’t look so pleased with yourself.”

He just smirked. His eyes were warm and she was somewhat taken aback to see unmistakable love in them. Of course by now, having gotten to know him as well as she did, she knew Arthur loved her. But he loved her in his own way – he never said it, nor did he show it in the usual ways people do. The expression of his affection for her was a lot more subtle, more reserved and complicated. 

If she had been asked to explain it, she would have said that she knew he loved her because at times it felt supernatural how well he read her and it wasn’t hard to follow that he only read her as well as he did because he paid attention to her. Nobody paid this much attention to someone if they didn’t care enough about them. 

But rarely did she see it in his gaze as obviously as she did at that moment. It set her heart aflame.

They were close to the camp now. She retrieved her hand and smacked him on the forearm. “Stop. Grinning. Like. A. Fool!” she hissed. 

“Am a fool,” he shrugged, still grinning.

She clicked her tongue again in distaste and dared a glance at the gang as they turned to stroll towards their tent. They seemed to be occupied but you couldn’t trust this lot – they saw more than they let on and had way too much idle time on their hands to share the things between each other that they had missed. 

He was sauntering as if he had returned from some gallant deed and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his silliness. When they arrived at the table, his third meatloaf bowl was empty.

She glanced at his face and the stupefied vexation she found there made her erupt in chortles. She clamped her hand over her mouth when he gave her a baleful glance but the chortles devolved into cackles behind her palm.  

“Thought you was done with that,” John called from a distance. 

“You a stray or somethin’?” Arthur barked. “Eatin’ other people’s food?”

Savigne felt the sting of tears in the corner of her eyes.

John just shrugged and scratched the back of his neck, shifting on his feet. “Came to look for ya…food was just sittin’ there.”

Arthur gave her another side eye as she stood there, laughing and dabbing the tears off her eyes with her sleeves. He grabbed the back of the chair and slammed it to the ground hard before he sat down to pull his whiskey in front of him. 

“How come ya didn’ steal the whiskey too, ya mooch!” he yelled, his eyes hard on John. 

“I got whiskey,” John said dismissively.

“Unbelievable!” Arthur hissed.

“Was getting’ cold and all,” John tried and was cut off by Arthur’s sharp gaze. “You was gone,” he tried again, flustered.

“I like it cold, why I left it ya fool!” Savigne had just gained control over her cackling and almost broke into laughter again at that blatant lie.

“Sorry Savigne,” the other man called over. “It was delicious.”

She nodded in acceptance of the compliment as Arthur’s withering gaze made him finally scurry away. 

She fell into her chair, exhausted from bickering and running and fucking and laughing and this time it was him who clicked his tongue at her amusement. 

“This here your fault,” he said, annoyed.

“What!? Why?”

“Yer feedin’ these sponges and now we can’t leave food out no more. Too many god damn coons about.” 

She chuckled at that. “All I did was give them an extra pizza pie. Also, stop crying - that was your third bowl. I’ll make you more tomorrow,” she said, wiping the remnant of tears off her face.

He grumbled something incomprehensible as she sank on the other chair. In the distance, Javier strummed his guitar.

“I’m still going,” she said a while later.

“Guess ‘m gonna have to keep an eye on ya,”  he huffed. Then: “I want lazan ya.”

She grinned at the way he said it. “Okay.”

He seemed mollified as he drank his whiskey and she sat with him, placed a hand on his and watched the Moon rise.

[cemetery-sunset]

Hat Thief - Micah Bell x Morgan!Reader

Summary: Reader and Micah have a moment together and it leaves Micah dumbfounded, which is weird because nobody likes Micah. Why would anybody flirt with that creep?

Word count: 491

Warnings / Tags: morgan!reader

A/N: just a short little drabble to satiate my micah brainrot :)

divider from: @saradika-graphics

It was another sunny day at Shady Belle. Most of the gang was hanging around camp, taking a lazy day off from running around and working all the time. It was well deserved too, most of them have been working too hard lately.

I love walking around camp, exploring the surrounding swamp, seeing what the other gang members are doing, and just enjoying nature. Wandering around the big house, I noticed a shadow against a tree near the water’s edge. I know exactly who that is…

Coming closer, the voices around the fire faded in the distance. I turned around the tree to see Micah Bell, leaning against it, sharpening his knife. He only spared me a momentary glance before focusing back on his knife.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Bell.” I spoke up, watching the way his hand gripped his knife, and how his blond hair fluttered in the breeze.

“Morgan.”

“You know,” I started, slightly turning to look out at the water. “I also enjoy spending time away from those idiots.”

Micah scoffed and stopped sharpening his knife, looking up at me. He used his knife to tip up his hat, looking into my eyes. His blue eyes squinted in the sunlight.

“You are one of those idiots, Morgan,” Micah smirked.

“I don’t think I’m the idiot here, Mr. Bell. All due respect.” I brushed off his insult, used to his antics. As he scoffed, brushing off mine, all too used to my idiocy. He looked down, and focused back on his knife, ignoring me, chuckling to himself. This back and forth was our normal relationship, constant insults and gabs back and forth, ever since we met.

I turned and moved right in front of him, leaving only a little bit of respectable room between our bodies. Moving my hand slowly, I reached up and grabbed his signature large hat off his head. Before he could do or say anything, I put it on my own head. Micah halted all movements and looked up at me.

“Now… Micah…” I started, trying to hide my smile as his eyes widened, and looked very confused. I tried to keep playing it cool and calm, but I couldn’t help but let my genuine smile come through.

“What are you doing, Morgan?” His brows furrowed and went to sheath his knife.

“I think it looks better than me anyway,” I winked and smirked. His mouth opened, but before he could say anything, I took a step back and walked back toward the house.

Micah was left in complete confusion. He didn’t understand what just happened, at all. As if getting teased wasn’t enough, now he had to worry about getting his hat back before Arthur saw it on my pretty little head instead of his.

The man pushed himself off the tree roughly and turned, looking around to see where I went, but I was long gone. He moved toward the house, shouting.

“Morgan, wait-!”

[chibi-celesti]

EXEC_ZENVA=RYUSSE >> FLEUR_CITY: Wassa Masquerade ag cremia LYAarhou_Siance(Let's go to the Glorious Masquerade!) (pt. 1)

Pt. 2

Summary: The Tales of the Glorious Masquerade with a Twst. Tone. spice added to it! Meryu, after Grim’s moaning and groaning withered away at Crowley’s resolve, can now travel to other cities with her friends for the First Ever Arcane School Trip. This trip will take her to a beautiful city where the prestigious Noble Bell College resides: Fleur City, aka the City of Flowers. And her group’s chance encounter with the well known Student Council President Rollo Flamme will change the outcome of the entire school trip.

A fic paying tribute to the Glorious Masquerade. I was thinking of doing a lot of the events from TW within Twst Tone, but for now I will start small with my personal favorite event of the Game. Some things that happen here aren't tied to TT’s Canon! (Side note: I altered Meryu's Reyvateil placement for this story, but don't worry. This too isn't tied too much to TT's canon either! In addition, this Event takes place post Book 06!)

~Twisted Tonelico~

Part one: Start Up(Preparations)

~???~

A lone boy sat alone in his council room, gazing directly at the fire. This boy was of 17 years of age, his emerald eyes that looked fatigue stared off at the dancing embers, his hands linked together as he appeared lost in thought. He looked down at the documents on his desk; each one containing information regarding his ‘visitors’ coming to his domain for a special arcane trip. “Soon…the day of retribution will be upon them soon,” A shady grin formed on his lips. “I will see to it that you fall, Malleus Draconia!”

His eyes then focus onto one face within the pile of Night Raven students, rereading the name and memorizing down to the finest details of her face. A magicless prefect from another world: Meryu Ptrapica Melenas. He picked up her file with care, caressing her photo with fondness of a protector.

“Fear not, my dear. For I will save you from those wretched demons!”

~Night Raven: RTG~

“The First Ever Arcane School Trip?”

“Yes./ You betcha!”

Dr. Marmalade leaned back into their work chair. “Interesting. What do you think, kiddo?”

Meryu is unsure of what to think. Ever since Crowley made an announcement about this Trip offered by another school beyond the borders of Sage’s Island, everyone didn’t really care for it at first until he selected 11 lucky(or unlucky in Idia’s case) students to represent Night Raven College. Sadly, both she and Grim didn’t make the cut because their names were not chosen. Something she didn’t mind, but Grim on the other hand couldn’t stand it. He rather they go out and see what the world had to offer since he they were always cooped up on the island.

Well, except for that one incident, but we don’t talk about that. Anyway-

The feline pestered the Headmage so much, the birdman fae conceited to allow the both of them to, with a catch: While also representing the school with her classmates, she is forbidden from revealing her Reyvateil status to ANYONE at Noble Bell College nor the people of Fleur City.

“I don’t mind it. But I do wish Mr. Crowley didn't have to lie about my status to Noble Bell.” Meryu lamented.

“Given the current condition of the World, it is a safer probability to ensure your safety.” Gamma told her.

Dr. Marmalade voiced their thoughts on the matter, though mostly agreeing with their assistant. “Birdy’s got a point. After the fiasco back home, the last thing I want is for my nephews’ folks to mess with you anymore than they already have.”

“That’s true…”

“That being said,”  They continued on: “Those who are going, do they know to carry their back up toys for emergencies?”

“Deuce and Epel? Yes.”

“And Zigvolt?”

“Loud mouth still refusin’ your gift despite us telling him to take it!” Grim said, annoyed that once again Sebek is ignoring his call to service because of his odd sense of pride and servitude to Malleus Draconia. “Why did we even botha makin’ him his own back up weapon?!”

“He’s an honorary Guardian, Grim. That's why.” The Reyvateil told him. “But I do wonder how Midori-kun feels about this trip?” Meryu does feel bad that her Princely friend will not be able to go. She wonders if there is anything in the mythical city they’re going to has any flower seeds or other trinkets he might like.

Her thoughts were soon interrupted by the Tin Man himself. “Meryu Melenas. Before you depart, there is one form of maintenance we must perform.”

“Hmm? What dya mean, Gamma-sensei?” Grim asked the former Charon.

“He’s saying that we should make sure she can survive the trip. She’ll be far away from the Dark Mirror, so we need to be prepared for when the time comes.”

“Prepare Minion with what exactly?”

“We need to craft her a [Ryusse] Song, followed by a Flip Flop conversation to whatever can act as an SH_Server in this City of Flowers.”

This confused Meryu a bit. “But I thought the Headmage would help us with that…”

That earned an eye roll from their mentor/ Counselor. “Even if he says that now, nine out of ten it'll be us doing the dirty work.” They moved to pat both Meryu and Grim on the head before heading to the Grathmelding workstation. “Come on. Let's see what we can Meld together while the boys are busy.”

“Hai!/ Gotcha, boss!” The Ramshackle duo ran to the nearest cabinet and started gathering everything they needed to produce the [Ryusse] song. 

Grim began loading some ingredients to the cauldron when his friend brought another important question to discuss. “Should we also make some Tranquility Crystals, too, Dr. Marmalade?”

“I don’t see why not, but we have plenty in stock for you and the others here, too.”

“Like you said, you can never be too careful! I’ll make sure to give some to Deuce and Epel just in case! Maybe I should give them to Mr. Zigvolt as well…”

“Knowing him, he’ll throw them out and claim you’re weak for needing them and your Life Extending Agents!”

“Who said what now?”

The group turned to see the first year Guardians in question arrive in the RTG. “Hey, boys!” The girl greeted. “Grim was just talking about Sebek’s denial as a Reyvateil Knight.”

Ace laughed at the allegation, knowing that would be something the Diasomnian student would say. “Not surprised. It’s been, what, 8 weeks since he joined us.”

“He could be nervous about this new position he was given.”

“That’s possible,” Deuce mentioned. “I know for me, Ace, and Epel it was a surprise from you and the Headmage, Doctor.”

“Still, better now than never. That’s how I see it anyway.”

“Oh we know,” Jack quipped. “By the way, what are you all making today?”

“Tranquility crystals.” Grim answered him. “Meryu wanted to have more while we party at Fleur City!”

A record scratch could be heard as the Guardians were trying to process what the dire beast said. “...Come again?”

“Grim bullied Crowley into letting us go…”

…

“WHAT?!/ No fair!” Jack and Ace cried.

“Calm down, guys! I’m still as shocked as you are!”

“Lies! I bet you’re secretly hyped about going on this trip!” Ace said angrily. “You probably helped set up Crowley with Grim from the beginning! OW!”

Gamma whacked the boy on the head with his fan. “INCORRECTION! Grim was the only perpetrator responsible! I have the tapes to prove it.”

Epel giggled, muttering a ‘Serves you right’ behind his hand. Deuce, on the other hand, tried to reason with him. “Let it go, Ace. Besides, you won’t have to put up with Houswarden Riddle for the next few days.”

“I would if it weren’t for Trey and Carter-senpai still enforcing the rules while he’s gone.”

Meryu turned to Jack after making sure she added a sprinkle of Minnow fins into the cauldron. “What about you, Mr. Jack? Do you have to do Mr. Ruggie’s chores while he’s away?”

“Yes, but nothing too major. I can handle it no problem!” He pumped his fist, ready to take on any challenge.

“That’s a relief.”

“Final Reminder for all: Keep your Symphonic Gear on hand for Emergencies!” 

Gamma’s announcement spooked two of the boys going to Noble Bell. “Our Symphonic Gear?! But what if we-!”

“Relax, you won’t,” The teacher assured them. “Remember, we specialized them to be as less noticeable as possible. They won’t bat an eye at their appearances, so you and Deuce will be fine, Felmier.”

“R-right…” Epel still felt new to this whole Guardian thing. He doesn’t mind it at all since he can prove himself to be strong, even if it’s not as physically buffed as say Deuce and Jack. But his nimble nature and ‘Lovely Charms’ have gotten better thanks to Vil and Marmalade’s teachings.

That said, he also noticed something off about the supplies being used in the Lab. “Um, Doctor. This is way more than the normal amount needed to make Tranquility Crystals.”

The rest caught on quickly when they saw what the Pomefiore first year pointed out. “Yeah, you’re right. Hey, Doc. What’s the deal?”

“One word. [Ryusse].”

“[Ryusse]? !!!” The boys picked up on the word quickly. “What do you mean by that?!”

“We’re working on a [Ryusse] Song. In case Crowley doesn’t keep his end to help us out!”

“What for?”

In a serious tone, their friend gave them all a straightforward answer. “So I can request for whatever resides in this Fleur City to be my [Ar Tonelico], and ensure I make it there safely.”

Meryu’s answer threw them for a loop, until some of them recalled how complicated things were when she strayed away from the Dark Mirror for too long. “That makes sense…” Jack admitted. Last thing anyone wants is to remember that fiasco again. “When do you guys think it’ll be done by?”

“Estimation is three days before their departure.”

“Who calls dibs on Downloading it?”

“Trappola…” The Doc warned.

“What~ I’m just asking. That way we know who’s responsible, that’s all.”

“Hmmm,” He wasn’t wrong. And they know she hasn’t planned that far ahead yet. “We’ll discuss it the day of the Download.” They chuckled at how Ace deflated at their response. Granted it seemed that all of them were bummed about not knowing who’ll perform it. “Don’t be so glum, kids. Be happy she’s going at all, AND that she is in good hands with you and the others.”

“Hai, Doctor.”

To lighten up the mood again, their Charon assistant asked a simple question: “Anyone hungry for Potato Donuts?”

“ME! ME!!” Was the general consensus.

~Nighttime, Ramshackle Dorm: Meryu’s Room~

Once they produced enough Tranquility Crystals, packaged some Life Extending Agents, and workshopped some ingredients to add on to the [Ryusse] Hymn Crystal, Meryu, Grim and the rest of the First Years retired for the night. Evening with the names of the people chosen, more still needed to be done from taking whatever simple clothes and garments they needed on hand. For the Housewardens going, they made sure that their Right hand commanders were given any and all information and to record anyone who may have broken a rule(Riddle), to manage the dorms nicely and uniformly without anything catching fire(Jamil). Meryu and Grim were lucky it was only them, with the one rule she asked from Alphonse, Benedict and Connor being that they keep the place nice and clean until they come back.

