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hausofneptune · 5 months

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[the astrology of megan thee stallion] - "tryin' hard to find a flaw, but you still watchin'"

[astro notes no. 001]

hey y'all! i'm finally getting around to doing some astro notes. in this post we'll be going through some signficant aspects/placements in megan's chart. i've noticed a lot of astro content on here centers for and around white cis women, and quite frankly i'm over it. if i see one more gif of megan fox, angelina jolie, or [insert random white woman here] i'm going to lose my damn mind. so here's some seasoning and flavor for the girls!

disclaimers | masterlist | ask

– "body bangin', i ain't have to let the doctor cut me"

taurus ascendant (chart ruler: venus in capricorn)

being a taurus rising, megan’s appearance, and approach to life, may be very venusian in nature. those with prominent taurean energy in their chart are ruled by their senses and tend to be drawn to life's finest luxuries

these are definitely the type of people to indulge in fine dining, travel to exotic countries or big cities, drink the finest wine and champagne, wear high-end fashion etc., they may also prioritize self care and could be the types that keep up with their skincare, always smell good, and keep their hair and nails done at all times (this could also manifest in the opposite way as taurean energy can be “lazy” at times, but we know with meg that this isn’t the case)

physically, they can be on the curvier or more muscular side, and tend to have darker hair, eyes, and skin, i've also noticed taureans tend to have prominent noses and more round/softer features

they prioritize their comfort and stability over everything, and enjoy being surrounded by people that make them feel safe and secure

their homes tend to be their sanctuaries, and they may want their surroundings to be comfy and “aesthetically pleasing”

meg’s ascendant is also trine her venus (1°04’), which physically adds to her sultry sex appeal, and also gives her that regal, “vintage beauty” look

asc trine ven. can also influence one’s sociability and popularity, despite whatever insecurities they may have, people tend to be able to see the good in these natives, and recognize their humble, loving spirit, they typically make friends and fall in love very easily

on the other hand, asc. trine ven. can also make them a target for vitriol and biased demonization from others who feel “attacked” by their empowerment and strength

moon in leo / mars in leo in the 4H

this can ignite someone with a hot, fiery confidence, these natives typically have a creative outlet they’re passionate about that they can express this energy through, and feel comfortable being the center of attention and enjoy entertaining their friends and family

they can be oblivious at times, and act too quickly on emotions regardless on the impact it will have - it may be more important for them to “get something off their chest” instead of having tact or being strategic

they may be extremely competitive, and refuse to let obstacles to get in their way, they’re extremely determined and rarely do they accept defeat

they can be prone to stubbornness in some cases, and more often than not, can struggle with asking for help, they tend to feel as though they have to fight their battles alone and typically don’t expect others to advocate for them

similar to aries, they tend to wear their hearts on their sleeve when it comes to their feelings, a trait those around them can grow to appreciate and love them for over time

they're usually less likely to get married and instead prioritize their foundation first and foremost, they're extremely dedicated to the security of safety of the home and life they build for themselves

regardless, they’re extremely loyal and generous to their partners, and take great pride not only in their relationships, but in everything they pursue and put out into the world as well

ruler of the ascendant (venus) in the 9H

this can manifest as being called to expand one's horizons, both intellectually and culturally. megan’s identity and life path could potentially center around traveling, experiencing different cultures, and pursuing higher academic learning

this aspect can explain megan's interests in completing college even after becoming famous, and pursuing philanthropic endeavors (i.e. the Pete & Thomas Foundation, badbitcheshavebaddaystoo.com, etc.)

there may also be a strong inclination towards religion or spirituality, and a natural understanding of certain philosophies and recognizing the role that they play within the their lives

they can have a natural inclination towards being hopeful and optimistic, and may bode well as teachers, mentors, or motivational speakers

with venus’ influence, they may find the most peace and harmony in living abroad and hearing the lived experiences from people of different ethnicities and cultures

this is can also manifest as being attracted to people of foreign cultures, or feeling the most fulfilled in relationships with a partner that they can connect with on a cerebral level, and feel as though their love has a “higher purpose” to serve in their lives

– “breaking down and i had the whole world watching, but the worst part is really who watched me? every night i cried, i almost died and nobody close tried to stop me”

sun square pluto (3°58’) / moon square pluto (1°33’)

these aspects can be indicative of feeling like one always needs to be in control of every situation they’re in, and of those around them

at it's worst, this can manifest as stubbornness or manipulative behavior from the native. they may struggle with constantly feeling on edge, or operating on offense, as they’re inclined to believe everyone is out to get them

these are also aspects that can manifest in extreme cases as parental loss, as the sun represents the father and the moon represents the mother. in megan’s case, her father passed away when she was young, and her mother, Holly, passed away in 2019

moon square pluto can also be indicative of addiction and escapism in some cases, in the context of megan’s life, she found herself dependent on alcohol and partying for a period of time after her mother’s passing

rebirth is not only a constant for these natives, but a necessity, as these periods of metamorphosis, no matter how painful, show them the parts of themselves that they need to let go and evolve beyond. they may encounter death, both literally and metaphorically, more often than the average person, and typically benefit from prioritizing self care in their routines, as well as therapy and counseling

they have the opportunity to channel the intense energy of these aspects into their careers, and typically benefit greatly from doing so, as this grants them an extremely ambitious, competitive nature that sees them into positions of power and authority

– “i ain’t sayin’ i do voodoo but i got the magic, any time they go against me, shit gon’ end up tragic”

jupiter in the 8H

with this aspect, the native may find abundance in inheritance or financially benefit from working with business partners, and overall encounter a great amount of wealth granted to them by other people

this can also indicate someone with an “insatiable” sexual appetite, or a hyperactive libido

they may be drawn to exploring and expanding their understanding of the more “taboo” sides to life, or enjoy exploring the subconscious sides of both themselves and those around them, they would benefit from tapping into their own spirituality and practicing meditation

this can also imply longevity in regards to their life span, and in more extreme cases, can indicate being “saved” from near-death experiences, in the context of megan’s life, she was shot by a man who was belligerent drunk, and luckily only ended up with bullet fragments in her feet

descendant in scorpio / pluto in the 7H

with these placements, these natives may find themselves drawn to people who stimulate them on a subconscious level, and may crave a deeper, more spiritual connection with those around them

this can also manifest as attracting people into their lives that they encounter power struggles with, they may find themselves either behaving possessively or having people behave this way towards them

their relationships may be prone to trust issues and general toxicity (or abuse in extreme cases), they should be wary of partners (and friends) who exhibit controlling, jealous tendencies towards them, and should avoid partaking in this type of behavior themselves

saturn in pisces in the 11H

while pisces can ease the restrictive nature of saturn, this can also manifest as a general lack of boundaries, and leads to a lifelong lesson of instilling their own boundaries and remaining cognizant and receptive to the boundaries and feelings of those around them

this can also indicate a compassionate, spiritual nature, and it may take time and effort to find practical ways to express their kindness in a way that is rewarding for both them and others

with saturn in pisces placed in the 11H, this can indicate challenges in relation to their inner circle and network. these natives could suffer from trust issues, and are typically desperate for a deep connection to others, all the while feeling isolated and misunderstood more often than not by the people they surround themselves with

we can see this manifest in megan’s life in terms of the company she’s kept over the years, we’ve seen her fall out with long-term friends and be betrayed in extremely traumatic ways, which is clearly indicative of this placement. she recently went through her saturn return, and it does seem like (from the outside looking in) she’s prioritizing her boundaries and recognizing that not everyone is her friend or has her best interest at heart, something that her mother desperately wanted her to understand before she passed away

on the bright side, saturn aspects become an area of expertise for those who eventually internalize the lesson that saturn is instilling in them, in the context of saturn in pisces, this can birth long-term, emotionally fulfilling friendships and relationships with those around them in the long run, these natives can become extremely loyal to their loved ones and eventually find friends that extend the same level of love and trust to them

as always if anyone has any of the aspects/placements i'd love to hear how it manifests in your own life and personality! feel free to reach out with any questions as well.

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moeitsu · 7 days

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The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Summary: Arthur’s life is ebbing out like the tide. Kate must work quickly and diligently to reverse the cruel hands of fate. She is aided by the help of an unexpected ally.

Ao3 Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Previous Chapter /

TW: Blood, Body fluid. Injury recovery.

Tag List: @photo1030 @ariacherie @thatweirdcatlady @ultraporcelainpig

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

AN: Low-key made myself tear up writing this one. ~7k words.

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

Ch 13 - Though Mine Beat Faster Far Than Thine (Part 2)

The journey back stretched on endlessly, each passing moment burdened with the weight of exhaustion and despair. Kate's body grew numb with cold, the blood from Arthur's wound staining her clothes, a chilling reminder of their ordeal. Arthur's once-warm body now felt icy against hers, his warm breath the only sign of life as he rested his head on her shoulder, his panting offered a fragile reassurance.

Exhaustion etched lines of stress and fear on Kate's face, her features reflecting the toll of their harrowing journey. Arthur had succumbed to unconsciousness shortly after they set out, leaving Kate to bear the weight of his limp form behind her. With trembling arms, she struggled to keep him upright, her own strength waning with each passing moment.

