#but I feel healed a bit after finding charles

[arthursfuckinghat]

Epilogue 2 - John Marston

[thebestandworstdayofjune]

i'm down on my knees, i wanna take you there

summary: you are suiting up for your first mission, the only problem being everyone "forgot" (intentionally withheld) this information from Logan wc: 2.3k a/n: thank you thank you so much for all of your support about my other Logan fic!! I am really enjoying writing for him, and have a few ideas for this Logan as well as some for Worst!Wolverine aka Deadpool 3!Logan as well! More info about empath!reader's powers and her role at the school in this one <3 warnings: slight (incredibly) slight angst, protective!Logan, a bit of a hurt comfort vibe, Ororo, Scott and Jean are meddlers this is the previous fic with these two, not required reading at all, though!

The leather was cool and surprisingly soft against your skin. There had never been reason for you to have to accompany a mission requiring one of the suits before, and you were shocked at how comfortable the uniform was. Typically, when you were asked to help with a mission, you were there for intel. Scope the place out, get a read on the general vibe of the place. Your powers didn’t provide the same level of protection as laser eyes or a strong regenerative healing factor. You would typically arrive with Rogue, in clothes from your own closet and one of the least fancy cars from the garage. You would slip in, get your read, and get out. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to help, you just lacked the training that the other members of the team had. And after all, someone had to stay back to mind things at the school. When Charles had approached you a few months ago about some possible applications for your mutation that would come in handy on missions, you’d been hesitant. It was so outside of your comfort zone to load yourself onto a jet that you’d never even considered the possibility. You were far more comfortable in the library where you held English classes for the students, or helping Charles keep students calm while exploring their powers. Neither scenario included the possibility of a lot of violence. 

Ororo helped you finish zipping yourself into the suit, smoothing her hands along the sleeves before giving you a final nod of approval. Jean and Scott granted you small smiles and you did your best to look as confident as you knew they felt. 

They’d promised it was a simple mission, the kind they usually took students on when Charles felt they were ready to join the team, if that’s what they decided to do after wrapping up their schooling. Charles had heard word of a young mutant who had some kind of telekinetic powers and had recently had an eruption while at school. Everyone agreed that it would be best to find them and convince them to return to the school for some training with as little force as possible, only expedited by the fact that Charles had found them hungry and afraid after running away from home using Cerebro. In the past, the kids had been resistant due to huge amounts of fear, causing them to lash out. You knew they were right that your powers would be useful at times like these, and if you were able to help in any way you were inclined to. 

“The fuck do you think you’re doing to her?” You sighed. It wasn’t that you were all conspiring to keep this a secret from Logan. It wasn’t a discussion that you’d had to agree on group espionage. It just seemed that all of you had a sort of understanding that it might be better to ask forgiveness rather than permission. Not that you needed permission. 

Logan looked furious, and what’s worse, he felt furious. You and Charles had been working to extend your powers over further distances, no longer needing to touch someone directly to know how they feel. Though it certainly doesn’t hurt matters. You’d sensed him upstairs, seemingly pacing around and seething. You’d hoped one of the kids had gotten on his nerves, or something on tv had set him off. You could see that was foolish now. 

“We aren’t doing anything to her,” Scott had his visor on, blocking his eyes from view, but you didn’t need to see to know that he was rolling his eyes. “She’s chosen to accompany us on a mission.” 

“A small mission!” Ororo chimed in, doing her best to give Logan a reassuring smile. 

You checked back in with his aura. Still furious. But it was a nice try, you supposed. Logan’s hackles were raised, his chest heaving. This certainly wouldn’t do. “Can I have a moment with you,” you glanced around the room, briefly meeting the other three mutant’s eyes. “Alone?” 

Logan was still staring daggers at Scott. He wasn’t even the one who suggested you were ready to come along. Jean and Charles had approached you this morning. You laid a hand against his arm, hoping to lead him out of the room, but he flinched away. The pang in your heart was immediate. Did he really think you were so callous that you would ever use your powers without his express permission, or some kind of emergency. You could feel the tears starting to gather in the corner of your eye, your arms wrapping protectively around your midsection. 

Jean slipped one arm through Scott’s and took Ororo’s hand with her other, gently leading them out of the room. “We are going to check a few things with the jet, last minute.” She began to hustle them out of the room. “Call if you need anything!” 

The door shut firmly behind them, and you were left alone with Logan, who looked like he was going to start shaking. “I wasn’t going to-”

“You don’t think I know that?” You can’t help but recoil. You have never been afraid of Logan, even when it may have been in your best judgement to be wary, and you still aren’t. But you can’t deny that it hurts when he snaps at you. Especially when you thought, well. You thought you were growing close. You started to turn away, but before you could, a warm hand caught ahold of your arm. “I’m not… fuck.” He took a heaving breath, shaking his head as if he could clear whatever thoughts were bothering him. “I’m not mad.” 

Despite the serious energy of the conversation, you couldn’t help the incredulous look you shot his way. He tried his best to hide it, but you could see the corner of his mouth turning up at you. “Fine, I’m not mad at you.” 

“You know, you really can’t be mad at anyone, they were just doing-” you were cut off when you fell Logan’s hand traveling down your arm, and pushing your sleeve up gently from where it was covering your hand. He slipped his hand into yours and you felt yourself relax a bit. “Just, take a look, yeah?” 

“Are you sure you want me to?”

“I trust you, bub.” You searched his eyes for any sign of hesitancy, but all you found was trust. Complete and utter trust. You nodded, tightening your own grip on his hand. Doing your best not to let the gentle rub of his thumb against your knuckles distract you, you took a deep breath and opened yourself up to his feelings. 

At first you did feel anger, bright red and hot. You sifted past it, steeling yourself. The first time you had encountered such strong anger, you had felt as if you were going to collapse. But you were stronger now, more prepared to deal with these kinds of feelings. The anger was strong, but also surprisingly shallow. In the depths of his emotions, Logan was worried. Terrified. A deep dark purple that made your own hands shake. His grip on your hand tightened, effectively drawing you back to yourself. There was more, a soft inviting pink that you didn’t dare to touch and shiny bright gold, which told you he was proud. 

You opened your eyes, fighting back the heat you felt creeping onto your cheeks. His expression hadn’t changed, pure trust and tenderness. It should have been disarming, or at the very least surprising. Logan wasn’t so open and honest with people. But the two of you had always had different expectations for the other. 

You couldn’t help it, a smile crept over your features. “You’re proud of me?” 

He rolled his eyes, but his smile only grew. He took your free hand in his, pulling you in closer. “I’m always proud of you.” He hesitated for a brief moment, and you did your best to bite your tongue. You could tell Logan had been making an effort to open up lately, and not just to you, but that didn’t make prolonged silences and easier to bear. “I know it’s not my place to demand anything of you.” 

“You’re my… friend.” You cut him off, wincing at the pause. It didn’t feel like the time to pressure him into labeling whatever feelings may be floating around. “And I always want to hear my friend’s opinions. What’s bothering you so badly?” 

“I could hear your heartbeat from upstairs.” Your eyes grew wide, too shocked to try to school your expression. Logan had told you several times that he had learned to block out his enhanced hearing when he was quite young. Usually to tease you when you got on a long tangent about something you enjoyed. He pretended to zone out and ignore you, but he would always remember small details about your rants, bringing them up nonchalantly at a later date  “I, uh, keep an ear out sometimes. Helps with the worry.” 

He worries about you? Even more surprising, he’s listening to your heartbeat like background music to his day. You promise yourself you will ask him about it when you don’t have a room full of your friends waiting on you. “I thought we’d covered this. I can take care of myself.” 

He sighed, bringing a hand to rest gently where your jaw meets your neck. “Sweetheart, I know you can. But that doesn’t stop me from watching out for you.” 

Your hand moved to rest overtop of his. “The good news is that I will have lots of people watching out for me. You know they won’t let anything happen.” You receive a single huff in return. He’s not convinced. “You know that these are the kinds of missions we send the kids on. I’ll be fine.” 

He considers for a moment, before dropping his hand and nodding. “Give me a second to get changed, and we will head out.” 

You grabbed for his hand, but he was already out the door, and moving too fast for you to stop. “Logan, don’t be ridiculous.” 

“What’s ridiculous is you thinking that I would ever let you go out there alone.” 

“As we already established, I have three very capable friends coming with me. I am only going as a contingency plan.”

“Well then consider me the contingency to the contingency plan.” You huffed, following him next door. 

You darted around in front of Logan, pushing against his chest with all your strength, even if you were fully aware that it was the equivalent of a fly buzzing around him. He stopped all the same, eyebrows pulled together in frustration. “I know you’re worried and I know that this is you trying to help.” Logan had his I’m about to interrupt you look on his face, leaving you to shove him again. Thankfully, he understood your intention. “This is important to me. You can’t be there every time, and I have to stand on my own two feet. I want to contribute to the work we do here more than just teaching kids about how awesome Shakespeare is.” The look was back. “Which is still an important contribution.” You added, which seemed to appease him. “But, I don’t want it to be my only contribution. So I am going to go and make sure that this scared kid who is all alone out there makes it back here safe. And you are going to stay here and make sure that everyone gets dinner and help with their assignments. And then when I get back, we are going to have a talk about all this.” 

“All this?” A smile crept back onto your face, hearing the teasing tone in his voice. 

“Oh my god shut up!” He caught your hands before they made contact with his chest, but he was slow to let go this time. He brought the back of both of your hands to his mouth, dropping a small kiss on each one, before returning your hands to your side. 

“If you come back with so much as a bump to the head, Scott’s dead.” 

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, and pointing out that this was exactly what you were talking about earlier did little to sway him. So you gave in, agreeing to give him a full report before slipping your hand into his and tugging him towards the jet. 

“We’ll be back in a bit.” You promised. You could feel the others staring from just inside the jet, but you barely noticed. Logan was checking over your suit meticulously, tugging zippers a few more clicks up and making sure that the collar wasn’t too tight around your neck. He kneeled down, checking to make sure the laces on your boots were double knotted. “Logan,” you laughed, reaching down to tilt his head up to look at you. “I’m too seconds away from sending a lot of exhaustion your way and leaving you passed out in here. You have to let me go, it’s going to be fine.” 

He remained kneeling for a second too long, a look in his eyes you couldn’t entirely place. The sound of the jet powering on broke the both of you out of your trance. He was on his feet in a flash, checking over you one final time. You rose up on your tippy toes, balancing by resting your hands on his shoulders, before gently kissing him on the cheek. You pulled back, nose scrunched up from the tickle of his facial hair. “We’ll be back in a few hours. Hold down the fort for us, yeah?” 

He nodded, pupils slightly blown out and a dreamy look on his face. You giggled, walking backwards for as long as you can before turning around and finding a seat on the jet. You could feel Jean and Scott’s eyes on you as Ororo began maneuvering the jet out of the garage. “Don’t even start.” You muttered, settling firmly into your seat, doing your best to soak up the pride and confidence the others were projecting into the cockpit. 

as always, feedback is so appreciated! if you have any requests for these two/wolverine in general, please leave them here!

next part

[jo-com]

Welp I just read the other woman and j needed a second part! Like either a good or bad ending

I am in such need 🙏🙏🙏

⋆｡˚ 🩹༝༚➛ Healed

Charles Leclerc x Ex!fem!reader x Alexandra Saint Mieux

Summary: Part 2 of The other woman

Genre: Jealous Charles and Alex, A little bit of SMAU, Angsty but also fluff

Fc: Alexa Demie

Note: Thanks for the support for the first part!! Hope you guys like this

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ➛ My Masterlist

─────── ─ ༘˚⋆🍯 ｡⋆─ ───────

After endless months of isolation and loneliness— you’ve decided to finally move on and slowly let yourself be free from the traumatic experience, that you once called ‘love’.

While moving on doesn’t mean that you’ve erased them from your heart— they’re still there, alongside the precious memories that the three of you all shared. Those moments that were both good and bad, will forever be embedded into your heart and soul.

You’ve also been trying to put yourself out more; Going out with friends and spending more time with family.

But at the same time, building back the walls that they have broken— by treating and loving yourself in a way that they used to do but stopped half way. It was now time for you to heal and find solace by your own.

From buying comfort foods to expensive things, it all made you a tiny bit better. The hurt was still evident but was now slowly fading into a memory— a memory that you wish to forget.

Only by loving yourself will make amends from the broken heart that they have caused.

…

Then unexpectedly you met someone. Two people actually.

You said love will never bloom again but meeting them says otherwise. Your once dead heart was now slowly opening up to someone again, it was hard at first, but they made sure that you are as comfortable and safe around their embrace.

…

Alex_albon

Liked by lilymhe, Landonorris, and 2,489,012 others

Alex_albon finally found our other half🌷

Tagged; @Miss.yn, @lilymhe

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Username1 EXCUSE ME??

Username2 sir what??

Carlossainz55 so glad that you’re happy @/Miss.yn

Miss.yn they make me happy!

Lilymhe aww babyy🥹

Alex_albon @/Miss.yn💋💋💋

Username3 finally someone who doesn’t hide her in the dark🙄

Username4 Fr she deserved better

Username5 why is she alway leeching of on couples

Sydney_sweeney FINALLY

Username6 i love them alrdy

Username7 in the shadows no more!!

…

…

➛ Message (Between Alex and Charles)

…

Alex’s post blowed up in all the social media platforms; leaving people curious and wanting for more information. For them it was an unexpected match, no one ever thought about it, but seeing you guys together just felt right in a way.

You were also surprised at their reaction, thinking that they would be against it like in your past relationships. I mean there were still haters but there are more people supporting you than before. You were so happy.

Everything was going great— you’re heart felt full once again and you were no longer hiding in the shadows; you were, you and were loved by two people who aren’t afraid to show you off.

It was all doing okay, well not until Alex and Charles contacted you; asking you if you were doing well and chatting other formalities as if you guys were okay. They never did do that when you guys broke up, not a single “are you okay?” Text from either one of them.

Now when you’re finally happy they decided to talk? Tsk

…

…

You let out a heavy sigh, a feeling of relief crashing down on you. Closures were never your thing but in this case, it was freeing. You were no longer in the shackles of sorrow that they’ve made. You were free.

A smile of contentment stretched along your face— your thoughts running back to you two new lovers who were there for you, through lows and highs.

…

Miss.yn

Liked by lilymhe, Carlossainz55 and 4,290,129 others

Miss.yn Meeting you guys is a dream come true🫀

Tagged; @lilymhe, @Alex_albon

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Lilymhe STOP I AM BLUSHING🤭

Lilymhe I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU

Username8 take notes on how to love someone @/Charles_Leclerc

Alexandrasaintmieux so happy for u..

Username9 now this is love!

Username10 i hope this love last🤩

Alex_albon my two babies🌷

Miss.yn 😍😍😍

Lilymhe STOP YN IS MINE

Username11 HELP WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABT THE LAST PIC??

Username12 fr they lowkey making out and don’t give a shit😭😭

…

Sorry for not updating so much, my school started and it’s hard to multitask, I promise to do more🙏🏻

[frankenkyle19]

“Amaze-Balls”

Peter Maximoff x fem!reader (smut)

word count: 4.1k

we’re so back baby!!! Official kinktober list coming out soon with the actual fic ideas as well for you guys to look forward to. Enjoy. I have to admit my smut writing skills are a little rusty :/

warnings/description: reader is a nurse who is also a mutant with healing powers. She resides at the school and helps patch up any kids that end up hurting themselves. Except it’s usually Peter that’s coming through her door to get fixed up. But today he’s a bit down and reader wasn’t to find out why. Leads to.. Well I’m sure you know. smut, porn with plot, handjob, teasing, slightly sub!Peter, crappy writing oh and a tw for mentions of blood from a minor scrape Peter has.

When Charles Xavier reached out to you, asking if you’d be interested in taking a position at his school, you weren’t sure what to make of it.

Xavier’s School For Gifted Youngsters

It sounded promising enough. A stable job, a place to live and a place you’d be protected? You were a mutant as well, though you didn’t consider your powers to be as cool as any of the X-men’s. Healing. But not any of the cool, important healing, the most you’d ever been able to heal was a small cut or a broken finger or toe. Ease a bit of pain in the body at times. Still, Charles saw promise and potential in you. He drove you a bit mad at times. The man was odd but my god he was a genius. Sometimes having a conversation with him could actually hurt your brain because you just couldn’t keep up.

You’d also been introduced to the rest of the X-men. Most of which intimidated you. Minus Peter of course.

Peter Maximoff. Closer to your age then the rest of them, Peter was a silver haired kleptomaniac with a Hostess snack cake obsession and super speed. He’d been the only person who’d made you truly laugh since you arrived and it immediately eased you. He hadn’t been there long either so the two of you were sort of in the same boat with feeling a little like outsiders.

Unfortunately you didn’t have a lot of time to speak to him. He was busy with students and missions and you were busy making sure that no one died on the premises. It was a full time job. Literally. A school full of young mutants was a recipe for disaster. Barely held together.

You’d see him at dinners and meetings for the X-men that Charles sometimes allowed you to attend. According to him you’d be one of them one day. When you were stronger. You were sure he meant it to be a kind, hopeful sentiment but really it just made you feel like shit. Useless. Only good enough to be a school nurse.

Peter found any excuse in his free time to come to your office. You were torn between believing he’d truly done it because he wanted to speak with you, and the fact that you always had a little tray of treats for the students after they’d been patched up and treated. You presumed the latter. 

Today was just like any other day at the school really. It had been a quiet morning which turned into a quiet afternoon and it was a much needed break from the chaos. The kids seemed to be behaving themselves today. Knock on wood. 

You were sitting in your chair, feet propped up against your desk as you read from whatever book Charles had recommended you. Surely something you didn’t find any enjoyment in because he read the most boring books on earth. You’d taken one of the cookies from your tray of treats, holding it in one hand while the book was in another.

Just as you brought the cookie to your lips, there was a knock on the door and it caused you to jump, dropping the book onto the floor and losing your place. You cursed under your breath before turning your attention towards the door. Of course just as you’d started to relax someone had ended up hurting themselves.

“Come in!” You set the cookie down on your desk, surely to be forgotten while you waited to see which kid had gotten into trouble this time.

Except when the door opened, a familiar head of silver hair popped into view and it definitely was not attached to the head of a child. Maybe in spirit perhaps, but no, it was Peter.

“Peter?” You asked, brows furrowing as he made his way into your office before closing the door behind him, looking all sheepish and shy. That’s when you noticed he was bleeding from his chin. It looked to be just a scrape but still, you didn’t like the sight of blood on him. Someone you cared about.

“What happened?” You stood up, making your way around the desk to examine him closer.

Peter scoffed and shrugged his shoulders, an embarrassed blush splotched over his cheeks. 

“Oh.. pffff, totally wasn’t running with my eyes closed to try and impress the kids and I definitely didn’t trip on a rock and fall chin first onto the concrete. That’s definitely not what happened.”

Your immediate reaction was to roll your eyes. Leave it to Peter to get the most ridiculous wounds from doing the dumbest things. It just made sense.

“How did you even manage- you know what, I’m not even going to ask. You know the drill, up on the table, let me grab some antibacterial wipes.”

 You made your way over to the cabinets on the opposite wall of your office as Peter hopped up onto the table, eyes never leaving you. He hadn’t hurt himself on purpose but he knew if he had really wanted to he could have put his arms out in time to stop himself from falling. Maybe he just wanted an excuse to see you.

Coming back with the supplies you set it on the side of the table next to him, first getting a wipe to wipe off the blood. It revealed a fresh, raw scrape underneath where more blood began to bubble up slowly from the now open flesh. It wasn’t bad but he’d have a scab for at least a few days before the skin healed itself. 

“You always get yourself into the most ridiculous situations.” You scoffed as you tossed the now bloodied wipe into the small trash can. 

Peter nodded in agreement, unusually quiet which had you wondering if something else was up. You didn’t want to pry though.

You continued on in silence, cleaning the scrape before applying ointment and covering it with a bandage. You pulled away and tossed the rest of the trash away before reaching for the tray to offer Peter a treat, his favorite part of coming to see you.

Except he just shook his head and looked at you solemnly. “No thank you,” he muttered, clearing his throat as he looked away

Okay. Now you knew something had to be wrong. The Peter you knew would never turn down a little treat, it’s what kept him going! You’d never really seen him without one. You were determined to figure out what exactly had bummed him out so badly he didn’t even want a cookie. 

“Peter…” you started, looking at him seriously. “What’s wrong? Something happen?” You hoped that he trusted you enough to tell but then again you weren’t sure.

“What? No.. no it’s nothing.” He flushed red now, picking at his fingers as he avoided your gaze. He hated lying to you. It felt wrong and he knew that you knew he was lying too.

“Peter Maximoff. You’re going to tell me what’s wrong right now or I’m going to have the professor read your mind. Spill.” You urged, kicking his foot with your own, gently. You just wanted to know what had happened to make your usual happy go lucky speedster so upset. 

He finally made eye contact with you then, eyes wide at your threat. “Okay okay! Okay… Jesus.”

He swallowed hard, taking a deep breath before he started. “It’s just, I had a date… It went great, she seemed super into me but then she asked me why I’d decided to dye my hair silver and when I explained to her I didn’t do anything to my hair and told her about my powers she totally flipped. She left. Called me a freak and told me to never contact her again.” He rushed out, trying to just get the explanation over with. He didn’t want to talk about it any longer than he had to. It was as embarrassing as it was upsetting. 

There was a silence that fell between the two of you then as you tried to find the words to comfort him. He was obviously torn up about it. Could only imagine how it had felt. You’d never experienced anything like it because your powers were quite easy to hide and play off. Peter’s on the other hand- not so much.

“Oh Peter… I’m sorry that’s-“ you didn’t have the words. Why were people still so cruel to mutants? Would it ever change? You’d heard Charles’s speeches countless times about change, how some day they’d be united but the more time that passed, the less you believed him. Was it even a possibility at this point? 

“That’s horrible. You didn’t deserve that and she didn’t deserve you.” You hoped your words at least brought him a bit of comfort until he opened his mouth and spoke once more, the words he spoke next breaking your heart into pieces.

“Do you think I’m a freak? Like- I get it. The speed, the… The hair.” He’d never really had an issue with his hair but sometimes he wished that he didn’t have it. He’d kill to have a normal color. One that would make him less easy to identify as anything other than normal. But the fact of the matter was he wasn’t normal. Wouldn’t ever be normal as much as he tried to pretend. 