Speaking of said Reyvateil, the nervous jitters kept her awake, nearing into the Midnight hour. I can’t believe I’m actually going to another place this month! And to this Fleur City! Oh, I can’t wait to share this with Lady Frelia and Shun! Thinking of them suddenly caused a wave of heartache to bloom. If only there was a way to show them beyond simple photos…

Slowly, she rose from her bed and headed towards her bedroom window, peeking up at the Ethereal Full Moon in the sky. She began humming her lullaby again to herself, until she spotted the green glow of fireflies outside. He’s here?! Meryu pressed her face into the glass, and lo and behold, her prince was outside Ramshackle!

With a rush of joy, she left her room(making sure not to disturb Grim in the process) and outside into the cool Autumn air. “Midori-kun!”

“Meryu,” Malleus greeted her as she ran and hugged him fiercely. He laughed while hugging her back before letting her go to hold her hands in his. “You seem excited, my dear.”

“I am! I haven’t seen you all day, and I was worried because-” She paused before asking: “You heard of the Headmage’s announcement, right?”

“I have from Lilia. Something about an Official Arcane School Trip,” She nodded at his answer. “To be honest, I wish I was there when the Headmage had spoken about it.”

“He still hasn’t worked on that…” They both jokingly question how the ‘wise and generous’ Mage still kept forgetting to inform the Prince of such occasions. It’s a miracle he hasn't become roasted crow yet.  Shaking away such musings, Meryu went back on topic. “Anyway, I was hoping to see you to ask you a few things.”

“Things?”

“You see, Grim pestered Crowley into letting us go as representatives with the others.”

Malleus’s eye widened. “He has?” She happily nodded, oblivious to the shadow of a smirk that disappeared faster than it appeared. “Interesting. Are you excited, Inferiare?”

She blushed at the nickname. “Yes. This will be my first time proper, so…”

“I know,” He leaned in to whisper this to her. “To tell you the truth, I never told anyone this, not even Lilia, but I, too, was nervous to leave my home to come here.”

“Really?!” A simple nod was given. “You never came as someone who gets anxious.”

“You would be surprised. As Prince, I must refrain from expressing too much of my emotions less I make my people worry. However, what I say is the truth.”

She looked down at their hands, lamenting about her friend unable to travel with her. “I wish you could go. This city sounds beautiful…And I think you would adore the sights and sounds,” She felt him pat her head gently before tilting her face towards him. His eyes glimmering like the stars above.

“Fear not, Melenas. I’m sure Fate will allow us to journey together someday.” And those words alone were enough to ease some of her sadness and worries.

~Morning, Night Raven: Headmage Office~

“Splendid news everyone!” Crowley cheered, facing his group of tired first years. Well, all except for Sebek, who seemed more energized than tired. And Ortho, who isn’t usually tired given his state of being.

Once more the Headmage had called upon his “High Achieving” Students, aka those in the know of the RTG and the two Teachers overseeing the project. He claimed that he had something of importance he wanted to share with them. Super early in the morning. Before regular classes begin, and three days before they were to leave. Oh what fun…

Grim yawned before he asked the same question that was on most of their minds. “What news?”

“I have located the perfect source of an SH_Server!” The neurons in everyone’s minds shot them wide awake right away.

“Seriously?!/Really?!/ That’s Amazing, Sir!!”

Gamma turned to face his creator. “How do you prefer your socks, Marmalade? Fried, or marinated?”

“Not now, idiot!” They told him through gritted teeth.

Crowley was confused about the context. “I beg your pardon?”

“Doc said they’d eat their own socks if you didn’t keep your end of the deal,” Epel told him.

“Ah! Well, I told you I would aid everyone in this endeavor, didn’t I?” The damn fool was gonna enjoy his ego high after this.

“You did, after Grim violated your eardrums for hours.”

“I digress!” Crowley shouted. “Where was I? Oh yes. I have located somewhere in Fleur City that appears to have the same potential as the Dark Mirror to be an [Ar Tonelico] for Ms. Melenas. Tracking down its address was no easy task given the circumstances, but I managed to do so with due diligence!”

Most of them doubted it, but they didn’t dare voice it aloud again. Sebek, however, wanted this meeting to finish swiftly. “What is this new [Ar Tonelico] which you speak of?”

“The Bell of Salvation.”

“Huh?”

“Bell of Salvation?”

“That is a history lesson I do not have enough time to discuss at the moment, but yes,” He leaned onto his hands on his desk. “This is the temporary Song Server for you, Ms. Melenas.”

“I see…”

“And as far your project has come along, have you all completed this newer Hymn Crystal?”

“Yes sir! We finished purifying it yesterday!” Deuce said.

“Splendid. I take it this also means we can install post haste, no?”

“We can. But these idiots keep bickering over who should do it for the umpteenth time despite Melenas having the final say more than them.” Marmalade jested. “Who knew getting to chant in Hymmnos would get all their attention to focus in class.”

Crowley looked at the boys in disappointment, shaking his head at the information he was given. “You all must decide on who does it by the end of the day, or I’ll do it myself.”

“Mr. Crowley. About that…”

“Hmm?”

“I was wondering…” Meryu twiddled her hands before making her request. “If I could decide on who I would like to do this?”

“I see. Will you have your answer by day’s end?”

“Actually,” She clenched her hands together to disguise her nervousness. “I know who I want to do this with.”

~After school, Night Raven: The ‘Singing Hill’~

The group all gathered at the school’s ‘Singing Hills’ as they promised, waiting to perform the next steps needed for the safe travel ahead.

Before Meryu stood Malleus, whom she had given the Hymn Crystal [Ryusse] after she requested him to meet her after lunch. He was ecstatic to hear that she wanted him to help her with this task. As if he couldn’t feel more jubilated about the fact he was cordially invited to go as well, now his Beloved Siren is asking this of him. He felt like he could die happy to have so many good things come his way. 

Despite Sebek’s protests about him going through with this-combined with his insistence to do the procedure instead-the Prince’s resolve was firm. And to do this here before they depart… he felt honored to help his Reyvateil even more.

“Are you ready, Meryu?”

“Whenever you are, Midori-kun!”

“Very well,” He moved the Hymn Crystal in front of himself and Meryu. The moment it began to glow, he started the incantation.

“Was yea ra rre crushue Hymmnos.” Rings of light in the form of Hymmnos glyphs began to take shape. This did not deter anyone, not a single soul.

He continued on. “ADDR:0x02:04:1938:1113:1940. MA zweie ra flip 1x01110000 MERYU_FEHU_EOLIA_ARTONELICO <=> ARTONELICO=DARKMIRROR_PHANTASIA.”

*Whoosh*

“Rana 1/1x10 enter > hyzik sphilar >> Meryu exec DRONE=RYUSSE.”

*Whoosh*

“Grandus harr zenva tes ADDR: 0x06:06:1996:0316:1831, [BEATA=MARIA] der zuieg GRANDEE=MALLEUS_DRACONIA.”

The final ring of light vanished indicating the end of the rite. “Are you well, Melenas-san?”

“Yes,” she told him, then looked towards everyone. “I’m ready for Fleur City, everyone.”

~EXEC_ZENVA=RYUSSE >> FLEUR_CITY; Tes Biron~

[aciakatura]

Chaldea Theatre

I actually had this idea before the Halloween event happened, but since it also had a fairy tale theme I decided to go ahead and finish drawing it. Have a few other concepts that I might do later.

1. The Twelve Dancing (Singing) Princesses - starring Elizabeth Bathory, Elizabeth Bathory, Elizabeth Bathory, Elizabeth Bathory, Elizabeth Bathory, Elizabeth Bathory, Elizabeth Bathory, Elizabeth Bathory, Elizabeth Bathory, Elizabeth Bathory and Elizabeth Bathory, with special guest appearance from Elizabeth Bathory.

2. Sleeping Beauty - starring Ritsuka as the cursed princess, Arthur as the prince, Skadi/Merlin/Tamamo as the three caster supports fairies and Dantes as the evil sorcerer who Ritsuka must beat up in order to escape from the dreamscape that she got trapped in. Wait, what?

3. Little Red Riding Hood - starring Medb as Red Riding Hood and Cu as the wolf who is only just realising who was responsible for giving him the collar for his costume.

4. Peter Pan - starring Voyager as the boy who never grew up, Abigail as Tinker Bell and Erice as Wendy.

5. Snow White - starring Yang Guifei as the princess, Wu Zetian as the evil and cruel queen who is rightfully angry at Guifei for leading prince astray, and the Tamamo tails as the seven dwarves. Why does Tamamo get to star twice? No, no, the tails are completely distinct from Tamamo, you see, now ignore that shady image in the mirror please.

[xf-cases-solved]

S1E6: Shadows

Case: In Philadelphia, Howard Graves, the boss of secretary, Lauren Kyte killed himself a few weeks ago, and Lauren is still really broken up about it. Turns out they had a really close relationship, but in a like, father/daughter way and not a creepy boss/employee way. They had such a close relationship, in fact, that Howard is now acting as Lauren's guardian angel, if guardian angels were the ghosts of dead businessmen who had dealings with terrorist groups in Iran who avenged you by Jedi strangling anyone who tries to cause you harm. Philadelphian agents from a vague, yet menacing, government agency are more interested in shady business practices than ghosts or answering direct questions, Scully has clearly watched too many classic horror movies, and Mulder is willfully participating in a campaign of misinformation. What could possibly happen next?

Does someone die in the cold open: Yes, but they deserved it.

Does Mulder present a slideshow: No

Does the evidence survive the investigation: The evidence completed its unfinished business and crossed over into the light.

Whodunit: Kinda depends on which crime you're talking about. Who committed the crime of doing business dealings with terrorists? That was the stereotypical White CEO Businessman(™) who secretly killed Howard Graves and staged his suicide. But if you're talking about the murder case Mulder and Scully were initially working on before getting roped into the terrorist shit, then the culprit was the ghost of Howard Graves. Naturally.

Convictions: In the terrorist case? Presumably the guy they arrested will serve time. In the murder case? Nada.

Did they solve it: Maybe. While Mulder is pretty certain he knows what's up, Scully remains uncertain and there's no way to prove either of them right. And besides, even if Mulder was right, they could not arrest nor prosecute a ghost.

[how do i determine if a case is solved? check the scale here: x]

THIS EPISODE IS SPONSORED BY: Establishing a good relationship with your boss. Millennials and Gen-Zers today are all about that anti-work mindset, but we're not afraid to say that they are coming from a place of ignorance. Back in the good old days, when people cared about their work, and, more importantly, the people they worked for, they were not only improving office morale, but also ensuring that they would never be in harm's way if their boss was to die under mysterious circumstances. Do you have a lot of enemies you need "taken care of"? Is your boss at a high risk of murder? Then we recommend establishing a good relationship with your boss today!

***

General Total Stats:

(green means stat has changed since last ep; red means new stat added to list)

Total Cases *Definitively* Solved So Far: 2 (streak lost again)

Total Number of "Mulder/Scully, it's me" phone calls: 1

Total Number of Times Scully Has Conveniently Not Seen Something Crucial: 3 (during two different paranormal events, she happened to be out of the room, only entering moments after the event ended)

Total Number of Times Mulder Has Been in Mortal Danger: 0

Total Number of Times Scully Has Been in Mortal Danger: 1

Total Number of Sexually Charged and/or Flirty Moments Between Friendly Coworkers: 4 (why did Mulder put his jacket over his shoulder so sluttily if not to seduce his hot partner??)

Total Number of Autopsies Scully Has Performed: 1

Total Number of Times Mulder Talks to an Informant: 2

Total Number of Nosebleeds: 4

Total Number of Cigarettes Cigarette Smoking Man Has Smoked: 2

Total Number of Alex Krycek Sightings: 0 :(

Total Number of Times I Had to Look Up What State the Episode Takes Place in Even Though I Literally Just Watched It: 1 (i almost had to, but then Mulder mentioned the Liberty Bell at the very end and saved me)

Total Number of Times I Had to Look at an Episode's Wikipedia Page to Fill This Out Because It Was Fucking Confusing and/or Too Boring for Me to Pay Attention: 1 (so far it's only been Conduit, but we'll see how it goes when we get to Space)

[marstonsxboy]

@alosthorse:

“Be happy to, Jack!”

Kieran, admittedly, was probably too willing to help when asked, but he wasn’t going to shy away from an opportunity like this. He liked Jack - the kid had spirit and had become kinder after being scolded by his mother not to throw rocks at people. Kieran had been frustrated when it originally happened, but he’d gotten over it quickly - he couldn’t blame Jack, not when the O’Driscolls were, in fact, just as monstrous as the Van der Linde gang made them out to be. Kieran wasn’t an O’Driscoll, but it wasn’t like Jack could’ve known that right away.

With a smile, he whistled for Branwen, watching the tan horse mosey over and stop in front of them. Kneeling down to Jack’s level, he began, “This here’s Branwen - he’s my horse, see, and he ain’t gonna get any closer t’ you until you feel ready, okay? When you’re ready, maybe try givin’ him a little touch. He likes his neck patted. Like this.” Kieran demonstrated, softly petting his horse’s neck.

they hadn’t tied him back up to the tree after that ride with uncle arthur and all the other men, so jack took that to mean kieran was allowed to stay with them? another new person, just like mrs. adler. but she always helped mr. pearson, while kieran was always feeding the horses and just sitting with them instead of everyone else ... and he never seemed bothered they stood so close, even when he was sitting on the ground.

biting down a little on his bottom lip, jack felt the little flutter of unease in his chest when the big horse loomed overhead, but he was stopped from backing away when kieran crouched down next to him ... he liked them, he did - uncle arthur’s horse and charles horse was really nice and their colours pretty, but they were all just so tall.

‘ i - but won’t he step on me? ’ jack asked quietly, tearing his eyes away from branwen to kieran, ‘ i mean - he’s so tall, won’t he forget to look down before he walks? ’

[dark-frosted-heart]

Clavis' route for the amnesiac MC event is giving me many feels. The part with his room! THE EPILOGUE _(:3 」∠)_

Apologies in advance for any mistakes in the summary. Also major spoilers for Clavis' main route. I finally have my answers to how event stories work after what happens in his true love route 😂

MC: I'm just your average person working at a bookstore. How did wake up in the Rhodolite castle. Why does a prince keep pestering me?

MC doesn't remember anything about her life in the castle. When she asked Sariel, he told her that she was Belle and had frequent interactions with the princes.

One morning, MC and Clavis are having tea in the garden. He tells her that they loved each other, and it's not the first time he's told her this since she lost her memories. To an amnesiac MC, Clavis' handsome face is the only good thing he has going for him. He tells MC that she once told him that she wanted to be with him 24/7. Which MC says is an absolute lie. There's no way she could've been Clavis' lover. Clavis asks why she thinks that so and MC says that a lover would never mistreat her. Mentally gesturing to the fact that she's currently tied up with rope, and the assortment of...colorful...unique...dishes arranged on the table.

Since the day she woke up, Clavis, her "self-proclaimed lover", has been like this with her. So MC assumes there's some bitter feelings here. Nope, this is just how Clavis shows his love. MC asks if she has to eat the food. Of course she does, he put a lot of thought and effort into making these for her. Nevertheless, she ran from him the day before. But can you blame her? And then he barges into her room this morning and kidnaps her. Clavis cuts a piece of the cake and holds it up to MC, and asks her to open her mouth. She's surprised by how good it tastes, despite its appearance. Of course it does, there's no way Clavis' love would taste bad. She should eat some more and then give him a hug, proclaiming her love for him. Ah, but she wouldn't be able to in her current state. He undoes the rope and holds his arms out wide for a hug, expecting her to jump into his arms. She just picks up a fork and continues to eat.