Lorena, too, felt the strain of their journey, her steady gait faltering under the weight of fatigue. Belle, injured and weary, added to the challenge, requiring constant coaxing to keep moving forward. Each tug on the reins filled Kate with guilt, knowing the mare's fear and exhaustion mirrored her own. But they couldn't afford to stop, not when time was their most precious commodity.

During their frantic journey back to camp, Kate made the decision to flick off the switch of her emotions. She knew that upon their arrival, she needed to confront the situation with a clear conscience. Despite her fear, she understood the gravity of suppressing her emotions and presenting a facade of strength. This was a matter of life and death, and she couldn't afford to let her trivial feelings interfere.

River had instilled in her the necessity of shutting off her emotions long ago, albeit unintentionally. He had warned her that her empathy would only serve to endanger her life, emphasizing the need to remain cold, unforgiving, and fully present in the moment. Following his advice, Kate embraced this mindset wholeheartedly.

As they burst back into camp, Kate's demeanor was that of someone leading a charge in battle. She disregarded any semblance of decorum, screaming for the others to wake up and rallying them to action. Her urgent cries echoed through the night, disregarding any concern for the late hour. With determination, she guided Lorena directly to Arthur's tent, paying no heed to the camp rules about horses in living quarters.

The first to respond to the commotion was Miss Grimshaw and the other women, their tent positioned adjacent to the camp's entrance. The shock on the old woman's face was palpable as she gasped, her hands instinctively flying to cover her mouth at the distressing sight before her.

Kate dismounted Lorena with a determined yet gentle grace, her arms already reaching out to lift Arthur's heavy body. He stirred from his sleep, groaning softly at the sudden movement. In an instant, Hosea and Charles appeared by her side, their faces etched with equal parts concern and fear. Together, they silently maneuvered Arthur to his cot, their actions speaking volumes of their care and solidarity.

As if summoned by the urgency of the situation, a small crowd gathered around the back of Arthur’s wagon. Composed of Tilly, Mary-Beth, and Karen, their nightgowns billowing softly in the night breeze. Fear and horror danced in their eyes, mirroring the turmoil of the moment.

"Is he going to be okay?" Tilly's voice quivered with worry, breaking the tense silence.

"Kate, what the hell happened?" Mary-Beth's question was laced with urgency.

"Jesus, is he even still alive?" Karen's comment hung in the air, heavy with concern.

Kate felt the weight of their questions pressing down on her, but she couldn't afford to be distracted. "Not now girls!" She replied sharply, her tone unintentionally dismissive. She knew they were only expressing their concern for their friend, but she couldn't allow herself to be pulled away from the task at hand. Despite the pang of guilt that stabbed at her heart, she pushed aside her own emotions, focusing solely on Arthur's well-being.

"Miss Grimshaw, I need you to bring me hot water and as much clean cloth as you can find," Kate instructed urgently, her voice carrying the weight of conviction. She turned to Hosea and Charles, her gaze unwavering. "Hosea, gather whatever tools you have for cleaning and stitching wounds. Charles, grab me the strongest alcohol we've got," she dished out her orders swiftly, each word heavy with a sense of importance. Time was slipping through her fingers like sand in an hourglass. "And find me something he can bite down on," she added hastily, her mind racing ahead. The two men nodded without question, already moving into action.

Kate wasted no time, swiftly lighting the few oil lamps beneath Arthur’s makeshift room. Miss Grimshaw returned moments later with a bucket of hot water and wads of fresh cloth. She placed them on the table behind Arthur’s cot, efficiently clearing the space for Kate to begin her work.

A nod of appreciation passed between them as Charles reappeared at her side, a large bottle of whiskey in one hand and a pair of Arthur’s leather suspenders in the other. "I can fetch more from the chuck wagon if you need," he offered, his concern evident in his voice. "The leather will be the most gentle on his teeth," he suggested, his eyes searching hers for approval. Kate accepted the supplies gratefully, taking the suspenders and folding them in on themselves to create a thicker object for Arthur to bite down on.

Arthur stirred, his groans morphing into soft cries as pain flooded his senses in relentless waves. He struggled to open his heavy eyelids, the whites of his eyes still tainted a violent red. "K-Kate... I-I have to w-warn–" he managed, his words fragmented by shallow, forced breaths. Confusion and agony clouded his mind, a lingering aftermath of his torment.

"We're home, honey. You're safe now," Kate reassured him gently, her voice a comforting anchor in the midst of turmoil. With efficiency, she retrieved her hunting knife from her belt, swiftly cutting away the remnants of his union suit. Each movement deliberate yet tender, exposing the rest of his battered form to the humid air of Lemoyne.

Arthur recoiled, a feeble protest escaping his lips. "Ngh–n-no, stop... p-please stop," he pleaded, his voice laced with anguish. Memories of humiliation and shame flooded his mind, unseen hands groping and poking his wounds, violating his most vulnerable spaces.

Undeterred, Kate continued to strip away the blood and filth soaked fabric, revealing his raw, wounded flesh. With a sheet draped over his torso, she shielded him from prying eyes, her touch gentle yet purposeful. "I know, Arthur. I'm sorry. But I have to. I need to see the extent of what they did. These hands won't hurt you, sweetheart," she murmured soothingly, guiding him through each step with care.

As she worked, Kate fought to suppress the flood of memories threatening to overwhelm her. Just a week ago, she had stitched a small wound in his side, marveling at his strength and resilience. Now, under the dim light, she beheld the extent of his suffering, his once robust form marred by bruises and scars. Shuddering at the stark contrast, she longed for the sight of him untouched and whole, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight.

Uncorking the weighty bottle of whiskey, Kate poured a liberal amount over her own soiled hands, tainted with dirt and streaked with his blood. "Arthur," she began softly, angling her head to meet his gaze directly, "we're home now," she reiterated like a sacred chant, "I'm going to take care of you, but I need you to bite down on this hard, okay?" Before he could object, she gently pried open his jaw and slipped the leather between his teeth. "It's going to hurt, but it will be over quickly. I just need to disinfect your wounds."

Hosea returned, clutching a small black box containing lock-picking tools, along with a needle and thread. "I've already sterilized them over a flame. They should be ready for use now," he explained briskly.

"Thank you, Hosea," Kate acknowledged, motioning for him to position himself on her other side. "I need you to hold him down if he starts to move." Hosea nodded in urgency, his hand already resting firmly on Arthur's uninjured shoulder, his gaze lingering on the gaping wound on his other side.

Taking a moment to steady herself, Kate drew a deep breath. Picking up the bottle once more, she held it poised over the wound in Arthur's abdomen. This was the most critical issue; she needed to staunch the bleeding first. "Take a deep breath, Arthur," she instructed, waiting until she saw the rise of his chest before pouring the whiskey over his stomach.

Arthur gasped sharply, his body recoiling at the searing pain coursing through him. Charles swiftly maneuvered to the foot of the cot, securing Arthur's legs to provide stability. Meanwhile, Kate seized a bundle of damp, warm cloth, swiftly commencing the task of cleansing the area surrounding his stab wound, a grisly mix of blood and filth. Biting the leather straps, Arthur let out a muffled groan, his jaw clenched in agony. "Keep breathing, Arthur," Kate coached, her voice steady and reassuring. "You're safe now. We're almost through."

As Kate worked, the sting of whiskey on his wound drew another pained whimper from Arthur, yet she pressed on, discarding soiled cloth as Miss Grimshaw replenished her supply with fresh cotton. Hosea, in his resourcefulness, passed her a pair of tweezers from his lockpicking kit. Beneath the faint glow of the oil lamp, Kate meticulously cleared the wound of debris, extracting dirt and tiny fragments of grass until it gleamed as clean as possible. With a final cleansing douse of alcohol, Hosea deftly threaded a needle, handing it to Kate who skillfully began the task of stitching him closed. Though the wound spanned a mere two inches, its depth hinted at internal damage. Kate silently prayed that her efforts had stemmed the bleeding, if only temporarily.

Approaching Arthur's tent, a new set of footfalls announced Dutch's arrival. "My son..." his voice trailed wearily, concern etched into every syllable. "Is he going to be alright?"

Annoyance flickered within Kate as Dutch finally showed concern, likely stirred by Arthur's cries that had surely pierced the night, rousing the camp from its slumber. They now loomed in the shadows behind Dutch, silent spectators unsure of their place.

Without lifting her gaze from her task, Kate's response was curt. "I'll let you know you when I'm finished," she retorted sharply, her exhaustion seeping into her tone. Her circle was reserved for those who truly showed care for Arthur, those who stood by him, aiding her in his need.

If only Dutch had said something about Arthur’s absence, perhaps this all could have been avoided. She placed a partial responsibility for his tortment on him. Why hadn’t he said something? Did Hosea know Arthur was supposed to meet them? Arthur spoke highly of Dutch, and Kate knew in a way he was like a father to him. Her questions festered in the back of her mind as they remained unanswered.

With each discarded cloth, Kate worked diligently, ensuring the wound was clean enough to be wrapped. Charles and Hosea delicately maneuvered Arthur's body, allowing Kate to envelop his torso completely in the protective layers of cloth, securing it tightly above the injury.

Seated on a chair thoughtfully provided by Miss Grimshaw, Kate afforded Arthur a brief respite from the relentless assault on his body, allowing herself a moment to catch her breath. With gentle care, she reached out, tenderly brushing the sweat-dampened hair from Arthur's forehead, his distress evident in the beads of perspiration and the furrow of pain etched upon his brow.