Your brows were furrowed deeply as you reached a hand out to rest on Peter’s shoulder as he sat on the exam table, looking more solemn than you’d ever seen him. It didn’t suit him. You wanted the happy, goofy Peter back.

“You are not a freak, you’re a mutant. There’s a difference. You are you and you shouldn’t have to be scared of showing who you really are, Peter. There are always going to be people who will try and tell you who you should be but you need to listen to your heart.” You rested your palm over his chest, right above his heart as you met his sad, brown doe eyes. 

He seemed to consider your words, picking them apart for a moment before he nodded. You were right after all. He hated how sensitive he could be. Wished he had tougher skin. Perhaps it would come in time, the older he got. He hoped he wouldn’t always have this sort of reaction. 

You gave him a small, warm smile. When you smiled at Peter it wasn’t just with your lips. It was your eyes and the way they lit up. Your nose with the way it scrunched up, and your cheeks with the way they reddened just slightly.  

Peter felt a fluttering in his stomach as he looked at you. You who’d been here all along. He’d always sort of had a thing for you but never believed that he would have a chance. Fuck… He’d been rejected once already, what was one more? 

You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.

Fuck it. 

“Would you kiss me?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper but you heard it clear as day. Why had he asked such a question? You weren’t sure but you were certainly going to give him an answer. 

Without much consideration at all you leaned forward and closed the gap between your lips, closing your eyes as Peter’s warm mouth came in contact with your own. 

It was absolutely electric. The spark that seemed to pass between your bodies as you kissed. It started out slow, calculated and nervous before it began to become more free. Heated. You reached to cup Peter’s cheek in your palm as you leaned closer to him to kiss him deeper. It felt so different then any kiss you’d shared with anyone in the past. This one just felt right. Almost familiar as if the two of you had done it a thousand times before. Maybe in another timeline..

Eventually, much to Peter’s disappointment, you had to pull away to take a breath. Peter let out a quiet whine as his now swollen lips chased your own in desperate attempts to get you back on him again. Like he couldn’t live without it. His lifeline. 

“Slow down,” you laughed softly, cheeks flushed. It was sort of ironic, telling the speedster to slow down because you were sure he probably didn’t know how. 

“Telling me to slow down is like telling a cow not to eat grass,” Peter said with a straight face. Why was he so strange? 

“I’m pretty sure that’s not an actual saying-“

“I’m pretty sure I don’t care- Come back here-“ he grinned as he pulled you into another kiss, his large hands coming to rest on your hips, keeping you close. He didn’t want to ever let you go. Slowly you felt yourself leaning into him, your hands coming to rest on his shoulders, feeling the material of his stupid silver jacket under your palms. 

Peter was in heaven. Maybe that woman calling him a freak was the best thing that ever happened to him if it led up to this. Kissing you. He pulled you impossibly closer, feeling a familiar stir in his groin. He let out a little groan against your lips, his hips moving of their own accord trying to seek out much needed friction on his rapidly hardening length. He needed something, anything.

“Please…” He found himself whispering against your lips, already desperate. If he didn’t feel so needy he’d be embarrassed but there was simply just no time for that now.

You were fighting your own losing battle with your body, trying not to feed into the needs you felt when you laid your eyes on Peter, still sat on the table, brown eyes blown wide and lips swollen and red from kissing. He looked like something out of a wet dream.

“Peter we can’t- not here- not right now- what if someone sees?” You tried to be the voice of reason but Peter wasn’t having it. He zoomed over to the door, locked it and then zoomed back to you again, this time coming up behind you, pressing himself against you as he chuckled hotly against your ear. “Door’s locked now. We can do whatever we want.” He pressed warm, open mouthed kisses across the delicate skin of your neck, his hands beginning to creep under the bottom of your shirt.

“Plus I think I need a full body check-up. Just to make sure everything’s alright. That I didn’t hurt myself anywhere else.” 

He was an absolute dork but that’s what you loved about him. With a little laugh you shoved him back against the table before your hands went to his pants, undoing his belt before trying to get the fabric down his legs which proved harder than you originally thought. Why were they so damn tight? Eventually though you did manage to pull them down, leaving him in a pair of black boxers, tented in the front with a rather prominent bulge.

He let out a shaky breath as he watched your every move, waiting to see what you’d do next because right now he was convinced he’d let you do whatever you wanted. Okay… Maybe not whatever. Definitely not like… anything super crazy but- UGH! His brain needed to stop moving so fast and just stay in the moment because he was sure it was about to become really memorable.

Your fingers curled under the waistband of his boxers before you were peeling them down as you got on your knees in front of him.

Poor Peter’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as he watched you, trying to stay still when you pulled his boxers down leaving his lower half completely exposed to you. His length twitched and a shiver ran up his spine as he was exposed to the chill air of the room.

The chill didn’t last though because soon your warm hand was wrapped around him, squeezing with just the right amount of pressure to have him gripping the table with his hands, head tilted back as he let out a sigh of pleasure.

You looked up at him, a smirk on your lips as you stroked over him a few times before spitting in your hand and continuing your actions.

A moan bubbled up from Peter’s throat, filling the room before he bit down on his bottom lip to try and stifle the noise. The last thing the two of you needed was for anyone to hear because you’d never live it down.

“Feel good?” You asked, as if Peter’s actions and movements weren’t telling enough.

“Course it does, baby- feels so fucking good I- can you use your mouth?” He asked shyly, glancing down at you.

“Why else would I be on my knees, Peter?” Your words seemed to momentarily make his brain short circuit because the next thing he knew, your beautiful lips were wrapped around the tip of his throbbing cock and he felt his knees nearly buckle at the feeling.

“Holy shit- mmmm, that feels absolutely amazing- like you’ve got no idea-“ 

You liked the way he vocalized his pleasure. It had you wet as you continued to swallow him down as best as you could without gagging. 

Peter’s hips stuttered a bit, trying not to thrust into your mouth. He didn’t want to hurt you but it just felt so good and plus he’d never been great at staying still. It was truly impossible for the speedster.

You didn’t mind, breathing hard through your nose. You took him as deep as you could before pulling off of him to suck in a breath, a string of spit connecting your cherry red lips to the tip of his dick. Now that was hot, Peter thought. Hell, who was he kidding? It was all hot.

“You want to keep going like this or you want to do this properly?” You asked, brow raised at the silver haired man who took a moment to respond. You watched the gears turn in his head until it seemed to click.

“I- Holy hell baby, fuck yeah I want to do this properly let’s get this party started!” He shouted excitedly before you shushed him with a reprimanding look.

You stood up, pulling your shirt over your head before stepping out of your pants as well, leaving you in only your underwear and bra.

Peter whistled low under his breath, shaking his head. You were absolutely smokin’! He mentally kicked himself for not initiating all of this sooner.

“You look- I mean- you’re absolutely beautiful.” He whispered.

“I appreciate it Peter, but I’m not sure how much time we have and I’d like you to take off the rest of your clothes and get this show on the road, yeah? Think you can do that?” Your slight teasing voice had him twitching once more and he quickly threw off his jacket and shirt and kicked his pants the rest of the way off of his legs.

The two of you were urgent with your movements, wanting to get to it before a child inevitably ended up hurting themselves and rushing to your office. Your time was limited but lucky for you, Peter was just about the best person for a quickie. Hell, it was practically in his name.

Your lips collided again, teeth narrowly avoiding clashing against each other as you kissed fiercely.

Peter watched in awe as you unhooked your bra and slid off your panties, letting them join the ever growing pile of fabric on the floor by your feet. 

“Do you have a condom?” You asked Peter. Before you had a chance to blink he rushed out of the room and not even a second later came back with one firmly gripped between his fingers.

“Did you just- Peter you’re naked! What if someone saw you?” You shouted, smacking his shoulder before snatching the condom from him, tearing the foil at the perforated edges before pulling the condom out.

“I’m fast as hell baby, no one was gonna see m-oh-“ He moaned as you rolled the condom onto his length, giving him a few firm strokes for good measure before you hopped up onto the table, spreading your legs to give him a good view of just how much you needed him.

He wasted absolutely no time in grabbing you by your hips and pulling you towards the edge of the table, stepping between your legs as he positioned his rock hard cock at your entrance. He was throbbing and practically shaking with anticipation as he looked up at you once more to make sure this was okay.

You gave him a little nod, wrapping your legs around his waist to urge him closer. His tip slid into you with ease thanks to how wet he’d made you and the both of you simultaneously let out a little shaky moan at the feeling.

Peter’s palms rested on either side of you on the metal table. He felt the cold beneath his palms rapidly heating from his body temperature as he glanced down at you. He was sure he’d never seen a more beautiful sight.

Slowly he began to press himself farther into you, watching as you just seemed to suck him in. More more more until he was fully seated inside of you, filling you up in such a delicious way that had you practically squirming for him to move.

“Peter- Please-“ You begged, looking up at him, a desperate and pleading look on your face. Peter didn’t waste a second, pulling back just to slam back into you, making your body scoot forward on the table before he was grabbing you and pulling you back.

You let your head fall back against the metal, hands reaching for Peter’s as he began fucking into you at a brutal pace, eyes clenched shut and lip bitten between his teeth.

“Oh Jesus-“ he breathed out. “This is so good- fucking hell you’re so tight- and warm- squeezin’ me like crazy- I’m not gonna last-“ Peter warned, gripping onto your hips so tightly you were sure he was going to leave bruises. But to you they were welcomed bruises. They’d serve as a reminder of the fun you’d had.

“Peter- do me a favor?” You asked, to which he looked down at you immediately, ready to comply with everything you said. “Don’t hold back.” You whispered between the two of you.

Something in Peter snapped and he began to fuck into you at a brutal pace now, the table squeaking with each of his powerful thrusts. He began to vibrate, something you’d soon learn he did when he was close and had a hard time controlling his powers. Something you’d learn to absolutely love. 

He brought one of his hands down to your core, beginning to rub over your clit with his thumb. Just that felt amazing already but then he began to vibrate his thumb, the buzz setting your body alight as you arched into the touch, gasps and moans leaving your lips without thought.

“Peter! I didn’t- I didn’t know you could do that-“

“There's a lot about me you didn’t know. I’m sure you’ll learn soon,” he said in his stupid, flirtatious tone, never stopping his thrusts.

He began to lose his rhythm a bit, brows furrowed, silver hair sticking to his forehead as he tried to hold on. He wanted you to come first.

“Please- please come for me-“ he whispered breathlessly, applying even more pressure to your clit.

You didn’t need much more after that. His words and the buzzing sensation were more than enough to have you flying over the edge, gripping onto the sides of the table as hard as you could as you came, clenching down tightly on his dick, practically trapping him inside your warm, wet walls.

Peter thrust into you a few more times before stilling, filling the condom up so full it might burst. He leaned over your body, panting as the two of you tried to catch your breath.

“That was…” You panted, trying to find the words to even describe how absolutely magical that had been. 

“Amaze-balls?” Peter finished for you, sending you into a fit of laughter as he pulled out of you, tying the condom off and throwing it into the trash.

“That’s not the word I would use, but sure. Yes Peter, it was Amaze-balls.” You scoffed, shaking your head.

Peter grinned lopsidedly at you before gathering up the clothes on the floor, handing yours off to you before he himself put his back on.

“I should get back to teaching the kids. I’ll see you later at dinner?” He asked excitedly.

Your eyes met his, absolutely beaming at you. He was adorable. Irresistible if you will.

“I’ll see you at dinner. Bye Peter.” And just like that, he left in a flash of silver, leaving you alone in your office to change and go back to reading your boring book and eating your cookie.

Amaze-balls.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Disturbing the Force

It was an epic day of Harkle shenanigans after just over a month of radio silence from Harry and a week and half without Meghan.

And they both came roaring back to the public consciousness in top form. Let's wind the clock back a little bit, and dive in.

June 14, 2024

It's Trooping Eve, and Kate kicks the celebration off with an update on her health, a new portrait, and an announcement that she will attend The King's Birthday Parade the next day. The social media post goes viral and it becomes breaking news, complete with push alerts.

June 15, 2024

Trooping Saturday. Kate makes her glorious and glamorous return to the public spotlight. Charles, recovering from his own health battle, looks fab as well.

Meghan can't deal with it and orders Nacho Figueras to shill her latest products for Roop ARO, raspberry jam and dog biscuits. The backlash is swift and immediate, and Meghan issues an almost-apology saying she didn't know that Kate would be returning to work on Trooping Saturday and she didn't intend to distract from it.

(Sure, and I didn't intend to drink a whole bottle of prosecco but 🤷‍♀️ here we are, snark and all.)

June 16, 2024

Father's Day. The official BRF social media posts archival footage of Charles and Prince Philip. William posts a photo of himself with Charles. Kate posts a photo of William and the kids with the kids' first post on social media.

The Sussexes don't observe Father's Day, unless you count activating the bots and the Squad to complain about William honoring his father with a photo that doesn't include his father's other son.

June 17, 2024

It's Garter Monday. All is quiet. William looks fantastic, as always. Kate is missed, as always.

June 18, 2024

Royal Ascot begins. It's still quiet. Lady Gabriella makes a public appearance, riding in a carriage with Anne and Peter. She looks to be in high spirits.

Meghan is still smarting over the public calling her out for stealing Kate's glory. She fires up the hotmail and gives exclusive comments to British tabloid Closer (not to be confused with Kyra Sedgwick's The Closer) that:

“Both Harry and Meghan have been following Kate’s recovery with huge interest, but sadly it’s had to be more from afar because their lines of communication with the palace and The Waleses, in particular, are very limited, to say the least. They have had enough information to know that people are excited about the idea of a comeback for Kate and they’re both relieved and happy to hear that she’s on the mend and may soon be well enough to return to her duties. They’ve jointly reached out to send well wishes, but they’re still not really in a place with Kate to warrant much of a response. That hasn’t stopped them from trying to connect and do what they see as the right thing. When Kate gets back into action, their hope is that it might take some of the heat off them and possibly trigger a truce with her and William, and with the King, too.”

and

“Meghan’s desperate to come across as the bigger person and end this feud between them – appearing like some sort of royal saviour could only do her image good. And, despite all their bad blood, her heart does go out to Kate – she can only imagine how hard this situation must be for her. Meghan has made it clear she’d love nothing more than to move past all the nonsense and find a way towards healing for everyone’s sake. She’s ready and willing to let the anger and bitterness go. Of course, it’s not really up to her and Harry, all they can do is continue to reach out and offer olive branches. Meghan hopes her feelings are being communicated to Kate through their mutual friends. There’s no doubt making peace with William and Kate would be a huge relief for Meghan on many levels, not least because it would also improve her reputation and, in turn, the new brand she’s cultivating.”

Y'all, I cannot. Meghan says she has mutual friends with Kate. Ha! That's as believable as "William's friend" giving exclusives to Richard Eden about William's plan for his monarchy.

and

“Meghan would love to be accepted by the British public again and getting the seal of approval from Kate and William would go a long way towards that. It’s got to be pretty nerve-wracking for Meghan, so much is riding on making amends with Kate and William and no matter what she and Harry do, ultimately they have very little control over the outcome, all they can do is continue to reach out, and hope for the best.”

Just to remind everyone, Closer is probably the source of the Sussexes' new British PR person that they promoted pre-Nigeria.

June 19, 2024

William attends Royal Ascot with his cousins and the Middletons. Everyone loves how close he is with his parents-in-law, compared to, well, you know.

Absolutely no one picks up Meghan's interview with Closer (maybe she should've tried Kyra Sedgwick) so Meghan's hotmail tips off the New York Post, who finally writes about it.

(Fun fact. I went to college with a girl who went to school with the Bacon-Sedgwick kids. She told me once that Kevin Bacon is more amazing than you think he is but Kyra is a bitch.)

(Also I'm watching the AFI Achievement Award for Nicole Kidman and she is so fabulous. Oh, man. They're parodying her AMC commercial with MORGAN FREEMAN. Sorry, guys. I really did drink that whole bottle of prosecco so please just bear with me.)

June 20, 2024

Meghan's check to her old stomping grounds, OK Magazine, clears and they write about the Closer's Olive Branch.

June 21, 2024

William's birthday. Kate posts one of the most amazing photographs she's ever taken of William and the kids, jumping off a sand cliff on the beach at Norfolk. One of the things that fascinates me the most about this photo is how William and George (the future kings) are looking at the camera while Charlotte and Louis are looking forward. I suppose someone more sober than me tonight can make an eloquent metaphor about how the kings are looking at their people while the spares are looking for their landing zone.

William takes his kids, Mike and Zara, Peter and Savannah, and some friends to see Taylor Swift. They have an absolutely chaotic time shaking it off, hanging out with Taylor, and meeting the Kelce Brothers.

Wales loyalists photoshop Harry's Friar Tuck into the birthday photo (or maybe it was the Father's Day photo? it was really well-done) and they also do a "who wore it best" of the dueling pink linen suits: Mike Tindall at the Eras Tour or Meghan Markle at the Lakers game.

June 22, 2024

Sussex Squad continue their shenanigans over William's dancing and attendance at the Eras Tour.

Thomas Markle publishes an op-ed in the Daily Mail talking about how all he wants is to talk to Meghan again and see her children.

It reminds me of ancient tea that came out in July 2018 (yes I can remember that specifically because I was riding on a very stinking hot London underground subway at the time) that Meghan and her people were shopping for PR agencies in late 2017/early 2018 and Meghan's brief to the PR agencies included that Samantha and Tom Sr. were to be used as sources and strategies for PR.

Whenever Meghan needs to reset the public narrative, she trots out dear ol' Dad to give her the victim edit. It's her MO, right there next to "throw everyone under the bus."

June 23, 2024

Richard Eden's op-ed that the Sussexes are becoming more irrelevanter than irrelevant gets picked up by American media, including the New York Post. But before you can think "someone forgot to pay them this week!", the article course-corrects, reminding us that the Sussexes had graciously offered to pick up royal duties while Charles and Kate are away but mean William won't let them.

June 24, 2024

The Mirror rubs it in Harry's face that he doesn't stand a chance at inheriting Diana's home. Apparently we're all "surprised" that Earl Spencer's son is set to inherit the estate "due to the aristocracy's system of primogeniture."

That reminds me. Earl Spencer's archaeological dig at Althorp found a roman bracelet. He posted about it on Twitter. (We're allowed to still call it Twitter, according to the Supreme Court.) (And I guess he's still boinking the archaeologist.)

June 25, 2024

The Japan State Visit to the UK begins. William looks fantastic accompanying the Emperor and his wife to the parade grounds to begin the visit. We all wonder what he's going to do because the state banquet takes place the same time as football. Is he going to smuggle his phone to the dinner? (Nope! But he must have required someone at KP to watch the match because their "congratulations" tweet went up lickety-split.)

Charles makes a comment during his toast about his grandchildren and Sussex Squad and anti-Katers seize ahold of it to mean that he's talking about Archie and Lili.

The BRF courts controversy when Sophie wears the Lotus Flower Tiara (famously loaned to Kate) and issues a press release saying that Queen Camilla loaned it to Sophie. Everyone gets mad and blog-shouts how dare she but I think it's a nothingburger. You can see that the tiara still "belongs" to Kate because the velvet wrapping on the brace is still the dark brown of Kate's hair (as opposed to being changed to yellow for Sophie's hair) so probably Kate meant to wear it but she couldn't attend, so it was given to Sophie because of what the lotus symbolizes in Japanese culture. (I have another anon that wrote in about this. I'll post it soon.)

Not to be outdone, Meghan's hotmail tells Marie Claire Magazine to promote her latest olive branch (from Closer on June 18th, but they quote OK Magazine's story from June 20th).

June 26, 2024

Scotty's Little Soldiers published a tearful video discussion their founder, Nikki Scott, had with Harry over loss and grief. Harry talked about losing his mother. Nikki talked about dealing with the loss of her husband and having to tell her then-five year old child.

Harry has supported Scotty's Little Soldiers since 2017 when he met the founder at a Buckingham Palace event. Harry later named Scotty's Little Soldiers as one of seven charities for his wedding.

The video doesn't really get much attention, largely going unnoticed by most. (There's some speculation it was filmed last week or when Harry was last in the UK (May for the Invictus anniversary) but I am one with the couch now.)

June 27, 2024

It was a busy, busy day for the Sussexes!

First, There was a ruling in one of Harry's lawsuits, which drops a bomb that Harry is being accused by News Group Newspapers (whom he's suing in one of his umpteen lawsuits in the phone hacking case that won't go away) of having destroyed evidence for the lawsuit. In a (tipsy) nutshell (I mean, let's face it, you do sorta have to be tipsy to understand the lawsuits), NGN wants Harry to disclose what information / evidence he has, or has knowledge of existing, supporting his allegations of the phone hacking. They are trying to find out if Harry knew he had a claim (aka grounds for a lawsuit) before 2013. If they can prove he did, then the case can be thrown out because it was filed too late.

The judge is concerned that Harry's lawyers hasn't addressed that issue and he doesn't like that Harry has been doing all the research himself and - reading between the lines - it's a veiled accusation of obstruction because it sounds like Harry has refused to cooperate with the lawyers by deliberately controlling and withholding his records from evidence disclosure. NGN says "We have had to drag those out of the claimant [Harry] kicking and screaming."

Additionally, the judge revealed "troubling evidence" that tons of messages between Harry and his Spare ghostwriter over emails and apps had been destroyed. (This is the destruction of evidence issue.

Ah, the neighbors have started shooting off July 4th fireworks. *eagle screech of freedom*)

The judge ruled that Harry and/or his team:

Must conduct a wider search of his laptop and WhatsApp account(s) for the missing emails, texts, and messages for exchanges from 2005 through early 2023

Must try to retrieve the messages from the Signal app he used to communciate with his Spare ghostwriter.

Must produce a witness statement to explain his exchanges with the ghostwriter (which could lead to testimony from the ghostwriter -- juicy!)

Must send letters to the royal household and their lawyers requesting copies relating to Harry's communications during this time so they could be examined for relevance and applicability. Two people from the royal household were named and y'all, I don't think they're happy about getting dragged into this.

Must make an interim payment of 60,000 pounds to NGN for their costs of the hearing. (I don't know why.)

(Reuters Link)

Second, the ESPYs announced today that Harry will be receiving their Pat Tillman Award for Service for his work with Invictus Games.