Clavis finds it strange. If she were the usual MC, she would've been in his arms. Well since she can't remember anything about her life in the palace, she's not the usual MC. Even so, the feelings should still be somewhere within her heart, Clavis says. But no matter how many times she looks, she can't recall those memories. MC's still in disbelief they they were lovers. With that shady smile of his and how he literally roped her into having breakfast with him. And yet, she can't find it in herself to hate this. Clavis then suggests doing something drastic to convince her and she declines. Well that's too bad MC, because he's going to do it anyway since this is a dire situation. She tries to protest again, but he ignores it and gives her a light peck on the lips. MC calls him the worst. Internally, she's freaking out about the kiss. Clavis laughs and moves away from her. He asks if there's anything wrong with your lover, but the thing is, MC in her current state doesn't know much about him. Well that doesn't matter to him, he's not going to hold back.

Even if she's lost her memory, he'll still love her forever. For a moment, that shady smile's replaced with a look of pain and sadness. It might have just been her imagination, but her she feels an ache in her chest.

Clavis comes up with another brilliant idea. Why don't they just keep kissing until her memory comes back? MC doesn't think she can take any more of this. She tells him that she hates him and then runs away.

Later on that day, she finds Yves and Licht in the lounge. Ever since she lost her memories, these two would ask if she was ok whenever they passed each other. She asks them if she and Clavis were really lovers. Unfortunately, Licht can't say that they weren't. Yves confirms that she really was Clavis' lover. Clavis wouldn't have kissed her if they weren't lovers, MC thinks. He's a gentleman after all. Wait...why does she think that he's a gentleman? Oh well. MC then asks the two what she loved about him. Those two...don't know how to answer that. Licht tells Yves to answer the questions since he can't think of one. Yves can't either. Yves tries to go for the alternative, by trying to think of Clavis' good points. They still can't come up with anything.

Finally, Yves comes up with an answer. Y: He's always so lively and cheerful. L: A little too much that it's annoying... Y: He's always smiling L: Smiling as we fall into a pit Y: Out of all the princes, he's the one with the most assets L: Even with all that money, his personality's hard to deal with. Also, Chevalier has more.

Yves scolds Licht for his lack of support. If MC doesn't get her memory back, then their peaceful days are over. Licht realizes that Yves made a very good point. In other words, MC thinks, it's hard to say good things about Clavis. MC's wonder about why she liked him in the first place grows. He really was a bastard after all. Licht then speaks up. Even though he's a nuisance, if there was one good thing about Clavis, it's that he loves her. Yves continues by saying that Clavis adored her. So much that sometimes Yves felt sorry for her. But she always looked happy. MC's chest aches again. MC's conflicted; one side of her says that Clavis is a bastard, but the other side is crying that he's not. Even without her memories, she wanted to deny the fact that Clavis was bad. And Yves and Licht wouldn't lie to her. However...there's one thing. MC asks, if they were really lovers, then why does Clavis look happy while dealing with her? Personally, she'd feel sad if her lover lost their memories. Maybe that's why a part of her still refuses to believe that they were lovers. To MC, it looks like Clavis' enjoying himself. There was that one sad look, but it was very brief.

Yves says it's typical Clavis behavior. Licht says it's hard to tell what he's really thinking. Suddenly, Licht says to watch out and reaches for his sword. Yves' mood also changes, looking like a cat its fur bristling. Clavis' voice is heard from right beside MC's ear, commenting on their reactions. MC's startled and spins around. He can guess that they were talking about him. He then asks MC if she remembered how much she loved him. Nope, not at all. Clavis thought so. He gives her a gentlemanly hug, though the shady smile's still on his face. He tells her that she's the only one that truly knows him and likes him. His brothers couldn't think of any answers when she asked them, could they? She wants to regain her memories right? Tomorrow, he and MC are going to go back to their own country. MC's confused. Isn't their country "here"? No, Clavis was just visiting home in Rhodolite. Their love nest isn't here. MC has so many questions.

When it looks like he's going in for a kiss, MC covers his mouth with her hand. He licks her hand and she pulls back. He steals a quick kiss. Licht thinks he's going to be sick and Yves is blushing, asking them not to do such things in public. MC feels like crying from embarrassment. She wants to run away but she's trapped in Clavis' arms. It looks like he's enjoying this and she can't handle it. Even so, her heart is racing and she can't understand it.

The next day, Clavis and MC head back to Lelouch Kingdom. MC's in disbelief at the name and laughs. Clavis must be joking. Even if she lost her memories, she can't be tricked by this lie. Clavis says he can't lie to his lover. And he can prove it now too. MC follows Clavis' gaze and sees a young man with dark hair running toward them. He welcomes Clavis back. Cyril has been having some trouble and he wanted to help, but politics is hard. Clavis will teach the young man how to do those kinds of tasks the next time he has the chance. The man thanks Clavis and then welcomes MC back when he notices her. She's confused by the use of "-sama" and asks Clavis who this guy is. His name is Kai, one of Cyril's, his aide, subordinate #1. Clavis points out a blond guy, Hugo, who is subordinate #2. Hearing these names, MC feels as if there's something stuck in her mind. Kai asks if MC's forgotten who she was. MC brushes it off and apologizes, saying that it's been a while since she was here. Maybe she's just tired. With the sad look that Kai was giving her, she couldn't bring herself to say that she lost her memories. Kai apologizes for not noticing sooner. After all, as the king's lover, she's probably tired from all the socializing in Rhodolite. The rooms at their estate have been cleaned so she should get a good night's rest. He'll bring tea later. "The king's lover?" MC wonders. Did she really hear that. MC decides to ask Kai one more question since she's tired, who is the king. Clavis interrupts and says its him. MC's once again in disbelief. Clavis casually wraps an arm around her waist and asks Kai to tell MC about how the country was founded. MC should know best though, Kai replies. Clavis says that she's so tired that her memory's cloudy. He points out that a crowd's gathering around them. They heard that Clavis had returned and wanted to see what was going on. He tells Kai to explain the story loud and clear, and Kai says he'll do his best.

After hearing all that happened, she doesn't get it at all. The story was too impressive and had to be a lie, but everyone around were praising Clavis and her. And when Kai finished telling the story, everyone clapped and cheered. [me: "AND THEN EVERYONE CLAPPED"] No one was denying this story. Clavis asked what she thought; he's a man of many great accomplishments and she fell for him. A man in the crowd shouts that it was Clavis that was in love. If it wasn't for MC, Clavis would've remained a bachelor forever. And because of that, MC shouldn't abandon him.

MC's head hurts. She sees Clavis integrate himself into the crowd and smile a cheerful smile, one that's not shady. She likes this smile that's free from any malice or ulterior motives. Hearing Kai's story and seeing how the people act around Clavis, she understands that he's not a good-for-nothing bastard. But the reasoning's only enough to like him as a person. Why did she fall in love with him?

That night, MC wanders the estate to look for water. She used to live here before she lost her memory, but now she can't settle down because nothing's familiar. She notices light coming from Clavis' room and stops. If he's still awake, he shouldn't be. MC doesn't know why she had that thought. A sense of uneasiness compels her to knock on his door. Immediately, loud footsteps and an awful noise is heard from within. Clavis exits the room, immediately shutting the door behind him. He asks if she was planning on sneaking into his room at night to sleep with him(I think the closest English term for yobai is 'night crawling'). Man's acting sus, he doesn't want MC to see inside his room. MC asks if there's something in there. She's...very curious. So MC wants to sleep with him, Clavis says. She's looking for an excuse to go into his room and sleep with him. That's a big misinterpretation. Clavis tells her not to feel embarrassed, after all, they slept together almost every day before she lost her memories. Her mind not remember, but her body does. MC's unsure how to steer this conversation back on track. Clavis says they're going to MC's room now, but she wants to see his. He likes how passionate she is and goes in for a kiss, and she turns away, having learned what would happen if she used her hand to stop him. She won't let him kiss her as much as he wants.

He picks her up instead and goes to kiss her again. The sound is purposefully loud and MC feels herself growing warm. She calls him the worst and a bastard, and Clavis says it's her fault for being so adorable. He laughs and continues down the hall with her in his arms. MC tries to struggle out of his arms but he doesn't budge. She needs to see what's behind that door.

The next day, while Claivs is away, MC asks Kai for help to sneak into Clavis' room. Kai agrees to help her. As it turns out, Kai is responsible for attending to MC. Besides, Clavis often goes into MC's room without permission so it's even. Well when he puts it that way...there's no reason for MC to feel bad about breaking into his room. Kai says that he can get a key from Cyril. Still, there needs to be an excuse for entering his room to not raise suspicion.

MC finds herself wearing a short maid outfit and holding cleaning supplies. She was given the key with the excuse that she wanted to clean his room. She unlocks the door and slowly opens it. The first thing she sees is the stack of books on the desk. She takes a closer look and sees that they're all related to memory loss. And not just books, but documents too. It was such a big stack that the slightest movement would make it collapse, and beside it were Clavis' unreadable notes that looked like a foreign language. On another desk were mortars and bottles filled with strangely colored liquids. This was Clavis' love for MC. He may have always had a shady smile, but in reality, he was more worried about MC than anyone else.

MC suddenly remembers that time [chapter 9 in his main route] when they were heading to Silvio's party, when Clavis talked about hiding behind a smile. What was she thinking, calling that smile shady. He always smiled like that when he wanted to hide his true feelings. In reality, he wasn't shady at all.

Another flashback [Chapter 10], this time when his true self was exposed after getting drunk. He always acted so confident, but he's actually really insecure.

Yet another flashback [Chapter 18]. MC asking what Clavis has to hide. This was after she and Sariel broke into his room. He worked so hard because of his low self-esteem.

He's a man that hides his weak self behind a smile and sticks to his own convictions. No matter how many times he fell, he always got up. He doesn't stop until he succeeds. He's been working so hard to get MC's memory back.

Flashback number 4 [Chapter 25]. MC's the only one who can love this problem child. She was the only one who knew the real him and loved him for who he was. MC was about to move away from the desk when her foot got caught on something.

Another one of Clavis' traps. Clavis didn't expect to net a rabbit when he returned. MC asks him to stop laughing and to help her. MC laments about not remembering that he has traps in his room. For a few hours, she had struggled to get out, but the more she struggled, the more tangled the ropes got. Hm, but the sight of MC tangled in those ropes is arousing. MC asks him not to look at her. The net had caught on her skirt and was in a precarious situation. Clavis kneels in front of her and lifts her chin. This maid outfit receives a passing grade. It couldn't have been from Cyril since it's not a long skirt, so it must have been Kai who was her accomplice. Since she entered his room without permission, she better be prepared to be punished. The smile he's currently wearing is his shady one, internally he's probably panicking.

MC accepts whatever punishment he'll give, just get her out of the ropes. He refuses. She begs, and says that she doesn't want to hate him. Clavis is shocked at her words since she's supposed to have amnesia. Yet she remembers her trump card. He removes the net with a bitter smile. MC tells him that she remembers everything now and the shadiness slips from his eyes. She apologizes for worrying him and kisses him. On the lips of course. Then she remembers how Clavis gets whenever she initiates a kiss. She pulls away, but Clavis didn't laugh or pull her back like he usually does. He just turns around and leaves the room. EH?!

MC runs out after him but he'd already gone into the guest room next door. She asks why he's running. He even locked the door! From the other side, Clavis says that it's rude to accuse someone of running away. MC's too adorable and Clavis was struggling against reason. Not like he was ever a reasonable person in the first place, MC replies. After all, he kissed her when she didn't have her memories. Clavis says this is different. If he doesn't hold back, she'd miss dinner [me: 😏]. MC would rather skip dinner than have him run away. Clavis didn't realize she was so enthusiastic. MC asks him to come out, she misses him. Clavis says that men are stubborn. He then asks her to wait 5 minutes [me: were you crying T-T]. Isn't that too long, MC asks. Clavis replies with the longer you don't see someone, the more you miss them, right? It can't be helped. MC leans her back against the door and sits on the ground. Judging by his voice, Clavis' mostly likely by the door. MC speaks up, she had lost her memories and regained them. Clavis really is a bastard after all. Yves and Licht couldn't name any of his good points at all. Clavis says his brothers are just shy. MC continues, saying that she's glad he's her lover. He didn't hold back, even when though she lost her memory. He acted as usual. She was really happy when he said that he'd love her even without her memories. She thanks him for his efforts in trying to get her memories back. She's becoming even more fond of him. After some silence, the door opens. Before she can look at him, he hugs her from behind. Clavis: so what you're trying to say is, make love to me all night long, right? If his lover wants him to, the Clavis has no choice. There will be no dinner. MC better prepare herself. MC says that's not what she meant. She looks at him and then notices that his eyes are a bit red. So that's why he ran. Clavis covers her eyes with his hand and kisses her roughly. As they kiss, she feels tears falling. They continue kissing. In between kisses, MC says she wants to go to his room. He picks her up. No one else is allowed to see what her face is like right now. Even if she looses her memories, only he can see her like this. He heads to his room with MC in his arms. As she wraps her arms around his neck, she thinks about how she loves it when he says that.

EPILOGUE (In Clavis' POV!)

Is there anyone in the world who doesn't get upset when their lover loses their memories? No, it's unlikely.

Clavis is teasing MC's body, but as he's pleasuring her, he's also having a lot of thoughts. (As usual, it's all foreplay)

Clavis doesn't know how long it's been since he last laid his lover down on his bed. He's enjoying this warmth in earnest after so long. He knows that MC thought he looked unaffected when she lost her memories. There was no way he was fine. He wanted to touch her. He missed the way her eyes would get teary, the way her skin would flush. Everything. He hopes she doesn't get into another accident. On that day, when he learned that MC lost her memories, his mind went blank and he lost all feeling.

Flashback to that day. Clavis asked if MC was alright. She asks who he is. He puts on that smile and asks if she forgot about her lover. She asks if they were lovers and he confirms it.

There was no guarantee that MC would regain her memories. In addition to losing her memories, she also lost the love she had for him. Honesty, he almost cried when she acted like he was a total stranger. Clavis corrects himself. MC was worried.

Since she forgot about him, that means the way he loved her didn't leave an impression. So from now on, he's going to make his love-making memorable.

Clavis thinks about how MC doesn't know just how anxious he was. How he had wished that a memory of their love remained when she lost her memories. Even if she lost her memories, it wouldn't change how he loved her. But what about MC? He's a boring man by nature. He can't be optimistic, she'd fall in love with another. The fact that she even fell for him in the first place was a miracle. And the same miracle doesn't happen twice. Despite claiming that he'd make her fall in love with him again, it was just an act to hide how little confidence he had in finding a cure. She only lost her memories of her life in court, so she wouldn't have had a problem living without them. Even so, he searched for a cure, and how to win MC back.

Flashback to when Clavis hid in the guest room. He wasn't fighting against reason. He wanted to cry. MC's memories had returned so suddenly. He was relieved and his eyes were feeling hot.

Don't let go of him ever again. MC promises that she won't make Clavis cry again. He asks what she's talking about and distracts her with another touch. Clavis claims to be the type of man that'd become so pitiful if she were gone. Stay by his side. He doesn't want to think about what life would be like without her ever again. As if she could read his mind, she pulls him close. And says that she won't let him go. Well it's more like she's currently at her limit.

[mydearhosea]

Anon asked: Maybe some whump about Arthur returning from that mission with the legendary gator where he's gotta save that boy from getting eaten (what's it called lol don't remember) and being a little disturbed and Hosea trying to calm him down? Thanks 💕

-

This is finally finished LOL.

-

Arthur was oddly quiet when he returned to Shady Belle in the evening after his visit to Lakay with Dutch. The older man had returned long ago and was now eating dinner around the fire with the rest of the gang, minus Hosea who was standing on the other side of the little bridge, grooming his horse.

As soon as he noticed the younger man trotting into camp on his mustang, fingers clenched tightly around the reigns and and his jaw visibly tight, he put his brush down and went to greet him. He'd heard what had happened from Dutch, and none of it sounded good.

"My boy," he greeted, offering a warm smile that Arthur barely had the energy to reciprocate to. He gave a tight lipped one in response, barely glancing over at his father figure as he undid the girth that held his saddle firmly in place. "Dutch told me what happened."

"I'm sure he did," Arthur mumbled, his voice coming off as rather weary and cold. His hands trembled as he fumbled with the straps of the girth, and when he couldn't get it first go, he groaned frustratedly, kicking at the loose dirt below him.