"You've been incredibly brave, Arthur," she murmured, her touch soothing against his tear-stained cheek. His bloodshot eyes sought hers desperately, finding solace in her presence, as if she alone tethered him to reality, a lifeline amidst the darkness threatening to engulf him once more. With a reassuring tone, she continued, "I'm going to clean your shoulder now, alright? I'll be right here beside you, every step of the way." In that shared gaze, a silent pact formed, an unspoken trust that his life rested in her capable hands. Arthur's response was a subtle nod, a fleeting acknowledgment of their connection.

"Keep breathing deeply," she coached, demonstrating with a slow inhalation, Arthur following suit, never breaking their gaze. "That's it, good. You’re doing great honey," she encouraged, her words a balm to his weary soul, wrapping him in a comforting embrace of reassurance amid his fear and exhaustion.

Once more, she seized the bottle, its pungent aroma of whiskey assaulting his senses before a drop even touched his skin. Arthur clenched his eyes shut, fighting back the flood of memories, anchoring himself in the present. Here, with Kate by his side, he was safe.

As the icy liquid cascaded over his shoulder, a fresh wave of searing pain tore through him, igniting his nerves like flames licking at his flesh. The mingling scent of whiskey and agony turned his stomach, each inhalation a struggle against the bile rising within him. His bite on the leather tightened as he clenched down, saliva pooling at the corner of his mouth. Yet amidst the turmoil, Hosea's reassuring touch pressed against his chest, grounding him. "Deep breaths, son," came his gentle whisper, a reminder to draw in each breath despite the growing discomfort. With effort, Arthur obeyed, each inhalation a battle against the rising tide of pain and unease.

Kate's voice drifted to him once more, a soothing melody in the chaos. "That's it, sweetheart," she murmured, “the worst is almost over,” her hands working diligently on his shoulder, the warmth of wet cloth cleansing away the layers of blood and grime, revealing the rawness beneath. Another pour of alcohol elicited a primal scream from his throat as his back arched in agony, the bullet wound laid bare and vulnerable.

With steady hands, Kate poured whiskey over the set of tweezers, the bullet still stubbornly lodged within. A glimmer of hope flickered in the darkness; perhaps Arthur's left arm would yet see use again.

Through panting breaths and tears, the overwhelming pain threatened to engulf him, each sensation pulling him closer to the precipice of unconsciousness. Kate's voice, a lifeline amidst the tumult, echoed in his mind. "You can let go, Arthur," she whispered, as if sensing his perilous dance with darkness. "I'll be here when you wake up. I promise."

With those words, Arthur surrendered to the bliss of sleep, his weary mind finding solace in its embrace. His eyes fluttered closed, the tension in his jaw releasing as he placed his trust in Kate's capable hands. In her words lay the promise of a future, each syllable a gentle encouragement driving every beat of his heart.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Picture a man. Like a speck out at sea as you gaze upon him from the shore. He’s swimming beyond the breakers, like he’s done this all before. He sees the coming of the swell, and knows it will drag him out a greater length. Far beyond the shallows of the bay. But he knows his strength, he tries to gather it. And he swims on, turning back to shore again. He feels the rising of the wave and knows at once he will not withstand it.

Like that man, Arthur sinks down into the depths. The water burns his lungs, his body aflame as he exerts himself to stay afloat. The darkness engulfs him, a starless night lost at sea. He fears he will drown, but then, her voice returns to him. Ushered down from the sky above him. Like a beacon in the night, a melody that lights the path before him. A distant lighthouse, guiding his willing soul to shore.

Her words flow through him as he swims against the current. All of his loss threatens to pull him under, but all he can think of is her. The light that leads him, and the air that fills his lungs. Command a new life that breathes into him.

Amongst the shadows, he witnessed two figures upon the shore. They gaze upon his struggling form. But he feels no fear, he swims on towards them. Kate's words command his every movement, keep breathing Arthur. All of her goodness is with him now. This woman, who never once asked him about the wrongs he committed. So persistent in her devotion.

He was housed by her warmth; transformed, reborn. Like a bird he flew to her now, swimming against a sea of fire. The blinding light of her voice shown upon the figures in the sand. Arthur could see a large shadow, next to a much smaller one. They held out their hands, frozen like angels beneath her radiance.

Their spirits reached for him, unfazed by the darkness of his heart. The waves leapt and violently crashed at their feet. Arthur could feel their love, though mere aberrations, their hands were warm and strong. Pulling him swiftly back to land.

They laid him down soft and sweet, in her low lit light beyond them he could finally see the features of a man and a young girl. He blinked, realization dawned that a mere child had rescued him. Though their faces remained unrecognizable.

The man reached down and helped him to stand, keeping a steady arm on his back. The young girl looked up at him with a familiar warmth in her smile, she took her small hand in his.

“My momma is gonna take real good care of you Arthur.”

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate toiled tirelessly through the night and into the early embrace of dawn, the gentle symphony of birdsong heralding the arrival of a new day even before the first rays of sunlight graced Clemens Point. Sometime amidst the evening, Miss Grimshaw had taken it upon herself to gather extra canvas cloth, draping them around Arthur's makeshift abode, providing a semblance of privacy to his recovery

After extracting the bullet from his shoulder, Kate meticulously tended to the wound, carefully wrapping it in cloth to secure it tightly. Already, signs of infection were beginning to manifest, but she remained hopeful that with diligent cleaning, she could impede the progress of bacteria before sepsis set in.

As the night wore on, Kate turned her attention to Arthur's other injuries, dismissing Charles and Hosea to their rest. Though they hesitated to leave her side, she reassured them with a determined nod. Rest was a luxury she couldn't afford until she had assessed the full extent of Arthur's injuries, strategizing for his slow recovery. His life hung precariously in the balance, and Kate was resolute in her commitment to remain by his side, in his hour of need.

With steady hands, Kate fashioned a splint for the broken fingers of Arthur's injured left arm, the paleness of his skin betraying the severity of the damage. Despite the faint pulse she detected, she couldn't shake the fear that his arm might be lost if the sensation in his hand failed to return entirely. The bullet, though mercifully, hadn't shattered his shoulder completely, which still offered a flicker of hope.

Turning her attention to his feet, Kate's heart sank at the sight of the swelling and the telltale blackness of his toes. Lacerations from shackles bruised his skin. The harrowing signs of prolonged suspension and the loss of circulation. She dared to pray that with time, the swelling would subside, though the realization of how long he had been hanging upside down twisted her stomach.

The bullet wound in his ankle presented its own challenge, having narrowly missed the bone yet tearing through muscle. It spared him the ordeal of shattered limb, but promised a long road to recovery, rendering walking a daunting task.

After cleansing his body with the last remnants of cloth, Kate reached for a salve crafted from sage, honey, and pine. With gentle strokes, she massaged the soothing balm into the myriad of cuts and burns that adorned his skin, paying particular attention to the rope burns on his wrists and the torn flesh around his ankles. It was a homemade remedy passed down by River, renowned as a 'Cure-All' within their tribe for its effectiveness in treating various skin injuries.

Satisfied with her ministrations, Kate settled back in her chair, her own needs forgotten as she watched the rhythmic rise and fall of Arthur's chest. Her eyes, heavy with dark circles, never left him. Slowly, exhaustion enveloped her. Attempting to blink back the darkness, she succumbed to its embrace, her head lolling as she drifted into a dreamless slumber.

Mere hours later, the soft glow of early morning seeped through the cracks of the small room, casting a gentle light upon the stillness within. The usual hustle and bustle of the camp was conspicuously absent, the tension of the previous night lingering in the air. Kate stirred from her sleep, roused by the faint sound of Arthur's muffled cough.

Blinking away the heaviness of fatigue, Kate's body protested against the soreness and hunger that gnawed at her. Arthur, writhing on the cot in discomfort, sought to sit up, his face twisted with pain. "Easy, Arthur, you're alright," she murmured wearily, her voice a tired yet comforting presence as she reached over to ease him back onto the cot. Knowing his agony must be unbearable, she thought to brew him an elixir, one of the remedies River had taught her, to alleviate some of his pain.

With sudden force, he pushed against her. “Mmf…m-ove,” his groans muffled yet urgent. Confusion furrowed Kate's brow as Arthur's movements grew more frantic, his right arm struggling to lift his heavy frame from the bed. Before he could tumble to the floor, Kate swiftly caught his head in the crook of her elbow.

"Arthur—" she began, her voice tinged with concern, her hands moving to guide him back onto the bed to prevent any further harm.

But Arthur's breathing escalated into dry heaves, his grip on her arm tightening as he pleaded, "Kate... m’move!" His words were strained, pushed out with desperate force. Before she could react, his head jerked forward, a guttural whine escaping his throat as warmth spilled over her arm, coating her lap and legs in sticky heat.

A chill washed over Kate as she looked down, her heart freezing at the sight of dark red blood mingling with the acidic contents of Arthur's stomach, forming gruesome clots. Her efforts had not been enough; he was bleeding internally, and there was nothing she could do.

Kate's breaths quickened, shallow and panicked, as she held him close. Arthur's body trembled with violent shudders, tears and bloody drool mingling as they cascaded down his chin. "M’sorry…m’so-sorry Kate," he mumbled, voice muffled against her arms. As he hid his face in humiliation.

Frozen with fear, Kate's arms trembled as she clung to him, a silent witness to the cruel fate that now enveloped them both.