Here is what the press release says about Harry's selection:

In honor of his tireless work in making a positive impact for the veteran community through the power of sport, Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex will receive the Pat Tillman Award for Service, an award given to a person with a strong connection to sports who has served others in a way that echoes the legacy of the former NFL player and U.S. Army Ranger, Pat Tillman. After serving for 10 years in the British Armed Forces, including two tours of duty in Afghanistan as a forward air controller and Apache helicopter pilot, Prince Harry founded The Invictus Games Foundation, continuing his service by creating an international platform to support wounded, injured, and sick servicemen and women – both active-duty and veterans – who are navigating both physical and invisible injuries. Since inception, the Games have transcended borders and impacted lives across every continent, bringing together competitors from 23 nations, with continued support and programming 365 days of the year. Now celebrating its tenth year, The Invictus Games has evolved into a globally celebrated and acclaimed organization that celebrates resilience, community, and healing through the power of sport. Past recipients of the Pat Tillman Award for Service include Jake Wood (2018), Kirstie Ennis (2019), Kim Clavel (2020), Marcus Rashford (2021), Gretchen Evans (2022) and the Buffalo Bills Training Staff (2023). 

Yeah, we're all sorts of pissed off because it's clear that Harry bought the award because he certainly doesn't qualify for it. Invictus Games qualifies for the award; not their bratty founder who takes all the credit.

It was totally purchased for the 10th anniversary of Invictus and to help Harry look important, like he actually does something and is worth everything he grifts gets. Speaking of, they haven't announced the 2027 host yet. Small mercies, I suppose. I wouldn't put it past them to try and announce it during the Olympics, because one thing Harry (and Meghan too) is very good at is not being able to read the fucking room.

According to the tea that has leaked out, the ESPY announcement caught many off-guard at ESPN because it was not meant to happen today (check out the comments here), leading to theories that:

The Sussexes are trying to bury the news that Harry's lawsuit isn't going well and that he's been reamed out in court.

Harry is trying to compete with William, who is attending a conference today for Earthshot 2023 winners with Bill Gates and Hannah Waddingham.

It's a tactical PR campaign to prop Hero Harry up for the UK's observance of Armed Forces Day on Saturday, June 29th.

or

4. All of the above.

(if you guessed #4, you're right!)

Third, in the most amazing of coincidences, Meghan Markle was papped in Beverly Hills merching a tracksuit for a photo shoot. Since it was near a popular coffee shop, my theory is that she's doing something for that Clevr thing, the one she did the commercial for last year. Maybe some kind of corporate partnership with her lifestyle brand. Clevr + ARO = the tracksuit fashion no one but Sue Sylvester needs.

Anyway. That's what you missed on Glee.

[nyoomfruits]

i had the time of my life fighting dragons with you (carlos/oscar, 1k, t rated)

wrote this in a 20 min sprint with my tsgc gc besties <3 prompt was 'royalty au + "why are you covered in blood?" "long story"' so i wrote a carcar fantasy au heavily inspired by the book 'so this is ever after' by f.t. lukens and the dungeons and dragons movie :)

Oscar really only just manages to stagger himself outside before he collapses on the stone steps of the castle, feeling all the fight drain out of him. Behind him, the castle burns, and he should probably put that out, should probably try to find the other, but right now he’s just exhausted.

Three years of chasing prophecy all led to this. He needs a moment to breathe.

Which is of course, annoyingly, when Carlos shows up.

“Cabron,” he says, coming to halt in front of Oscar, smoothly dismounting his horse. There’s not a single spatter of blood on his clothes, not a hair out of place. His armor gleams in the soft warm light of the setting sun. Oscar hates him so much. “Why are you covered in blood?”

“Long story,” Oscar sighs, letting his head fall back against the stone railing of the stairs. Papaya, the little baby dragon they’d befriended on their journey, chooses that exact moment to trip through the large castle doors, skittering over the worn grey stones towards Oscar, chirping loudly.

“Hm,” Oscar says, scritches Papaya under his chin. “Well, tell him I’m okay, yeah. And to enjoy his moment. He did it and all,” he tries not to sound too wistful when he says it, as he watches Papaya skitter back into the castle. He’s just has a hard time accepting it’s all over now. Done. They can all go their separate ways.

Lando will probably have to do whatever The Chosen One has to do after they’ve defeated The Evil Wizard, George will go back to doing his whole Lord thing in the Kingdom of Mercedes, Alex and Logan will probably find a nice little inn to run somewhere. Charles will inevitably make some rich Lord fall for him and then never have to worry about money ever again, and Oscar.

Oscar will be alone. Like he was before.

“So he did it, then,” Carlos says, startling the shit out of Oscar, who had fully forgotten he was there. “Killed The Evil Wizard?”

“Yup,” Oscar says, pulling himself back up into standing with a loud groan. “You’ve got perfect timing, as always. Showing up when all the hard work is already done.”

Carlos ignores him. “And everyone is okay? Lando?”

“Everyone is fine, according to Papaya. Lando’s panicking a little bit but honestly I wouldn’t have suspected otherwise. Logan broke his leg, but Alex is already trying to heal him, so. All good,” Oscar sways on his legs a little, tries to hold on to the railing. Fuck. Maybe sitting down was a bad idea.

Carlos eyes him. “And you?”

“I’m fine,” Oscar grits out. He tries to take a step, and wavers. God, he’s so exhausted. His bones feel like mush. He’s not magic, like the others. He’s just Oscar, and he’s just spend hours fighting an unnecessarily large amount of The Evil Wizard’s minions.

He sways again, and suddenly Carlos is there, hand on his elbow, holding him upright. “You are hurt,” Carlos says, frowns.

“I’m fucking fine, Carlos, let me go,” he grits. God, he wishes they’d never bumped into Carlos back in the first year of their journey, in the Enchanted Woods. Fucking self-righteous magic ass knight always showing up when Oscar’s at his worst.

Carlos, as always, completely ignores Oscar’s request. “Let me get you back inside.”

“No, I’m, no,” Oscar protests, as Carlos starts leading him back up the stairs, struggling a little. “Carlos, let me go.”

Carlos doesn’t let him go, but he stops walking, looks at him for a really long time. “You were never planning on going back inside,” he says, eventually.

Oscar looks back down the stairs, at a moss stain a few steps down, stubbornly refuses to look at Carlos. “Fuck off,” he says, eloquently.

“Your friends,” Carlos says. “They would miss you.”

“Right, sure,” Oscar says, finally turns back to look at him. “Would they, though? Lando’s probably like, King now. George is already a Lord, Charles will probably marry one, and Alex and Logan have each other. What do I have?”

“Me,” Carlos says, and Oscar snorts.

“Oh, yeah, great. Fucking consolation price, that. No thank you,” he goes to yank his arm away again, walk back down the stairs, but Carlos holds on.

“And Lando,” Carlos continues. “And all your other friends. They care about you. I care about you. If you are not going back inside, at least come with me. I could use someone like you, on my journeys.”

“Yeah, really not making me feel better here,” Oscar spits. “Just. It’s fine, okay. I know Lando only took me along because I was the only one in our village to read maps. I know they see me as a burden. So it’s like, fine. It’s whatever. I can just slip out now and they’ll never have to see me again and it doesn’t have to be this whole big deal.”

Carlos makes a frustrated noise, and suddenly he lunges forward and kisses Oscar full on the mouth.

Oscar is still very much exhausted and very much covered in blood and very much confused, and so he doesn’t even consider kissing back until Carlos is already pulling away. He’s glaring at Oscar, something that’s somehow both slightly undermined and slightly made creepier by the fact that there’s now a smear of blood on his perfectly moisturized cheek.

“Do not ever say again people see you as a burden,” Carlos tells him, so firmly and adamantly, that Oscar can only look at him a little wide eyed and say, “Okay.”

“Good,” Carlos says, and then his frown drops, and he gingerly reaches out with the hand not still holding Oscar steady and carefully wiping a strand of hair away from Oscar’s blood stained forehead. “Now, let’s get you inside and clean you up, yeah? And then we can see how bad those injuries are.”

And Oscar. God, Oscar is so tired. And he hates Carlos so much. But Carlos is also looking at him so softly, so tenderly. And maybe he has never really hated Carlos at all. Maybe it’s always been something else. Something else that’s making his gut swirl and his throat feel tight. His lips are still tingling, and he only just manages to refrain himself from reaching up to touch them.

But then Carlos leans down and picks him up bridal style and Oscar thinks okay, yeah, no, never mind. He really does fucking hate Carlos fucking Sainz.

Or maybe, he thinks, as Carlos carries him back into the castle – that is thankfully no longer on fire -  back to their friends, back to their unsure future, as the sun finally fully sets behind them. Maybe it’s a mixture of both.

Either way, he can’t wait to find out. After a bath. And dinner. And possibly a million hours of sleep.

[veryace-ficrecs]

Wolverine Hurt/Comfort Fic Recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

tommorow's jokes have yet to be laughed at (or said) by ArchaicVampire - Rated T

“Logan? What are you doing up, mein freund?” Logan thinks up a million things he could say, like I’ll sleep when I’m dead or I was doing my usual midnight pushups, but he doesn’t say any of that. There’s no use bothering him with bullshit excuses. “You’re the only one who understands.” The skeletons in Logan's closet are haunting him again. There's only one man in the mansion that truly knows how he feels.

O Memory, where is now my faith. by justbefeathersandthequietofthefall - Rated T

Logan vs Pain. i.e. Dealing with the fact that superhuman healing doesn't stop getting injured hurting like a bitch.

Call Me by My Name by CNWrites - Rated G

They were misfits on a team of misfits. Logan was used to that kind of crap. If he had put down bets, he would have said that Nightcrawler was the kind of guy who couldn’t take it. Apparently, they were both sticking around. ____________________________ In which we see five times Logan used something other than Kurt's name, and one time he actually used it.

There's a room where the light won't find you by Notsogoodwithnames - Rated T

Logan knows he was made for nothing but war. He never went to school. He never even took care of many children. Not even your own children. He certainly isn't qualified to teach anything that didn't involve the shedding of blood. Xavier saved him. The X-men saved him. Not only from himself but in so many ways than he can explain. Taking care of these kids is not going to fix anything. Or clean his hands, not even a bit, he's aware of that. But if there's a chance that he can do something right, better than anything he ever did, to help these kids have a better chance than he did. Then he's going for it.

So this is what it feels like. by OwBoy - Not Rated

“Sir?” the woman said as she came more into the light. Her shoes made a dull clopping noise with each step she took towards Logan. “Wha…?” Logan asked, his voice slurred. “The girl,” the woman said, nodding toward Laura, “Is she your daughter?” Logan's gaze once again fell on Laura and he nodded. “I thought so,” a slight smile crossed the woman's features as she spoke. “She looks just like you.” “Where…” Logan’s words drifted off as he took in the rest of the room. “Where am I?” he asked. “You’re in Canada,” she answered. “In a refugee town given to mutants by the Canadian government. It’s called Eden.” “Eden.” Logan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The place he said didn’t exist, the place Laura and the other believed they’d find and make their new home, the place from that stupid comic book, it actually existed. AKA: What if Charles, Logan, and Laura had all made it to Eden alive and started a new life together? Fluff, angst, domestic life, and brewing romance.

The same bell chiming the hour on the clock, and everything changed. by justbefeathersandthequietofthefall - Rated T

He drifted through the hallways, with every recognisable face sending him reeling. A few awkward conversations later, and he was in the Professor’s office having years of history dropped on him. Despite the importance of this, he was barely present in the conversation – a fact which Charles didn’t miss, who told him to go let it all sink in and that they’d continue later. ‘Let it all sink in’?

Fucking hell.

Exploring Logan's mental state after the events of Days of Future Past

Never Take for Granted by CNWrites - Rated G

Kurt Wagner would consider himself a fairly appreciative person. Perhaps that instinctual value of appreciation was the reason he felt giddy, warm, so overcome with love for his friend that he could practically feel it bursting out of his chest. “Don’t move ‘round, elf.” A heavy hand rested on an arm that Kurt hadn’t even realized he was trying to move. “Yer hopped up on morphine, you idiot. Yer gonna break your stitches if ya can’t cool it.” Oh. Or maybe that was why. _______________________ In which Kurt spends some time in the med bay after taking a hit for Wolverine. Luckily, his friend isn't the kind of person to leave his side.

[cowboydisaster]

The Fire In Your Eyes

part V: horseshoe overlook i

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 15.3k

summary: your leg feels better, and everyone's spirits are higher in the new camp. You set out to explore Valentine, and find yourself in dangerous situations more often than not. So much for lying low. You realize that you have a bad habit of lying to yourself.

a/n: we're back bitches! But seriously, can't thank you guys enough for all the love and support this last week. I've been trying to be open to keep you guys in the loop and we seem to be back on the right track now. So sorry that there was no upload last week, but hopefully reader's badassery and the fluff makes up for it <3 They're fools, but they figure it out soon enough, the slow burn is worth the wait, I swear it. And lastly only half of this was beta read and I'm too sleepy to do the rest myself so lets just both pretend that there's no errors, thank you, love y'all

warnings: gore, violence, fighting, harassment, held up at the bar by a creepy guy, tw, nightmares, trauma

SERIES MASTERPOST

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow

series taglist: @catnotbread @chxosangxl @globetrotter28 @justalittlerayofpitchblack @fruittiest-of-loops @randomidk-123 @heyworld-whatsup

Sweat drips down your forehead despite the chilly temperature as you strain, pulling the final piece of canvas over your A-frame tent. Once it’s secured to the ground properly, you sigh, and wipe the sweat from your brow.

About five minutes after the wagons rolled into Horseshoe Overlook, Miss. Grimshaw had started whipping you and the other girls into work. While Grimshaw harassed you and the others, Dutch had given a big, charismatic speech, urging  everyone to lay low and bring in money. Lenny and Micah still aren’t back from scouting, and the whereabouts of Sean and Mac are still unknown, but the spirits are higher than they’ve been in a long while. The new camp is perfect. The sun is warm, the breeze carried down by the mountains is refreshing and god- the nature. You’d missed this spot. Deer and rabbits run through the woods, passing through wildflowers and bushes of berries, surrounded by swaying trees and soothed by the sound of the Dakota River. It's a perfect spot, thanks to you. It’s only a few minutes' ride to Valentine as well, a small, rough town filled with livestock, working girls and drunkards. You haven’t had a chance to leave camp yet, as you’ve been working round the clock to get everyone’s tents set up. You saved yours for last, making sure that all the other gang members are comfortable before you worry about your own living arrangements. You’re just finishing your tent now, but for the past few days you’ve been sleeping on the ground next to Tilly and Marybeth. You’re grateful to have your  tent back, although it’s a bit sad. Your belongings, what little you had, were all abandoned in Blackwater. 

You step into your tent, massaging the tender skin of your thigh a little before sitting on your cot. The wound is healing just fine, but it still gives you some pain every now and again. As much as you’d like to lay back on your cot and rest your eyes, you know there's too much to be done right now. Everyone needs to be working their hardest if the gang is gonna get back on its feet. With a small sigh, you push yourself off the cot, adjusting your black hat before stepping out of the tent. Scanning the new camp, you see everyone busy. Arthur has gone off with Charles to hunt for some Bison, and the remaining gang members are all working. So when the sound of loud snoring reaches your ears, you scowl deeply. With determination in your stride, you walk past your tent, then Arthur’s, to the wagon sitting empty towards the back of camp. 

As you step around it, you’re completely unsurprised to find Uncle, sitting on the ground, leaning against the wagon. He’s snoring loudly, his big belly rising up and down as alcohol scented slobber drips from his lip, down his white beard and lands on his red shirt. You roll your eyes, pissed off before ramming your boot into his leg. 

“Get up, you old bastard, everyone is workin’. Except you of course.” You scowl, as the man jolts awake and springs up in front of you. His face is colored with shock and disbelief at your aggression. 

“I- I have lumbago! Kickin’ an old man like that… didn’t anyone ever teach you to respect your elders? Damnit, I was thinkin’...” Uncle argues, defending himself. 

You only chuckle, leaning back on your heels before resting your hand on Uncle’s shoulder. 

“Well I’ll be damned, Uncle. I didn’t think you were capable.” You chastise, nose wrinkling at the smell of his union suit. Uncle looks even more offended, as his eyebrows pull together and he looks at you with a slack jaw. 

“Oh, hush up, would ya? You’ve been hangin’ out with old Morgan too much. It’s made ya sour. Which is unbecoming of a woman such as yourself.” Uncle bites, gesturing to your body as he says the last part. 

You squint your eyes, head cocking as you take a step towards Uncle, and he steps back. 

“Sorry, what was that, Uncle? You need a reminder of what happened when Micah or Bill upset me?” You threaten, thinking back to their purple bruised cheeks after you’d knocked them out cold. You are not too ladylike to punch an old feller, not if he has it coming, anyway. Uncle puts his hands up in surrender, placating you as he chuckles. 

“Now you wouldn’t go hittin’ an old man, would you? An old man with terminal lumbago…” He adds and your face draws up into a comical look of confusion and disbelief. Uncle is both the biggest fool, and the biggest dumbass you’ve ever met. 

“I- lumbago ain’t terminal, you fool.” You say, tossing your arms up with a squint. It isn’t even worth talking to the lazy man. Your hands grip onto your gun belt, and you shake your head.

“Hey Star! He botherin’ you?” Arthur calls from across camp. You turn to him, seeing he has just come back from hunting with a decent portion of meat for the stewpot tonight. 

“Yes, Arthur. Yes he is.” You joke, partially. Arthur starts walking over, chortling to himself, and Uncle looks between the two of you. 

“Oh come on now! We was just foolin!” Uncle yells out. 

Arthur stands at your side, a cigarette between his lips. He’s cleaned up since Colter, taken a bath and trimmed his beard to a neater state. Coming down from the mountains has done him good, and he seems to be in better spirits since Blackwater. Arthur talks through the side of his mouth, blowing smoke out from his lips as he does. 

“Why don't you make yourself useful for once, come into town with us?” Arthur asks Uncle, who sighs and stretches his back. 

“Suppose I could, well, if you lot need me.” Uncle says, sounding less than enthusiastic about the whole ordeal. 

“Good! Go get the wagon ready then.” Arthur says charismatically.  He slaps Uncle on the back as the older man walks away, mumbling under his breath. 

Karen, Tilly and Marybeth have all been standing around their bedrolls, watching your conversation with bright eyes. Contrary to Uncle, they would do anything to get out of camp. They’ve been cooped up with Grimshaw for too long, and her bitter attitude has started to wear them down. When Uncle leaves, you notice the girls approaching and turn to them with a smile. 

“You’re going to town, can we go?” Karen asks Arthur, smiling brightly before glancing to you with the same warm expression. Arthur hesitates, looking around camp a few times before sighing. He rests back on his heels, as if contemplating her request, and his tongue darts past his lips before he speaks. 

“Can Grimshaw spare you?” Arthur asks, and all three girls’ smiles fall into sarcastic scowls before Karen breaks out into a chuckle. The blonde woman rolls her eyes dramatically, laughing as she pokes Arthur in the chest. 

“What happened to you?! Three young ladies ask to ride with you, and you’re askin’ if we’re allowed ?! And here I thought you were some ladies man back in the day!” Karen argues, amused. Arthur scans the camp again before giving up, shrugging his shoulders and chuckling. 

“Alright, fine, but don’t start no trouble.” He yells after them as they run to the wagon Uncle is getting ready. Then Arthur looks back to you. He takes the cigarette from his mouth, holding it between his fingers as his ocean colored eyes search your face. Coming down from the mountains and into the sun has earned him a few freckles, and you trace the constellation-like patterns with your eyes for a moment before schooling yourself.

“Ladies man, huh, Arthur?” You chuckle, crossing your arms over your chest to help with the chill of the air. Arthur only chuckles, shaking his head before diverting your question.

“You uh- You comin’ along?” Arthur asks, scratching the back of his neck before taking a long drag from his smoke. You can’t help but smirk at him, looking up to his face. 

“That a formal invitation?” You kid with him. 

“Well yeah, if you ain’t too busy for us low lives that is.” Arthur jokes, and you shove him in the direction of the wagon. Your little push doesn’t even move the rock solid mass of a man, but he walks with you nonetheless.

“Yeah I'll come along.” You say with a sweet smile. When the girls see you approaching they start to hoot and holler, and you smile at their excitement.

“We finally get to go out and about with you!” Marybeth yells, clapping excitedly. The girls are all sitting in the back of the wagon on the bench seats, and Uncle is just starting to climb up into the passenger seat on the wagon bench. 

“Uncle!” Arthur yells, approaching the wagon with you at his side, “Get in the back!” 

Uncle turns towards you both with another dramatic look of shock. He stutters and groans, placing his foot back on the ground before scoffing. 

“Why?!” 

“If I gotta drive this thing I sure as shit ain’t sittin’ by you.” Arthur responds, running his hand along the side of the wagon as he passes it, climbing into the driver's seat. Uncle scoffs again, and mutters something about ‘disrespectful youngsters’ before climbing into the back with the girls. You’re not exactly sure where to sit, and you hesitate for a moment before Arthur pats the bench beside him. With a crooked smile, you climb up and sit on the wooden bench  next to him. 

Arthur picks up the reins, clicking to the horses for them to pick up speed. Uncle had picked out two suffolk punch horses to drive the wagon, and they make a nice strong pair, pulling it out of Horseshoe. Even though he’s not riding, Arthur keeps a soft hand on the reins, giving the horses leeway to do their job. You’re grateful to be getting out of camp, it's the first time you've been out since you’ve come down from Colter however many days ago. You look up to the sun, inhaling the scent of the woods deeply, and cherishing the songs of the birds. You've always loved nature, and you're glad to be out of that damn cabin.

“Why don’t you girls sing us a song?” Uncle suggests, and immediately Arthur whispers ‘oh, brother.’ You’re not sure why, until the girls giggle loudly and begin singing. You turn in your seat, looking back to them with bright pink cheeks. 

“Oooohh, I got a girl in Berryville, she can't be screwed cause she’s too damn ill! So I don’t go down there no more, there's a blue horse laid outside her dooooor!” They all sing out, cackling and giggling in between breaths. You laugh a breathy chuckle, glancing to Arthur with wide eyes as they continue. 

“Ohhh, I got a girl in Valentine! Likes to drink that fancy wine, the plume in her hat was two feet tall, the crack in her pants paid for it all!” They sing out again, and Tilly has to stop because she starts laughing too hard to continue the lyrics. Uncle is entirely pleased with their crass, though hilarious song, and Arthur has a little smile on his face. 

“Don’t care for this song?” Arthur asks, leaning over towards you with a throaty chuckle. Your cheeks are still red as you respond. 