Before he made things worse for himself, Hosea grabbed him by the wrist and gently pulled him back, ignoring the way he flinched just a little at his firm touch. "Wanna get some rest?" he whispered, unable to help the small, slightly suppressed smile that crossed his face when Arthur leaned his head against his shoulder with a pent up sigh. "I'll unsaddle and groom for you. It's okay."

"I ain't gonna ask you to do that..."

Hosea's voice was warm, though his words were firm and caused the younger man to shrink into himself a little, nestling his face further into Hosea's shoulder to avoid having to look at anyone. "Let me rephrase; go and get some rest. I'll take care of your horse, and I'll bring some hot stew into your room for you to eat when I'm done."

Reluctantly, Arthur grumbled something under his breath and lifted his head from Hosea's shoulder, his bottom lip jutted out a little. When the older man asked him to repeat himself, he spoke a little louder, resisting the urge to hide his face again. "Thank you."

"That's more like it." Hosea gave him a gentle pet on the back as encouragement to move his feet. "Not sure if you were trying to hide the fact that you're upset, but you ain't doing a good job."

Arthur grumpily shook his head, politely reaching out his hands to take his saddle from Hosea when the older man slid it off his mare's back. He couldn't say he was surprised when he swatted both his hands away with a low scold. "Wasn't trying to hide anything."

"Go."

Arthur begrudgingly did as he was told. He greeted Jack along the way to the house; the boy had supposedly gotten bored of the adults and had left to play with some sticks he found by the empty little water fountain. He enthusiastically greeted the man when he waved at him and dropped everything to hug him around the legs, completely stopping Arthur's movements. Before too long, he was picked up and set on his hip. "Hi, Uncle Arthur! I missed you."

"I was only gone for a couple hours, buddy."

A dramatic sigh left the boy's lips and he tilted his head back to add some effect. "The other grownups are boring. Uncle Hosea and my Mamma made me read this really long book today. He let me sit on his horse for a while afterwards, though, so it wasn't too bad."

"Maybe you and I can go on a supplies trip sometime," Arthur offered. "We can take one of the wagons with us and you can sit on my lap while I drive."

"Yeah!" the boy's eyes lit up. "Can Uncle Hosea come too?"

Arthur shrugged. "Why not? I'll organise something with him soon, okay?"

"Thanks, Uncle Arthur!"

With another big bear hug from Arthur that caused Jack to giggle, he set him down and watched him skip off to play with his sticks again. As soon as his hands were free, Arthur kept walking once more, in through the doors and up the stairs, practically collapsing on his bed as soon as he reached his room on the second floor.

By the time Hosea had found him, nearly half an hour later, the man had curled up and began to write in his journal. Clearly it had been needed because the older outlaw could see that Arthur's shoulders had relaxed a little, his facial features were less tight and stern, and his eyes had softened, filled with a little more warmth than they were before.

"Did I come at a bad time?"

Arthur jumped at the sound of another voice in the room, and he quickly shut his journal when he saw Hosea peering through the threshold, wordlessly inviting him inside. "No," he mumbled, pushing himself further into the corner of his bed when Hosea sat himself down on the edge with a hot bowl of stew in his hands. "Weren't nothin' important."

"Sure. Now here's some of Pearson's stew," he said as he carefully handed the younger man the food. "You don't have to eat any of it, but it would mean a lot to me if you did. Even a bite will do."

"What did Dutch tell you? That I haven't been eating or something?"

Hosea resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "No. I just know that you often forget to eat after you've been a part of stressful events, so this is my weak attempt at making sure you do."

Arthur had nothing sarcastic to say about that. His mouth slowly fell shut and he gave a small nod before picking up the spoon that was leaning up against the side of the dish. Whilst he began to eat, Hosea continued talking. "Dutch did, however, tell me that you had a close call with an alligator."

"It was huge," Arthur spat, the mere mention of his experience in the swamps earlier that day being enough to set him off. "I did it for the boy, Hosea. That's all. Poor bastard nearly lost his leg in the process, and I almost died tryna save him. Dutch refused to get out of the boat."

Dutch hadn't mentioned any of this to Hosea, and Arthur could tell by the wide eyed look he was giving him as he processed the information. He'd been given a simple "Arthur had a close call with an alligator, but we managed everything just fine" from the younger man and nothing more. He realised now why details hadn't been provided.

After some silence, Hosea swallowed and gave a small, thoughtful nod, forcing himself to turn his attention back to the man sitting beside him. "How are you feeling now?"

"I keep thinkin' about how close that alligator was to grabbing me. I was- I couldn't breathe. I face death on a near day to day basis, and it hasn't bothered me before but- but this?" Arthur paused for a moment to shudder and take a deep, shaky breath in, prompting Hosea to shift closer to him for comfort. He rested one of his hands on Arthur's knee, giving it a gentle squeeze to remind him that he was there. "I weren't sure if I was coming home alive."

"It's okay to be frightened by a near death experience," Hosea assured him in a hushed whisper. "It's okay to be frightened. As much as we may want them to, our feelings don't go away simply because you made it out alive. Would you like me to sleep beside you tonight? I know it always helped you as a boy, havin' someone close to you."

"No," Arthur sighed. "No, I'll be okay. Can I get a hug before you go, though?" Once he'd completely emptied his bowl, he carelessly tossed it to the ground along with the spoon before holding his arms out as an invitation to Hosea. "You don't have to stay for long..."

Hosea wasted no time scooting forward and wrapping his arms around Arthur's waist, his head coming to rest on the top of his head instantly. "Dutch ain't been himself lately," he whispered softly as to not disturb the atmosphere in the room, running the palm of his hand comfortingly up and down the man's back as they embraced. "That ain't anything to do with you. I want you to know that."

Arthur quietly huffed, his breath almost completely muffled against Hosea's shoulder. His arms tightened around the older man's torso, afraid that he'd leave if he let go for too long. "He'll doom us all with the way he's going," he mumbled. His exhaustion was very quickly beginning to catch up to him, and Hosea could do nothing but let him start to fall limp in his arms, his hand still drifting up and down his back. He forced himself to stamp out the bubbling anger beginning to surface, knowing it wasn't going to do any good in that moment. "Was willing to send me to my death to avoid getting into the water himself..."

Hosea felt him shudder a little at the thought and he sighed numbly, mumbling an apology on behalf of the man outside. "You're safe. Just... try to relax and get some sleep."

Despite Arthur's original objections to Hosea spending the night with him, he fell asleep in the older man's arms and gave him no choice but to carefully lay them both down. His fingers locked together to keep Arthur close and he pressed the bridge of his nose into Arthur's forehead, attempting to get comfortable for the night.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

[annemarieyeretzian]

I know this is gonna be a pretty unpopular analysis, but I do wanna point out that there was at least one instance of the pressing of Birdie and Ollie that ended up being useful. Ashton repeatedly pushing Birdie and Ollie about the gaps in their memory actually led to the party learning important information. We can disagree about how rude or impolite they were about it, but I think we all know that they're just like that, so when it comes down to it that's just them being in character.

I'm definitely not here to disagree that the Bell's Hells questioning of Birdie and Ollie's morals is unnecessary. All I'm saying is that questioning their actions and activities from a non-moralistic perspective is a fair thing to do, like what Ashton was doing in terms of their memory gaps. If I'm analyzing what was happening there correctly, Ashton was genuinely just trying to get to the bottom of what was happening there, and unfortunately his personality just necessitates him being brash in his wording and demeanor. So, he's obviously gonna sound like he's accusing Birdie and Ollie of lying, but I don't think that's what he was trying to do at all.

Of course, just my perspective. I'd love to hear yours, as I love engaging with other people's analysis.

mmm this feels like a bad faith argument but I'm going to engage anyway because it's important to distinguish between a few things here:

this isn't an unpopular analysis. those of us who are trying to point out birdie and ollie are nuanced characters, not Bad Parents or perfect people who have never done anything wrong in their life ever, can clearly see that pressing birdie and ollie about their memories led directly to the revelation that ira fucked with their minds and manipulated them over and over again. the issue isn't that pressing them led to something beneficial; it's that this was the third episode in a row where birdie and then ollie were distrusted in favor of an evil fey assassin or a shady fey motherfucker; where their every attempt at an explanation was dismissed or outright ignored; where their every meaning was interrogated and their every motive was questioned. the characters and the fandom refused to listen to birdie and ollie, which resulted in unnecessary incredibly hostile treatment of two characters who have, so far, been nothing but up front with bell's hells – which certainly can't be said for yu or ira. “ashton repeatedly pushing birdie and ollie about the gaps in their memory actually led to the party learning important information” is an extremely troubling way to put this, because if the party had simply listened to birdie and ollie in the first place, they would have learned important information without retraumatizing a couple of parents Doing Their Best.

we can't disagree about how rude or impolite they were about it. "I think we all know that they're just like that" is incredibly dismissive. it allows ashton to behave however they want without holding them accountable for their actions. it's like letting other rude (or homophobic or racist or sexist) behavior slide because "they're just like that! they're from a different generation! they're just joking!" there shouldn't be a disagreement here: ashton physically restrained birdie – a mother who was still in shock about how much older her daughter was, a mother who was then immediately ambushed by an assassin sent to murder her and ensure the end of the calloway line; they actively shushed her; and they punched her. twice. if we're disagreeing about that being rude or impolite, let alone an outrageous overreaction, there's nothing else to be said here.

"all I'm saying is that questioning their actions and activities from a non-moralistic perspective is a fair thing to do." but that doesn't seem to be all you're saying. because the way bell's hells and ashton specifically went about this has to be taken into consideration. intention matters. it has to. and if all the hells had done was question their actions and activities, without the accusations, without the dismissal, without the misplaced anger, without the patronizing shushing, without the refusal to accept anything they were saying, then it would have been a fair thing to do. but none of how birdie and then ollie were treated has been fair. at all. you can’t demand someone explain themselves and then cut them off or talk over them when they try to and then say they haven’t explained themselves as justification for your suspicion.

[littlesniggy]

Your Worth Part Three

Here is the third part of my fanfiction. Not nsfw but it's still rather dark. I hope you enjoy it. Sadly, no Sakazuki in this chapter but maybe in the next one...

Warnings: suicidal thoughts, mention of self-harm, macabre humor

Pairing: none

Word count: 2.7k

Vergo took you back to you apartment, telling you someone would pick you up first thing tomorrow morning at 7 in order to take you to god knows where. When he just left you at your doorstep you played with the thought of simply running away but you knew better than to assume that no one was watching you; even if you couldn’t see them, there sure was someone out there.

When you closed the door behind you and turned the key twice to lock it all the events from today came crushing down on you and you sunk down to the floor, gliding along the cold door and you broke down crying for the umpteenth time today – and you were sure there was more to come.

Stupid! Ignorant! Irresponsible! Idiot! You deserve this! Your mind was running wild, accusing you that it was your own fault for getting yourself into this situation. Why can’t you be responsible? Why can’t you think before you act? Why can’t you just not mess everything up for once? Why do you always rely on others? You’re so stupid! You’re the stupidest person out there for actually borrowing money from the Yakuza! You deserve everything that’s happened and will happen to you!

You couldn’t stop thinking these thoughts, slowly letting yourself spiral down into a deep, dark hole that wouldn’t let you leave so soon.

A desperate sob left your body and you buried your face in your hands, feeling hot tears running down your faced and your palms, onto your clothes. You were doomed! You would spend the rest of your life prostituting yourself to pay this money back or – which, in hindsight, sounded like a more desirable option – end up dead in one of those shady back alleys, only to be found days or weeks later when the rats, insects, wild dogs and birds had already eaten most of your corpse, only some cheap jewelry remaining. Maybe they would shoot you? Maybe they would tie you to a brick and let you drown in some river? Or you’d be choked to death….?

As macabre as it sounded, the musing about your own death took a lot of weight from your shoulders, letting you forget about the fate that was undoubtably waiting for you.

Slowly, you pushed yourself off the floor and took off your jacked. You dragged your feet over the floor, making your way over to the bathroom. You wanted to shower. You needed to shower. Borsalino’s hands – they were still roaming your body, touching you in all the wrong places.

You walked straight past the mirror on the wall, not able to look at yourself, to look at your defeated form. You also avoided looking at your own body when you sat down on the small stool next to the shower head, letting the water slowly fill the bath tub with hot water while you cleaned your body with shampoo and soap.

You almost expected dirt and blood running down the drain from how you felt but there was nothing but the foam of your shampoo. Maybe you needed to scratch it off from your skin, maybe it was stuck. After all you must’ve been dirty by how used and disgusting you felt.

You started rubbing your body with your hands harder and harder until your nails scratched over your skin, leaving red bruises that burnt under the hot water. Over and over, the thoughts of what happened to you flashed before your inner eyes, making your cry hysterically without you noticing.

You also didn’t notice how the water in the bath tub started flowing over the edge and onto the floor, the steady sound of water splashing onto white tiles. And even when you noticed, you didn’t mind. Maybe you would drown eventually…

.

.

.

You were woken up by the ringing of your door bell. You blinked at the loud and annoying sound, trying to ignore it and go back to sleep but when the person in front of your apartment realized you weren’t opening the door, the ringing continued, this time more persistent.

With a low grumble you dragged yourself out of bed and towards your door, passing the hallway mirror on your way. You looked horrible; dark and heavy bags under your eyes, your arms were red from your nails scratching over your skin and you were pale. Almost like a ghost. Maybe not as white. Maybe more like flour white. Yeah, that sounded about right.

An angry looking man stood in front of you when you opened the door, his expression becoming even madder when he saw you. “Why are you not ready? Vergo told you I’d be picking you up at 7. It’s 7:03!” the man who had long blond hair berated you but it went into one ear and out the other. “I’m sorry….” You weakly apologized, turning around and slowly walking back into your room.

“Hey! Where are you going?!” you heard his voice from behind you, his steps indicating that he was following you. “Get dressed.” You simply said, making him stop in his tracks while you closed the door behind you in order to get changed.

.

.

.

You didn’t talk on your way in the car though you noticed that he wanted to ask you some questions. You were glad he didn’t though. You didn’t feel like talking at all. If you still had your voice? Maybe you had gone silent since earlier? Would they still want you? Probably. You didn’t need to be able to speak in order to suck dicks.

When you glanced out the window you were confronted with a familiar area. You’ve been here before. For shopping. Ginza. You usually had no money to shop here but when you borrowed this money from the Yakuza you couldn’t help but go all out. Funny that you’d be working here soon.

The car stopped in front of a fancy building with an expensive looking boutique on the first floor. What was beyond on the other floors you didn’t know but you were sure you were about to find out.

The man got out of the car, the loud noise of the door shutting behind him had you jump slightly in your place. A sudden knock on your window had you jump a second time before you were met with an angry looking blond man, gesturing for you to get the fuck out of the car. You obliged.

“Hurry. I don’t wanna risk a ticket for parking here.” He mumbled, looking around suspiciously before pushing you towards the entrance next to the boutique, pressing the bell button and waiting for the buzzer to be activated.

The buzzing sound rumbled through your entire body but you couldn’t focus on it longer than necessary since you were rudely pushed inside and to an elevator. He pressed the button for the 8th floor and the device took you there in no time. When the door opened you were met with what looked like a bar – a really, really expensive bar.

The furniture was kept in a dark red - kind of similar to the bosses red suit – and the pillars that were standing here and there were golden. If it was real gold? Or maybe just beatgold? But wasn’t beatgold real gold? You should google it when you had time….

The bar smelled like mint, mixed with the faint smell of gold cigar smoke. You were sure the mint was supposed to cover the smoke but it only reminded you of your aunt’s car. She always smoked in it and tried to cover it with those cheap air fresheners. It never really worked.

“Stop staring around and follow me. The boss is already waiting for you.” The man’s voice brought you back to the present. The boss? Who was he talking about? One of the two men from yesterday? Or a different Yakuza?

You followed him to the back of the bar, entering a code to open a door, holding it open for you to follow him. Inside, you were met with the smell of cigarettes and expensive perfume. Women’s perfume. Probably the ladies who were working here. If they earned a lot of money? Probably, if they worked in an area like this…

The back of the bar was bigger than you had expected. It was probably half the size of the bar itself and it even had stairs that went up. And exactly those stairs lead the way to the boss. Yet again, you followed the man upstairs and were met with a huge office, a big desk standing on right in front of the big window, giving a perfect view over the busy streets below.