Like the steady light of a distant train cutting through the quiet of a forest on a moonlit night, fragments of Kate's past came hurtling down the tracks of her memory. She couldn't help but recall her late husband, his figure fading in the dim light of their shared bedroom. His body was ridden with disease that cruelly spared her. Months of relentless coughs had ultimately led to the collapse of his lungs, his final breaths accompanied by the heavy wheezing that echoed hauntingly in her mind. Countless nights were etched in her memory, each one marked by his desperate struggle for air, the taste of blood staining their shared existence.

It was happening again.

With a heavy heart, Kate sat up, her hands tenderly cradling Arthur's head as if he were a fragile newborn. Slowly, she guided him back onto the cot, her voice trembling with emotion as she sought to offer comfort in the face of impending tragedy.

"S’alright, honey," she cooed, “not your fault.” Her words a fragile attempt to reassure him, though tears threaten to betray her facade of strength. Despite the weight of her own grief, she desperately tried to remain calm.

The clamor lured Hosea to the tent, concern etched on his features as he approached. "Kate, what hap—" His words trailed off as he caught sight of her blood-stained attire and Arthur's bloodied mouth. With swift determination, he reached Arthur's side, quickly pulling the sheet from his torso, revealing the gruesome display beneath. Kate's breath caught in her throat.

Pale white, mottled skin surrounded his knife wound. Dark spider-like veins branched out like a twisted oak tree.

As the walls of her resolve crumbled around her, Kate felt fear and trepidation seep into the cracks of her psyche. She fought valiantly to suppress tears, her gaze pleading with Hosea for guidance. "Hosea..." she whispered, her voice trembling with uncertainty, "I-I don't know what to do." The words choked out as the dam of her emotions finally burst.

Hosea, sensing the urgency of the situation, took in the sight of her with a gentle yet urgent tone. "We're getting a doctor," he declared decisively, wasting no time as he rose to his feet and strode towards the entrance of Arthur's tent. With a firm hand, he pushed aside the flap and called out to Lenny and Sadie, who sat nearby at a table. "You two, go to Rhodes and find a doctor! No excuses, spare no expense. Bring him back here, by any means necessary!" His words carried the weight of authority, a stern directive from a father to his wayward children.

Lenny and Sadie sprang into action, disappearing into the distance with a sense of urgency. Meanwhile, Kate struggled to steady her breathing, her chest heaving with each sob that wracked her body. Emotions boiled over, threatening to overwhelm her fragile composure.

Returning to her side, Hosea gently grasped her arm, his touch a comforting anchor amidst the turmoil. "No. No, Hosea, I can't leave him," Kate protested hastily, her eyes pleading for understanding even as her heart screamed for reassurance.

"You need to rest, Kate," Hosea's gentle voice broke through the haze of exhaustion, his concern palpable in the warmth of his suggestion. Reluctantly, she closed her eyes for a moment, summoning the last reserves of her strength before nodding in acceptance.

With his steady support, Kate rose to her feet, allowing him to guide her towards the entrance. His reassuring squeeze spoke volumes, a promise of gratitude and solidarity in the face of adversity. Retrieving his bandana from his vest pocket, he whispered softly, "You've been so strong for him. Thank you." As he tenderly wiped away her tears, Kate offered a tremulous nod, her lips quivering with emotion.

In a daze, she made her way to her own tent and bedroll, each step heavy with fatigue. Discarding her boots with weary resignation, she found herself lacking the strength to remove her soiled clothing. Instead, she stumbled towards the shoreline, the cool embrace of the water beckoning to her.

Sinking to her knees in the shallows, Kate began the arduous task of scrubbing away the blood that clung to her skin, each stroke fueled by a fearful urgency. Her nails scraped against her flesh as her breathing quickened with the intensity of her movements. The blood, stubborn and unyielding, seemed to taunt her, clinging to her body like a relentless specter of the past.

It was happening again.

Quiet sobs escaped her lips as panic tightened its grip around her, her body tensing with the effort to hold herself together. Her heart pounded in a desperate ritual of purification.

Kate remained lost in her torment, oblivious to the sound of Charles's approach as he waded into the water. A startled gasp escaped her lips as he enveloped her in a comforting embrace. "It's alright, Kate, I've got you," his deep, reassuring voice washed over her, instantly recognizable and soothing in its familiarity. His arms encircled her, offering solace and protection.

In that moment, Kate allowed the walls she had built around herself to crumble. She sobbed openly into Charles's arms, her anguish pouring forth unchecked. "You did everything you could. It's okay," he murmured gently, his words a balm to her wounded spirit. "Arthur owes his life to you," he added, a testament to her unwavering dedication.

With a hiccup, Kate confessed, "It's happening again, Charles." Emotions long suppressed surged to the surface, memories of loss and grief flooding her mind, her late husband's foremost among them.

"Shh, don't speak like that. We're getting a doctor for him," Charles reassured her, his voice a steadfast anchor in the storm of her emotions. "Arthur is resilient, Kate. He's a fighter."

"When will it be enough?" she pleaded, her voice raw with anguish. In response, Charles simply sighed and pulled her closer, offering silent support as she wept in his arms, their shared grief binding them together in solidarity.

As Kate's sobs gradually subsided, Charles continued to hold her, the gentle lull of the water surrounding them like a protective barrier against the outside world. Sensing the weight of her burden, he spoke softly, his words infused with understanding and compassion.

"Kate," he began, voice tender, "you don't have to carry this alone. You've put on a strong arm for so long, but you don't have to bear the weight of the world on your shoulders."

Kate's breath hitched at his words, a mixture of relief and uncertainty washing over her. For years, she had believed that strength meant shouldering her burdens alone, but now, in Charles's embrace, she allowed herself to be vulnerable, to seek solace in the arms of those who cared for her.

"I'm scared, Charles," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper, her fingers clenching the fabric of his shirt as if seeking an anchor in the tumult of her emotions.

"I know, Kate," Charles replied, his tone gentle yet resolute. "But you're not alone in this. We're all here for you, for Arthur. Every step of the way."

With a shaky exhale, Kate allowed herself to lean into Charles's figure, finding solace in the warmth of his presence. In that moment, surrounded by the soothing embrace of the water and the unwavering support of her friend, she felt a sense of relief ease off her tired soul.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

With just enough time to change her blood-soiled clothing and hastily consume a small meal of dried meat, Kate had brushed off Hosea's well-intentioned advice to rest. Though Charles's comforting presence provided some measure of relief, she knew that sleep would elude her unless she was by Arthur's side. His condition could turn on a dime, and she wanted to make sure she was there to comfort him. As the distant sound of approaching hoofbeats echoed through the camp, she emerged from her tent, her gaze fixed on the large wagon rumbling towards the entrance, its contents jostling on the uneven terrain.

Lenny's figure emerged from the midst of the commotion, leading a man towards Arthur's tent—the long-awaited doctor had finally arrived. Without hesitation Kate lept to greet them.

The sudden disruption caught Dutch's attention, his annoyance palpable as he emerged from his tent, demanding an explanation. Before he could voice his protest, Hosea intercepted him, offering a gentle diversion as he ushered Dutch back into his tent to address the matter in private.

Meanwhile, a young black man clad in a gray suit, adorned with a vibrant purple vest, dismounted from the wagon, his demeanor professional yet compassionate. Kate was surprised at his age, most doctors she knew were older. She noted the side of his wagon; Dr. Renaud’s Traveling Medical Company.

As they approached Arthur's tent, Lenny briefed the doctor on the situation. "Kate brought him in last night. He's in bad shape, Doc—bullet wound to the shoulder, knife to the stomach," Lenny explained tersely.

The doctor nodded solemnly, acknowledging the severity of the situation. With a sense of purpose, Kate accompanied them into the stuffy makeshift room. Lenny bid them farewell and goodluck before departing, leaving Kate alone with the newcomer, the supposed savior who held the key to Arthur's survival.

Surveying Arthur's broken form, “oh my lord,” he muttered to himself. The doctor pressed his fingers to his neck, checking Arthur’s pulse, then turning his attention to Kate. "I presume you're Kate?" he inquired, his voice carrying a mix of professionalism and empathy. Kate offered a hesitant nod in response.

"Dr. Alphonse Renaud," he introduced himself, extending a hand. Kate accepted the handshake, her movements awkward and uncertain, her mind racing with apprehension. Arthur's fate, and by extension her own, hung in the balance, resting upon the skill of this newcomer.

"Are you his wife?" Dr. Renaud's question jolted Kate from her anxious reverie.

"N-no," she stammered, her nerves palpable. Gathering her composure, she clarified, "I'm not his wife. Just a friend." The weight of responsibility settled heavily upon her shoulders, a silent acknowledgment of the magnitude of the situation. "I managed to stop the bleeding last night. But I'm afraid he's still bleeding internally, he was vomiting blood this morning." Kate explained, her words rushed and urgent, wasting no time in conveying the severity of Arthur's condition.

Dr. Renaud clicked his tongue in response. "A knife to the stomach will do that to a man. How did this happen to him?" he inquired, gently shifting the sheet covering Arthur's abdomen to assess the extent of the injury.

Kate hesitated, unsure of how much to disclose about their precarious circumstances. After all, Arthur was a wanted man. She couldn't just disclose to a stranger the details of a violent gang feud between outlaws, he would surely leave in a heartbeat. "Tortured," she replied tersely, her tone brooking no further discussion.