“If I sang this song, I think my daddy’d roll over in his grave, Arthur. Hell, my pa would have killed me if I sang somethin’ so crass.” You laugh, telling the truth. 

Arthur lightly taps the reins down over the horses, urging them to cross the railroad tracks. Marybeth messes up the chorus, and all three girls erupt into chuckles. But you’re no longer focused on them, instead your eyes are fixated on the stagecoach ahead that seems to be swerving all over the road. Your eyebrows pull together, making a familiar little crease in between your eyebrows as your hand darts over to nudge Arthur. 

“Look at that coach…” You whisper, and Arthur looks up. 

The coach swerves off the side of the road, into a patch of grass just as both shire horses break free from the coach. You gasp, watching on as a man jumps down from the driver's seat. He manages to grab the bay shire horse, but the gray one bolts, rearing up before galloping off towards the rocky hills. Arthur taps the reins again, pushing the horses to catch up to the coach. The singing has stopped completely, and Tilly speaks up from behind you. 

“Someones gotta help him get his horse back!” Tilly gasps, looking between you, Arthur and Uncle. Arthur pulls the wagon off the road, and you start to stand up. 

“I’ll help him.” You say, looking after the poor, scared horse. He could be hurt, and you want more than anything to go help. 

Arthur rests two fingers on your knee, pushing you lightly back into your seat. You draw your brows together before he speaks up. 

“You just rest that leg for now, I got this.” Arthur nods to you, and you sigh, but agree. He hops down off the wagon, and jogs up to speak with the stage driver. 

“You just rest that leg for now, I wanna impress you with my horse taming skills.” Karen mocks, chuckling and poking at you. With wide eyes you turn around. 

“Karen!” You chastise, cheeks bright, “It ain’t- it ain’t like that.” You stutter, eyes moving back to Arthur. He’s approaching the horse now, holding his hands out steady and cooing to the scared animal. 

“Oh sure it ain’t.” Karen pokes again, but this time you ignore her jokes, focused on the situation at hand. Arthur takes a few slow steps toward the gray horse, and once he gets close enough, he grabs onto the horse’s headstall. The girls behind you clap and hoot, calling after Arthur for being such a gentleman. He brings the horse back, walking and patting the shire the whole way back until he is safe within the hands of his owner. The man thanks Arthur, and tries to give him some money, but Arthur denies it and walks back towards the wagon. 

“No worries mister, I was just tryin’ to impress the ladies!” Arthur hollers over his shoulder to the stage driver before climbing back up next to you.

“You mean the lady!” Karen pokes again. They all giggle, and Arthur looks back to them, and then to you, as you hold the bridge of your nose, jaw set in annoyance. 

“What? Whatchu goin’ on about?” Arthur asks, confused on the situation. You hold your hand up to Karen, signaling her to cut it out, but of course she doesn’t. 

“We ain’t blind, Star. Seeing a whole lot clearer than you two anyhow.” Karen adds before surrendering, her hands up. 

You turn back towards the road, shaking your head and sighing before crossing your legs. 

“Why don’t you just keep singin’?” You ask, a little annoyed with the constant bugging about you and Arthur’s friendship. 

Arthur drives the wagon past a little auction area, and sheep run around inside of various pens in the auction yard. The town reeks like manure, and you whistle, nose filled with the foul smell. 

“Smell those sheep…” Tilly mumbles, scrunching her nose. 

“Or is that Uncle?” Karen jokes. Uncle looks at her with an open jaw, and a dramatic sense of hurt. 

“Very funny.” Uncle says before pointing to a building up ahead. 

“Sheriff on the right, you could pick up some bounties there Arthur. Or you, Star. You seem the type.” Uncle informs you, and you look to the small sheriff's office, thinking over the idea. 

“Heaven forbid you put your head on the line.” Arthur chastises Uncle, exaggerating his annoyance. 

You’ve spent so much time running from the law, you never thought about working for it. Maybe bounty hunting is something you’ll look into… Arthur slows the horses down to a walk as he drives them down the main road. A few people walk about, shoes all covered in mud as they mill around. Valentine is a nice little town, just as you’d remembered it. Everything looks exactly the same, save for a new building going up at the bottom of the road, next to the general store. You pass Smithfield's saloon, and remember going in there with your parents to get some dinner back, oh so many years ago. A bittersweet smile passes over your lips at the memory, but it fades quickly. 

Arthur pulls the wagon down past the general store, parking the horses near the livery. Everyone starts to climb down out of the wagon, and Karen speaks up. 

“We’ll start at the saloon. Star, you're coming with us!” Karen says, grabbing your wrist and pulling you with her. 

“We’re stealing your woman, Arthur!” Tilly jokes, giggling as Arthur chuckles. 

You’re getting a bit irritated with the constant jokes about you and Arthur. It’s getting a little old, and you’re tired of the persistent blush on your cheeks, but it doesn’t matter how much you try to convince the girls, they won't let up. You still try nonetheless.

Tilly leads you past the few little shops until you come up to the saloon doors, which she kindly holds open for you. You step inside, taking in the few drunkards that meander around the place. 

“Y’know… me and Arthur, really we ain’t like that…” You continue to argue, moving towards and then leaning on the bar. 

“Four whiskeys.” You order, tossing a two dollar bill on the bar. The bartender, a lanky man with a handlebar mustache the size of Texas, brings out the bottle and pours four shots on the counter, sliding them your way before taking the bill. Immediately, you take the shot, tossing your head back and swallowing it. The whiskey burns your throat, drowning your anxieties with it as the burn scorches through your veins. Marybeth, standing at the bar to your side, places her hand on your arm. 

“I’m sorry, I mean- we ain’t meaning to pick on ya, but…” Marybeth starts, before Tilly finishes her shot and Marybeth’s sentence. 

“But Arthur ain’t never took to someone like he has with you.” Tilly interjects, and you look down, biting your cheek, ordering another drink. 

“He ain’t taken to a woman in so long, Star. Well, not since he was eng-” Marybeth starts, but Karen elbows her to shut up. You don't even want to ask where she was going with that. Really, you don’t care. Arthur’s habits with women have no impact on you. Karen steps forward, growing serious. 

“He hasn’t been sweet on someone in a long while, Star. I seen him reject many of women in my day, and never seen him pay for a working girl neither.” Karen says, no judgment in her eyes as she looks over your features. 

“Wasn’t it you just sayin’ all of ten minutes ago that he used to be some big ladies man?” You ask, confused and annoyed. Karen chuckles under her breath before she responds. 

“Well I was joking, mostly. Arthur don’t talk about his younger years. Tilly was around for most of it, but he hasn't even told her much, just rumor. He don’t talk to anyone about that time.” Karen explains, a sad look on her face. The other two girls nod, and you wonder why Arthur is so closed off about his past. Marybeth gets a glint in her eye, and she moves forward to whisper a juicy piece of gossip. Her dirty blonde curls bounce as she leans in. 

“Y’know I heard that a few years back he got a waitress p-” 

“Marybeth, enough!” Tilly chastises, an angry look on her face as she scowls down at Marybeth. 

Marybeth bites her tongue, keeping quiet with a sheepish look on her face. Her cheeks are pink with embarrassment, and you’re left catching up with the whole situation. Once again, you don’t even want to know.

“So there you have it then,” You down your second shot, slamming the empty glass back down onto the counter, wishing that you could talk about something other than Arthur for once, “You just told me that he’s never sweet on anyone. I sure as shit ain’t changing that.” You counter. Karen rolls her eyes, tugging on your arm. 

“But you are!” Karen pleads, begging you to see the situation as she does. 

“Look, we’re not trying to bug you. We’ll stop. But Star, the way he looks after you.” Tilly says, and you’re just grateful to hear her admit that they’ll stop picking. The girls love a good piece of gossip, and you have fallen victim to their newest obsession. As much as you love the girls, it's frustrating. Seeing that you’ve had enough, and practically abandoned the conversation, Karen walks behind you, scanning the men in the bar. 

“I'm gonna pick one of these fellers up.” Karen whispers with a devious smile on her lips. Marybeth and Tilly both roll their eyes, sighing.

“You’re gonna what?!” You ask, wondering if Karen has totally lost her mind. Arthur has given strict instructions to not get into any trouble here. Not to mention that none of these fellas seem like particularly good ones to spend a night with. 

“I'm gonna pick one up, take him up to the hotel, then I'm gonna rob him blind.” Karen explains, the same devilish smirk on her lips. 

“Karen, be careful.” You warn, knowing that stealing from men like these ones isn’t particularly easy. Karen only dismisses you with her hand before stalking off towards her prey. She pushes her shoulders back and bats her eyelashes, approaching a drunk man sitting down at the poker table. He’s just won the hand, and is collecting money from the dealer. You don’t like the idea, not one bit, but you’re not about to stop her. Karen’s almost as bullheaded as you. Tilly is looking after Karen with the same worry as you, and as the blonde woman leads the man out of the saloon, into the direction of the hotel, Tilly speaks up. 

“I’ll follow her, make sure she’s okay.” 

You nod to Tilly before she heads out of the saloon too, leaving only you and Marybeth at the bar. Marybeth is looking down at her untouched drink, her eyebrows pulled together in thought. She looks upset, and you lean in to ask about it before she explains.  

“I just… well I’m really sorry if I upset you. It wasn’t my intention to.” Marybeth looks up to you, hoping you won’t be mad with her. You know she never meant to get under your skin. Marybeth is so very young, and she’s tangled up in fantasies of feet sweeping love, ideas that you had to give up a long time ago. Your life has been unkind, you’ve not had time to daydream of silly romances. Pitifully, you realize that the stories are all that Marybeth has. She stays in camp, and only has her books and daydreams to distract herself from everyday life. 

“Marybeth, you didn’t upset me. Really. My skin ain’t so thin.” You smile to reassure her. Marybeth bites her lip, fingers trailing over her still-full shot glass. You rest your elbows on the bar, looking to her drawn up face. There’s something else she wants to say.

“It just-” Marybeth laughs breathily, and looks up to you with sparkling eyes. “It's like one of my novels, It seems so perfect.” Marybeth beams, gripping onto your arm, as if it would help to convince you.

You bite your tongue, knowing that Marybeth is naive. She can’t help it, really. What you and Arthur share is not perfect. Hell, it’s far from perfect. You bonded over the pain of losing so much that the only thing left for you to cling to was him. It’s not conventional, you’re outlaws, killers, and after the things you’ve done? You don’t think you deserve a happy ending, or that you’re even capable of finding one. 

“It ain’t that simple.” You grit, eyes boring into the bar. Marybeth’s hand rests on your forearm gently, grabbing your attention as she offers you a sweet smile. 

“I’m sure it ain’t, and I’m sorry for assuming, but… a word of advice?” 

“Go ahead.” You oblige, sighing and turning to her. Her giggles and chastising tone are gone, replaced with a sheepish smile and a whole lot of intensity. 

“When there’s something good in front of you, an opportunity to be loved and looked after, cared for, don't let it go to waste. I can see you have trouble letting people in, and why that is, I’m sorry for, but… I’ve known Arthur most of my life, he’s been a big brother to us, and Star, he’s a good one.” Marybeth whispers, giving your arm a gentle squeeze before she averts her eyes back to her drink. You’re grateful for it because a blush runs over your cheeks. Is your and Arthur’s… situation that obvious to everyone else?

“I- well it ain’t-” You sigh, trying to find your words, “It ain’t like that Marybeth. He’s my best friend.” And it’s true. Arthur is your best friend, and you won’t allow yourself more than that. You’re not looking for a courtship, you don’t have time for such… trivial things, you’re fighting for your life every goddamn day it seems. With a sigh, you turn around, leaning your back against the bar and glancing out the window to the men and women walking down the muddy road.

“Exactly.” Marybeth laughs, as if this is all so obvious, and you’re the one who doesn’t understand. 

“Marybeth-” You start to quiet her, but as you continue to glance out the window, your eyebrows draw together. Marybeth follows your gaze, and her hand comes up to her mouth in shock. Tilly is across the street, in a small alley being held up by some feller, some feller with Arthur’s cattleman pressed against his temple.

“Shit, I'll go see what's goin’ on… so much for lyin’ low.” You mumble, jogging towards the saloon doors before pushing them open. Your eyes have to adjust to the bright sun as you rest your hand on your holster, walking across the muddy street and joining them. 

“You best get gone, partner. Lay a hand on Miss Tilly again, n I’ll put a bullet in ya.” Arthur growls. You’ve never heard his voice sound so… predatory, and it scares you, even. The man, with a deep scowl on his face backs away from Tilly, who is resting her hands on her knees and taking deep breaths. 

The stranger looks like he wants to argue, but he backs away a few steps before turning around and heading towards his horse. Arthur escorts him there, making sure he gets well and gone, while you rush to Tilly’s side. 

“You okay? Who was that?” You ask, helping her to get her bearings by placing a hand on her arm. She stands up, a disgusted look on her face. The stranger gallops away with a mean scowl, and Arthur holsters his gun, walking back down the alley towards you both. 

“Anthony Foreman. Bastard I used to run with, he thinks he owns me.” Tilly hisses, a long, old wound rearing its ugly head again. There’s history here, and it ain’t good. You glance to Arthur for a moment, worried, before wrapping your arms around Tilly. 

“Well he’s gone now. It’s alright, I don't imagine he'll be back around, not after that.” You whisper, squeezing her lightly before letting go. Arthur lightly squeezes your elbow to get your attention, and you turn to him. His tongue darts out over his lips before he speaks. 

“Where’s Karen?” He asks, glancing across the road to see Marybeth standing outside the general store with Uncle. Karen is the only one not accounted for. You share a glance with Tilly, before backing away from them both slowly, thinking. 

“Shit, I’ll go check on her, she’s in the hotel.” You mutter before jogging around the corner towards the hotel entrance.

Arthur calls after you, but it’s the last of your worries right now. The man she took into the hotel didn’t look right when you’d seen him in the saloon. He’s not someone you would have chosen to steal from for sure. You push the hotel door open with more force than necessary, and a very scared looking clerk cowers a little in fear behind the counter. 

“Blonde girl, young, came in here with a feller not too long ago, which room?” You growl, already making your way to the staircase. The man doesn’t wish to get in your way, he knows you’ll be trouble as he mumbles. 

“Uhh, two- two B!” He yells back, and you take the information and go, rushing up the stairs while skipping two at a time. If Karen was successful in robbing this guy she should have been back by now. You hesitate for a moment once reaching the top of the stairs… she would be back by now unless she wanted to actually lay with this man before robbing him.  It would be awkward as all hell if you busted the door down and interrupted something… 

But you can’t leave Karen if something has gone awry, so you go with your gut and bite your tongue. You step down the hallway, searching for room 2b. It's the very last door, and you walk towards it hesitantly. 

“Uh… Sir? Miss? Everything okay in there?” You ask, posing as a working maid in case Karen is just having fun. You’re just about to knock on the door when you hear glass shatter from inside. 

“Damn!” You curse, turning the knob to no avail. It’s been locked from the inside, and though it's futile, you push against the door with all your might. 

Getting an idea, you grab your journal from your satchel, quickly tearing a paper out before shoving the journal back into your satchel. You’d learned this from your Pa, and used it to get into his shop when he accidentally locked the keys inside. You fold the paper over a few times until it's thicker, push it into the crack in the door and then slide it down as hard and fast as you can. The deadlock slides back into the door and you swing it open. 

Karen is against the wall, holding her cheek where a purple bruise is forming, and the man she’d bribed is dressed down into his long johns, yelling in her face with a tight grip on her arm.

“Get off of her!” You yell at the man, rushing forward and grabbing Karen. You shove her behind you, shielding her from this degenerate. Your blood boils as you shove Karen out of the room. 

“I’m just gettin’ what I paid for.” He growls, stepping towards you as if he’s going to grab Karen back. 

“You ain’t paid to hit her.” You hiss, seething, and when his arm extends to grab onto Karen’s, you knee him, as hard as you can, right in the manhood. He doubles over, gripping in between his legs and yelling. His eyes glaze over with drunken rage, something you're familiar with thanks to your pa. 

“You- you fucking bitch!” He screams, groaning loudly before standing back up. You’re not sure what exactly you’d expected to happen, but as he towers over you, fists at the ready, you realize that he’s probably going to win this fight. Nonetheless you stance yourself, ready for it. Some hair falls down in your face, and you curse as the stray blocks some of your vision.

“I'm going to get help!” Karen yells before running from the room. You might not need it, you probably will. The bastard is big, his fists are scarred, signaling he’s been in many fights before, and he’s at least a head taller than you. 

You take a deep breath, centering yourself, and swing first, using the height difference to your advantage by cutting straight up into the bastard's nose. He yelps, and blood starts trickling from his now deformed nose as he wipes the blood away and swings back. He goes for a left hook, which you dodge. The man’s drunkenness helps you a bit, but as you dodge one punch, you catch another, right in the cheek. It knocks you down to the ground, and you groan as your body absorbs the shock of hitting the floor. Your ribs hurt along with your knee, and you stretch your jaw to make sure it’s not broken. It’s alright, and you can fully move it but damn, it hurts. 

You’re filled with rage, and the metallic taste of blood in your mouth only spurs you further. This fella fights dirty. Well, two can play at that game. Quickly recuperating from the punch, and still on the floor you swing your good leg out. Much like you did to Arthur back in Tumbleweed, you undercut the man’s ankles, knocking him to the ground. 

You’re already tired from the fight, and you cling to your cheek, panting.

“Star?!” a familiar voice hollers from the hallway. It’s Arthur, and you trust him to take care of this guy, so you rest back against the floor to take a breather. 

“In here.” You mumble, raising your hand up from the ground sarcastically even though he can’t see you. 

Arthur rushes in the door just as the man tries to stand up, and with a swift kick Arthur boots him right in the head, knocking him fully unconscious. As soon as the guy hits the floor, Arthur skids down on his knees at your side. His hands are warm on your skin, gently pulling you up into a sitting position. 

“How bad did he get you?” Arthur asks, and his eyes are so concentrated on the forming bruise along your cheek, you almost get lost in them. There's a dark undertone to his gaze, a rage, not directed at you. Despite the anger bubbling up at the pathetic excuse of a man currently out cold on the floor, Arthur’s hands are featherlight on your skin. 

“Not bad, I’m fine Arthur.”

“For the record, I got him warmed up, you just finished him off.” You chuckle, stretching your jaw before spitting some blood onto the wood floor. 

Arthur is relieved to see you smiling as he runs his warm hand along your cheekbone, checking it over. There's some purple bruising coming in along your jaw and cheek, but he reckons you’ll be alright. He’ll never understand how a man could hit a woman, and wishes to do a lot worse to this bastard than knock him out.

“Got you pretty good.” Arthur mumbles, gripping your hand to pull you up to your feet. You take it, standing up with a small groan. 

“Yeah well you shoulda seen it, knocked him flat on his ass, kinda like I did to you in Tumbleweed… Y'know I'm still pissed I didn’t get to see you hit the floor.” You chastise as he holds the door open for you to step into the hallway. 

“Ain’t you just a proper lady.” Arthur jokes, leading you down the exterior stairs to avoid running into the hotel clerk. 

“Yeah, and you’re a saint.” You huff.

You rest your hand along the rail as you walk down the staircase with Arthur. Karen is just around the bend, standing near the butcher stand with the others. You’re relieved to see that they’ve regrouped, and no one seems terribly harmed. 

“Karen, you alright?” You ask, jogging down the stairs to meet her. She has a red stinging mark on her face, but it’s fading. She nods, dipping her head to Arthur and you in thanks. 

“I’m okay, don't like being saved, but when I have to be…” Karen leads you towards the others, but her steps are slow and she seems to be in thought. 

“Stupid bastard- Stupid bastard was boasting about the bank.” Karen smiles, proud of the information she’d garnered before it all went downhill. Your eyebrows pull together, and you glance around the town quickly. The bank? Seems like a fool's move to you. Valentine doesn't have much but sheep and shit, you’d probably be better off just robbing a store for your troubles. 

“Karen, unless I’m missing somethin’ this bank ain’t worth riskin’ our necks for. I don’t imagine that a whole lotta money passes through this town, nothin’ amounting to a hill of beans anyway.” You explain, taking note of the fact that most people occupying the town are pretty average, working in small local shops around town or farming. Arthur shakes his head, disagreeing with you. 

“No, Karen’s right. This here’s a livestock town. After the auction?” Arthur whistles lowly, “That bank will be overflowing with cash.” Arthur counters as the three of you make it towards the front of the general store to regroup. You hadn’t even thought of the auctions, but Arthur’s right. In the short time you’ve been here you’ve seen many animals being moved over in the yard. It’ll be full, alright. 

“So we’re gonna work the bank?” You ask, nervously. You’ve never worked a job so big before, and it has your gut sinking. Arthur notices this, and brushes his hand over yours for reassurance. 

“Not for a while yet, and you don’t have to come out if you ain’t comfortable with it.” Arthur whispers to you, stepping up onto the platform where Uncle, Tilly and Marybeth are waiting. Uncle looks as exasperated as ever, arms going up in the air. 

“Well so much for lyin’ low. We’ve been here an hour and half the townsfolk been threatened or knocked out!” Uncle chastises, gesturing towards the hotel. You roll your eyes at his dramatic demeanor. 

“Not like it was our fault, Uncle. And god only knows what you’ve been-” You’re cut short as Marybeth grabs Arthur’s arm and it gets your attention. 

“Hey, who’s that guy over there lookin’ at us?” She asks, and you follow her gaze to a well dressed man sitting on a chestnut morgan. His jaw is slack, he looks… shocked? Or scared? You’re not sure, but he’s piecing something together and it isn’t good. The man's finger comes up, and he points in the direction of you and Arthur. 

“Weren’t you in Blackwater a few weeks back?” The man asks, voice trembling as a cold sweat runs down his forehead. Arthur steps forward, looking around as if oblivious.

“Me? No I wasn’t in-” Arthur begins, and much to his growing annoyance is cut off by the frightened man. You can only stare blankly in a panic as the man points directly to you. 

“No no, you, the lady. I saw you, you were in Blackwater.” The man says, and his worry grows by the second along with Arthur’s irritation. Marybeth and Tilly share a worried glance as you watch on, shocked. 

“No. She ain’t from there.” Arthur grits with no room for argument, his friendly demeanor has disappeared completely at this point. 

“Oh she was! I definitely saw you, with a bunch of fellers!” The man’s voice grows louder, drawing attention to you all. He gets more anxious, and his horse begins to prance and rear up with anxiety as the man breathes heavily. Arthur’s eyes grow downright menacing, and his voice drops an octave. 