You wanted to look around a little more but when your eyes met his your blood ran cold. Borsalino. Your mind screamed and you instinctively stepped a step back, getting more distance between you two.

“Ah, you’re finally here.” He said delighted, waving for you to come closer. “I hope your ride here was pleasant.” He said, his lazy eyes boring through, silently commanding you to follow his order and get closer. Your knees buckled and you would’ve fallen to the floor if not for the other man rudely pushing you forward towards Borsalino.

“Thank you, Helmeppo.” The older man said, dismissing him with a lazy wave of his hand. Helmeppo nodded, bowed down shortly and left the office over the same stairs you two had just taken. Now, you were alone with him. Fear clung to you like a second skin, memories from yesterday making you feel like you were suffocating.

“Don’t be shy, Y/n. Loosen up a little.” He drawled, reaching down under his desk. You heard the opening of a drawer, then the clinging of glass. He put two whiskey glass on his desk, the bottle of whiskey following right behind. You didn’t know anything about whiskey but this one looked expensive.

“Please, sit down.” He offered but you knew it was an order. Your limbs followed without complaint and you found yourself sitting in one of the two comfortable armchairs. He poured two glasses and offered you one, looking pleased when you took it. The cold glass felt wrong in your hand but you didn’t know why. It was just a stupid glass, wasn’t it?

“Cheers. To our newest member.” He raised his glass, expecting you to do the same but not minding when you didn’t. You didn’t have the strength to lift your glass, you could barely hold it without dropping it. You watched him take a sip of the liquor before setting it down in front of him, watching the ice move when he put it down. Your glass, on the other hand, was still in untouched, your eyes now focused on the expensive drink.

“Don’t be so stiff, Y/n. Nothing’s gonna happen to you.” You heard him say. “…as long as I oblige…” you mumbled, instantly pressing your palm in front of your mouth the moment the words had left your mouth. Were you stupid? Why were you so disrespectful to the man that practically held your fate in his hand?!

A small chuckle had you lift your gaze to look at Borsalino.

“As long as you oblige…indeed.” He mused, swaying his glass around a little, the ice clinging against the glass and each other. “I’m glad you understand. You’re a fast learner.” He leaned back; the glass now left alone of the desk. Borsalino folded his fingers in front of him, studying you intensely.

“The boss wants me to make you presentable but honestly, I don’t know how to approach it. If you were just a little more….open.” he sighed dramatically as if you were auditioning for a role in a musical but needed to loosen up a little.

“I think we should start with your clothes….and makeup. Not to be rude but you look awful.” The older man pointed out, smiling at you lazily. You didn’t look down; you knew that you weren’t looking exactly good but it made you angry. He was the reason why you looked “awful” right now. Not yours! But you stayed silent, didn’t say a word.

“I will call Bonney. It’s her field of expertise after all.” He mused, picking up the phone from his desk and dialing two numbers. Your heard the faint sound of the ringing before someone picked up. A woman, judging by the voice.

“Ooh, Bonney. I’m glad I could reach you. Do you have a minute? I would like you to help me with something.” He sounded so polite but his voice had this subtle undertone that made you shiver. Authority, no doubt. He was the kind of person who didn’t need to scream at people, didn’t need to threaten them, didn’t need to touch them in any way; there was just something in the way he presented himself that made you obey him, if you wanted to or not. And the woman on the other side of the phone seemed to know it as well. Even though it was a request she knew it was an order.

“Great. Please don’t take too much time. I have a meeting in thirty minutes and I want to know that this matter is being taken care of.” He hung up without waiting for an answer, putting the phone down, his attention back on you again.

“Bonney is on her way.” He informed you with a smile as if he just gave you good news. “Do you have any questions before I have Bonney take care of you?” he asked. This felt so wrong. Why was he behaving like this? Why was he acting like this was some sort of interview? Like you were interviewing for an open position. Well, technically you were….in a grotesque way.

You had a lot of questions but for some reason your mouth didn’t voice them. You stayed silent. Maybe you really were mute after all? Who knows…?

“Good! Then I expect everything to go smoothly.” He took your silence as your answer. After all, if you wanted to ask him anything, he had given you the opportunity. Everything from now on would be your fault….

Just on cue you heard steps coming up the stairs, then an annoyed voice berating the man in front of you. “Why would you call me on my first day off in weeks?!” she ranted, stomping over to the desk. “What can be so important that you need to call me in in the middle of the fucking day?! I was still asleep!” Borsalino raised his hands defenselessly but the lazy smile on his face never wavered.

“For someone who just woke up you’re quite lively, Bonney.” He said surprised, slowly putting his hands back down. “Stop kidding around! Why did you call me here?” she demanded to know. The boss simply gestured towards you and finally she noticed you.

“Who is she?” she asked, voice not as raised anymore as before. “That’s our newest member here. I need you to get ‘train’ her to meet the bosses’ standards. And I want you to start with her appearance. Maybe a nice Yukata, nice hair and makeup, you know, the pretty stuff.” He explained. Bonney closed her eyes for a moment, trying to not lose herself completely. She seemed to contemplate if she wanted to argue with him but apparently decided against it. “Sure.”

“Great! Thank you, Bonney! You’re helping me here a lot!” he drawled. She glared at him but didn’t counter anything, leaving it at that.

Instead, she snapped her fingers in front of you, getting your whole attention. “Get up. I’ll show you the clothes.” Bonney ordered you, already on her way over to the stairs. You got up hurriedly and stumbled after her. Behind you, you heard Borsalino’s voice, sounding way too amused.

“Have fun you two! And please show me the result!”

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

Tag list: @une-femme-de-lettres @simonabg1

[emonaculate]

Kisses n Kick Flips

❥ AU: Highschool!AU

❥ Genre: Fluff/Comedy

❥ Rating: 16+ (Well anyone can read because there's no explicit content, I'm just saying 16 because Eren is gonna be 18)

❥ Pairing: Skater!Eren Yeager x Black!Reader

❥ Word Count: 2.4K

❥ Warnings Include: Puppy Love, Romance, Profanity, and Injuries

❥ Author Note: I wrote this shit because I'm depressed and in desperate need of tooth-rotting romance. Attack on Titan is somehow the best and worst thing that has happened to me in a long fucking time. Not to mention @eremiie and @erotisc gave me some inspiration to work with, so thank you guys! Anyways I hope this helps everyone who is sad over the newest chapter

"Armin you don't understand, she's the smartest person in this whole fucking school; there's no way I'm gonna catch her attention." Eren groaned slamming his head into their lunch table.

"I take personal offense to that; when I'm valedictorian..." Armin frowned not reacting to Eren's physical actions, meaning he was used to seeing it.

"Sorry. But you know what I mean; she's smart and I'm just..."

"A hot-headed dumbass?" Jean quipped, now interested in the conversation at hand.

"Haha. Fuck you, horse face." Eren snapped flipping his friend off.

"I'm just saying if you wanna catch Y/n's attention; you need to completely not be...." Jean looked Eren up and down grimacing as he gestured to his entire body. "Yourself."

"That's not that bad of an idea, Jeanboy." Connie butted in, leaning on the ash-brown boy's shoulder

Before Eren could retaliate, the lunch bell rang meaning it was time for his favorite class of the day, Physics. Without wasting any time, Eren grabbed his bookbag and sprinted out of the cafeteria leaving his friends behind. The excitement began to build through his body as he raced down the halls tightly clutching onto his bag, trying to beat the bell and the other kids walking around.

He made his way into the class extremely early and sat down eagerly, finally for the first time, he'd be able to sit right beside her. A happy smile spread across his face as he leaned back in his chair excitedly.

Damn it all, life was a never-ending cycle of depression and disappointment. All Eren ever knew was pain. He knew was being a tad bit dramatic but how come nothing ever went his way? All that running and dashing was for nothing, especially since Y/n showed up to class later than usual. The only good thing about the entire ordeal was, Y/n sat near the teacher's desk, meaning he could stare at her for as long as he wanted without it looking creepy.

"Yeager, what's the answer?" His teacher snapped, irritated that he was being ignored.

"Huh? Can you repeat the question?"

"As light from a star spreads out and weakens, do gaps form between the photons?" Mr. Shadis repeated, tapping his foot impatiently.

"Um... No?" Eren started having no idea what the hell to say.

"Incorrect. As usual." Shadis scoffed with a slight smirk, satisfied that he managed to crush and embarrass yet another student.

Eren looked down as his face heated up, now he looked like a moron in front of Y/n. Maybe Jean was right, being himself wasn't going to help anything. Or better yet, maybe he should just give up on crushing on someone so out of his league.

"Mr. Shadis, I don't mean to interrupt but actually, Eren is correct. Gaps do not form between photons as light spreads out. Light is made up of tiny fundamental bits called photons. A photon is a quantum object. As such, a photon acts a little like a particle and a little like a wave." Y/n explained looking at their teacher with a slight gleam in her eyes, silently daring him to correct her.

"Ah, Miss L/n. It's nice to see you join the conversation for once, of course, you join to protect your boyfriend."

"Well I couldn't just leave him hanging when he was in the right and knew what he was talking about, isn't that right Eren?"

The smile on the said male's face was entirely too big, he had died and gone straight to Heaven. All the misfortune he had experienced before meant nothing now that Y/n had acknowledged him. He had won at life.

"Um yeah exactly. I have to say, you explained it better than I could." He cleared his throat and looked directly at her, his heart pounding through his ears as she kept eye contact with him.

"Thanks but I just tend to over-explain things, so don't feel bad. Simplicity is nice sometimes."

"Okay that enough, anyways back to the lesson at hand." Shadis grumbled.

Eren waited for the bell to ring before he shot up and walked over to Y/n's seat, the tanned girl was still packing up her belongings. Now that he was close enough, Eren could smell the sweet aroma that radiated off of her body, strawberries, and coconut. Her long braids were pulled up into a half up half down style and her edges had been laid to perfection.

The male felt his palms grow sweaty as he continued to look at her, Jesus had she always been this beautiful? Y/n looked back up at him as her two-toned glossed lips morphed into a sickeningly sweet smile.

"Hi, Eren."

"Hey... um, thanks again for earlier."

"It's no trouble really, can't let Shadis bully his students right?"

"Yeah... yeah" Eren licked his lips and shoved his hands into his pockets now growing self-conscious about what he chose to wear to school.

A tight black wife-beater, grey and white flannel with ripped blue jeans, and finally black Air Forces. Granted it was usual for him, but he wasn't sure if his usual was something Y/n would even remotely be attracted to.

"So I was wondering if you wanted to hang out after school today.." He blurted after gathering all of his confidence.

Y/n's face looked shocked for a moment before she gave an apologetic smile looking away slightly; Eren felt his heart drop to his stomach instantly knowing whatever she was about to say was going to ruin his happy mood.

"Sorry. I can't-"

"Yeah, it's cool. Nevermind forget I asked." Eren walked off, not wanting to act like a dick in front of her.

He knew his temper wasn't exactly the best, but the last thing he wanted was to blow up on her of all people. That's why he was now at the park sitting on a table beside Armin who was doing homework, which really made no sense to Eren since Armin was the one who suggested going to the park in the first place.

"I was so close man. Like all she had to do was say yes."

"So let me get this straight, Y/n defended your dumbass in class and you still fumbled the ball? Wow, Yeager, you surprise me every day." Jean laughed as he watched Connie roll the blunt.

"Say something else and I swear I'm gonna beat the shit out of you. Say something else, I fucking dare you." Eren glared as he furrowed his eyebrows.

"Ayo calm down, don't be getting mad at grade-a asshole over here because of your shortcomings. Jean is a dick don't get me wrong but beating his ass won't help your situation." Connie tsked as he gazed up at Eren.

"Whatever. I'm gonna go skate." Eren stood up and grabbed his board, moving away from his friends.

Sometimes skating was the only thing that could get him to relax, well that and his mother's cookies. But currently, the older he got, the more skating seemed to help him cope with all the bullshit he dealt with on a daily. This skateboard has been with him for years, despite how rough he was with it, it managed to outlast all of the crazy stunts he'd pull.

Eren got a running start and jumped on his board enjoying the feeling of the wind blowing on his face; his eyes fluttered shut as the wind continued to tickle his face. A peaceful sigh escaped his lips as he shifted his body, concentrating on using his other senses.

He would often skate blindfolded, there was something about having the trust all of your other senses to not wind up hurting yourself or others. More than he'd like to admit, usually it would be him that got the short end of the stick.

"Watch out!" A familiar voice screeched causing Eren to snap his eyes open.

His eyes widened as he saw a young girl sitting right in the middle of his path, usually stopping would be no problem for Eren, unfortunately since his focus was thrown off. He continued to advance towards the girl, but in the last second decided to perform a rather high Ollie. Luckily he managed to maneuver his trick perfectly, however, due to the altitude of his jump, the male lost his footing and crashed into the concrete.

"Fuck!" He hissed in pain as he knew he tore skin.

"Oh my god! Are you okay? I'm so sorry." A female voice called out to him as he laid on the ground.

"Just fucking peachy," He sat up ready to finally blow up only to come face to face with Y/n. "Erm. I mean yeah it hurt but I'm fine."

"You're bleeding and it's my fault. I'm so sorry." She panicked as she inspected his face, her warm hands darting out to grab his face.

Suddenly all the pain disappeared from his body, he was on cloud nine again. Eating shit on concrete felt like a piece of cake now that she was here pampering him.

"It's no problem, Y/n. I've felt worse." He replied trying to ease her worries.

"I turn away for one moment and then Gabi just disappeared."

"Hey, it's okay. Y/n look at me, I'm fine." He chuckled and placed his larger hand over hers.

Y/n stared at him for a moment before averting her eyes, seeming to be flustered as she stood up. She shifted awkwardly and stumbled backward, much to Eren's confusion.

"Stay right there. I got some first aid stuff in my car. I'll be right back." She mumbled as she rushed away.

Eren watched her silently with a shit-eating grin on his face, despite his nose and lip bleeding profusely. He watched her baby blue skirt flow along with the over-sized white graphic t-shirt. When Y/n came back, she held tightly onto a little girl's hand and dropped the first-aid kit clumsily as she made eye-contact with Eren.

"Oh my gosh. I'm so sorry."

"Y/n, I never knew you were this uncoordinated." He hummed teasingly as she bent down to grab the kit.

"I'm usually not. It's just because-" She stopped herself and smiled at him. "Nevermind it's nothing."

She sat down in front of him and began to clean the cuts along with scrapes. Y/n bandaged them all up carefully whilst avoiding looking at the male who could nothing but stare at her. His turquoise eyes greedily soaked in the appearance of her face, after-all with how close she was, how could he not?

"And done...Now Gabi," Y/n smiled sweetly, backing away from him as she grabbed the little girl's hand again. "Apologize to Eren. He could have gotten hurt."

"Why should I care? I was there first. He almost messed me up and then I'd have to start all over with my chalk." Gabi sneered and crossed her arms.

"Gabi! Apologize now. Or I'll make sure Reiner, knows about your behavior recently." Y/n said sternly.

"Fine. I'm sorry. Sorry, that you got in my way." Gabi stuck her tongue out at Eren and blew a loud raspberry.

"That's it go stand by the car. Right now." Y/n snapped looking at the child.

"But-" Gabi started as her eyes widened, seeming to not be used to punishment from Y/n.

"No buts. Go. Now." Y/n demanded pointing at the car.

Gabi walked away grumbling to herself and Y/n looked back at Eren apologetically. He stared at her with a raised eyebrow and an amused grin.

"Charming kid."

"She usually isn't like this."

"Oh really? She seems like an angel." He sarcastically replied.

"I'm sorry Eren. Is there any way I can make it up to you?" She mumbled softly looking at him with her big brown eyes.

Eren stiffened up and silently began to recite the pledge of allegiance, there was no reason for how ridiculously attractive she looked when she said that little stupid phrase.

"Let me take you on a date." He blurted dreamily not realizing it had slipped out of his mouth.