“Oh, my deepest sympathy for your friend,” he replied with a solemn nod. Dr. Renaud moved to open the flaps on the side of the tent, allowing sunlight to stream in and illuminate the extent of Arthur's wounds. As he gazed upon Arthur's face, now bathed in the soft afternoon glow, a flicker of recognition crossed his features. "Wait a moment," he murmured, gently turning Arthur's face towards him, "I know this man... Arthur, isn't it? Arthur Morgan."

Fear gripped Kate as she processed the doctor's unexpected recognition of Arthur. How could this man possibly know him? A myriad of troubling scenarios raced through her mind—had he seen the wanted posters plastered across towns? Or worse, had Arthur crossed paths with him in a less-than-favorable manner? The weight of uncertainty bore down on her, her heart pounding with dread. If Dr. Renaud refused to help them now, Arthur's fate would be sealed.

To her relief, Dr. Renaud's expression softened with understanding. "Mr. Morgan saved my skin a few weeks back," he explained, his voice tinged with gratitude. "Some racist fellas, calling themselves Lemoyne Raiders, stole my wagon. I knew if I went after them myself, they would surely lynch me. So Mr. Morgan set out to retrieve my belongings." Kate's breath caught in her throat as she released a shaky exhale, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly.

"He wouldn't even accept payment for his troubles," Dr. Renaud continued, his determination evident in the clasp of his hands. "Now, it seems fate has afforded me the opportunity to repay his kindness." Kate felt a surge of emotion welling within her. She wanted to cry; tears of joy, tears of hope, tears of heartbreak. Because of course, of course, Arthur had gone out his way to help this young doctor. That was just the kind of man he is. So clouded by his own demons, he still can’t see the pure heart that glimmers beneath the surface. By some twisted dance of fate, his kindness would grant him the opportunity for a second chance at life.

In that moment, Kate knelt beside Arthur's cot with renewed purpose, her gaze fixed on Dr. Renaud with determination. "What can I do to help, Doc?" she asked, her voice steady despite the tumult of emotions swirling within her. This was their chance—a chance for Arthur to receive the care he so desperately needed, and for Kate to play her part in ensuring his survival.

Dr. Renaud carefully examined the wound on Arthur's stomach, his fingertips gauging the heat of the inflamed skin. "I can stop the internal bleeding," he observed, "but you'll need to keep a close eye on his recovery. Regularly cleaning the wound is crucial. Sepsis can be deadlier than bleeding out." Kate nodded eagerly, absorbing his instructions.

His focus then shifted to Arthur's shoulder wound. "You've done a commendable job stitching this," he acknowledged, but pointed out the yellowing skin around the starfish-shaped crater. Pressing gently, he noted the alarming signs of infection. "The infection's already taken hold here. It's eroding the muscle. If it spreads to the ligaments, he could lose his arm entirely.” Kate nodded quickly, understanding the gravity of the situation.

Taking Arthur's injured hand, the doctor examined it closely. Kate watched as he ran a fingernail over the calloused skin of his palm. Arthur's fingers twitched slightly, prompting a glimmer of hope. "That's promising," Dr. Renaud remarked. "And the bullet?" Kate nodded silently, confirming its extraction. "Excellent. You have a natural talent for this, Kate," he praised with a reassuring smile. Though Kate tried to reciprocate the smile, her concern for Arthur remained paramount, her gaze fixed on the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, each breath a testament to his battle to remain alive.

Returning his focus to Arthur's abdomen, Dr. Renaud placed an open palm on his stomach, tapping it lightly. A swishing hollow sound reverberated in the air. "Hear that?" he asked, glancing at Kate. She nodded, her brow furrowed with concern. "It’s filled with fluid, most likely more blood. After I close the wound, his stomach will be sensitive for some time,” his tone gentle and informative. “He might struggle to keep down food and water, so make sure he stays hydrated, okay?" the doctor advised. With practiced ease, he retrieved a small vial of orange iodine and a pair of rubber gloves from his briefcase.

"Put these on and start applying this over his stomach. I'll go grab my tools from the wagon," he directed, handing Kate the supplies. She nodded in acknowledgment and began spreading the iodine as instructed.

As they worked, a gentle breeze wafted through the makeshift room, carrying with it the scent of lake water and grass. It offered a brief respite from the heavy atmosphere of blood and sickness. Refreshing her lungs with strength and clarity. Dr. Renaud administered a shot of morphine to Arthur, providing temporary relief from the pain. In focused silence, Kate followed the doctor's lead, handing him tools and meticulously cleaning the wound.

Kate's breath caught as Dr. Renaud delicately reopened the wound on Arthur's stomach, using a slender blade to extend the incision. She gripped the forceps, holding them open. Steadying herself as he meticulously stitched the lining of his stomach back together. The tension in the air was static with urgency, each movement of the doctor's hands deliberate and controlled. Kate watched in silent admiration, marveling at his skill and composure amidst the lethal task ahead.

An hour later, Dr. Renaud had painstakingly resealed the wound, layering on another dose of antiseptic before dressing it in clean cloth. He then turned his attention to Arthur's bullet wound, methodically cleaning and rebandaging it. Explaining that he may never regain complete mobility of his arm again.

He examined Arthur's eyes, reassuring Kate that the swelling and bloodshot appearance would gradually subside over time. Concluding his service by informing her that his feet should return to their normal color, but he may have difficulty walking on the ankle even after it heals.

Kate’s heart throbbed with his every word. Arthur would never be the same after this, if he even survived. He was a cowboy, a gunslinger. His skills on horseback were carved into his identity. His quickdraw was paramount for the survival of his kind. Kate knew he prided himself in his work, afterall he was Dutch’s second in command. She understood what it felt like to have your integrity challenged in the face of death. To say goodbye to a part of yourself.

Dr. Renaud packed his things as he prepared to leave once he was satisfied with Arthur’s care. "It's going to be a challenging road to recovery," he remarked solemnly, "I can't make any promises, Kate. It's ultimately up to Arthur to fight through this."

"But what about the infection?" Kate interjected, her voice tinged with concern. No amount of determination on Arthur's part would matter if the infection spread unchecked throughout his body.

Dr. Renaud retrieved a small bottle from his briefcase and presented it to her. "This is a new antibiotic called penicillin," he explained, handing her the glass bottle containing small white pills. "It's groundbreaking medicine, but still in testing. I advise you, use it cautiously."

Kate nodded gratefully, clutching the vial of hope close to her heart. "Thank you, Doc. Please, let me pay for it," she insisted, reaching for her satchel.

Dr. Renaud halted her with a gentle touch on her wrist. "As I've said before Kate, the debt is already settled. Medicine is my calling, and meeting Arthur breathed a new life into me. He gave me a second chance." He shook her hand firmly and bid a farewell, “we need more of his kindness in this world.”

Kate remained seated beside Arthur, her ears catching fragments of Lenny and Sadie's conversation with the young doctor. Their voices drifted like distant echoes, discussing Arthur's condition and treatment plan. A surge of gratitude swelled within her, a profound appreciation for the doctor's expertise and the reassurance he provided. It was a stroke of luck, she thought, a lifeline thrown to them in their darkest hour. Kate couldn't shake the disbelief at their fortune, it was as if her prayer had been answered.

The depth of human connection astounded her, the way lives intersected in unexpected ways, offering solace and support when it was needed most. It was a testament to the human spirit. Kate knew Arthur was not a bad man, no matter how much he believed himself to be. So blinded by self-hatred he couldn’t see the kind loving man beneath it all. She longed to bring out that side of him.

Tears pooled in Kate's eyes once more, a bittersweet blend of grief, relief, and gratitude. Leaning closer to Arthur, she pressed a tender kiss to his forehead, her gesture a silent declaration of love and unwavering devotion. "Someone up there is on our side, Arthur," she murmured softly, her voice choked with emotion. "We’re going to be okay.” A widow's vow to remain by his side, till death do them part.

---

AN: I'm pretty proud of Kate's development in this chapter. I feel like we see a lot more of her emotional struggles.The next chapter will include a lot of recovery as well as interactions with the other camp members as Arthur is healing. Lots of fluff and comfort too :)

(pls ignore how inaccurate the medical stuff is to the time period, I'm lazy)

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pandorasword · 1 year

Text

Chaeri as the 8th and youngest member of BTS.