“Now that's impossible. She. Weren’t. There.” Arthur bites out every word, emphasizing them.

The man is lost for words, stuttering and pointing. People begin to stop and stare, and Arthur doesn’t like all the wandering eyes. Drawing this much attention to yourselves is bad. In a final attempt to shut this guy up, Arthur attempts to reason with him. 

“Listen buddy, come here for a minute. We can sort this.” Arthur says, voice back to a friendly holler, but it’s too late. The stranger points once more, and his horse rears. 

“She was there! I saw it!” He yells before spurring his horse down the road. 

The eyes on you make you uncomfortable, and you're nervous under the judgmental gazes that question your situation. Arthur turns around with a deep sigh, distaste in his mouth. 

“I don’t like this…” Uncle whispers, shaking his head. You watch Arthur in thought, before moving your gaze to the stranger cantering down the road. 

“Me neither.” Arthur says, biting his cheek before directing his attention to you. 

“Get them home and bring me my horse. Meet me in the saloon,” Arthur nods to you and starts walking towards a hitched horse in front of the store, “I'm gonna go have a word with our friend.” He says, climbing onto the saddle of a buckskin standardbred. 

“Be careful, Arthur!” Tilly yells as Arthur squeezes the horse’s side with his calves. 

“Just a word!” 

You’re still left reeling as Arthur gallops after the stranger. Marybeth takes your arm and starts leading you to where the wagon is parked. You follow along with her, walking at a rushed pace to get out of town before something else goes awry. In just a few moments you reach the wagon, and some of the eyes boring into your back dissipate.

“I can’t believe someone recognized me…” You whisper, feeling nervous and spaced out. You tap the reins against the horses’ backs, urging them into a lope as you get away from the middle of town. 

“I didn’t even think you were supposed to be on the job.” Tilly adds, and the other three nod, agreeing. You drive the horses past the auction yard, almost to the train tracks as you recount that awful day. 

“I was in town with Arthur when I saw the explosion… I had to help and then it- I was right in the middle of it all.” You think back to Charles and Jenny carrying Davey out of the ferry, Dutch’s yelling, Jenny falling from her horse and everyone leaving you and her behind except for Charles. 

Karen notices your glazed over expression, and the way your hands tremble slightly on the reins. 

“It’s okay, you don’t gotta talk about it.”

You nod, pushing it all down as you bring the wagon closer to the camp. The rest of the ride is quiet, save for the birds. You’re all too consumed with worry to talk about it. You’ve just set your tent up this morning and the last thing you want is to be forced into moving because someone recognized you. Dutch would certainly be less than pleased with you then. Arthur’s handling the situation now, hopefully without giving a beating. You’ve not exactly been lying low since arriving and another public battery would do far more harm than good. 

You don’t even realize that you’ve pulled into the woods until you hear John yelling. 

“Who’s there?” He hollers, picking his rifle up against his shoulder, ready to aim.

“Ease off Marston, it’s us.” You reply as he lowers his weapon. You take note of his face, the scar that's beginning to heal now. He still has a hell of a lot of stitches and it’ll leave a nasty scar, but you’re just glad he’s alive. It wasn’t looking so good for John Marson when you and Javier found him up in Colter, but here he stands. 

You pull the horses off to the side near the hitching posts before jumping down from the driver’s seat. Giving the horse nearest to you a pat, you look to the girls and Uncle. 

“Well, thanks for the fun.” You joke, a chuckle escaping your lips. Karen smiles, her cheek has returned back to a cool ivory you notice, faring better than yours, which you’re glad for. 

“And thanks for the drinks!” Karen says, helping Marybeth to climb down from the wagon. Uncle starts heading off towards his bedroll, and you tip your hat to them all before turning and going towards the hitching posts. 

Arthur’s saddle is hung over the post, and you grab it along with his saddle pad. His walker is hitched to the post, and you coo to the stallion as you swing the saddle over his back, making sure to tent the pad to prevent any pinching. Just as you lean down to the ground to grab the cinch and girth, a throat clears behind you. 

“Miss?” 

You startle, turning around to meet the deep voice that you’ve talked to only on a few occasions. Standing before you, tall, dark with a presence is Dutch van der Linde. You’ve only talked to him in Colter, and even then you were barely capable of speaking. 

“Oh-  mornin’ Dutch.” You stutter, nervous, Dutch has given you no reason to fear him, and yet his posture, which demands respect, intimidates you. You’ve read the clips from the newspapers, you know what he’s done, good and bad. But after Blackwater you noticed an edge to him, one that easily loses control, and you make an effort not to get on his bad side. 

“You’ve been running us for some time now. What’s it been, a month?” Dutch asks, bringing a thick expensive cigar up to his lips and inhaling the smoke. 

“Y-yeah, almost… I think, haven't been keeping track of time too well.” You admit, nervously. You’re disappointed that your fearless, tough demeanor has faltered, but something about Dutch does that to you. You don’t know him well enough to trust him, and the last thing you want to do is irritate or disrespect him. You’re feisty, but you’re not dumb, you pick your battles. 

Dutch hums, squinting his eyes while running them over your face, taking note of your black and blue cheek. He doesn’t ask about it, which you’re thankful for. 

“You, my dear, have potential.” Dutch says, nodding his head lightly as if agreeing with himself. Your eyebrows draw together as you wait for him to explain. But he doesn’t. 

“We’ll talk more later. I like to know who I’m running with, on a more… personal level.” Dutch chuckles deeply, the smoke on his breath reaching your face as you nod, feeling so uncomfortable and nervous. Dutch is going to… interview you? Or something of the sort… 

“You have a good day, miss.” Dutch says, tipping his hat to you before backing away a few steps and finally turning around. You release a breath that you didn’t realize you were holding before grabbing the cinch and tightening it in a Texas T. 

You waste no time, going over to your buckskin and repeating the process with a sigh. You really need to get to the stables soon. These two unnamed horses are good but… not what you need for this new life. You don't have enough money for a horse right now, but maybe after a job. You climb into the saddle, whistling for Arthur's walker to follow you. Luckily, he does and you start into a gallop back towards Valentine. You waste no time, as Dutch has already wasted enough, spurring your stallion. If everything has gone according to plan, then Arthur should already be back in town at the saloon. You slip your foot out of your stirrup on the side that’s still healing from Blackwater, letting it hang down to create some relief. It’s a quiet ride, and you take some time to observe around you as you gallop on, occasionally whistling to make sure Arthur’s walker is still with you. 

The sun has dipped behind the shelter of clouds, providing some relief for your eyes. You hum your favorite little song, the same one you sang back in the woods by Tall Trees all that time ago. The birds are chirping, the breeze is nice, and you focus the pleasant senses to quell your nerves. 

Before long you’re trotting over the railroad, tipping your hat to a man in a blue union uniform. Your brows draw together for a moment, realizing that he’s far too young to have served in the war. He’s missing an arm, and the long sleeve of his uniform has been sewed up to his shoulder. You eye him with curiosity as he begs for money on the street. What a peculiar fella. Hell, he may be a better thief than you, posing as a veteran. Seems morally questionable, but you also doubt he’s completely right in the head. You turn back to him with a small smile, wondering of his circumstances. 

You continue trotting forward, almost running over a few hens that scurry across the mud caked road. And with one more whistle you turn the bend up the main drag. It’s only about noon, so not many people are milling about. You scan for Arthur, and pinpoint the standardbred he had borrowed to chase after that man. It’s hitched in front of the new building that's being put up, and eventually you spot him. He’s leaning against a beam in front of the general store, ankles crossed as he focuses intently on the little book in his hands. You can’t help but smile at the sight of his face drawn up in concentration. He’s sketching in his journal, eyes glancing up and down from the leather bound pages to the Valentine Bank. Surely he’s drawing it, and you would do anything for a peek into those pages. 

There's a cigarette poking out from his lips and he pulls from it before blowing the smoke out of his nose, hands too busy to properly pull it away from his mouth. You can't help but stare at the precision of his right hand, expertly drawing the bank. Again, your mouth cracks with a smile, and you pull your gaze down to your reins. 

“C’mon lady, I got places to be!” A man yells from behind you, trying to drive a wagon up the road. Amidst your staring, you had failed to realize that you’re blocking the road. Instead of apologizing, you turn and shoot him a nasty glare. 

“Why don’t you shut your mouth, mister, before I shut it for you.” You hiss, glaring daggers at the middle aged man for interrupting your observations. 

He scowls at you, but doesn’t push any further. When you turn back, riding towards the hitching post in front of Arthur, he looks up at you with an amused smirk. Apparently the bickering had caught his attention, and he’s finally noticed you.

“Who pissed in your coffee this mornin’?” Arthur jokes, tucking his journal back into his satchel, much to your displeasure. You crack a smile, dismounting from your buckskin before hitching it and then Arthur’s walker. 

“How did it go… with that guy?” You keep your voice hushed, not wanting to draw anymore attention to yourselves. Arthur walks you towards the saloon slowly, giving himself time to explain. You glance down to his knuckles and notice they are clean, not bloodied or bruised. 

“Oh I don’t think Jimmy Brooks is gonna be a problem anymore.” Arthur says, resting his hands on his belt, spurs clicking as he walks. Your eyebrows pull together, and your gut flips. 

“Did you…? I mean you didn’t-” You start, trailing off while trying to ask if Arthur killed the guy. You don’t want that. The poor guy, Jimmy Brooks, was in the wrong place at the wrong time, it ain’t his fault, really. You and the people you now run with make poor decisions sometimes, you realize that. Blackwater was one of them. 

“No, nah he’s okay, we came to an agreement. You see, Brooks weren’t even in Blackwater! Just a complete misunderstandin’ on his part, but it's settled now.” Arthur sarcastically explains, that switch flipping once again that makes him charismatic and threatening. You chuckle at Jimmy Brook's sudden compliance as Arthur reaches into his jeans’ pocket.

“And would ya look at this. He even gave me a pen for all the trouble.” Arthur smirks, pulling out a nice fountain pen from his pocket. He hands it over to you, and with piqued interest, you take it. 

“Fancy.” You mumble, looking the nice pen over while stepping over a ledge in the sidewalk. 

“Why don’t you keep it. I’m more of a charcoal and lead type anyways.” Arthur says, pulling a can of dip from his satchel and stuffing a wad in his cheek. With a hum, you stick the pen into your satchel. 

“Thanks.” You smile, pushing the saloon doors open, a hand on each. 

You whistle upon entry, seeing Javier and Charles doting over some working women. With a raised eyebrow, you subtly gesture towards them. 

“Charles? He doesn’t seem the type.” You chuckle as Arthur walks up beside you. 

“You’d be surprised what a drink can do to some of these fellers.” Arthur sighs, heading towards the bar. Javier has his arm wrapped around a blonde woman, her bust barely concealed by her dress, and Charles is eyeing up a brunette at his side. 

You lean on your good leg, shaking yor head with a chuckle. 

“Estrella! Arthur! Come meet our new friends.” Javier’s words are slurred just enough for you to notice. You roll your eyes, unable to shake the shocked smile from your lips. The boys you run with are unbelievable. When you look over to Arthur he is not smiling. Instead he is looking the working girls over, not fondly, but rather as if inspecting them, curiously and angrily? It makes you chuckle even more. The dark haired girl is staring at you, and you meet her gaze head on. 

“He yours? Ain’t so often we come across a tough as teak mountain man.” She says, nodding her head towards Arthur, and your eyes widen, a laugh bubbling up in your throat. Oh, they’re trying to pick up Arthur- this should be good. The blonde girl lightly smacks the other, stepping towards Arthur. 

“Oh you be quiet Anatasia, anyone can tell this one is a pussy cat!”

 Arthur squints his eyes, looking at the girls like they have three heads. Javier steps in between his chosen lady and Arthur. 

“Exactly, yes. He's a pussy…   cat.” Javier jabs, but Arthur doesn’t seem to care or even notice. He leans his hands on his knees, looking at the girls from a different angle as if inspecting a goddamn horse. You bite your tongue, suppressing a laugh. You guess Karen was right, famous ladies man…

“How much you cost anyway?” Arthur asks, stepping back and leaning back on his heels. Javier rolls his eyes, pissed off at this point, while the girls scowl at him like the devil himself. 

“Well ain’t that a nice way to talk to a lady…” Anastasia says, mouth thick with distaste as she looks over Arthur, demeanor completely shifted from thirty seconds ago.

Arthur leans forward, a downright comical expression on his face as he hisses, 

“Shit, I’m sorry. Didn’t realize I was talkin’ to a lady.” 

Your jaw drops and your cheeks turn pink even though you have nothing to do with what he’s just said. Both of the girls stomp off, having had enough. Javier only rolls his eyes, and Charles extends his arm after the women, watching as they file away. 

“Arthur!” You chastise, never seeing him act so… crass. He shrugs, stepping forward to where the girls were just standing before leaning on the bar. He raises a hand towards the bartender, who starts walking over. 

“What?” Arthur says, exasperated. “I’ll be the one at the damn general store gettin’ these dumbasses an ointment after they pay for those ‘women’.” Arthur sighs, and you deduce that he definitely has been in that situation before. Javiers’ a bit less mad, and he sighs, leaning onto the bar on the other side of Arthur. 

“You got a fine way with the women, amigo…” Javier mumbles, rubbing his temples. 

“A regular dandy and charmer.” Arthur says, just as the bartender approaches, “Two beers.” Arthur orders for you, tossing a bill on the table. You turn to him, an eyebrow raised disapprovingly. 

“What-?” Arthur asks at your expression before sighing and calling the bartender back over. 

“Sorry partner, make that one beer and a whiskey for the lady.” Arthur corrects himself, and earns a smile for it. 

You glance around the bar as the same tender from earlier grabs your drinks. It's more packed now, closer to the evening and some men have gotten off from work, while some women have just started. A pianist plays Maple Leaf Rag on the piano, probably the only song he knows to be honest, but you don’t mind. It creates a nice ambience anyway. Arthur starts chatting with the boys, and you glance around curiously. You thought Bill would be here too…?

“Hey-” You nudge Arthur’s shoulder, but he’s too caught up in his own conversation to notice yours. Your brows are pulled together tightly as you feel something’s… off.

Ah, your gut is always right. Bill kicks the saloon doors open, stepping in and going straight up to a guy. He’s face to face with him, and you can’t tell if he’s mad or not. 

“He about to kiss that guy or punch him?” Arthur asks, and you glance over your shoulder, noticing that behind you, Arthur has also caught wind of the situation. The bartender sets down a beer bottle and a neat glass of whiskey on the table, and Arthur grabs his bottle by the neck, taking a long swig before setting it down in front of you. 

“Keep the tab goin’ Star.” Arthur says with a wink, rolling up his sleeves just as Bill rams his fist into the other man's gut with a drunken yell. 

“Oh! And we have our answer!” Javier calls out. Arthur squeezes your arm lightly before stepping past you, in three strides he walks out into the center of the bar and all hell breaks loose. Maple Leaf Rag continues playing as if all is well while every man in the center of the saloon starts throwing punches. Arthur walks straight up to a guy, punching him square in the nose with a sickening crack. You lean against the bar, shaking your head as he knocks out two men within a few minutes. 

You watch on for a while, mesmerized at Arthur’s skill in fighting. He's a damn good fighter, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t attractive to watch. His muscles flex as he expertly dodges, landing punches that shatter bones. It’s awful and incredible at the same time. A bunch of degenerates thriving in chaos, adrenaline rushing from the men who are tearing each other apart, civilly, with some good old fashioned fist fighting. It’s so them, you chuckle. Of course this is how they unwind. 

Running your tongue over your bottom lip, you turn back to the bar. As asked, you keep the tab open, watching Arthur’s beer while sipping from your drink. The piano is loud compared to the sound of men beating the hell out of each other, but not as loud as Bill.

“Let's just shoot em!” He yells, right before getting his head slammed against the wall. Javier dodges a punch by jumping backwards, right before knocking a guy out. 

“Oh, come on! We can handle these fools!” Javier replies over the commotion. 

Their voices are farther away, out in the center of the saloon. Everyone is distracted, including you, as you take a swig from your drink. So it surprises you, in fact it scares the hell out of you, when two hands place themselves down onto the bar on either side of you. You gasp, whipping around. A man, a fucking beast of a man is standing over you. He’s way over six feet, and so broad that just by the proximity you can’t see around him. You don’t have much time to think, already buzzed from your drink and it’s throwing your senses off. Typically you would already have a knife in this guy, but your vision is a little fuzzy and things are just a bit slower. 

“What’s a pretty little girl like you doin’ with these people, hmm?” He says, breath reeking of cheap alcohol. The scent is all too familiar, and you nearly choke on it. He presses against your torso, completely trapping you against the bar, so tightly that the wood digs into your back painfully.

“Get off me.” You growl, glaring daggers up at the man. He doesn’t acknowledge your words, instead he brushes a hair away from your face and you rip your head away from his large, grubby hands. 

“Could show you a real fun time. Got some cash on me.” He says, smiling at you like he’s just won some prize. You fume, rage taking over as he pins your wrists down at your sides so you can’t grab any weapons.

“I ain’t for sale.”

The man's eyebrows raise, and he chuckles. Your back aches from the way he's shoving you into the bar, and you glance over to the boys at the center of the room. You can handle this guy.

“So youse free then? Even better, sugar.” He chuckles, deep in his throat and his breath reeks. If he would just release one of your arms you could have him dead on the floor in seconds. 

Just as you form a plan, he lets go of your arm and grabs your chin, harshly. 

“Looks like you got a bruise comin’ in here on this pretty little face. Real shame, it from your cowboy? You got a mister at home? Does he like sharin?”

You slip your hand down to your knife sheath, gripping onto the handle. Just as you reach it, Arthur spots you from across the room. Your small frame is being crushed between this giant bastard and the bar, his hand squeezes your jaw. A boiling rage takes over Arthur as he drops the man he was holding up, straight to the floor. The room spins and he sees nothing but red. Wasting no time, he runs towards you in a few long strides. You pull your knife out, and just as you move to plunge it into the man’s gut, Arthur tears him off of you. 

“You leave her the hell alone!” Arthur roars. Your eyes widen as you take in what’s just happened, your knife is still in your hand as the man grabs Arthur by the collar and throws him over one of the dining tables. 

“Tommy! Tommy, stop it!” The bartender screams, and you gasp as Tommy picks up Arthur again and shoves him through the front window. 

Glass shatters, spilling all over the floor and the street as Arthur rolls onto the muddy road outside. Your jaw is practically on the ground, eyebrows raised in concern as you run out the front doors alongside everyone else in the bar.. 

“Come on, pretty boy!” Tommy grunts, meeting Arthur outside in the street. Anger flashes across Arthur’s face. 

“Pretty boy? Really, Pretty boy?” Arthur growls, standing up and steadying himself to get back into the fight. Your heart pumps loudly in your ears as you stand on the saloon’s deck. Tommy steps forward, punching Arthur in the face and knocking him right back down into the mud. You want, more than anything, to just shoot the bastard and be done but you can’t, not here in the center of town. 

“You need help with this fool?” Javier asks, but Arthur springs back up into action, decking Tommy in the gut, while protecting his face with his other arm.

“Nah I got this one.”

Arthur is covered in mud, barely recognizable as he slips around in the slop, trying to get good footing. Tommy’s fists are downright brutal. He relentlessly swings, shoves and drags Arthur, shoving his head into the mud as Arthur struggles. He’s so much bigger than Arthur, you don’t like the odds. You start down the stairs, needing to help, though you’re not sure what you can even do besides shoot him. As soon as you lift your foot to step down the stairs, Charles grabs your arm, shaking his head. 

“Let it go, he’s got this.” Charles mumbles, voice calm as ever. Your eyebrows draw together as you look between the two men. It doesn’t appear that Arthur can beat this guy. Arthur is pinned to the ground on his side, throwing his elbows up to get Tommy off of him. 

“Charles- please,” You beg, trying to pull away from his large hand. Charles steps in front of you, a voice of reason. His eyes show understanding. 

“I know. But I’ve seen Arthur fight many times. He’ll get the bastard, and if he can’t he’ll ask for help.” Charles explains, and you nod, biting your lip.

Arthur kicks Tommy in the groin, right where it hurts, getting enough time to slip out from underneath him. Arthur shoves Tommy onto the ground, and he splashes in the mud. Immediately Arthur straddles Tommy, beating him senseless. Your jaw drops as he delivers hit after hit. He’s lost in a sort of… frenzy, blood boiling as he thinks about Tommy pushing you against the bar and talking to you like that. He beats, and beats and beats, until the crowd of people watching slowly file away, stomachs turning as Tommy becomes unrecognizable. 

“Arthur, stop!” You holler from the stairs, shaking free from Charles’ grip and jogging down the steps. Arthur doesn’t even hear you, and you recoil at the wet sound of bones cracking against Arthurs fists. Tommy has stopped fighting, his hands were once shielding his face but now they lie at his sides. You’re almost certain he’s dead. 

“Arthur, stop!!” You scream, stepping behind him and pulling on his leather suspenders. Eventually, Arthur is drawn back to the present by your voice. He looks down to his aching fists, torn up and soaked in blood. When he turns to you, the look of fear and unrecognition on your face causes his heart to sink. 

You back away, fear turning to fury as you see what he’s done. Arthur stands up, looking like a monster, caked in mud and blood with purple splotches where bruises are beginning to form along his knuckles. 

“What in the hell, Arthur?!” You yell, louder than intended, and you’re grateful that the townsfolk have gone back indoors. Arthur feels bad that you had to see that, but he doesn’t regret it. Tommy’s breath rasps behind Arthur as he approaches you, and you let out a breath of relief that he’s alive. 

“He was hurtin’ you.” Arthur growls, pointing a finger to you, “Sides, he threw the first punch. Tossed me out the goddamn window.” Arthur hisses, rage still unquelled as he turns back to Tommy. A small, sick looking man with a kind voice helps the beat man to his feet. 

“I had it Arthur!” You yell, shocked that of all the people he was treating you like you needed saving. He knows better, knows you can handle your own. Arthur steps forward with a threatening stance, and an anger not directed at you. 

“Did you have it, Star? Cause how I see it, he was about to bend your wrist to his will.” Arthur huffs, as if you’re being completely unreasonable. Javier whistles lowly, stepping back into the saloon with Charles and Bill.. 

“I didn’t ask for your help, I ain’t a damsel in distress.” You bite, grabbing Arthur by his mud caked shirt and pulling him away from the road to the sidewalk. You lead him down the wooden walkway, leading him away from everyone's eyes. You’re forced to stop, turning around when he stops  in his tracks. 