"A date?" Y/n questioned curiously.

"Yes. A date, you and me." He responded despite his chest-beating heavily.

"...I don't know." She mumbled looking away from him.

"Y/n..." Eren stood up and looked down at her, cupping her face gently, adrenaline pumping through his veins. "I've had the biggest crush on you since sophomore year. I thought that it would just go away but no matter what I've always just thought about you. Despite the two other girls I've dated, I wanted you. I've never dared to ask you because you're clearly out of my league and I just-"

He was silenced by Y/n pressing her lips against his mouth and Eren was sure he felt his knees buckle, the taste of her vanilla lip-gloss was the tastiest thing he had consumed. He kissed back desperately not wanting the moment to end, his hands held her jaw a little tighter. Y/n broke the kiss first with a bashful smile.

"I like you Eren. I've liked you since middle school. I was just nervous because I thought you were out of my league."

"Bullshit, you're like an Earth goddess and I'm just a dumbass." He protested as his hands found their way to her hips.

"No, you're sweet, caring, friendly, and all-around a really good guy." She hummed wrapping her hands around his neck.

"Mm well, I guess I can say this shit was worth the wait." He leaned down their noses touching gently.

"Definitely," Y/n repeated before Eren captured her lips into another sweet kiss.

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

"Okay, I need to go now." Y/n laughed as he peppered kisses down her shoulder.

"Mm then leave" Eren mumbled nipping at her skin softly.

"I would but you won't let me leave your lap." She retorted as she looked down at his hands that held tightly onto her waist.

"Then I guess you can't go." He grinned.

"Okay, you guys are starting to make me sick." Jean stood up, setting his controller down.

"Yeah me too, Armin why the fuck did you have to set them up." Connie mumbled as he painted his nails.

"What?" Eren paused his motions and looked at his blonde best friend, who was reading a book.

"You guys kept moping to me about liking each other and whenever I advised to just be upfront about your feelings, you guys just ignored me. What else was I supposed to do?" He questioned setting his book down, as it dawns on both Y/n and Eren; they had been manipulated.

"Dammit, Armin." Y/n mumbled despite the smile on her face.

Eren was definitely in Armin's debt forever after realizing he was the reason that Y/n was his girlfriend. The brunette smiled thinking of the perfect way to help his friend, and what better way could he repay him by setting him up with his crush as well?

[its-deputy-caleb]

Micah Bell - Partners in Crime and in Love Pt.1

YES i know there’s 58 requests sitting in my inbox for re8 HOWEVER red dead is my comfort game and i needed to write this verbal mess down. I’ve been thinking of writing a micah fic for weeks now and i finally did it bc as much as i love re8 red dead is my fav and always will be. this is so self indulgent i swear.

for anyone that actually reads this the reader is pretty gn but does lean towards fem this time and i’ll be doing a part 2 for sure bc i love the rat man.

part 2 is now here

—————————————————————

Today was finally the day. The day for the big bank job that Dutch insisted was the right move for the gang. This was despite numerous doubts from Hosea and various other camp members that robbing a bank in broad daylight in the state’s largest city was a risk the gang couldn’t afford to make right now.

The whole morning there had been a sour feeling in your gut, a tiny voice shouting in the back of your mind that something wasn’t right. It wasn’t like you to get nervous on a job, in fact you recently robbed the Valentine bank with Bill on his job. Originally you weren’t interested in going, happy to let Karen go on her own with the guys but Bill insisted you go as you were one of the best gunslingers the gang had.

Robbing and killing came naturally to you and being outlawed in six states had never bothered you during your time as an outlaw. That’s why it was almost impossible for you to ignore the sick feeling in your stomach that was slowly building.

Making your way over to Micah, you see him sitting on a wooden crate cleaning his guns for the inevitable shootout that comes with bank jobs. Taking a seat next to him, Micah doesn’t need to ask you how you are; he can practically see how restless and agitated you look.

That’s the thing about your relationship with Micah, you understood each other (especially in public) and didn’t need grand public displays of affection to know exactly what the other needed in that moment.

The camp mostly stayed clear of your relationship, I mean you were probably two of the camp’s biggest troublemakers and risk takers when it came to planning jobs and robbing folk. Both of you had a shot quicker than lightening and could practically shoot your way out of any situation you found yourselves in. But regardless of how ruthless anyone thought you two were, you always had each other’s backs and wouldn’t stop to think about saving the other.

One night after a successful train job Dutch decided to hold a camp celebration. It was a mostly quiet night for you, having not decided to party with your companions despite Sean, Charles and Javier all offering for you to join in. Instead you decided to spend the mostly quiet night with Micah sharing a bottle of whiskey and splitting your share of the earnings. After each job you always had a bet with Micah over who could shoot the highest number of lawman. It was a bet the two of you had with each other just to cause more mischief and it always brought a smile to your face when Micah would lose and sulk about it for the rest of the afternoon

At one point during the night Bill strolled over to you while Micah went to get another bottle of whiskey. He was nice and polite despite the smell of beer coming from his breath, maybe even a little flirtatious and all was well until he asked the question ‘Why is you with a rat like him when you could be with someone as charming as me?’. Bill ended up with a face full of dirt and a broken nose, not to mention a killer hangover.

So yeah, the gang tended to leave you and Micah alone…

Micah’s knee lightly brushing against your own brings your thoughts back to reality. He’s stopped cleaning his guns and is looking at you with soft eyes and a gentle smile, the one that’s only reserved for you.

Despite being a hardened outlaw that has known nothing but chaos and the open road for most of your life. The gang has observed from afar your softer sides, whether it be the time you both fell asleep next to each other by the campfire or getting shit scared when the other has been shot and the rest of the night is spent with soft kisses and bandage wrapping.

Micah holsters his revolver and gently takes your hand in his.

“Sweetheart we’re gonna be fine, ain’t nothing gonna go wrong, now common let’s go get dressed for such a special occasion.”

~

Everyone is just starting to get into their fancy attire for the job when you and Micah are already packing your saddles and getting ready. You’re wearing matching white suits with a red shirt only yours is tailored to show off your figure a lot more and your plunge top and corset doesn’t leave much to the imagination but hey, if you’re gonna go out it’s gonna be in style.

As Micah finishes tightening up Baylock’s saddle you lean forward and hold his wrist in your hand. Your thumb gently brushes the soft skin there, trying to hide the nerves that have been slowly eating away at you all day.

“I don’t like this Micah, somethings gonna go wrong I can feel it…”

Micah’s never been great with emotions but you’ve known him long enough to know how he comforts you. The arm that’s caught in your grasp turns and brings you forward into a hug, his chin resting on your head as you hold him tightly against you.

“Ain’t nothin gonna happen to us, just think of it as another bank job.”

You nod and hold him closer, a rare event for such a public place where anyone could walk by but neither of you really cared at that moment. You press your face into his shoulder, trying to shake off your uneasiness.

“You better not die on me now Bell, you still owe me that new holster for beating you in five finger fillet.”

~

Fuck did the bank job go wrong. Horribly wrong. From the moment you got off your horses and stepped foot in that bank it all turned to hell.

Bullets where flying everywhere, there were civilians screaming in terror trying not to get caught in the crossfire, glass was being shattered by dynamite and Dutch was trying to formulate a plan while in shock of losing his dear Hosea.

A bullet whizzed past your head and you took out another Pinkerton. It was chaos. Every time you managed to bring down the line of Pinkertons another carriage full of them would arrive with the Saint Denis Police.

You couldn’t see Micah anywhere, but each time you tried to look for him your attention was dragged back to the action in front of you and the numerous Pinkertons shooting at you.

Arthur had snuck onto the roof at some point and some of the other members where making their way towards the rooftop as well. You were about to make a bolt towards Dutch and Javier on the ladder when Charles stopped you with a hand on your shoulder.

“Go that way, we’re the diversion! Karen and Sadie are a waiting near the alleyway of the tavern, we’ll meet you back at camp in a few hours, GO!”

Charles pushes you down the alley way and climbs up the ladder to catch up to the others. You would’ve protested but your body is running on adrenaline so you didn’t think as you snuck your way out of safety.

~

Micah was furious that Charles had sent you off on your own to find your way back, if it wasn’t for the fact that the five of them where hiding from the law in a rundown city apartment he probably would have argued with him for hours.

But deep down he knew it was the right thing to do. He knew that you’d be 100 times safer away from this chaos then if you were here with him, even if you could handle yourself.

For hours they sat in that little room, Dutch formulating a plan on how to get out of here while Micah tried not to worry about whether you made it home safe. Now he understood that sick feeling of worry in your stomach, he only ever got it when he worried about you.

By nightfall Dutch had somewhat of a plan to escape via the docks, sneak out onto a ship that would take them somewhere and it hit Micah in that moment that it would be some time before he saw you again…

The guards where everywhere, the entire city on high alert after the bank and Charles ended up running so everyone could make it onto a boat. As Dutch attempted to negotiate with the captain for a cabin, Micah lit a cigarette from his blazer pocket, trying to take his first deep breath of the night.

“We were fools for thinking we could pull off the bank…”

Arthur rests against the crates, fatigue clear in his eyes but willing himself to stay awake. Micah however didn’t want to sit and talk about what could have happened and what actually did, he had a headache already and certainly didn’t need a lecture from Arthur for another reckless decision he helped create.

“Whatever you say Morgan.”

Sighing defeatedly, Micah flicks his cigarette bud over the side and into the water below, making his way to go sit on the other side of the crates where he can think.

~

Back at camp you pace around the halls of Shady Belle, the floorboards creaking under the weight of your boots.

“Fuck this I’m going to find them-“

Before you make it out the front door however Miss Grimshaw blocks your exits.

“You’re not going anywhere anytime soon. The Pinkertons are everywhere looking for us. Now I know you want your precious Mr. Bell back but you’re just going to have to wait out the next few hours until he returns with the rest.”

You decide to ignore the slight condescending tone of Susan as you see a rider approaching into camp. Your hand is on your holster, everyone who’s left joining you to crowd around the man slowly coming closer. Everyone is relieved to see its Charles, but only slightly. He’s alone and a horrible feeling of fear washes over you.

“Charles… Where is everyone… Where’s Micah?”

[tintentrinkerin]

Title: Pink Pulse

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Rating: explicit

Tags: Bottom!Dean, Top!Sam, Witch OC, Magic, Demon Blood!Sam, Horny Idiots, Breeding kink, Dean has a magic pussy, slightly crack!fic

Summary: Dean wants to piss Ruby off and reclaim Sam as his. During a bender he meets Mandrake, a shady witch who offers him help.

Word Count: 4.5k

READ UNDER THE CUT OR ON AO3

When Dean Winchester regains his consciousness on this cold and foggy morning, he doesn’t really expect a surprise. He’s been drinking for a day… or maybe two, after Ruby, this damn bitch!, showed up again to lure Sam back. It’s her usual fucked up game, she does that when the angels aren’t looking. Sometimes, Dean knows it, Sam secretly calls her and when he sneaks out, Dean knows where’s going. And when he returns he stinks of blood and skank.

Dean’s head hurts like crazy. It takes several attempts for him to roll from his stomach to his back and then get a grip on the dumpster he’s lying next to and swing his body up. His feet feel jiggly and his stomach seems to be empty but he’s nauseous as hell. He hasn’t been robbed, that’s a good thing, his phone, his purse, even the keys to the Impala are still in his pockets. He checks his phone.

It’s 7.38am. Okay, great. He might’ve just passed out a few hours and if he’s super lucky, Baby is parked in close distance.

His phone shows several texts from Sam and from someone who calls themselves “Mandrake”. Doesn’t ring a bell. Not yet. Rather, Dean browses Sam’s texts which tone switches from mopey, to angry, to frightened and then there are over thirty missed calls. Holy shit, was Dean really gone for just a night? Dean tumbles out the alley and winks at the bright daylight he’s now exposed to. He might call Sam before he really freaks out. Some memories flare up in his brain about the damn fight, and that Dean insisted Sam was caught by Ruby so easily because he was underfucked and needed pussy a little too bad. He still thinks he’s right.

There is something to that word. Pussy. Dean loves saying it, Dean loves eating it, Dean loves everything revolving around it, but when he accused Sam of being a horny underfucked loser craving some, he felt bitter about it. A feeling that he had earlier, before Sam went to Stanford. Now Dean is a grown ass man with the Apocalypse on his heels, he has more pressing issues - or so it seems.

He phones Sam while stumbling through the alleys and trying to find Baby. Damn. His pants feel weird. Like he has a wedgie. In the front.

“Dean! For fuck’s sake, where are you?!”

Dean stops in his tracks and scratches his crotch.

“Chill out, Sammy. I’ll find out where I am, I just need to find the damn car.”

“I was a second away from letting Castiel locate you.”

“Forget the damn angel, I’m on my way.”

Sam scoffs into the phone.

“You’re such an idiot. Do you have any idea how worried I was?”

“No, no, I don’t. I thought you’re sucking pussy all night.”

Sam hangs up without another word.

There it is again, this fucking thought. That Sam could be out fucking Ruby while he’s been… what? What exactly happened between nightfall and now? There was a fight, not physical, but Dean has been so fucking close to slap the bitch across the face. Sam stopped him.

Dean finds the pub where he supposedly was drinking his anger away. It’s closed. The “Full Moon”. And it’s been a full moon last night. How damn right poetic. His phone rings.

“Yo, Sammy - wanna apologize and admit you’ve been eatin’ her all night?”

A female voice on the phone laughs. Dean frowns.

“Who’s this?”

“Mandrake. Don’t you remember?”

“I remember jack. Where’d you get my number?”

Dean knows, he should hang up. This is maybe a very bad idea. Give too much away. This woman sounds familiar but a lot of women do, he’s not exactly in celibacy since he’s back from Hell.

“I got it from you, idiot. And I got something else.”

Dean follows the main road for as long as he somehow feels he’s been here before. He surely didn’t drive far from the motel but far enough that Sam wouldn’t find him. This is so not usual for Dean. Being a mopey idiot? Yes. Getting drunk? Also very much yes. It itches in Dean’s pants and when he makes sure no one’s looking he sticks his hands in his boxers.

Holy shit. What the fuck.

Sam can’t focus. He sits at the motel room’s table, trying to do research, but he just can’t block out all of the things that distract him. The flickering TV. The humming of the air conditioning system. His fingernails clicking on his laptop’s keyboard. The thoughts. All of his thoughts combined as sinister and hilarious and frightening they are at the same time. Dean’s been gone for two damn nights. Okay, now he’s back, sitting on the sofa, manspreading. Only in his now deflated looking underwear. Watching something on TV that Sam can’t process. He sees the images, but his mind is racing like crazy around all the other things. The goosebumps on his own arms, the sound of his own breath. He feels the harsh and fast pumping of his heart, circulating his blood. He can feel his pupils dilate. And his legs won’t hold still. He has to move somehow.

Ruby’s blood wasn’t enough last time. The fuck wasn’t enough. Everything aches inside Sam. Anger is like a fist in his stomach but he isn’t quite sure if the anger is the fuel of everything.

He knows Dean hates it when he bounces like this, his legs are shaking and damn, something is pressing against the zipper of his jeans. Of course it’s not something. Thing is, he wants to ignore it.

Dean seems to be calm right now, but he’s sitting right under the air conditioning, the blow is ruffling his hair while he stares on the screen, his arms crossed, legs spread out. He scratches himself. There. Sam follows the movement and gulps.

And then, shit, Sam, stop fucking looking at your brother’s crotch! - but he can’t stop! - Dean isn’t scratching anymore. Two of his fingers press right between his thighs, the fabric rustles, and it turns wet. The fucking boxers get wet. Dean doesn’t even seem to notice, but he should. It’s his body! It’s his-

Sam can’t even think it without feeling a rush of hot blood and sharp imaginary knives stabbing his lower stomach. Pulse spikes up. Pupils dilated. Mouth waters. Sam tries to hide a grunt but he can’t.

“Sammy, you good?”, Dean asks, still rubbing his-

Sam looks at him. He must look like a drug addict in withdrawal. Well, maybe he is. He’s maybe addicted to- it’s all Ruby’s fault. She came when Dean died and she lured him in, now he can’t stop thinking of her warm salty blood in his mouth. Or his teeth on her skin. His tongue-

“Fuck.”