Chaeri's Masterlist

❒ Requested ✓

「 A compilation of Chaeri and Jungkook caught on camera 」

Video posted on YouTube by chaekooknation

Hello everyone, this is chaekooknation speaking! I'm back with a compilation of videos and super-zoomed images of how Chaeri and Jungkook act when they think they're not in front of the cameras I'd like to remind everyone that this is a video purely for the enjoyment of fans who, like me, believe there's something more than friendship between the two of them ♡

clip one ⸻ 🎬

⠪ September 2018; Canada ⠪ At that time the members were on tour for the 'Love yourself world tour' ⠪ After the last Canadian stage in Hamilton we know that they stayed a couple of days there before leaving for New Jersey ⠪ We know this in particular because of a dinner they had one of those evenings ⠪ We all remember videos and photos posted by the staff of one of the most exclusive restaurants there ⠪ These include a video of Chaeri and Jungkook that is a bit suspicious, don't you think? ⠪ When she noticed that someone from the restaurant staff was filming her having her hand on Jk's face she made a shocked expression ⠪ Sis, why be surprised? You live constantly on camera ⠪ Unless you were about to do something that others should not know about ⠪ Anyway, she became smooth again after a second and moved her hand to the back of his neck ⠪ SUS

clip two ⸻ 🎬

⠪ 22.04.2017; After a vlive ⠪ For this picture we have to credit our Jin hyung who posted them on weverse without them knowing ⠪ I quote the description "Armys our maknae stayed with you as long as she could. Can we all agree to scold Jungkook for not letting her sleep in peace? Turn off the lights!" ⠪ Chaeri and Jungkook had spent almost an hour chatting with us armys ⠪ "I am in Jungkookie's(hotel) room now, when we say goodnight to you I will go back to mine." ⠪ SHE NEVER DID!!!! ⠪ Isn't it adorable the way he keeps his arm around her body?

clip three ⸻ 🎬

⠪ 2019; SBS Gayo Daejeon Music Festival ⠪ Photo taken by a group of fans from afar ⠪ Seems to be right after the show ended, probably they were waiting to leave ⠪ Fixing his coat is such an intimate and loving gesture ⠪ I wouldn't do it with just a friend. Would you do that? ⠪ Chaeri is always so caring, when it comes to him a little bit more ⠪ It was so cold that year, I'm sure she didn't want him to freeze ⠪ The way he looks at her!!!

clip four ⸻ 🎬

⠪ [BANGTAN BOMB] Meeting with Megan Thee Stallion pt2 | A night out

⠪ It was decided at the last minute there would be two Bangtan Bombs with the rapper: The first to meet her and the last to spend an evening together ⠪ Megan is amazing and beautiful, meeting her was a pleasure for all members, it's obvious ⠪ Chaeri might have been annoyed just for a moment perhaps ⠪ That way she tries to hold on to his coat and then retreat realizing she is being filmed makes me think (and laugh) ⠪ I don't think she felt threatened by Megan's beauty ⠪ Perhaps she was simply bored with all the attention she was giving Jungkook ⠪ Jealous Chaeri >>>>

clip five ⸻ 🎬

⠪ 2016; ISAC ⠪ We had to zoom in a lot to get a good look at them ⠪ We remember the impact Chaeri had on the show, fighting to make the competitions mixed and no longer only for men or only for women ⠪ The camera was focusing on the other members, Chaeri and Jungkook could only be seen by those paying close attention ⠪ The way she hit the bull's eye of the target every time during the competition must have made Jungkook very proud ⠪ But do you see the way he looks at her at the end? ⠪ Google search: How to find someone who looks at you the way Jungkook looks at Chaeri

clip six ⸻ 🎬

⠪ 2018; Mama in Hongkong (Backstage) ⠪ I loved how nonchalantly Chaeri spent the time before the performance eating rather than rehearsing ⠪ We know how much Chaeri hates to be bothered while she's eating, but this seems like an appreciated interference ⠪ Very low photo quality but we had to zoom in a lot too to make it clear who it was ⠪ The glasses Jungkook is wearing are seen back on her at the end of the video, during the goodbyes

clip seven ⸻ 🎬

⠪ 2016; Suwon ⠪ At that time their fame was still growing, there were not as many armys as today ⠪ BLESSED SOUL, THOUGH, THAT FOUND HERSELF IN THE SAME PLACE WHERE THE MEMBERS DECIDED TO GO ICE-SKATING ⠪ I tell you, it was hard to find this video ⠪ They are totally in a world of their own ⠪ Don't you think JK teaching Chaeri anything is the best Jk? He is always so careful with her ⠪ She clearly terrified ⠪ I bet he wanted to burst out in laughter ⠪ I wish there were more moments of that day to share together

clip eight ⸻ 🎬

⠪ BTS in the soop; Season one ⠪ Is it just me or does it seem like they were kissing at first!? ⠪ The guys' cameramen give us joy every time and I don't think they even know about it ⠪ They were filming some of the boys outside the house but if you look carefully in one of the windows you can see these two silhouettes ⠪ To me it's obvious it's the two of them ⠪ What song do you think they were dancing to? ⠪ PLEASE we need to know

clip nine ⸻ 🎬

⠪ 2021; After the episode '131' of RUN BTS

⠪ If someone asked me to show them a video about love I would show them this

⠪ The fact that Jimin accidentally caught them behind him during his vlive makes it even cuter

⠪ This is how they act when they think the cameras are off

⠪ Chaeri smile with her eyes when she's close to her Jungkook

⠪ Who would touch her hair like that if not someone deeply in love?

⠪ We have to thank our Chaekook fan n1 Jimin for the video and the producers of RUN BTS for throwing water on them for all that time

⠪ Looks to me like she's also wearing a men's shirt…did he give it to her?

Thank you all for watching my video! It seems quite evident that there is something more between the two, what are your opinions? Stay tuned for more Chaekook videos Bye!

#bts 8th member #bts female member #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenarios #bts eighth member #bts au #bts au fic #bts imagines #bts female addition #kpop female member #kpop female oc #bts x reader #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan #bts

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deejadabbles · 7 months

Note

I am sliding in for your Halloween prompts 👀

The prompt I'm gifting unto thee is...

MASQUERADE

(please read in Phantom of the Opera's song)

😘💜💜💜💜

Friend!!!!! I hope you're ready for me to be extra because mentioning Phantom of the Opera + Masquerades did things to me! Thank you for inspiring this delicious idea, I'm honestly a lil obsessed with it.

Forbidden Masks (Kix x Fem!Reader, fantasy AU)

Summary: The tyrant king had never claimed to love you and you certainly held no affection for him. Thankfully, you had found love in the arms of your beloved Kix. Rating: T (but minors DNI) Word Count: 2k (my hand slipped okay?!?!) Songs for Listening: Masquerade / Why So Silent and All I Ask

Warnings: Forbidden love, forced/arranged marriage, controlling and toxic behavior (not from Kix), brief mentions of sexual intimacy. Masterlist /// Tag List Sign Up /// AO3

You had always enjoyed balls, especially the costumed, masked extravagance of a masquerade ball. As a young girl you had dreamed of attending your first ball all grown up, draped in the finest costume and an elegant mask- but most of all, you had dreamed of dancing with someone you loved.

Now, you were a woman grown and attending the most lavish masquerade you had ever heard of, but you were laced up in a gaudy gown not of your choosing and tangled in a weighty mask of gold. Worst of all, you were sitting beside a man whom you hated.

He scanned the ballroom, over those dancing and drinking, his eyes dark, contemplative, and did not even spare you a glance, despite his order to stay seated beside him. His hand did not hold yours and he had struck up no conversation. You, his betrothed, were meant for display only, apparently.

That did not stop your own eyes from wandering, of course. He could not prevent you from searching for someone else with your gaze. Someone who you should be attending this ball with, someone kind and noble, someone who made your lips curve with a smile and your heart skip a beat. Someone who actually loved you.

You found him, standing near the statues that flanked the doors to the garden terrace. He was surrounded by women, maiden and matron alike, and you tried to ignore the surge of jealousy. It wasn't his fault, he was just so naturally charming and a doctor of his rank would make a fine groom even for a noble.

The women giggled and waved their fans delicately and when one stroked his arm you almost had to look away. It wasn't their fault either, they could never know his heart belonged to you. No one could ever know. You were glad you didn't look away though, because just a heartbeat later, Kix's gaze left the face of the beautiful noblewoman and met yours.

His soft gaze, the way his lips parted just a little at the sight of you, the subtle intake of breath, all just from locking eyes with you. Yes, his heart undoubtedly belonged to you, just as yours belonged to him.

Unfortunately, even the gravity of his eyes could not distract you when a guard stepped from the crowd and up to the king beside you. The first part of what was said did slip your attention, though, as you found it so hard to look away from Kix when he was making your heart somersault in your chest.

What you did catch was that something required your fiance's attention in the war room and he rose from his throne immediately. It was only then that you finally tore your eyes away from your true beloved. The king may expect you to follow, sometimes he held your leash tight, others he expected you to entertain yourself.

And you thanked every star you could think of that it was the latter tonight.

“No,” he said simply, waving a hand as you began to follow him, “you stay and entertain our guests, like a future queen should.”

You bit your tongue, a common crutch in the months you had lived in his palace, in order to hold back any snarky reply. It was also a small miracle that he was so distracted by this emergency, that he failed to notice your lack of a “Yes, your majesty” answer to his order.

Just like that, the tyrant king was gone, swept away by news from the warfront, leaving you standing in front of the royal dais with no one but the commander of your personal guard for company. You turned to the commander now, asking a silent question. Fox was a good man, a fact that he had proven time and time again, and proved once more when he gave a very small nod in answer.

Well, your king did say to entertain.

You would be damned if you missed your chance to join the fun and, with a small wink to Fox, you marched towards the dance floor.

Everyone made room for you, parting like the sea in a wizard’s tale and sweeping into deep bows. You paid them little mind, besides a few polite nods of your own, all while your eyes were searching for anyone who may be brave enough to dance with you. In theory, you could just order someone to, but that would hardly be fun.

You had just caught the eye of a young brunette man, one with the markings of a general on his uniform, when someone behind you cleared their throat.

“May I be so bold and ask for this dance, your highness?”