“What is your problem? I helped you.” 

You sigh, a humorless laugh coming from your lips. 

“No Arthur, you damn near killed a guy in the center of town and for what? Cause he was bothering me?”

Arthur purses his lips, looking into your eyes with an intense amount of emotion. 

“Star, I heard what he said to you. Talkin’ to you like- like you were a goddamn object, somethin’ to pick up from the store.” Arthur says, low.

Something pangs in your heart, realizing that for him it's instinctual, the need to protect the ones he cares about. The little anger you were holding onto melts away, and you nod lightly, reaching out to offer Arthur’s hand a gentle squeeze. When you do, he takes your hand in his, not letting it go. 

“I'm sorry. I know you can handle your own, I do. It’s just, seeing him on you like that it just- I wanted to kill him Star. I wouldn’t have stopped if you didnt pull me away.” Arthur says, voice harboring a threatening edge. You swallow thickly at the implications of his words, trying not to overthink his protectiveness over you.

“We’ll work on it. I think we both have a pretty strong disposition to anger.” You chuckle, thankful for the shift in mood. You don’t like arguing with Arthur, it feels… wrong. 

“Now go on, get. You smell like sheep and mud, go take a bath. I'll bring you some clothes over.” You shoo the smelly man away, chuckling as he smiles back at you with a raised eyebrow. 

“Always impressed with your manners, woman.” He chastises. 

“Oh hush up, you love it.” You joke, and he doesn’t deny it. 

You feel a weight lifted off your shoulders as you walk across the road to the general store. Even when you’re upset with each other, Arthur is easy to talk to. You understand his battle, part of him wants to do good, and the other part is overcome with anger and aggression. It’s an inner turmoil that is hard to quiet. You know the feeling.

You’re about to push the general store door open when an unfamiliar accent calls out a familiar name. 

“Where's Arthur?” A man says, with a heavy transatlantic accent, and you turn around to spot the source. A pale man with dark hair and a dark suit is chatting with Javier and Charles on the walkway. With your eyebrows drawn together, you approach them.

“Charles…?” You question, wondering who this too well dressed man is. He seems like a businessman, and him asking for Arthur could certainly be bad news. 

The man turns his attention to you then. 

“Oh and we have a new stray I see! Pleased to meet you. Josiah Trelawny.” He introduces himself, “Might I have your name, dear girl?” 

You squint your eyes, not trusting Josiah. He looks like a snake oil salesman, a fraud. It’s probably why he’s invested in the Van der Linde’s. You don’t trust him enough to tell him your real name, so you go with your newest alias. 

“Star…” You whisper as Josiah takes your hand away from your side, bringing it up to his prickly lips to plant a kiss over your knuckles. You were never one for fancy manners, and pull your hand back quickly once he’s finished. 

“What a peculiar title for a lady such as yourself.” 

You’re not exactly sure what he means by that, but you need to get to the general store lest Arthur come out of the hotel naked as the day he was born or back in those ruined clothes. You’re just about to tip your hat when Trewlny grabs your attention.

“I'm afraid this isn’t just a social call. It would appear that I found young Sean.” He says, exaggerating his words and talking with his hands. Your movements still. 

“Sean?” You breathe out, you thought he was dead. 

“Where is he? Anything on Mac?” Charles crosses his arms over his chest, just as shocked as you are. 

“No, just the Irishman I’m afraid. He’s with Ike Skelding’s boys. They’re bringing him up the Upper Montana River in a few days time. Get Mr. Morgan, and I’ll meet you all there in a few days. In the meantime I have some business to attend to in Strawberry.” 

You look to Charles, shocked. Ike Skelding runs a nasty, big group of bounty hunters. You’re surprised they haven't handed Sean in yet, unless they’re using him as leverage, but whatever the reason, some weight lifts off your shoulders. 

“I’ll tell Arthur.” You nod to the men, heading into the general store. 

“Do give him my best!” Trelawny yells after you. 

You don't spend much time in the general store, picking a few basic items from the catalog. You buy him a jade green shirt and a black pair of jeans along with some new socks. It's a decent outfit that’ll keep him warm and dry, which to your growing embarrassment is something you care about now. With the neat little pile of clothes and your handwritten receipt, you thank the shop owner kindly and go to the hotel. 

This time you creak the door open instead of slamming it, but the hotel clerk still looks a little afraid of you. You can’t help but smirk, reassuring him. 

“Just here to bring these to my friend. He should have come in a bit ago for a bath…?” You ask, not sure where the bathroom is. The clerk loses some of the tension in his shoulders as he points down the hall to his right. 

“Just down the hall, miss, second door. But don’t go causing any trouble now!” He hollers after you as you follow his directions, and you wave him off.

You come up to the wooden door labeled with a little bathtub icon, and from inside you can hear some water sloshing around, alongside some humming. You can’t help the smile that blossoms across your face, and you lean on the door for just a few moments to listen to his low singing. 

“My love for you- hmm hmm hmm,” Arthur seemingly forgets some words, “Im a rabble rouser n’ Dixie’s my home…” Arthur sings and hums along, and for a moment everything seems at peace. You chuckle, not wanting to stand outside the door like a creep for too long, before knocking on the door lightly. 

“You decent?” You ask, interjecting Arthur’s song. He coughs awkwardly, attempting to cover up his little tune. 

“Uh, yeah. Come on in.” Arthur responds from the other side of the oak door and you push it open.

The bath house is nice. There's a fireplace in the corner with a little fire going inside it, casting the room in a low orange light. There’s also some candles sitting around, flickering with the draft you’ve let in from the door. It’s warm in the room, and you notice Arthur in the bath. You almost stop, breath hitching in your throat when you see him. His skin is wet, and the reflection of the candlelight causes it to glisten. The bath bubbles and water cover any indecent bits, but his chest and torso stick out from the water, an arm draped over either side of the bath. You’ve never realized how strong he is. His muscles are toned to perfection, signaling a life of hard work. Wet, glistening, sandy blonde chest hair trickles down his torso, trailing under the bubbles to where you cannot see. He looks… beautiful. He would die of embarrassment if he ever knew you correlated him and the word beautiful together but its true.

“...Cat got your tongue?” Arthur chuckles as you stand in the doorway. There's some bubbles in his hair that have proven to be quite distracting as you pull yourself from your thoughts. 

“Yeah, sorry. Was lost in my head.” You whisper, walking towards a little wooden bath stand beside Arthur and placing his clothes down. 

“Nothin’ fancy but they’ll be comfortable.” You offer Arthur a sweet smile before heading back towards the door. As silly as it sounds, you don’t want to leave. You want to stay in this warm room in the company of Arthur. A bittersweet feeling pulling on your heart as you grab the door handle. 

“Wait.” Arthur breaks the silence, and you crane your neck around to look at him. The look in his eyes, it scares you. Not because you’re frightened, but because his green irises look after you with an emotion so deep that you fear if you gaze into them for too long you may never come back up. 

“Hmm?” You hum, chewing on your bottom lip nervously. 

“Will you c’mere? Just for a minute.” Arthur whispers, and with your eyebrows pulled together, you oblige. You sit on your knees on the wooden floor beside the bathtub, leaning onto the metal tub with your elbow. From the proximity you can smell the soap that Arthur uses, and you find the scent to be intoxicating. 

“What is it Arthur?” You say on a breath, your heart beating quickly. The room is so quiet, all you can hear is his breathing, and the quiet slosh of water as his hand grips onto the side of the tub, merely inches from your own. 

Your eyes flutter down to the juxtaposition of his hand and yours. 

“I’m sorry.” Arthur says, and you can tell by the fall of his shoulders, by the look in his eyes that he’s sincere. 

“I shouldn’t have doubted you. I just-” Arthur’s hand curls into a fist, as a distaste rolls over his tongue, “I saw you there, pressed up against that bar, and after what just happened with Tilly and Karen, with that guy hittin’ you,”' Arthur's wet hand comes up to your face, and he runs his thumb across the purple bruise, leaving a wet trail.

“He deserved what he got, Star.” Arthur growls, his hand resting back down on the lip of the bath. 

He’s right. Those men all deserved punching, but Arthur shouldn’t be making that decision, especially not now. The gang is hardly back on its feet. 

“I know, but you can make excuses for why each action is worth it, just… Please don’t hurt people, not for me. I ain’t worth it.” You whisper. Arthur’s eyebrows furrow, and his heart aches in his chest. 

“Don’t say that, Star…” Arthur’s hand snakes to rest on top of yours, the other is still pressed against your cheek so gently.

“I know how you feel. I feel it too, that rage, where all you can do is fight.” Your gaze draws downwards, and you focus on your and Arthur’s connected hands, “I felt that with my Pa. And I felt it just about every day till you saved me.” You play with Arthur’s hand to distract yourself from the rough topic. Arthur doesn’t mind, letting you trace stars over his palm as you talk. The words ‘you saved me’ reverberate in his head and he wants nothing more than to laugh, to tell you that you saved him. He curses the tub, wanting nothing more than to envelop you in his arms right now. To hell with his rules, his codes. You’ve broken every wall around his heart. 

“That anger… you gotta control it. Cause you’ll be a different man if you don’t, a bad man, and I don’t think you want that.” You finish, finally looking up into Arthur’s ocean colored eyes. 

“Don’t you think it’s too late for that? I ain’t a good man, Star.” Arthur self deprecates, a habit that he’s all too familiar with. 

“You ain’t a bad man neither, Arthur. Now's the time to start changing the way you do things. I need to, too.”

Arthur sighs, as if thinking over your question. You won’t force him, you can’t, it’s his decision who he wants to be. But you’ve been offered kindness, by him, the girls, by John and Abigail and your heart is beginning to melt, its icy layer of defense begins to slip, and as much as your brain begs you to come to your senses and bottle up, your heart seeks more. 

Arthur’s large, warm hand cups your good cheek, and he leans towards you, resting his forehead on yours, your eyes slip closed as butterflies flutter in your stomach.

“I don’t know if I-” Arthur starts, but you cover his hand with your own on your cheek, leaning into his touch. 

“For me? Please.”

Arthur nods lightly against your forehead. 

“For you.” 

A tear slips down your cheek, as Arthur’s breath swirls around your face, causing your heart to thud loudly. He’s so close, and you watch as his flicker to each of your irises before trailing down to your lips. You gasp quietly, a little breathy noise as you realize what’s about to happen. His hand is still warm against your cheek, anchoring you. Leaning into him, your noses brush against each other, and you tilt your head, lips parted,  just a breath away from his. 

Two loud knocks come against the door, breaking the moment, and you gasp, pulling away from Arthur as clarity bleeds into you. You almost kissed him. You chastise yourself for breaking all your rules, a panic setting over you as you swallow thickly. 

“You want some help in there? A Deluxe bath is only fifty cents.” A bath maid calls from the other side of the door. Arthur clears his throat, eyeing you with worry before responding. 

“No thanks.” He says, curtly. His eyes are wide in shock as he reaches out to you. You wipe at your eyes, standing up from the floor. You hear her footsteps dissipate, and you turn back to Arthur, riddled with anxiety at your loss of self control. 

“I uh- here I’ll just leave your clothes.” You say, patting the pile with blushed cheeks before moving towards the door. Arthur’s head is hung, and he feels like a damn fool. 

“Star– just wait.” He asks, but you only smile, as if nothing has happened. 

“It’s fine Arthur just uh, meet me back at camp, yeah?” You utter, pushing the door open and slipping out. After the door has been pulled back shut, Arthur rests his head in his hands, cursing himself. 

— — — —

The ride back was a quick one. You wasted no time, spurring your horse, using the ride as a distraction from your plaguing thoughts.

 Now, you pace back and forth in front of the campfire, contemplating every decision you’ve ever made. It’s later in the night, and Arthur hasn’t come back yet. The only one awake besides you is Hosea. He’s sitting at the log near the campfire, nose deep in a book, although for the past ten minutes he’s been watching you pace.

All this time, all this damn time you’ve spent building up these walls and he’s gone and crumbled them. You don’t want to hurt him, and you don’t want to get hurt either. You can’t allow yourself relationships like this. Relationships are used against you, love is a weakness. You try to convince yourself, failing miserably. 

“Dear girl, what is it? You’re halfway to a marathon with all that pacing.” Hosea watches you walk back and forth, dropping his book to the ground. Exasperated, you toss your hands up into the air. 

“Boys! Men! Ugh, Hosea, they’re just- UGh!” You groan, rolling the pen from Jimmy Brooks between your fingers to keep them busy.

“Oh don’t I know it. We’re nothing but fools,” Hosea pats the open seat beside him on the log, “What happened? Come sit, let an old man lend an ear.”

You sit down on the log next to Hosea, resting your head in your hands. 

“Arthur got into a fight at the saloon because there was a guy badgerin’ me. He almost killed the guy, but me n Arthur talked about it and- and I almost kissed him, Hosea.” 

Hosea’s eyebrow pops up in surprise, with a question. 

“Almost?” He asks, and you nod. The embers from the fire pop and glow, and you fixate on them with glazed over eyes. 

“I left, I ran away.” You almost cry, but hold in the emotion. 

“Why? You afraid?” Hosea asks, but there is no judgment to his question, he is only curious. You nod, biting your lip so hard that it almost draws blood. 

“Terrified.” You admit, feeling a release of tension from admitting your fear. 

“I understand, kid, I do… Say, Arthur ever told you about my Bessie?” Hosea asks, a little smile cracking onto his lips as he holds his hands over the fire to warm them. You shake your head, never having heard Bessie mentioned before. Hosea smiles, and chuckles at a memory. 

“Bessie was my wife. A lot like you, y’know.” Hosea cracks his knuckles over the fire, warming his bones, “Smart as a whip, a damn good thief, and lovely company. I loved that woman so much.” Hosea smiles, a glint of a tear in his eye that disappears when he blinks.

You wonder what happened to her, what tragedy befell her. 

“What happened…?” You ask, quietly, not wanting to upset the man. 

“She got sick, I’m afraid, real sick.” Hosea thinks over memories of Bessie, cracking a smile again. 

“She was like you, hesitant to love.” Hosea adds, and you roll your eyes. 

“Who said anything about love?” You sigh, standing up from the log. 

“Dear girl, lying to yourself just makes it harder, trust me.” Hosea says as you dip your hat. 

“I’ll keep that in mind…Night Hosea, thanks for the chat.” You say a bit curt, ready to end the conversation and go to bed. 

— — —

Thunder roars, shaking the ground as you toss and turn in your sleep. Lightning strikes in the valley, illuminating the sky in bright light for a portion of a second before a loud boom sounds out. Cold sweat clings to your skin as you tangle and untangle your legs from the sheets, mind far away, caught up in awful nightmares. You’re back in Blackwater, standing in the street. The town is empty, cold and quiet. On one side of the road is a doe, she's beautiful, a fawn colored coat, with some white dapples still, she's young. You call to the doe with a smile, whistling to her. Suddenly, a growl sounds out, and you turn to meet a coyote. The coyote is stalking the doe, creeping up on her in a predatory position. She's oblivious. The coyote is dark and shifty, and the more you call for the doe, the less she seems to hear you. The coyote pounces, and you gasp, turning around to shield your eyes from what has befallen the poor deer. After a moment of quiet, you turn back around to see.

The setting is the same, the atmosphere is different. You’re in Blackwater, but now you’re right back in the middle of the ferry robbery. In your dream you’re not robbing it, you're a passenger. You sit in a seat with the other oblivious passengers, trembling as men board the ferry: Dutch, Javier, Micah. They enter loudly, scaring and confusing people, creating chaos. Dutch comes straight up to you, bandana over his face as he aims his gun right at your temple. You hear it click once, the damning sound of the hammer being pulled back. 

“Do it Dutch.” Micah growls, right in Dutch’s ear, and you hyperventilate. 

BANG! 

You scream, sitting straight up in your cot, waking up. Immediately, you want light, want to be able to see, so you strike a match, lighting a candle on your bedside table before swinging your legs off the bed and heading towards the tent flap, you could use a walk. 

Just as you pull the canvas back, you run smack into Arthur’s chest and you gasp. 

“You scared the shit out of me.” You gasp. Arthur’s hands lightly grip your arms as he runs his eyes over you, checking. 

“You scared the shit out of me, I heard you scream. What’s wrong? You hurt?” Arthur whispers, looking over you before flickering his eyes to your own. You shake your head, avoiding his eyes that seem to be begging for your gaze.

“Why don't you come sit, I kept the fire goin.” He adds, gesturing to the main campfire. You look to the fire, then back to your bed and realize you don't feel like being on your own right now. So with a sheepish nod you follow him. 

Arthur sits down on the ground, his back against one of the large logs around the fire. He’s sitting on a large cattle pelt, and there's plenty of room, so you sit beside him, leaning back against the log. Neither of you mention the almost kiss, you want to apologize, to explain yourself, but now's not the time. Now, you want to distract yourself from your nightmares. Your eyelids are heavy from the poor sleep you’ve gotten, and you sniffle, watching the fire.

“You okay?” Arthur asks, worried about you. 

You only nod, looking up to the cloudy night sky. Arthur’s never seen you so quiet. He wants to mention the bath, wants to apologize for overstepping, but first he wants to make sure you’re alright.

“You can talk to me, y’know.” Arthur whispers, eyes meeting yours. You nod, knowing he’s right. Your fingers prod at a little hole in your jeans as you think over your words.

“I guess I just- well I’ve been havin’ nightmares.” You respond, a little embarrassed to admit, and immediately you try to toughen your resolve, “But I ain’t- I don’t need coddled or nothin.”

Arthur shakes his head, sliding closer to you. 

“I ain’t judgin’ Star. You don’t gotta defend yourself, it’s just me.” Arthur calms you, and you nod. 

“Mostly Blackwater… Everyone else seemed to move on from it so quickly but I just- I can’t shake it.” You admit, squinting your eyes shut for a moment. A pang of guilt strikes Arthur in the chest. 

“I'm sorry I wasn’t there for you, I shouldn’t have left you there.” Arthur curses himself, and you rush to reassure him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“It was my fault. I was supposed to go get Hosea but I saw… I saw the boat go up and I had to help, I couldn’t just leave them.” You mutter, tears welling in your eyes. Arthur places his arm around your shoulders so you’re more comfortable, and your eyes slip shut. 

“I'm sorry you had to see all that..” Arthur whispers, running his thumb up and down your arm. 

“I can handle it.” 

“I know you can, I know- but you shouldn’t have to.” He sighs. 

You’re all too content, nuzzled into the side of Arthur Morgan, his arm draped over you. And even with all this you can’t define what you want, or what the two of you have. It’s all too confusing, but for now this is nice, just allowing yourself to be comforted. 

It isn’t long before Arthur hears your light snores, and he glances down to see you sleeping comfortably, tucked into his side. The fire still burns in front of you both, but even if it weren’t, you would be toasty warm, heated by Arthur. Labels are difficult, relationships are difficult. But whatever you two have right now… this companionship, it’s good. 

“Oh, what am I gonna do with you, Star?” Arthur sighs, running his hand up and down your arm, pulling you tighter into him.

[celticcrossanon]

Hello Celta,

I hope things are well with you.

Regarding the highest honor a commoner can receive that Charles foisted on to Catherine, I say he should just leave the poor woman alone to deal with her illness and heal in peace. My take on this is that he wanted to give Camilla the highest honor besides co-monarch, which he did under cover of awarding Catherine the highest honor, I repeat, a commoner can receive. I think also he feels a little tiny bit guilty that he sat on his hands while the Harkles and their sponsors launched the most vile and vicious attacks against William and particularly Catherine in social media, since the Princess of Wales Diana media frenzy just before and after her death. Shame on the media, shame on them all. It is utterly shameful and disgusting that he continues to protect Harry at the cost of the Wales.

I know that some on this board sees this honor differently, but Charles felt he just had to reward publicly her for her suffering after all she went through in a show of support. So he set about looking for the most innocuous, disregarded, nothing honor he could find to satisfy all of his petty need for game playing and PR. I wonder how long it took him and his like minded minions to find this petty little honor. I can see his beady little eyes relishing the thought that everyone will be so pleased, at this most nothing burger of an honor, again, given to a commoner in the royal family.

At this point in her career in the royal family Catherine should be getting the Honor of the Garter to bring her in line with her status as Princess of Wales. But Charles is so classist he simply cannot help himself. But I bet you, Celta, if Harry and his wife were still in the BRF in good standing, he would be heaping honors on Meghan. Her mother Doria too would have been made the Countess of Montecito or Los Angeles, or San Francisco or whatever by now. But Countess. All in order for him to score PR points with minorities and the Commonwealth. Forget about the Middletons, they are too low class for the BRF in Charles’ mind. All of their own personal values, loyalty and honor mean nothing to him, since he has so little of it himself. He would rather play petty games with the Wales, thinking he’s some kind of Machiavellian mind nobody can figure out. Trust me if we can figure it out, so can many others who are foamy with his MO.

It’s exhausting. He’s as exhausting as his son Harry. And I’m all out of sympathy for him and his illness. Sorry not sorry.

I guess you can ask the cards about it, but I think you answered the question when you asked them how he really feels about Catherine. She makes him feel small, and this is his petty revenge and game’s playing for that.

Hi AnonymousRetired,

I can understand being out of patience and sympathy for King Charles. He tries me severely as well. I do still have a bit of patience and sympathy left for him because of his illness, but it is starting to be replaced with my usually exasperation with the man.

I have always found his actions to be exhausting, mainly because we know he lies to the public (see the Princess Consort decade of lies) and therefore you can't take anything he says as the truth unless it is supported by other sources who are not his yes-people, and that is exhausting.

The tradition is that the Lady of the Garter honour is awarded to Queen consorts by their husbands once their husbands are King. King Charles broke with that tradition to have his mother award the Garter to Camilla (As an aside, I believe this was an attempt to soften the public for the announcement that Camilla would have the title of Queen Consort and not Princess Consort as he had been promising since their marriage, if not before). It would not surprise me in the slightest if he decided to revert to the tradition for Princess Catherine.

I am going to do a reading on why that honour was given to Princess Catherine tonight, so we will see what the cards say then.

[pinovapie]

DRDT Warrior Cat Au

So i used to be obsessed with Warrior Cats as a kid and uh. I still really like the concept so... Here's my Warriors Despair Time AU! Forgive me if everything is really rambly,,, ft. Redesigns of the cat designs i made before- also, feel free to ask questions, talking about it will probably help me expand it.