Dean looks irritated.

“Hey, look. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you angry, I don’t even remember most of the fight. It’s only twelve or thirteen days from now and I’m-- I’m normal again.”

Sam inhales. Dean’s scent was building over the last couple of hours and now it’s so thick, musky and intoxicating that it’s hard to ignore it.

“Shut up and take a shower.”

Dean now closes his legs and presses his hands on his thighs. He looks at Sam with furrowed eyebrows.

“There’s nicer ways to tell me I still stink of garbage.”

If it was only fucking garbage! Sam is so close to yell it, to jump up, throw the table over or punch a wall.

“You don’t stink.”

“Then what?”

Dean gets up and walks towards the table. His chest is heaving, Sam notices. Breathing heavy. Such a broad chest, covered in goosebumps. Sam feels incredibly sick all of a sudden.

“I can smell…”, Sam needs to cover his mouth and nose with his hand. The closer Dean comes the worse it gets.

“Now tell me already, if I don’t stink anymore what’s the problem?”

“Dean, I could smell a chipmunk’s fart from miles away, that is a problem.”

Sam needs to breathe. He jumps up and throws himself over to the window and opens it. He should’ve done that way earlier, he realizes. But Dean is behind him now.

“Unless we have chipmunks with flatulences in here, I still don’t have a clue what’s going on.”

Dean touches Sam’s shoulder. Adrenaline. Dopamine. Oh holy shit, the whole hormonal time bomb erupts inside Sam’s body. When he turns around, he’s sure he looks super frightening to Dean, but he can’t stop, won’t stop and pulls Dean close. Dean freezes. A shaky little laugh.

“Sammy… what…”

“I can smell your pussy”, Sam growls, his lips on Dean’s skin.

Dean doesn’t smell like a woman at all, everything about him is testosterone, if there wasn’t this tiny anomaly about him.

That he got himself hexed by a shady witch.

There’s no struggle against Sam’s force when he pushes Dean against the table and then -- as if he waited for it -- Dean hops on that table, opens his legs for Sam.

“What are you doing?”, he still asks, his green eyes big and glassy, lips a cute pout.

Sam has no answer to that than before: “Your smell drives me mad. I need…”

What does Sam need? His brother? His magical pussy? Or wouldn't it be easier to run away to mountains nearby and scream from the bottom of his lungs until he passed out?

Decisions, decisions.

Dean's face has the colour of fresh pink guava juice, his freckles pop, his eyes pop. His lips part for a second. His tongue flicks. No Sam knows exactly what he needs.

“Do you need it? My pussy?” Dean whispers. He slowly pulls his boxer briefs down to his ass but then Sam needs to help, Dean clings on him, Sam pulls. Dean lays across the - thank GOD, long table and is spread out like a delicious meal, while Sam frees Dean from the fabric. It's more ripping then pulling and Sam groans, shit, he's ripped them apart. But then, when Dean opens his legs even more, lying here on his back like a beetle, helpless and weirdly pliant, the odor of Dean's pussy makes Sam cuss and tumble.

“Fuck, Dean…”

“Huh? Not good?”

Sam is out of words, super-ego just logged out with an ‘I have no power here’ and damn right it doesn't!

Dean's pussy is perfect. Another grunt. Holy shit. Instead of an answer for Dean, Sam kneels between Dean's wonderfully wide spread legs. His brother is the definition of a bottom here. Just opening his legs for anyone. Even Sam. The smell is intense and rich, Sam knows it from the other women he's been with... but Dean has one perfect twist. He smells like Sam's brother, too. Musky and citric. And that makes Sam go lizard brain.

“I need to taste you.”

Dean now even slides closer, his legs lie on Sam's shoulder. Sam jerks up and leans over the table, over Dean's naked body. This pussy is just the material of Sam's wet dreams. His nose rubs Dean's skin under his belly button and Dean moans.

“Do it, Sammy. Fucking do it or I'll push your face in my pussy myself.”

Well. Not the worst threat he's ever received. Sam's hand trails between Dean's legs and when he feels the wetness, a fucking intense wetness that is spread all over. Even the thighs are a little glossy from Dean's fluids.

Sam needs to see. Going down, he pushes Dean's legs apart even wider and dives in between these legs. Pink and juicy, dripping wet. The smells almost knocks him out, makes his mouth water and a generous drop of drool falls from his lips. He cannot fucking take that anymore. And Sam pushes Dean closer to him, winds his arms under Dean's now trembling legs and -

Dean cries out, muscles flex, he kicks out, then sinks down again. Just one damn lick.

Sam is in such rage that he can't be fully a gentleman here and do everything slowly, patiently. He's hungry and his primal urge has taken over. Greedy, he licks up and down Dean's labia, tongue working and opening his brother's pussy up and Dean sounds so fucking hot. No girl or guy ever made him sound so needy and so desperate for a fuck. He tastes just as good as Sam imagines when he sucks the thick and sweet wetness from Dean's pussy, sucks on the folds while his fingers run up and down Dean's thighs and Sam needs one free hand now, his thumb rubbing just above the hood of the clit, other finger just teasing his entrance. Not really pushing it in, just a little rubbing while Sam sucks and licks and circles Dean's clit with his tongue.

Dean feels like he is losing his mind. Not only that Sam really is between his legs and gives him mind blowing oral sex, fuck, Dean loves it. He thought Sam was angry but the way he devoured Dean's pussy, anger was definitely gone. He can't stop moaning and winding and his hands in Sam's hair. When he looks down and sees his brother's face up and down, he looks very focused on what he's doing. And in Dean feelings build up, it's a heat and a tumbling, never felt like this.

In a moment of taking a deep breath and Sam looks up, Dean's juices run down his chin and in the collar of his shirt. “Dean, you taste so good…” he says and bites in Dean's thigh. Doesn't hurt. “Better than anything.”

Dean shudders. He needs more.

“Sammy, keep going.”

Sam smirks, his thumb circling Dean’s now swollen and hot clit, his whole pussy is slick with his wetness. No woman Sam ever had sex got that wet.

His thumb is gentle, a perfect rhythm of circling. Stopping. Circling. Stopping. Little pressure. Dean’s body feels on fire.

“Is that what the girls tell you when you go down on them?” Sam asks, his voice rustling leaves.

Dean can’t help but utter a short, almost hysterical laugh.

“I never really listened.”

Tsk. Tsk. Tsk, Sam clicks his tongue.

“You should’ve. Not only that. Listen to what they say but what-”

Sam finger slides in Dean’s wet pussy with one fast but well adjusted movement. Dean winds and arches his back. Tries to get Sam’s finger away and yet…

“-when they want to escape you, you’re doing it right.”

“Sam, for fuck’s sake! I had enough sex with enough people to know the god damn basics!”

But feeling it himself gives him a whole new sense for it. Sam’s finger moves, wet sounds, in and out and it takes not even a blink and Dean begs for more. Two fingers, holy shit, Sam’s fingers are thick and long and when he starts fucking Dean’s pussy with them while sucking on his clit, the impulse to turn on his stomach and either crawl away or present his naked ass to invite Sam to fuck him -- Dean wants both!

Sam’s ‘come hither’ movements tighten the knot in Dean’s stomach. That’s not what an orgasm feels like for him when he’s about to blow. This is so much deeper, feel tight and hot right up to his lower belly. The noises Sam makes as he sucks Dean’s clit are downright vulgar. And the faster Dean’s breath goes, the more he tries to wind away, Sam’s hand around his upper thigh is a bench vice - he won’t let Dean go. Not unless…

Dean can feel it. He whines “fuck, Sammy, ‘m gonna cum…” and this would be the same moment he came. If Sam just sucked his dick. But this is… slower. And Sam goes absolutely frantic, like a boxer he just goes for Dean’s weak spots and he has definitely found them now and he rubs Dean’s insides, sucks his clit, damn how big can such a tiny thing swell? And Dean fucks himself on these fingers, his rhythm clashes against Sam’s, the bigger the friction, the better. His fingers clench in Sam’s hair and then finally, Dean comes, he feels like exploding, black dots in his sight and he has to close his eyes. His heartbeat goes straight up to his throat, only faint moans, a ‘holy fu…’ but he can’t even finish a fucking curse. Sam won’t stop fucking him, but slower now, more gentle. His tongue presses against Dean’s clit. Dean feels Sam’s breath on his wet skin. Everything tingles still, Dean’s hornystupidmanbrain is on standby, extremities just twitch helplessly.

When Dean opens his eyes he only sees the dirty brown ceiling and the dim light.

“I need a smoke”, Dean blurts out. Oh, the sweet refusal to acknowledge what just happened.

“Fuck, you clenched so hard I thought you would break my fingers.”

Sam sounds so deep, so gravely. Does Ruby hear that a lot?

Dean laughs, trying not to choke on his jealousy. Sam just ate him out. His brother. Just. Ate. Him. Out! Dean feels like he took drugs, heavy, light, euphoric. Not tired. This doesn’t seem to end in a hangover.

“Sam. I really, really wanted that”, another stupid thing to stay. But Dean’s stupid, especially when things are about Sam.

Sam scoffs. “I guessed, otherwise you would’ve punched me to a pulp.”

“Damn right…”

Dean covers his face with his arm, the dim light is too much right now. His breath hasn’t even calmed down yet and somehow, he has to admit, he’s not satisfied. The climax gave him a solid blank for a couple seconds but even now he’s throbbing and wet, Sam’s spit hasn’t made him any drier.

Dean is still a powerhouse of sex, Sam can’t deny it. Resting between his legs doesn’t help but he doesn’t dare to get up and reveal that he is rock-hard and ready. Eating his brother out has been a wild ride already, something he maybe dreamed of as a teenager (but even then - who would imagine Dean as a girl?), of sucking him off like he saw when Dean brought a girl or a dude home. Sam needs to get himself up, slowly, Dean is lying there, arm covering his eyes, but a smile on his face. He grins like an idiot. It’s cute.

Silence.

Awkward.

Sam doesn’t know what to say now, he’s lost control, because his brother grew a pussy. How could you ever explain that? Gladly he doesn’t have to.

Dean gets up, his eyes look teary, but not in the sad I’m-about-to-cry way. He rather pulls Sam close and whispers, something so idiotic, something so innocent, and yet something that makes Sam’s boner grow even more.

“You didn’t even kiss me first.”

“Sorry”, Sam replies, he’s just as stupid.

Dean makes it easy for Sam, wrapping his arms around Sam’s neck and kissing him. This is just another short circuit for him and before Sam realizes what he’s doing, his vision turns red. His instincts and his lust are wired to the taste and smell of blood - and Ruby. This is not Ruby. Gladly, this is not Ruby. It’s Dean. The one he thought of when it first happened, the one he was mourning so deeply. Now he gets what he wants from the person he wants. Bingo.

His brother is heavy, but Sam’s strength is to be reckoned with these days. It’s easy to lift him up - Dean’s legs wind around his hips, his ass feels so great. Firm. Dean moans in his mouth when Sam throws him on one of the motel beds and follows, laying his full weight on his brother.

“Sammy…”

Damn, Dean’s fumbling on his zipper.

“You’re big.”

Scoff.

“Am I?”

“Yeah.” Dean looks really intrigued. Sam lets it happen. Dean slides a hand in his boxer briefs and squeezes his raging dick.

“Fuck. Dean.”

These big pleading eyes. Sometimes Dean looks at him like this. And he looks younger than Sam now. Needy. Small. Vulnerable. Sam can never say no when Dean looks like this. He kicks out of his jeans and Dean is so damn impatient. Fabric tears on the seams. Sam doesn’t care.

The way Dean strokes him, the close they are it would be easy, way too easy just to slide inside Dean. Feel his wetness, how tight. How hot. And greedy. Swallowing Sam’s cock like he did with his fingers. Dean stops him. Sam’s heart sinks. It hurts.

“Take everything off”, Dean just says, “I don’t want to feel like quick fuck-”

Sam just has to laugh.

“Never”, he vows and then pulls the shirt over his head and throws it over his shoulder.

The way he towers over Dean, ready to mount, he feels like a steam breathing monster. He really shouldn’t do that. He’s spiralling down to something he never wanted to be. But he can be with Dean this way. Just this once…?

More than once…?

Dean’s legs around his hips trap him now, he can feel the slick wet folds on his cock already and all he can do now is just thrust in. Around his fingers Dean already felt like heaven and hell on earth, but this. Sam hisses, he feels like growing fangs, he digs his teeth in Dean’s neck, he tastes salt and sweat, Dean whimpers but doesn’t complain.

“God… so deep…”, he says. Like he can’t believe it.

“Hurts?”

Dean makes a sound that says ‘nuh-uh’ and that’s enough for Sam. He even pulls Sam closer, his legs force his cock deeper inside this fucking wet and inviting pussy.

This is so much better than Ruby. He needs to fucking forget her. The deeper he sinks, the harder he thrusts and sweat runs down in his eyes and makes them sting, he forgets about what all of this could mean for them. He just wants to fuck Dean silly. And Dean clings on him like he’s drowning in this feeling, no matter how harsh Sam is. His hips are snapping, damn, it must hurt, right? He eventually slows down to kiss Dean sloppily and open mouthed, their moans intertwining and building a cacophony of sounds, loud and rough, soft at the same time. Sam manages to slow down a little and Dean relaxes.

“I want you to fuck me from behind”, Dean mumbles on Sam’s lips, trying to hide the fact he’s blushing deep.

Sam huffs.

“Yeah. Whatever you want.” Babe.

He almost called Dean babe. Sam winds out, slides out, winces. It feels so good, Dean’s so wet, Dean’s just perfect.

On all fours, arms spread out like a silly yoga pose, back stretched… Sam definitely dreamt of this more than once. This time he pushes in slowly, and Dean arches his back. His breath staggers, yelps. But yet again, after a second of adjusting, Dean starts moving. Fucking himself on Sam’s cock and saying such nasty, irritating, hot things. He mewls and begs for more and then.

“God, Sammy, cum inside me!”

Sam stops. Dean repeats. “Cum inside me!”

There’s no way Sam can deny him, he’s close since Dean started working him like he did it a thousand times already. Sam grips those hips tight, leaves white marks, then pink long traces of his fingernails as he snaps in Dean’s pussy, shit, these sounds. Juicy and full, and Dean’s longing. This is the best fuck. This is it. This is what will blow Sam’s mind for hours, the whole night. Days.

“You want me to breed you, big bro?”, he hears himself say, the animalistic side, awake, fully in rage makes him say it, he can’t stop. “You want me to pump my load in ya?”

Dean nods frantically, his mewling and crying is so pretty. He’s still bouncing on Sam’s cock, his wonderful, round and firm ass, perfect for slapping. And Sam does. Dean whimpers, “please, more, Sammy, more!”

Sam claws at Dean’s hair, pulls it, overstretching his neck. He’s so out of control he might fuck Dean all bruised and sore.

“Touch your clit, c’mon babe, rub it. Cum on my cock and you’ll get it. I’ll knock you up”, whoa.

Dean does it, his hand traces down his body and he starts rubbing his swollen, red, overstimulated clit, squeezes it between his fingers and starts rubbing, circling.. hard to find the thing that gets you going, right? But soon, Dean writhes even more, his voice turns higher. Legs start shaking. “I think I’m gonna-”

He cums on Sam’s cock, clenching and moaning, getting so wet it drenches Sam’s crotch and runs down both their legs. The feeling is amazing, Sam’s checked out once again, babbling “Good boy, good boy” and then shoots a generous load of cum, he tumbles and hips snap and snap, until he’s finished.

They collapse, sweaty and gasping for air, Dean makes incoherent post orgasm noises.

Another period of silence that is only interrupted by the usual motel room sounds that creep back in Sam’s ears. He wants to pull out but Dean claws on his arm, his legs trapping Sam’s.

“No, no. Not yet. Please not yet.”

Sam sinks back and gives Dean what he needs, the closeness. Even though after some time fluids will dry and get cold. It will get sticky and that’s when Sam will have the urge to shower.