There were a few quiet gasps and even more whispers as you turned, knowing who it was just by the sound of his voice. You did not know what Kix was playing at, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t secretly praising his boldness. He was smiling at you and holding his hand out like a tantalizing invitation.

You took it without a second thought. “Yes, you may, Doctor.”

Kix’s hand squeezed yours ever so gently, imperceptible to any on-looker, but it sent waves of electricity through you like nothing else. His rich, brown eyes never left yours as he guided you to a nice spot on the dance floor. Turning towards you fully, he gripped your hand even tighter, lifting it high and placing his other hand on your waist to pull you as close as he dared.

The two of you stepped into the waltz easily, transfixed in each other’s gaze as you both glided elegantly across the ballroom.

“I see that he was the one who picked your gown for the night.” Thank the gods that he had the smarts to whisper the observation, no one could ever overhear him talking so plainly to you. “Even from across the room I can tell you hate it.” For the briefest moment, Kix let his eyes travel down your body. “It’s amazing how you can still look gorgeous, even in that ill-suited dress.”

“Kix..” you wanted to say something, a warning, maybe, but his words made your face too hot, your thoughts too scrambled.

He stepped just a hair closer and dropped his voice even lower, “When you’re my wife, you’ll never have to wear anything you don’t want to.”

His wife, goodness, wouldn’t that be the dream. It was a promise he kept making, that he would find a way, that he would rescue you from your loveless future full of fear and solitude. That he would be yours and build a home for you far, far away from the king’s reach.

Some nights, his honeyed promises were the only things that helped you sleep.

The music in the air swelled, calling for a more intimate frame of the waltz, which Kix took full advantage of and slid his hand to the small of your back, pulling you so close you could feel the warmth of his breath fanning over your bare neck.

You weren't the only one who looked gorgeous. Dressed in fine blue fabric, the military cut of his jacket spoke of his service, but the intricate silver braiding across his chest and shoulders made him look quite regal. Not to mention the silver mask accented in sapphire gave him a mysterious air, yet another reason for your sudden need to swoon into his arms like a damsel.

In perfect time with the music, he spun you in an elegant arch of his arm, before quickly pulling you back into his embrace. “At least he hasn’t tried to dance with you, tonight,” Kix whispered into your ear, “the way you obviously want to recoil whenever he touches you…” he drew in a sharp breath as you both glided along the floor, “It makes my blood boil, cyare.”

Despite the heat that had taken you over from his closeness, you shivered at the protective tone. It wasn’t the first time Kix had mentioned that. Your first night curled in his arms, bodies as bare as the days you were born, he had told you that you would never have to endure an unwanted touch when you were with him. That it was all he could do not to push the king away every time he saw you tense and flinch under the tyrant’s hand.

In another skillful lift of his arm, he spun you again. He was growing bolder and bolder with every turn of the dance, because when he pulled you back this time, he practically buried his face in the soft skin of your neck.

If you could find it in yourself to focus on anything besides him, you would have heard the whispers and seen the stares of the crowd around you, but a part of you didn’t care.

“When you’re mine, I promise to love you the way you deserve.”

“I’m already yours, Kix,” it came out as a gasp and you could have sworn you felt his lips brush against your neck as he pulled back to look at you. “I’ll always be yours.”

His eyes turned so soft at that, all the possessiveness and jealousy melting away, leaving only his love and adoration for you behind. The music swelled with its ending notes, and Kix kept his gentle gaze steady on yours as he dipped you backwards, slowly, intimately.

“That’s all I need, my love,” he whispered.

There were claps and even some quiet cheers from the crowd, but you barely heard them, all you could see and hear and feel was him. Even when he pulled you back upright, you couldn’t let him go, needing to keep your hands on him just a moment longer.

Then, reality came crashing through your romantic dream in the form of Fox as he rushed to you.

“You have to go,” the commander hissed under his breath, placing a rough hand on Kix’s shoulder. “Go- now! Before he sees you.”

Your eyes went wide as you turned, seeing that the King was striding back into the ballroom. As much as it pained you, you forced your hands to rip away from your beloved and allowed Fox to take you by the arm and pull you away. It took every ounce of strength you had not to look back at Kix, praying that he took Fox’s advice and fled the dance floor as quickly as possible. That he did all he could to distance himself from you.

As he guided you through the crowd, Fox peered at you with eyes that were full of warning. “You’re going to get yourselves killed with stunts like that, Princess.” Despite how hard his tone was, it didn’t come out nearly as harsh as you expected. Instead, you heard the worry hidden in the words. The worry for you, and for Kix.

Before you could say anything, the mass of dancers cleared and you were presented to the King once again. His stare was as cold and hard as always while he looked you over, even when Fox stepped back to his post beside the dais.

“You seem flustered all of the sudden,” your forced fiance said in a flat tone.

“Oh- it’s nothing, I just feel a little light headed, is all.” It wasn’t a hard lie to play off. Your poor health since the day you were dragged here was how you and Kix met in the first place, after all.

At first, the King said nothing, just continued to stare with those empty eyes. Then, he jerked his head towards the throne-like seats on the dais. “Sit.”

With a slight bow, you moved to obey him, but, just as you walked by, a gloved hand shot out to grip your arm harshly. It was all you could do not to wrench away from him on instinct.

“Don’t forget who holds your chains, my dear.”

Unlike the pleasant shiver that Kix had elicited, you now felt cold and empty as your body shook from the words. All you could do was pray that he hadn’t seen you and your lover, that this was just one of the tyrant’s frequent reminders that he could control your strings whenever he wanted.

“Yes, your majesty.” The obedience made you sick, but you could endure it, because wilting under the man’s iron grasp was the best way to keep Kix safe. And in the end, that’s all that mattered to you.

Your arm ached when he released it, but you walked back to your seat as steadily as possible. There was also the unmistakable feeling of someone staring at you and you knew that Kix had been watching. You didn’t dare search the crowd for him again, instead, you comforted yourself with the memory of his promises.

The hope that someday, the Princess and the Doctor might be able to shed their masks and run away together.

Tag List: @sev-on-kamino @anxiouspineapple99 @starrylothcat @sinfulsalutations @commander-sunshine @dystopicjumpsuit @wolffegirlsunite @sunshinesdaydream @arcsimper5 @littlemissmanga @wings-and-beskar @clonemedickix @freesia-writes @idontgetanysleep @523rdrebel @moonlightwarriorqueen @briefartnaturewolf @kimiheartblade @littlemissbshine @funeralreunion @chubbyhedgehog-blog @ladytano420 @trixie2023 @mssbridgerton @wizardofrozz @vithepotato @mythical-illustrator

#kix x reader #clone medic kix x reader #halloween requests #clone wars halloween fics #deeja writes #clone x reader

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acknowledge-reigns · 7 months

Text

Introduction:

Hi, Everyone. I'm Luna. I've been a wrestling fan since the early 00s and a Roman Reigns stan since the second he debuted with the shield. He was/is my first, current and forever wrestling crush 💕 I'm here to post fan art, fan fiction, edits and occasionally shitpost 💖

If you do not agree with any of the following statements, unfollow me expeditiously:

BLACK LIVES MATTER ✊🏿✊🏾✊🏽

Protect trans kids (and all lgbtqia2s youth) 🩵🩷🤍🩷🩵

Love is love 🏳‍🌈

Land back 🌿

Fuck the patriarchy 👸🏾

Free Congo 🇨🇩

Free Palestine 🇵🇸

Free Sudan 🇸🇩

Destigmatize mental health 🧠

No abelism ❌

No one has to believe in or abide by standards set forth by your sky daddy 🙃

Favorite Wrestlers -

Roman Reigns (Obviously my #1 always and forever)

Jey Uso

Jimmy Uso

Solo Sikoa

The Samoan Dynasty as a whole (Zilla, Jacob, Journey, Lance, Thamiko, Ava Raine, The Rock, Tamina, Trinity, Nia, Rikishi, Umaga, Yokozuna, Samoan Storm/Manu, Black Pearl, Samu, Tonga Kid and more. I love that whole family.)

Seth Rollins

Jon Moxley

Damien Priest

Carmelo Hayes

Trick Williams

Bianca Belair

Jade Cargill

Lash Legend

Kelani Jordan

Jaida Parker

Edge

The Undertaker.

My other wrestling related accounts:

Black Women in wrestling - @blkgirlwrestling

Damien Priest - @allriseforpriest

Carmelo Hayes/Trick Williams/Kelani Jordan- @mrs-melodontmiss

Backup account - @tribalchiefsprincess

Other accounts:

Lokean devotional account - @lokirescuedme

Random shitposting / Megan Thee Stallion - @lunadoesshitposting

Criminal Minds account - hiatus

TVD account - hiatus

Hamilton account - inactive

Masterlist:

🌶 = Smut 🩵 = Fluff 💔 = Angst

Roman ☝🏾

Jealous - Roman Reigns x OC 🌶

Good For You - Roman Reigns x reader (first person pov) 🌶

34+35 - Roman Reigns x OC 🌶

There Goes My Baby - Roman Reigns x OC 🌶

No Yeet - Roman Reigns x OC 🌶 🩵

Apologies - Roman Reigns x OC 🩵💔

Nonsense - Roman x OC 🌶 🩵

Worst To Me - Roman x OC 🌶 🩵💔

Solo 👍🏽

A Gorgeous Necklace - Solo Sikoa x OC 🌶

Water - Solo Sikoa x OC 🌶

Jey 🤙🏾

Sugar - Jey Uso x Reader (first person pov) 🌶 🩵💔

Jimmy 🤪

**COMING SOON**

Zilla 👎🏾

**COMING SOON**

#masterlist #roman reigns #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns fanfiction #acknowledge reigns masterlist

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muffinsin · 4 months

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Hey, I like to think castle Dimitrescu has a nice sizable garden. I like to think the family employs maids to upkeep the gardens alongside the vineyards; planting and designing elaborate flower beds, Roman statues, trellises, arbor gate, a beautiful hedge maze mixed with climbing roses, secluded seating in dead ends and an elegant fountain hidden in the middle. I also like to think that once spring has sprung, Daniela reads in the gardens rather than the library.