Words: (just in case you don't know warriors, if there's anymore i missed lmk-)

Kittypet -> House cat, a pet belonging to a human

Twoleg -> Humans

Nest -> Bed or Home (a Twoleg Nest is a house)

Den -> House (Warriors den is where warriors sleep etc.

Medicine Cat -> Healer, Clan doctor. They can also (usually) communicate with the dead as well as receive visions and omens.

Medicine Cat Den -> Infirmary /Hospital for cats

Starclan -> Where the dead cats go. Heaven for cats ig?? Starclan cats are covered in stars c:

Twoleg Place -> A collection of houses, street, town, city, etc.

Thunderpath -> Road

Monsters -> Cars, Vans, Trucks, etc.

Mono TV -> Monostar

The ' leader' of the newly formed 'Despairclan'. Really they're the deputy for the true leader. No one knows why the leader stays hidden but they do. They're kind of incompetent but they do a decent enough job (despite their love of violence...). The clan is a mismatch of random strays and kittypets/house cats.

Eden Tobasia -> Thymeleap

A very friendly Kittypet that joined the clan by mistake after getting lost. She keeps trying to persuade her clanmates to come back to her twoleg nest so they can find proper, warm, safe homes for everyone. So far it hasn't really worked but in the meantime she'll do whatever jobs are required to help everyone. She has convinced Butterflylake, Orchidgleam and Lilypetal to occasionally wander near twoleg place to look for her home. They haven't found anything yet but her friends (and Lilypetal i guess?) are always happy to try and help her home.

Arturo Giles -> Lilypetal

A medicine cat. He's not the best medicine cat in terms of personality and ability to speak with starclan, but he knows a decent amount about herbs and healing. He's not a fan of healing and prefers to use non essential flowers to cover wound dressings so he doesn't have to look at cats' 'disgusting mangled fur' whilst they're in the medicine cat den. He's also a fan of decorating his own fur to look prettier. In this AU he's obsessed with Kittypets and their 'pampered' lifestyles.

Veronika Grebenshchova -> Veronika /Centipedeslaughter

A Kittypet that's obsessed with clan life. She constantly tries to help the clan by bringing them more prey or fighting rouges and loners. She's regarded as an honorary clan member by Monostar and usually spends more time in camp then at her twolegs' house. She usually decides to sleepover with Lilypetal or Horsejump (who do not like her one bit-). She often recounts the horror films her twolegs' watch as some kind of spooky story to scare her clanmates. She chose the warrior name Centipedeslaughter herself.

Ace Markey -> Horsejump

He used to be a farm cat named Horse. He got abandoned because he kept getting scared of the mice rather than catching them. He was given the suffix 'jump' after joining the clan due to his skittish nature. Despite being terrified of them, he can speak to and understand horses (like how Millie could talk to dogs in canon warriors). Rather than having an ED due to jockeying, in this AU he doesn't like eating 'raw meat' (he's used to cat food-) so he tries to avoid eating it as much as possible.

Teruko Tawaki -> Stumblespark

A very clumsy and unlucky cat. She stumbled into the clan by mistake and decided it's safer than wandering stray. Stumblespark seems to suffer misfortune after misfortune. Lilypetal is not fond of the near permanent medicine den patient. Thymeleap, Xander and Rosecurl all to their best to help her feel welcome. Veronika often pesters her for her 'dramatic scar stories'. Due to her luck she's been hit my monsters and survived multiple times.

Charles Cuevas -> Charles -> Viperfang

He used to be a kittypet until a tragic event left him wandering alone. He became a medicine cat due to being de-clawed (he doesn't remember why). However, he only handles small cuts and non bloody ailments due to dislike of blood (he closes his eyes when eating -).

Whit Young -> Whit -> Heartwing

Was a kittypet living near Charles. Originally, they didn't get along but after Viperfang's trama was brought up by a certain event, they bonded due to Whit helping. He used to pester and annoy Viperfang by just showing up on the territory and following him around. After the event however, he joined the clan officially to help his friend. He's taken on the role of a part time mediator (not a canon thing in the books as far as i'm aware but shush-). He usually just listens to cats vent rather than giving advice but it usually helps a lot.

Rose Lacroix -> Rosecurl

The lead medicine cat. She's an expert at creating the right mixes to cure things. Her perfect memory also allows her to know exactly which herbs to use and where to find them.

Hu Jing -> Hu Jing ->Butterflylake

An elegant kittypet that was mistaken for a stray and released miles from home. To respect clan traditions she picked a name similar to the translation of her kittypet name. She's taken on a deputy-like role in the clan by organising patrols and sharing prey evenly between clanmates. She often tries to comfort and care for new arrivals and quiet members of the clan. However, her lack of patience and experience when dealing with stray cats often causes her to see things with a black and white mindset. Enjoys hunting to provide for the clan and often goes with Eden as a hunting partner.

Nico Hakobyan -> Quiettuft

A cat that was abandoned by a breeder after being left for months, after all their littermates were bought. When they first came to the clan they were quiet and kept to themselves. For some reason, Horsejump hates them. Is he just a bully? Did they know each other before the clan? Who knows. Quiettuft is annoyed by them constantly picking fights with them. However, for some reason, even though they've noticed Horsejump's dislike of 'raw meat' they haven't told anyone.

Xander Matthews -> Xander

He was the leader of a gang of rouges before being dragged into the clan. Before he joined the clan he was part of a colony of cats. However, he was caught by twolegs due to disease running rampent. He was the only one they managed to save. He still feels guilty about it. He had a truce with Pebbleroll when they were both rogues. When joining the clan he immediately respected Hopeeye due to a past incident. Hopeeye distracted a pack of dogs by being super friendly then darting away once the confusion wore off. This action saved Xander as well as a couple of fellow rouges. Even after joining the clan he insists on keeping the name Xander.

David Chiem -> Hopeeye

He used to be the leader of an old clan. He was a loved an respected leader, always inspiring and supporting his clanmates. Until one day a giant flood hit at the same time as a whitecough (lethal disease) outbreak. He tried to stay positive and reassure his clanmates that they could make it out! Many cats passed away, believing in Hopeeye's reassurance. After 2/3 of the clan were wiped out, he retired and left the clan, feeling like a liar and a poor leader for letting them down. After meeting Xander properly, however, he's regained a little bit of spirit.

Levi Fontana -> Orchidgleam

A very large fluffy stray, was orignally from a 'bad' clan but left for unknown reasons. was one of the ones to find Horsejump on patrol. Up until a bad argument (and even afterwards-) he saw Horsejump as a cat that needs protecting. As a result he tends to follow him around (even if Horsejump is not happy about it-). Before the argument, Horsejump would pick fights with clanmates and then immediately run and hide under Orchidgleam's belly. Unfortunately, that argument seems to have stopped that from happening and Orchidgleam feels a little guilty that he's no longer considered a safe space. In other news, he's a big fan of decorating his fur with plants and tends to annoy Lilypetal by tagging along to find flowers.

Min Jeung -> Minnowfur

A cat that prefers sticking to the warrior code. Learned a decent amount of herbs after learning who the clan med cats are. She doesn't get along with Xander due to his tendency to break the code, often for his own morals that she doesn't quite understand.

Arei Nageshi -> Pebbleroll

After being tormented by her siblings, she left her previous clan and became a feared and respected cat among rouges. Eventually, after opening up to Hopeeye and defending Thymeleap during and argument with Lilypetal, she joined the clan with the goal of making genuine friends.

J Moreno -> Jasmine -> Jayshadow

A kittypet of a celebrity that hated the attention and her owner. So she ran away. She hates her kittypet name since it's 'too girly' and instead chose the name Jayshadow because it's 'cool' and 'badass'. Lilypetal constantly bothers her about her previous life which she hates. One of Xander's rouges bit part of her tail off. On one hand she thinks it makes her look badass, on the other she's pissed at Xander for being obnoxious and reckless. She rolls in plants to make her fur so scruffy she can't be recognised by her owner. Ryan is the replacement cat her owner got, she even called him Jasmine as well.

Obviously, once the killings happen the deceased go to Starclan. From my memory canon Starclan is a mess so y'know- i would include the Dark Forest (cat hell-) but i don't think we know enough about why characters are the way they are to say they definitely deserve cat hell y'know?

[f1amboyant]

Hi darling i'm here again to ask for the kiss prompts💗 i hope you don't get sick of me cause i have a feeling you're gonna be seeing me more often hahaha❤️❤️

"I really, really want to kiss you" + kissing in the rain & hand in your lover's hair for charlos😘

I have so many ideas running in my head for these prompts but can't find the right words to write a good fic so here I am asking one of my fave authors🤍🤍🤍

Hello, darling!

I'm not sick of your prompts, don't worry 🥰

I'm not sure this is what you had in mind with this one, but I hope you like it (I had so much fun writing this little fic).

Enjoy!

Read it on AO3!

.

The demons crawled all around them, hideous creatures coming out from the shadows with too many legs and too many teeth. Ugly as ever, they growled, spitting poisonous ichor through their too big mouths.

Carlos barely flinched, nocking an arrow to his bow and aiming for the demons. He felt a firm presence at his back, as Charles took his place behind him.

He felt it in his veins.

In his heart.

In his rune.

In his soul.

Parabatai.

“Ready?” Carlos asked.

“I am more than ready, Carlos,” Charles immediately answered, taking out his seraph blade, the Adamas glinting in the night.

Carlos could feel his excitement, the thrum in his veins, the same rhythm in their hearts. One, two, three breaths, in perfect synchronicity. They didn’t need a signal to attack simultaneously. Charles jumped and Carlos let his arrow fly.

They fought as one.

Parabatai.

They prevailed as one.

Parabatai.

Carlos didn’t have the words to express how much he loved it, how much he could lose himself in Charles, only Charles, moving in harmony together. Truth be told, even if he had the words, he wouldn’t have said them aloud. What he felt was not something he should have felt for his parabatai. But how could he resist it? It was Charles.

Distracted by the turn of his thoughts, he glanced back at his partner, watching him, just for a second, as he twirled around angry sword in hand, slashing through demon after demon. Beautiful. Vengeful angel. Carlos’.

He was his.

(But also, he was not, and that was the problem.)

The demon caught him by surprise, charging toward him and flinging him against the nearest wall. His back collided with the concrete, punching the breath out of him and a cry of pain.

“Carlos!”

Carlos felt the twinge of worry from Charles in his own heart, as his parabatai charged the remaining demons with a newfound strength, exterminating them in less than two seconds. He was beautiful. Magnificent. A true Shadowhunter, in his purest form. Carlos was nothing compared to him.

(And he felt the unspeakable for him.)

Demons eliminated, Charles crouched next to Carlos, immediately taking out his stele.

“What happened? Are you hurt?”

He patted Carlos’ body, on his thigh, his torso, the side of his neck and even his jaw, stroking lightly on his cheekbone with a thumb. Carlos shivered. And it had nothing to do with the bruises on his back or the ankle he might have twisted on the impact.

“It’s nothing,” he said in a raspy voice.

But Charles didn’t listen. Eyes hyper focused, he lifted the hem of Carlos’ shirt with one hand, splaying his whole palm on Carlos’ hipbone, and yielding the stele with his other hand, drawing the pattern of the Iratze on Carlos’ skin. The healing power washed over him immediately. But the heat on his cheeks belonged to Charles alone and the fingers grazing the skin of his lower abdomen in the most tantalizing way.

That rune placement would truly be the death of him. He thought himself so clever when he drew it there, imagining how many times Charles would have to admire his abs as he activated the Mark. The only thing that happened was the too tantalizing touch of Charles’ hands on his body, every fucking time, so close to where he truly desired him.

It elicited very forbidden feelings in him.

Carlos bit his lip, trying to keep the small moan from escaping his mouth. Lucky for him, Charles didn’t seem to notice. Or he didn’t say anything. He looked up proudly at Carlos, beautiful eyes glinting.

“See,” he said with a confident smile (though his heart, Carlos could feel it, was heavy with something else). “You need me. You shouldn’t leave.”

He tried to wink (and failed) and Carlos fell in love even more than before.

Which was exactly why he had to leave.

“You’re not changing my mind,” he mumbled, finally getting up and shouldering past Charles before he could do something stupid.

Like saying he would stay.

Or like kissing his parabatai.

(Because he really wanted to.)

“Let’s go home.”

A home that wouldn’t be a home soon and Carlos already felt his heart breaking at the prospect. But it was the right thing to do, wasn’t it? His feelings for Charles were becoming more and more present. No matter how hard he tried, he could never suppress them. And expressing them? Impossible. What other choice did he have? He had to flee.

For Charles, he had to leave.

He couldn’t condemn him.

They walked home mostly in silence, speeding up their pace when rain started to drizzle lightly over their heads, and then heavier and heavier. It was properly downpouring when they got to the Institute but Charles stopped them before they could reach the wards. Pulling Carlos by the elbow, he dragged him between a few trees, hiding them from spying eyes.

“What are you doing?”

Charles crossed his arms over his chest.

“Why are you leaving?” he asked, no bullshit, staring straight at Carlos, peering into his soul.

Carlos mimicked him and crossed his arms too. Defensive.

“Come on, Charles. It’s raining, let’s go inside.”

He tried to move but Charles grabbed his shoulder and pushed him back into place.

“No,” he snarled, visibly angry (and Carlos could feel the heat boiling into his heart and his stomach, the emotions pouring from his parabatai). “Not before you tell me what’s going on, Carlos. We’re parabatai. Together or nothing, that’s what you always say. And suddenly you want to leave? I need to know why.”

“Charles…”

Carlos took a step forward, but Charles just planted a fist into his chest. Right over his parabatai rune.

“What’s so great about the Barcelona Institute?” Charles asked, almost pleading. The emotion tore from his throat and right through Carlos’ heart. Unbearable. “We’ve been here for years, we have everything we dreamt about.”

Carlos gulped down, thickly.

“I just have to leave.”

“Why?”

This time, Charles was the one to step closer, putting them so close Carlos could count the wet lashes on Charles’ eyes. The rain hadn’t stopped, but Charles wouldn’t budge before he got an answer. Something Carlos couldn’t give him.

His lips shone with rain, prettier than ever.

“Why do you have to leave?” Charles asked again. “If you want a change of scenery, I’ll come with you.”

“I need some distance.”

Carlos’ heart was beating so fast and so loud he could barely hear himself.

“Why?”

“You know why.”

After all these years, there was no way Charles didn’t know. Their hearts beat as one, after all. How could he have missed the fact that Carlos’ heart beat a new tempo, that he longed for more? So much more. Something that he could never have. And it was killing him (killing them both).

His eyes racked over Charles’ features, the sweet curl of wet hair mated to his forehead, his straight nose and high cheekbones, the piercing eyes that changed color with time and now looked stormy and dangerous and desperate. Carlos’ eyes dropped to Charles’ lips, pink and kissable.

Fuck! He almost made a move to kiss him. This. This was why he had to leave.

“You know why,” he insisted, voice going rough.

“No, I don’t,” Charles pleaded, angry and hurt. “Tell me why my parabatai, my forever, wants to leave me.”

And really. What could Carlos say but the truth?

“Because I really really want to kiss you.”

That finally shut Charles up. Finally, Carlos thought. Finally, Charles would know the full truth and reject him. It would be painful for both of them, and that was exactly what he wanted to avoid by getting away. But at least now, Charles would understand and would let him go without a fuss. Carlos only hoped the bond they forged as parabatai, not the one inked in their skin by a rune, but the one that naturally bloomed between them, would be strong enough that Charles would understand without reporting him to the Clave.

But Charles didn’t push him away (or punch him like Carlos could have thought). Instead, the fist on his chest unfurled and a warm palm spread over his pec (over his heart).

“Then what are you waiting for?” Charles whispered.

“To leave?” Carlos left out a humorless laugh. “My bag is already packed. I’m just waiting for my clearance and I’ll be out of your way, Charles. I promise…”

“Shut up.”

Charles’ hand suddenly moved, faster than when he fought demons, and went to the back of Carlos’ head, threading his fingers through thick black hair. Carlos felt the tantalizing sting to his scalp.

“I meant,” Charles said, panting, pulling Carlos closer, so close their noses almost touched. His blue-green eyes seemed wild, his hair completely drenched. “What are you waiting for to kiss me?”

Carlos’ heart leaped to his throat. This couldn’t be… No. Impossible. Charles couldn’t possibly mean it. And yet he felt the phantom of his parabatai’s heart against his own. And there was no doubt, no repulsion, no fear.

Just.

Love.

“Kiss me,” Charles said.

And so Carlos followed the pull of Charles’ hand, the pull of his heart, the pull of their bond drawing them ever closer, and he kissed him. Under the heavy rain, their runes ignited.

.

-> Masterlist

[f1-disaster-bi]

For the prompt thing, maybe recovering from a bad relationship? With lando/Daniel

Oooo I'm thinking of my abo angst au with this one a little bit ngl so I hope you don't mind anon!

I've put it under the cut because TW for mentions of SA, forced relationships, abuse and inappropriate age gaps

Lando had felt the pull towards Daniel since the first time that he had met him when Charles and Max had dragged him to meet his pack.

Lando had been wary. He'd spent hours before the meeting texting his therapist that he had gotten through the shelter he had run to the night he had turned eighteen with just a backpack of clothes, his birthcert and some money the beta who got him out had given him. His trauma surrounding packs had had him on his own since then, and he'd been scared.

Yet the moment his eyes had met the tattooed alpha with the softest brown eyes and brightest smile he'd ever seen, Lando had felt safe and seen in a way he hadn't before.

It had been four since he'd escaped back when he met Daniel at twenty-two and he had kept the other at a distance even after he had joined the pack. He was friendly but he drew a mental line in the sand because any time he thought of dating or finding a possible mate, Lando thought if Samuel.

Samuel had been his intend mate. His "one true love" as his parents had made him call him. Lando had been sixteen and freshly presented as an omega, and Samuel was the thirty year old son of the pack leader that had always made Lando's skin crawl.

Everytime he thought about kissing someone, he still had flashbacks to the few times Samuel had gotten him alone and it made him sick. He still felt those hands groping him, the voice telling him that he was Samuel property and the slap he had gotten from his mother from trying to get her to stop this.

It haunted him, but somehow, with time and lately with Daniel, Lando had started healing.

When Daniel hugged him, he didn't feel fear or claustrophobic. It was always with his consent. Daniel always listened when Lando told him no, that the voices in his mind were too loud today and he needed to be alone. Not even some of the other pack members understood that, but how could they when Daniel was the only one he had ever felt truely safe enough to tell about his past and what he had escaped from?

He didn't blame them for not knowing. He knew he'd tell them soon. He'd already told them vague explanations, enough to know it was bad and Lando had to leave, but no details.

Daniel was the only one that knew, and he was the one that Lando went to when he had nightmares that had him waking up with sweat dripping down his back. The one who nested with him, and told Lando how beautiful he was, how smart he was.

Daniel was the one that had placed the cards in Landos hands and let him lead their relationship when normally alphas were in charge of courting. He gave Lando the power he needed to finishing healing.

Lando might not always be okay, but as he curled up with Daniel, trading soft kisses in the nest they had built together while the pack was out, Lando knew that he was safe.

[melancholiepeufiable]

36, Sebchal with some hurt comfort/fluff

hi anon <3 ty for the request

this took wayyy longer than i hoped it would lol. i’m not sure how i feel about it, but i had a vision. i hope you like it 🫶

36. “Come with me. Please?”

******

Sebastian rubbed his hands together, pulling the door open. A bell chimed above, the murmur of conversing customers and smell of roasted coffee instantly surrounding him. He smiled and approached the counter, shaking the snow off his shoulders. 

While he had chosen solitude, people were often nice company… he tried not to think about that too much. In any case, his visits to a café not far from his house were timely. Initially, they were once a month, then biweekly, slowly creeping into a weekly routine. The baristas were kind enough to not remember who he was, asking for his name and order each time without a smile on their face. Maybe that was why he kept returning, maybe he longed for that sense of normalcy. 

He accepted the warm cup, spinning around, ready to settle in the small corner between two windows. A spot isolated enough that he could be left alone to people-watch (and eavesdrop, though he’d never admit to it). 

Only this time, it was already occupied by a man with messy hair and a thick black jacket. The man held a paper cup in his hand, staring blankly at a spot on the floor. 

A red beanie laid on the wooden table. 

Seb walked over, catching bits and pieces of conversations he wasn’t a part of. He slid into the seat opposite, displeased when the man kept staring blankly, uncaring to the stranger that invaded his space. 

“Charles, you need to start paying better attention. I could’ve been a pickpocket.”

“Yes, I know.” He blinked, raising dull green eyes to meet Seb’s. The edges crinkled slightly. “Hello again, Sebastian.”

“Hello again, Charles.”

Charles smiled, his dimples barely poking out. He looked… defeated. His shoulders were slumped, dark circles more prominent than Seb last remembered, and there was a gravelly undertone when he spoke, like the words needed to be scratched to freedom. 

Nevertheless, Seb felt himself start to claw in and hold on to whatever time they had left. “How have you been?”

Charles shrugged. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Skiing.”

“There’s a storm coming.”

“Andrea said it’d be good.”

“He’s here with you?”

Charles shook his head, then huffed a laugh as he set his cup down. For a moment, he looked lighter, more like the enthusiastic boy Seb first met. “Joris thinks I need a retreat.”

“Why here?”

He shrugged again. 

This was a dry conversation – one-sided in a way he dreaded, yet Seb still clung on. It was the longest he’d spoken to someone this month. 

“Well, what a coincidence finding you here, huh?”

Charles said nothing, looking back at that spot on the floor. He lifted the cup to his lips and swallowed. 

“Charles?”

“Yes. Pure coincidence.”

He sighed. It was odd being brushed off by someone Seb knew adored him once. Distance was supposed to make the heart grow fonder, but all it seemed to do was make the ache stronger. Or at least, Seb’s ache. Maybe it was unrequited after all – a reasonable explanation for the tension budding at the table – and Charles could sense it. The boy always knew more than he let on. Besides, plenty of time had passed, if anything, simply by being here Seb was pouring salt on healing wounds. 

“Right.” Seb picked up his cup, going to stand. The chair scraped against hardwood. “It was good to see you again. You don’t need luck, but I’ll be watching you on–”

Charles grabbed his free wrist, pulling him back down. “I knew you’d be here, Seb.”

“Oh.” 

“It is why I came.”

Seb blinked, settling into the seat once more. He placed the cup down. 