Not with Dean. They stay like this for minutes before Dean turns around, Sam lets him. They lay beside each other and the whole scene is hilariously and bizarrely romantic. They keep kissing and Dean’s like the devourer of Sam’s kisses and affections.

Dean rubs his nose on Sam’s, humming. He seems so proud of himself, so satisfied, but then his eyes widen.

“Oh. Shit.”

He gets up on one elbow and looks at the mess they made. Cum is leaking out of him and he wipes it from his thigh. Tastes it.

“Dean, really?”

“Hey. It’s only natural. Have you never been curious?”

Sam shrugs. “Yeah I was, but I never thought you would be.”

“You know this breeding kink thing. I did that before but I- I mean. Hot fantasy, works with anal but… Do I need an emergency pill now?”

Dean’s face is deadpan serious. Sam clears his throat to hide that he actually wants to laugh. How could he know?

“Just to be sure, I would say a magical pussy isn’t spunk proof. We could get to a pharmacy ...”

Dean falls silent and leans into Sam. There’s so many things unsaid and he’s not in the mood to unpack it. Sam is reluctant either. It’s enough for him to hold Dean close, pet his hair and keep kissing him over and over until they feel in the mood again. That Dean’s been hexed is a secondary matter. They will enjoy it as long it lasts.

Sam goes down on Dean, even when he’s still leaking cum, he just swallows it, he doesn’t mind. And when they get tangled into each other, both thinking ‘well, if he needs an emergency pill we’ll make it worth it’.

Consequences? Which consequences?

Apocalypse might come, they might enjoy every fucked up delightful thing along the way.

[mugiwara-rosewolf]

Hi !! Can I ask for the letters O,T and V for Mihawk and a fem s/o please from your 100 followers event ? 😊

Hello hun, I'm sorry this took so long. My last computer crapped out on me and I had to get a new one. Took forever to get re-logged into everything & work on your request. --I hope you like it!

O=Out of the Ordinary (What’s something they don’t normally do with/for their s/o?)

PDA. That's the number one thing. Anything else you want from him, he'll eventually agree to (with enough harassment and/or bargaining). The stoic man puts a lot of stock in the 'Lone-Wolf' vibe that comes with the title of 'World's Greatest Swordsman'. If people think he's a terrifyingly skilled monster living alone in a creepy castle, they're much less likely to bother the two of you at home. Much less make any trouble if the two of you go travelling somewhere.

Therefore, if you two are travelling somewhere together, he will usually walk beside you, or perhaps one stride ahead of you in particularly shady neighbourhoods. Only when he feels truly relaxed and secure in a public space will he let you exchange affection. Even then, it's rather limited to what could be considered 'gentelmanly' and 'sophisticated'. (He is one of the more bougie gentlemen of the seas, after all).

If Mihawk ever finds himself in a tactile mood, more often than not he will over you his arm. Holding hands delays his ability to reach for his sword. Not to mention the 'pancakes versus waffles' debacle all seems rather juvenile to him. He prefers locking arms because it feels classic and romantic (though he will deny ever thinking such a ridiculous thing).

T=Trust (How much do they trust their s/o?)

Once he determines that you are not a rival after his title--it is more than likely he will simply ignore you at first. Not out of malice, of course, but more out of oblivious boredom. He finds fulfillment in the challenge of swordfighting. Thus far, nothing has proved as satisfying or invigorating to him. Then you come around.

The best way to gain his trust is to just...be there. Become a constant in his life, ever-present like his home at the castle or the sword at his back. Imagine your developing dynamic as that between Howl and Sophie in Howl's Moving Castle (book more so than movie, but both are fantastic examples of unorthodox slow-burn romance).

Mihawk, lofty lord of swordsmanship that he is, is very discerning with his time, attention and trust. The best way to earn any of the above is to make yourself useful, necessary. Understand your uniqueness and find a way to apply those traits in a way that will make both your lives easier and/or more interesting. In fact, as counterintuitive as it may sound, the more traits you have in contrast with Mihawk, the easier it will be to build a connection. Variety is the spice of life, after all.

V=Vulnerable (How long until they can be vulnerable around their s/o? What are they like in this state?)

After a long time acclimating to your constant presence in his life, there will come a time when Mihawk will well and truly need you. As much as the stoic King of Swordsman may try to pretend otherwise--everybody needs somebody sometimes, even the infamous 'Hawkeye'.

When this time comes, it will completely upend everything the two of you have become used to, up to this point. For only a truly earth-shaking event or revelation could stir Mihawk to the point of explicit vulnerability. Perhaps a rival came close to taking his title. Perhaps something happened to his dear friend Shanks, or to his protege Zoro. OR--to make it extra spicy--maybe you found yourself in a spot of life-threatening danger and Mihawk had to make a last minute save. (Imagine that scene from Disney's Beauty & the Beast where Beast saves Belle from wolves).

Anyway you spin it, it would have to be an event that rattles you both. Mihawk would not feel completely comfortable sharing his thoughts and emotions if he was the only one feeling exposed. But after that moment you both are unguarded and unapologetically honest with each other, everything will change. He will never ignore you again, he won't just tolerate you but openly initiate conversation. Imagine discussing books, swords and world politics over a glass of wine and a crackling fireplace. You will both a part of the household, equal participants in each other's lives, thoughts and actions. Partners, from that moment on.

[isimp4hawkz]

The Apothecary

(Hawks x Reader)

100% inspired from this beautiful artwork I found on pinterest ^^

This is my first time publishing any of my fics. I hope it’s enjoyable.

*Skimmed for any mistakes but I may have missed a few*

Words: 2.5k

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"Tell me something birdbrain. Did you come here in search of a remedy or did you come here to snuggle with my owls?" You scold aloud, brow lifted at the scene before you. It temporarily drew your attention away from the herbs you were blending for the person in question. If he really even needed them that is.

The man was bent over, hovering over the counter and barely burying his entire face into the soft plumage of Gamma's snowy collar, rubbing his nose into its depths, small chuckles resounding from him in his own apparent delight. Simultaneously, Thaddeus perched himself daintily onto the golden locks of his hair, managing to keep himself in place as the man's head moved about beneath him.

What shocked you is that they seemed to be genuinely enjoying his company, whereas they hardly acknowledge your existence throughout the day. It was much unlike how they'd usually act whenever someone walked into the shop. As soon as they heard that little bell chime from the entrance, both birds would take off towards their high perches on opposite ends of the room, making it in their best interest to avoid anyone new.

You didn't mind, nor question their habit. They only preferred your lone company either way, though they'd hardly show it. Much like you'd rather be with their company rather than some other person.

On that slow, peaceful evening, you'd discovered that maybe you don't know your beloved companions as well as you thought. For some reason, Hawks was some sort of an exception to them. Much more than an exception, at that.

For crying out loud, he was snuggling into Gamma and cuddling her as if she were a puppy! And she was letting him.

And Thaddeus. Thaddeus' behavior baffled you on an entirely different level. That was a bird who never permitted you any petting privileges, any time you'd insinuate a head rub, he'd screech at you and fan his wings. Very territorial, he was. At least you thought he was.

Yet here he was, God damn nesting in the hair of a complete stranger as if he'd known the man for years. As if you weren't the one who took him in when he was but a weak, fraile hatchling on the brink of death.

"I think your owls like me." Hawks chuckled, his huge crimson wings ruffling giddily when Gamma had begun to coo at his nuzzles, adoringly.

Jealousy. Blatant jealousy is what you felt. You weren't even going to attempt to hide it. You've tried endless times to get those birds to see you as their loving caretaker, showering them with love and treats and sating their every need, but to no avail. If anything, you think they see you the way a caged tiger would view its neglectful keeper, just a source of food.

You huff out a breath, subconsciously putting in more effort to mash the herbs together with the mortar and pestle than you wished.

Hawks noticed your subtle change in behavior. The way you slammed a small jar onto the counter, flicked off the cap, and aggressively shook out whatever was inside onto the cutting board. Or maybe it was the way you were mashing those herbs with a force that made him wonder if they'd somehow wronged you.

Of course; being him, he'd jumped to a brash conclusion. "Oh? Are you jelly that I'm giving the birds more attention than you?"

You stop your relentless mashing of compounds, staring ahead blankly for a moment before shaking your head. "Don't be ridiculous, I-"

"Awoh, it's nothing to be ashamed of, I completely understand."

"I'm jealous of you, actually."

Hawks blinked in confusion, lifting his head away from the owl's downy feathers and looking over at you.

"Seems like they fancy you more than they could ever me." A half-hearted smile tugged at your lips, the morose tone in your voice was inevitable.

Gamma's wide, intelligent eyes shifted to stare at you. It was like she understood every word you said. Her wings lifted, and with a few swift flaps, she was in the air. You flinched when she landed gracefully into your hair, her sharp talons clenching your head as gently as she could.

Hawks chuckled at how frozen you were in that moment, bringing up a hand to scratch Thaddeus on the chin as he stared. He marveled at the way your cheeks faintly turned a darker shade when Gamma had cooed. She'd began to pick at your head softly in a grooming mannerism.

Thaddeus shifted in Hawks' hair, suddenly growing restless.

"Wanna get closer?" Hawks asked him aloud, rhetorically, obliging to the small hoot he received in response and carefully sauntering over to you, wary of the unstable balance Thaddeus had while being on his head.

By the time he got close, you'd managed to settle Gamma down onto your outstretched bicep, but the stubborn owl only flapped back onto your head. The look on your face almost made Hawks laugh out loud, you were distraught. Torn between salvaging the rare chance at bonding with your companion, and continuing the preparation of a remedy for a paying customer.

He knew how much you cared for those birds, so much that he was willing to let you relish in the moment completely.

The smile on his face was somewhat solemn. "Don't fret witchy. I'm sure I can find some other witch who can cook up what I need."

Your brow ticked at the way he addressed you. "Excuse you. I am not a witch. I'm an Apothecary."

Hawks blinked. "Same difference."

You ignored that. "And even if you could somehow find another suitable Apothecary in the general area, I've been told by several patrons that I am the best of the best." You stated proudly, chin held up high in accordance. "The odds of finding someone more skilled than I are low to say the least."

He always enjoyed how confident you were in your craft. That confidence stemmed from true experience and skill, mastery even. You were right for claiming your profession to be deemed that high of a level, there hasn't been a single time in the past where your restoratives had let him down, no matter what their purpose served. He's glad that your clientele have spread the word of your little place, though they're restricted to hushed exchanges of whispers and secret notes passed in inconspicuous areas, out of the sight of any authorities.

The way you obtained some of your ingredients could be considered illegal if thorough investigation was to prosper, but luckily for you, that was yet to happen. No one was dubious of the little flower shop secluded between two towering office buildings at the farthest corner of the longest street in Kyushu. Hawks wouldn't dare run his mouth about its true nature to anyone, he would much rather heal his battle wounds naturally with one of your blends rather than the harsh steroids they'd stick into his body back at the commission.

"Can't deny that fact." Hawks chuckled, looking at you with apparent appreciation gleaming through his hooded eyes. "You've helped me through some tough calls, I don't think I-" He cut himself off in realization of something.

"I...I don't think I've ever thanked you."

You were quick to bring up the fact that he in fact spoiled you. Tipping you thousands over whatever price you'd ask for, as if money was nothing but a nuisance to him and he needed to get rid of as much of it as possible, it had you wondering if he would flaunt it around so carelessly wherever.

"That's different. Of course I'm gonna pay you in exchange for your meds, I'm not some shitbag. But I've never thanked you before."

Now that you think about it, it's true. The majority of times times he's come here, it's been in an urgent burst through the door, with little time on his hands to so much as greet you. You really can't recall a single time where he's thanked you, since he's usually in such a rush. Here one second, gone the next. His reputation stands firm.

Rarely have there ever been situations like this, where he's able to hang around the shop and wait patiently for you to get his order ready firsthand. You'd looked over your shoulder at him while he was appeasing the owls earlier. He had looked so calm, so sweet and tender in that moment, totally relaxed. It warmed your heart to see him like that.

His concern brought a smile to your face, how adorable to think that it would trouble him this much. "Hawks, trust me, you're fine. I know you're thankful. The proof is in the way that you pay literally five times as much as I could ever ask you for—more than that at times!"

Yup. That sounds like something he'd do, even he'll admit it. He distinctly recalls throwing a fat stack of cash at you in several of his hurried instances, not even bothering to ask for the price, or check how much was in the stack. He tilted his head aside and stuck out his lower lip in consideration of his own antics.

But that doesn't stop him from genuinely thinking that you deserve way more than what you make. You're taking one hell of a risk every time you sell another product to some shady person. He thinks you deserve to be appreciated more for that fact alone.

"Well, for what it's worth, thank you Y/n. Really, I mean it. What you do means a lot to me, more than I can put into words." He held your gaze with an adoration in his eyes that you didn't quite understand.

You've never seen seriousness cross that man's expression as well as it did right then.

He's perpetually cheerful and carefree, flirty more oftentimes than he should be. It surprised you seeing him so lacking in that notorious, glowing charisma. Maybe you'd go as far to say that in that moment, it looked like true joy was something he'd never experienced before. You couldn't even form words, rendered a gaping fish.

And maybe you would've actually taken his word for it, if it wasn't for you being reminded of the fact that the two of you had two big ass birds on your heads when Gamma and Thaddeus unexpectedly hooted in unison.

You and Hawks simultaneously broke eye contact to glance up at each other's birds, locking eyes with one another again.

It went silent for a few seconds.

Hawks' hard expression wavered hesitantly, his lip twitching in a futile attempt to remain serious. You then snorted quietly, biting your lip, and that's all it took for the two of you to burst out into a laughing fit that made you to bend over to clutch your sides, causing Gamma to flee from your head hastily and settle on her perch, Thaddeus following suit towards his respective stand when Hawks stumbled backwards a bit.

They'd managed to both ruin the moment and save it all the same, made it into something you didn't quite know you needed until it happened. A good laugh, one that had your face heating up and your cheeks beginning to hurt as the two of you only grew breathless with glee, struggling to keep your balance as you pressed your weight onto nearby objects to avoid toppling over.

The old Grandfather clock at the back of the shop had begun to chime, signaling the passing of another hour.

The sound caused Hawks to gradually come back down from his laugh-high. He submitted to that professional state of mind that subconsciously clawed at his back at times like these, once he was reminded of where he was supposed to be.

It was like someone snapped their fingers and all happiness was wiped from his face. Other than the faint pink still dusting his cheeks, it looked like the laugh that the two of you shared had never transpired.

You didn't even need to hear him say it. After you'd wiped a tear of joy from your eyes and regained your breath, you'd whirled around, right back to where you'd left off before.

A strange atmosphere settled into the shop. It grew peacefully silent, the rays of the setting sun stretched generously into the stop, accentuating gliding specs of dust in their path and lighting the room in a warm honey glow.

Hawks rolled his shoulders, wings reaching out to their maximum length in a comfortable stretch, as you bagged his things.

He'd requested a strong set of numbing-based remedies and other blends crammed with sedatives. It reminded you of the prep for some sort of illegal surgery, but you weren't one to meddle in the business of your customers.

You'd turned to hand him his bag, but were surprised when there was no sight of the man where he'd previously been.

It took a few glances around the room, you almost missed him at first, but there he was, standing before the display window, gazing distantly at the outside world under the evening glow.

Sometimes you'd catch a deep-rooted hardship in his eyes that was nearly impossible to detect. A flicker of something more, something lost long ago that he longs to have again. At times it looked like he was carrying the weight of the world in his wings and nobody knew it.

Or maybe your seclusion in your craft has run you crazy and you're just imagining it all. That's way more believable, anyway.

You'd walked up to his side, eyes trained on the lively cityscape. The city never slept, always bustling with some sort of commotion, but it was oddly calm on that evening. Nothing but nature in all its shapes and forms, like the gentle autumn breeze that shook the trees, like the songbirds softly jittering in a musical dialect only they understood, plus the ocasional car that would stroll by barely exceeding fifteen miles per hour.

Your gaze drifted back on Hawks, who has yet to notice your presence beside him.

Sometimes I wonder what goes on in that man’s mind, what challenges the relentless day brings him, and how he manages to come out smiling in the end.