Charles’ brows pinched upward, a certain desperation morphing his face into one Seb knew all too well. “Everything is wrong. It– you…” He licked his lips and took a deep breath. “It has been horrible since you left.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is. I was–I was winning. I had second-place. Why did you have to go?”

He picked at the lid of his cup. “It was time.”

“No, it wasn’t. I don’t– what do I do? Seb, please. Tell me I’m not making a mistake.” Charles shook his head. “I can’t accept that this is all I will be. I want to win, I want to be like… like you and Lewis and Michael and–and I do not want to do any of this alone.”

“You are a winner.”

“I want to be a champion.”

Seb grimaced. “On the bright side, you’ve already–”

“There is no bright side, Sebastian.” He replied sternly. The sharp set of his brow made the hollow of his cheeks more prominent. “I am the champion of losers and I am sick of it.” 

“Leave them. Leave Ferrari then.”

He shook his head. 

“Take a sabbatical.”

He shook his head again. “No, no.”

“What do you want?”

The twist of his lips, the reddening of his ears, the fidgeting of his hands – they all pointed to a boy struggling against impulse. Charles blurted. “Follow me next time.”

“No.”

“Come with me.” He said earnestly, eyes round. “Please.”

Seb sighed and leaned forward. “Where?”

“I don’t know.”

Maybe they were two lonely people, two miserable men in their own comforting bubble. Happiness might not have been on their plate, and contentment might’ve been fresh sold out on the menu, but they could always try to make their own. They had two sets of able hands and two brains that were as analytical as the other. It was possible. 

Seb reached out and took Charles’ hand, smoothing his thumb over roughened and chilled skin. “Are you okay?”

He gave a half-shrug, lifting a shoulder sluggishly. 

“Are you here alone?”

“Yes.”

“Where are you staying?”

“A hotel.”

It would be a mistake to give in so easily. Thinking of Charles was dangerous. He invaded a countless number of Seb’s nights and caused many sleepless hours, sometimes extending into the early morning when the sun would seep into the room. 

Each night was worth it. 

“Stay with me.” 

Charles opened and closed his mouth soundlessly. The trust was not broken, but Ferrari was a double-edged sword sometimes. A driver would learn the good and the bad at the expense of knowing who was reliable. Seb knew this. 

“A storm is coming. Spend it with me. I can show you my garden. It’s a bit wilted now, but that’s okay. We can have hot chocolate and watch the snow or a movie. I have a dog, Bruno, you’ll like him.” Seb smiled. “I’d rather have you there than not. We don’t have to spend this storm apart.”

Charles looked at him, a light stain of pink high on his cheeks. “I would not like to be left in the hands of strangers if anything goes wrong.”

“I’m not a stranger. So, what do you say?”

He smiled widely, eyes brightening and dimples deepening. “Yes. I’d like that.”

[queen-of-meows]

Cassandra Nova/TVA agent!reader

Last night I could not stop thinking about Cassandra Nova with the Juggernaut helmet on her head. She's so cute in this scene 🥺.

So I typed this self indulgent little fic on my phone. I've never shared this kind of writing publicly before and I feel a bit shy, but I feel like a few poeple might enjoy.

Summary : right after rebuilding her body from scratch, Cassandra Nova is captured by the TVA. Reader is a mutant with strong mind powers working as a consultant for the TVA. Their job right now is to check on Cassandra Nova and make sure she is healing well.

Content warning : light whump (chronic fatigue due to powers loss, low appetite), graphic death threats.

It should have shocked you at least a little, but again, you come from one of those freaky timelines.

The team they sent to clean the mess left by Paradox was instructed to be careful when getting rid of the rubbles around the Time Ripper, but you doubt they expected to find a body, unscathed and alive.

That's when you were called, with the instruction to bring one of those Adamantium helmets.

A few days passed, and now you are standing inside a maximum security cell. You doubt it is necessary, though.

The helmet looks painfully heavy on Cassandra Nova's head. Depriving her completely of her powers right after she managed to rebuild herself a whole body from a few scraps of cellular tissue is a cruel treatment, but you know there is no other choice.

She stares at you from the wheel chair she's been given until she fully recovers. When you deprive a powerful telepath from their telekinesis, it takes their body a while to reajust. You know this well, you are a powerful psionic mutant yourself.

You take the metallic chair and sit facing her. She doesn't react and you notice her eyes are lost in the vague.

"Don't worry" you say softly "in a few days you'll be back on your feet."

You don't doubt this is true, and it frightens you a little. You notice how frail she looks under the loose standard TVA beige jumpsuit.

"Did you rest well last night ?" you keep talking. "Today was raspberry pie day. Did you like it ? I bet you love sweet things."

Still no answer. You already know she liked the pie. Or at least it's the only thing she finished on her tray.

"The TVA doesn't really know what to do with you, you know. You survived death by atomization. I can think of a handful of ways to kill you, but don't worry, it's not what's been decided."

You look for a reaction, but you find none. You are not even sure she registers your words. But it doesn't matter much, what matters is the calm tone of your voice and how firmly you keep eye contact.

"Director B-15 ruled out your pruning by the TVA was irregular. You should not have been sent to the Void as a new born baby, no matter what level of consciousness you had since the womb. She pleaded to put the cause of your actions on your mental state, for which the TVA can be held accountable. In other words, no harm will be done to you."

"Remove this immediately so I can rip your limbs apart and burn this place to the ground" she moans.

You smile.

"Not a very convincing argument, you know."

She lifts her hand and looks at her fingers with painful confusion. You almost feel bad for her. Without her powers, the world must be a terrifying place.

You tentatively reach for her hand. She grasps yours and squeezes intensely, as if she was trying to phase through your flesh and bones. She doesn't have enough strenght to hurt you so you let her do, until you reverse the roles and envelop her hand in yours.

You look at her long fingers and the uncanny shape of her nails while massaging her palm. You wonder if small gestures of comfort are universal. Maybe she doesn't understand your intentions. She doesn't seem to mind, at least.

"The TVA is debating over the involvement of your brother. Would you like to meet Charles ?" you ask.

Cassandra perks her head and a twisted smile creeps on her pale lips.

"I met him already. A lot of hims, in fact. They were all so sweet when they screamed and ask me to make it stop and splatter their lovely brain on the walls."

You shiver because you know she's saying the truth.

"I meant involving your Charles."

She pouts.

"He doesn't care."

"I am sure he will once he learns about you. And he could help our Judges to decide what's best for you."

She leans forward.

"I want to go home"

She sounds so helpless. It almost makes your heart ache.

"That's the idea" you reply "once we've found a suitable home for you."

She shakes her head.

"I mean home home. In the Void."

You sigh.

"I don't think this will be possible. I know you really loved it there, but you have proven we can't let you roam free anymore."

Cassandra hisses, showing her bare teeth, and before you can react, her fingers are clenching to your neck.

You gasp in surprise and almost reach for your safety button by reflex, but you manage to control yourself and use your powers to get free from your assaillant's grip.

"See, I told you you would be on your feet very soon" you joke to deescalate the situation.

But Cassandra doesn't seem to find it amusing. Her hands are pinned in the air a few centimeters from your throat, she stares at you with her deadliest glare.

But it doesn't have the intended effect and you struggle to hide a smile.

You carefully catch her wrists, warry to not hurt her. She tries to struggle, but you have quite a strong power and she has none.

"Shhht" you hush "don't try to fight, you're going to hurt yourself."

Usually, in this situation, you would send calming mental waves, but you can't access Cassandra's mind under the Adamantium helmet.

"Fuck off" she hisses "once I get this godamn thing off my head I'll rip your eyes off and make you swallow them before I'll turn your guts inside out and set fire on what's left of you."

That's too much for you and you lose it. Does she know how stupid adorable she looks when she hisses like a angry kitten ?

You crack a smile and she spits at you. Her impotant rage awakes your comforting instinct.

"Shhhht, that's alright" you whisper with a singing, almost hypnotic voice. "I know you feel very angry right now and you want to hurt me and everyone in this building. That's okay, you can feel all this rage and threaten me as much as you want, I won't get mad at you."

You feel her squirm against you psionic force. Her efforts become more erratic and less focused.

When you feel the point of pressure shift, you release her and she collapses like a rag doll. You pick her up under her armpits and help her on her feet.

"Can you walk to your chair or do you need to be carried ?"

She doesn't lower herself to answer, silently stretching her arms towards you instead.

You hide a smile and use your powers to lighly levitate her in the air. She wraps her arms around you childishly and rests her head on your shoulder.

Gosh, this helmet is so heavy.

You slid an arm in her back and draw circles over her tense shoulders. She goes limper and limper, almost melting under your firm hold.

"Is it over ?" you ask kindly. "You are safe, here with me. Safe to express all your rage and your frustration. And also safe to ask for comfort, or a shoulder to rest."

You feel her wiggle a bit as she seeks a more comfortable position.

"I hate you" she mumbles.

"I know" you say "I know, you hate everyone but Charles. Do you think he wants to see you all worked up and exhausted ?"

"Why would he care ?" she asks almost hopefully.

"Because he's a kind man. Do you want to make him happy ?" you ask.

Cassandra lingers a moment and nods in silence on your shoulder.

"Good" you say. "For that, you need to recover your forces. Do you think you can do that for Charles ? Have a lot of rest and try to eat. Not just your dessert."

"I don't care about Charles, I just want to go home" she repeats.

"For now home is here" you say firmly. "A place were you are completely safe to recover and learn plenty of new things."

"What things ?" she asks, curiosity peering through her words.

"Emotional regulation, to begin with. And all the things you missed growing up on your own in the Void"

You drop her down delicately on her wheel chair and arrange the pillows around her head.

"This was your first lesson" you say. "Not everyone you meet is an enemy and some poeple are here to help."

[nyxthejinx]

Hello! Can I request a husband!diluc headcanon where in GN reader is was a former researcher in sumeru, who recently left because they got infected with Eleazar. Can you make a headcanon of what diluc would do and stuff?

𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝

A/N hello anon! It took me some time but here ya go :)) I quite enjoyed this prompt, thank you for asking <3 ALSO as soon as I finish with these requests I'll open my 100 followers event, stay tuned!

𝐓𝐖: Tiny bits of angst (mostly fluff for once, dw), reader is obviously sick, but nothing detailed, ONE swear word. Just a strange amount of love from someone who lives for angst.

𝐅𝐭.: Diluc - GN!Reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 988

𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨: Take Me by the Hand - Flamingos in the Tree

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐢𝐥𝐮𝐜 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, but both of your jobs make it feel like a long distance relationship. Yes he's busy with the winery, but you? As a researcher you need to be in Sumeru all the time.

And he's really fine with it. Maybe just a little worried for your safety, since he can't be physically there for you. But he knows you're strong and can handle yourself, even with something as risky as research for Eleazar.

One of your friends was sick, how could you not offer your knowledge and help finding a way to heal them? Plus it isn't even transmissible via skin to skin contact. You'd be more than fine.

Until somehow it caught you too.

Headcanons under the cut!

You updated him on your research regularly, but never went into details, so the first thing he does is to consult Lisa, and after learning more about it he'll insist you go back to Sumeru.

They probably have better treatments, and Lisa told him the forest alleviates the symptoms. It'd be better if you stayed there.

He'd even suspend the entire activity at the winery to move with you. Diluc wants to hold your hand through the journey to recovery.

Because you will recover. 

He's lost so many people in the past, he can't lose the love of his life too :(

But between difficult political affairs and nostalgia for your hometown, you choose to stay in Mondstadt, and in the end Diluc just sticks by your side, no matter what.

No one has ever seen the uncrowned king of Mond take a day off. Hence they're tempted to call a doctor when he leaves everything that implies outdoor activities in Charles' hands. He stays in his office, or just always in the next room so all you have to do is shout in case of need.

Checks up on you regularly and asks the maids to bring you snacks and drinks. If he’s free he’ll come over himself and help you take your mind off from the research. Diluc doesn’t like chit chat, but entertains the most silly conversations as he peppers your skin with fleeting, tender kisses.

Don’t overwork yourself cause he will carry you to bed himself, like a sack of potatoes :) It happened so many times he started to think you liked his frustrated, pouty face.

He asks help from the Knights of Favonius without batting an eye, if needed. You heard me right. 

The early stages of the illness aren’t all that atrocious, and yet he doesn’t feel safe knowing that you’re working all on your own. He requests Albedo and Sucrose’s assistance, much to Jean’s shock and pleasure. 

No grudge is more important than you <33

He also makes sure everything you need from Sumeru gets delivered in perfect condition, just like he entrusts his best messengers with your updates about the research. The exchange between you and your friends at the Akademiya has to be swift, and the Nilotpala Lotus of the highest quality.  

Feeling cold because of the numbness? Diluc is the perfect cuddly heater. It doesn’t matter what he’s doing, he drops it all and rests with you. He’ll trace the sore skin and massage it with uttermost delicacy, the hands he uses to brandish his claymore the gentlest they’ve ever been.

Accompanies you for a walk in Mond’s outskirts from time to time. Sun and fresh air can only help your condition. And you won’t have to worry about monsters and wild animals, he’s your personal bodyguard <3

If the weather is particularly good you can even stop for a picnic right under the tree in Windrise, where Barbatos’ statue partially soothes your pain. He’ll bring the finest wine/grape juice and bask in your relaxing presence after all those years of tribulation. Because despite your tough conditions he doesn’t feel as helpless as a few years ago, when his life seemingly reached a dead end.

However, as it gets worse, Diluc kinda forces you to go back to Sumeru. Not permanently, just a week a month so that the forest can mitigate the effects. 

Don’t worry, it feels everything but an obligation. You both go downtown and take a stroll in the bazaar, try new food, spices, brands of tea. Well, he tries new experiences, you guide him and have the time of your life watching your husband struggle with the spiciest meal he’s ever had.

He buys everything you eye for more than two seconds, the price irrelevant compared to the joy in your tired eyes. And when you ask him what he wants, the words leave his mouth immediately: “For you to be happy and in health.”

*author screaming at her own creation*

AhEM.

Piggyback ride at the first sign of exhaustion you give. We all know Diluc isn’t one for PDA, he likes his intimacy behind closed doors, but he couldn’t care less about the nasty glares he gets. No more walking around for you. He even drapes his coat around your shoulders <3

May or may not take advantage of the situation and drag you to a doctor for a check up, but only if they’re friends with you. According to what you’ve told him, not everyone deserves trust here. Cue for Tighnari, Cyno and Alhaitham to break havoc in your tent.

NOW I’m a drama queen, I live for angst, but I’d cry if something happened after all this fluff, so we’ll just say that a cure was found. 

Your smart ass solved a problem that has been going on for archons know how long, it’s mandatory that the Akademiya gives you some sort of Nobel right?

Diluc is SO relieved and proud. He hugs you tight, kisses you in a soft yet deep way that melts your heart. His stoic facade crumbles and he can only smile, genuine, unfiltered. 

Utterly in love with you and your strength. 

*Giggles and smiles at the screen like an idiot*

DON'T copy/repost my work. REBLOG instead! ©nyxthejinx

[satohqbanana]

Preview: The Mage Trio VS Slimes

I feel generous today because this was awesome to me. Please keep in mind that this is a first draft with minimal editing.

Context: The mage trio are walking through a hallway filled with sentient slimes. They are docile for now, until...

The tense air told Des of her companions' immense concentration. Ahead was Ireus, aiming to find the safest spots to walk over. Following close by, as possible, though still a little clumsy in her actions, was Gracie. A few moments before, she kept her back hunched, as if carrying a sack.

After what seemed to be eternity, Ireus finally reached the safest spot. Beyond him was clear walls and a doorway.

Excitement filled Gracie. Her back now straightened, she quickly skipped over the slimes - and Des herself might've been too enthused with the relief of not having crossed the slimes, for she should've foreseen the root cause of their next trial.

As Ireus (quite begrudgingly) held his hand over to Gracie, the princess slipped on the slippery slime fluids. She would've fell on top of Ireus had he not side-stepped on purpose.

Des held her breath, as did Charles who quickly jumped out of the way and fluffed up in anxiety. All Des could do was pray for the mercy of Her Majesty Luishreya, but Gracie had had enough.

When the rant started, it went on and on. Ireus first attempted to pacify Gracie, but his short fuse and huge pride disallowed him from humility. At the least they weren't shooting magic beams at each other.

Des covered her ears and murmured her fears to herself. One by one, the globs of slime bobbled, then crawled and clumped together. Six huge mounds of slime formed single eyes each, and their irises focused on the source of all the ruckus.

Des needed a plan.

And her first plan is to unleash her Wraith. Her other first spell was the only other thing she could think of. The dark energy sucked the slimes away from the quarreling pair. She jumped to their side and shook them out of it.

"Focus!" she yelled.

Ireus took one look at the now-recovering slimes. In a while they would be back to normal. He turned away from Gracie with a huff.

"I'll deal with you later. Run!"

With that, he pushed the poor princess away. She scrunched her face at them, clicked her tongue, and ran away. Ever the smart girl, Charles scampered after her.

When Ireus smirked at her, Des turned her attention on the slimes. Half of them were still weakened by her spell, but the other half had already recovered.

"Wanna go for three and three?"

"Gambling? No thanks."

They brought their staves out and leapt away from the slimes lunging at them.

"It's not gambling if there's no money, though!"

Des' tenebras reached for one of the weakened slimes. After a bit of dodging and chasing, they finally penetrated the creature's fluid body and grabbed its core. Her tenebras ripped the thing's lifestone, and the slime disintegrated into fluid. The ground absorbed the fluid, and with that, one slime was down.

"Different skin, same damn soul."

Ireus powered his staff with his magic. He batted away the slimes coming at him, before recklessly willing himself to be absorbed by one to grab its core and destroy it with his hands. Like the first slime, this one also liquified and melted into the ground.

"Come on, Dessy-wessy!" Ireus shook the slime-juice off his arms. "Don't you have some sense of fun?"

"I do. I just don't feel like it right now."

The slimes behind Ireus hurled themselves towards him. Right before they could even touch him, Des cast a wall with her tenebras. Nonchallantly, Ireus healed the burns from the slime's digestive substances.

"Got nothing in your stomach, huh? When we get back, let's get some skewers; my treat."

How tempting. Des spun around and found the other two slimes recovering. "Only if they're intestines."

"Pass on the intestines."

"Too bad then. I decline your offer."

"Come on!"

She cast another wave of Wraith, careful not to include Ireus in her range. Her tenebras delivered the blow successfully, and three of the slimes writhed and withered under the effect of the spell. Ireus grinned and entered one of the weaker slime's bodies.

With her companion busy with the weak creatures, Des decided to entertain the remaining strong slime. She extended her tenebras, but it evaded her arcane shadows. Soon the slime's eye was in her face, then she tumbled onto the floor, knocked back by a hardened surface.

As taught in Beastiary class, slimes tended to be careful at first, before morphing parts of their body to form solids that could apply blunt force. This simply meant that time was of essence when it came to facing slimes.

And she and Ireus were out of time.

Ireus' yells alerted her to the gravity of their situation. Des could barely look at him before she had to flee from the slime's hammer-like appendage. It was easy to imagine what occured, however. The slime crystallized itself and imprisoned him. Now, she was being chased by two other slimes.

So Des ran. And ran. And ran. The hallway began to loop. She'd expected to see the cryscrag a few moments ago. Not good at all.

If only someone knew how to use the power of flashbolt. Might Gracie perhaps…? No, they'd upset her too much. It'd be a luxury if she returned to help, and it'd be a miracle if she had a way to defeat the slimes.

"SHATTERSPLIT!"

Then came loud crackling and a grand light that bathed the hallway in white. Des shut her eyes and dropped to the ground. She sensed the power of flashbolt rippling above her in two pathways. The aura eventually dissipated, so she opened her eyes once more and found Gracie on her knees, breathing heavily, and struggling to hold onto both her staff and a spellbook.

Charles appeared from Gracie's hood and greeted Des. She brought their tiny companion to her face, and Charles recounted what had occurred:

Gracie found a cantome resting upon a pedestal that held instructions in Shruysi. To pass time by, Gracie decided to translate the script, but realized that she’d need everyone’s help to do as the pedestal says. Hence, she imprinted on the cantome and started reading it, where she found an offensive flashbolt spell. After much hesitation, she decided to learn how to chant it and go after the slimes.

"And Ireus?"

Apparently, Ireus told Gracie to go after Des. And that meant--

"IREUS!"

Des almost dropped Charles as she rushed back to Ireus. That fool! The slime would soon digest him. Even worse: the two slimes could merge and use their combined abilities to disintegrate him.

As her fears had told her, such was the case. The merged slime with two eyes encased Ireus in its hardening body. His burns weren’t too bad yet, but his flailing limbs and panicked face told her he was suffocating. Why had she left him in the first place? Fools they were to be this overconfident!

She cast another wraith against the two-eyed slime. Nothing happened. Now what?!

The high-pitched voice behind Des reminded her she technically wasn’t alone. She grabbed and shook Gracie by the shoulders.

“Grace! Cast your spell again!”

“But I— I can’t— can’t you do something?”

“No! That’s why I’m telling you to!”

“But, if I, the thing, the spell, I mean, flashbolt—”

“STOP STUTTERING!”

“WON’T HE DIE IF I DID IT?!”

“It’s fine! Just do it!”

Gracie’s fearful eyes guilted her into looking away. Des focused on using her tenebras once again to do something, anything. Again, her own powers proved useless against the hardened slime matter. If she came near the slime, would it soften itself, intent to absorb her? And would she be able to use it as an opening somehow?

Gracie started chanting next to her when Charles came near and boggled. She worried for Ireus as well, wishing there’d be something to help him survive Gracie’s attack: any magic shield would do.

Magic shield? Of course! Des could try to enter the slime, get to Ireus, and use her tenebras to protect him from the powers of flashbolt.

“Charles! I leave the Princess to you!” With that, Des ran up to the slime. “Hey, slime! Eat me!”

The slime refused to budge at first, so Des kicked it. Offended, the two-eyed creature indeed softened itself and opened its mouth. Des willingly entered the beast’s body and let herself be absorbed. She covered her nose to prevent the gooey substance from entering her lungs.

Inside the slime, Ireus had lost consciousness. Des wrapped an arm around him and pressed her head to his chest. He still had a heartbeat at least. She encased him and herself in her tenebras, keeping her eyes on his pained face until darkness blinded her vision. She held him tighter and hoped for the best.

The power of flashbolt exploded all around her. The crackles lasted for one, two, three seconds, then she felt herself and Ireus sliding downwards and falling against the ground.

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