I also also like to think that one late summer night, a curious outsider scales the garden walls for the sole purpose of picking a rose. What they find instead is Dani, sitting by the fountain reading out loud Romeo and Juliet. Enchanted by the youngest Dimitrescu’s beauty, the outsider (fem g!p) admires from afar. Dani is reading Act 2 scene 2 where Romeo scales the capulet garden wall to see Juliet again (aka the balcony scene). She reads out a Juliet line, “How camest thou hither, tell me, and wherefore? The orchard walls are high and hard to climb, And the place death, considering who thou art, If any of my kinsmen find thee here.” Before she can continue, the outsider reads out the Romeo line, “With love’s light wings did I o’erperch these walls, For stony limits cannot hold love out, And what love can do, that dares love attempt. Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me.” Of course, this startles Dani at first, but soon she relaxes and finds herself taken by this dashing outsider. She gets the idea to test this outsider and see how long they can recite the story until things become…..too heated.

Lol I’m sure you can see a pattern with me. I love romance, especially the classics. Also, happy new year day!🎉

I absolutely agree about the garden!🪴 also such an interesting concept!👀 I’ll admit I’ve never read Romeo and Juliet lol so this might be a tad bit messier than I’d like it to be- won’t lie tho I had a lot of fun with it😬 Happy new year! 🎊 (little late as I took my time with this request, but still! Happy 2024 y’all!🎊)

Let’s get into it!

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

You barely manage to hold onto the stone wall as you climb alongside the small ledge. It’s cold, and slippery, and if it wasn’t for the vines covering it, you doubt you would be able to find your grip again at all.

Below you lies sure death by now, rocks and hills, thorns and boulders. You don’t spare it a glance now- never has looking down worked for anybody. You’ll just be able to return the way you came, all the way at the end of the ledge and into the tree that stands tall and proud.

A rose, is your goal.

You’re not sure why you’ve accepted this bet in the first place- to pluck a rose from the gardens of the Dimitrescu family. It’s by no means an easy task, much less one that promises safe return.

Maybe it’s your curiosity that led you to accept.

After all, the Dimitrescus are somewhat of a myth, merely a very real one.

You’ve never personally laid eyes on any of them, but heard the stories.

Stories of women, virgins, dragged off and made into wine. Others enslaved to work at the castle, at which a gruesome fate awaits them should they not perform well.

Other stories speak of a woman, a countess, taller than any man or woman one has ever seen. And three commanders, daughters.

It is said they are a family of royal standard, yet blood-thirsty huntresses willing to kill and slaughter innocent people.

You know of their distaste of men- everybody does.

And yet you have never seen them, not one of them. Are they truly as bad as they are made out to be? Are they filthy hags with bloodied limbs and large, unforgiving eyes?

It says it is curiosity that kills the cat, and yet you’re feeling exceptionally curious.

Perhaps, your questions will be answered at last.

You steady your grip as you near what must be the gardens of the castle. The summer air is warm, and even from the opposite side of the wall do you smell the scent of many blooming flowers.

You freeze momentarily at a voice. Have you been discovered?

No, the voice is faint, and dreamy. Soft, and beautiful. You feel as though pulled in.

Faster and more eager than you should, you scale the ledge faster, eager to see who this beautiful voice belongs to.

“What man art thou that, thus bescreened in night, so stumblest on my counsel”, the dreamy voice goes on.

You frown- you know this quotation.

For a moment you feel a small blush creep to your face- how fitting the line is, in a way. Only is it you who suddenly has their mind invaded by the calm, soft voice from the other side of the wall.

It’s soft and warm, gentle and yet- hopeful. Phrases roll off the sweet maiden’s tongue like honeyed words, from what must be honeyed lips.

You wonder- is this one of the women kidnapped by the almighty Dimitrescu family? A beauty trapped in the castle? You would free her, and yet beg her to sing her sweet phrases more and more.

You keep moving, you can see a bunch of thicker vines near you, perfect to climb the thick stone wall and make your way into what can only be the Garden of Eden.

“By a name. I know not how to tell thee who I am. My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, Because it is an enemy to thee. Had I it written, I would tear the word.”, the dainty creature reads aloud.

You grunt quietly as you at last climb the thick vines. As though enchanted by a siren’s spell, your eyes immediately find the woman the beautiful voice belongs to, and are at once unable to gaze away from her for even a moment.

Auburn hair falls down her back and shoulders, glistening in the beautiful light of the moon. It has her skin appear almost white-grayed, the pale color a contrast to her dark clothing.

She is ethereal, you realize. You can’t make out the details of her face from a distance, the urge to move closer to her taking over your mind.

The beauty sits perched on a small, regal looking bench, surrounded by flowers.

You watch her pick one, a white, large one, and bring it to her face. Even from the distance you see her eyes closing in content.

She’s completely in her own little world, it seems. It’s a beautiful sight to see. Never have you gazed upon such beauty and purity.

Then, she giggles, and it’s as though your heart skips several beats.

The flower you are supposed to pick- there are plenty right within your arms reach, yet you can’t be bothered. Your eyes have set on a by far more perfect prize.

The beautiful woman smells the flower once more before picking up the book resting in her lap again.

“My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words. Of that tongue's uttering, yet I know the sound. Art thou not Romeo and a Montague?”, she reads aloud in an angel’s voice, though she is giddy now. She seems to be reading to the flower she has picked, as though it was her beloved Romeo.

You’re blushing, the next line well on your mind. Again, it applies to you.

“Neither, fair maid, if either thee dislike.”, you whisper to yourself. What are you- a burglar, technically? A villager?- neither, if she shall not like even one. You wish to be whatever she wants you to be, for her.

Soon enough the dainty creature repeats, gently, the words from the verse.

“Neither, fair maid, if either thee dislike.”, she hums. You fully climb over the wall, hidden by the shadows as you step into the garden.

This woman, you notice in the back of your mind, doesn’t seem like a captive. Like a helpless maiden. She seems powerful, yet delicate.

Upon getting a closer look, you notice her golden eyes nearly glowing in the darkness of the night. They’re beautiful, unique and breathtaking.

You yearn to touch the beauty, to feel her words of love and affection addressed to you.

“How camest thou hither, tell me, and wherefore? The orchard walls are high and hard to climb, and the place death, considering who thou art, if any of my kinsmen find thee here.”, she reads aloud, and her voice is so soft, so enchanting and alluring, seductive and sweet, innocent and tempting all at the same time, you can no longer hold back.

“With love's light wings did I o'erperch these walls, for stony limits cannot hold love out; And what love can do, that dares love attempt. Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me”, you blurt out.

She’s visibly startled, so much so that the flower falls from her delicate thighs and onto the stone pavement, her golden eyes bright and wide as she turns her head adorably, trying to find you.

It seems even before you step out of the shadows, she finds you.

Still, the beauty stares in bewilderment as you approach, stepping closer and closer. She takes a step back, gasping when the back of her knees hit the bench behind her.

To your shock, a sickle is summoned to her hand, and her position grows defensive. Perhaps it’s foolish that it took you until now to realize that the dainty creature is no helpless maiden, but one of the predators taunting the village and its inhabitants.

But, she’s pretty.

And so you march on no matter the risk, as though she was a siren and had lured you in.

When in front of her, you bend down somewhat gracefully to grasp and pick up the fallen flower. It’s shines in the moonlight, not entirely unlike the beautiful woman’s eyes.

When you rise and, with to Daniela surprising and never seen confidence, grasp her hand, you note a small, but surprised gasp coming from her.

Her hand is soft, but cold, and she gasps again as you bend down to place a light kiss to her knuckles.

How…romantic. You’re unlike anybody she has ever met or even laid eyes on.

The woman wordlessly stares, a blush on her pale cheeks making her seem more petite and innocent than she surely is.

As she accepts the flower back into her hand, words tumble from her lips- the continuation of the verse.

“If they do see thee, they will murder thee”, she whispers.

Unbeknownst to you, Daniela’s words ironically are a warning. If one of her sisters or mother was to spot you, you will be slain. Her eyes glisten with something- curiosity, love, hope, darkness. You feel as if you could drown in those beautiful pools of gold.

You hold her gaze. For some reason you find yourself deeply disappointed when her hand slips from yours.

She looks shy, yet seductive. She knows exactly what she is doing, and is yet cautious- you are an intruder, after all, with intentions unclear to her.

“Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye than twenty of their swords. Look thou but sweet, and I am proof against their enmity.”, you answer, stating Romeo’s verse.

Again, you seem to almost be responding to her warning in the poem of the beautiful words of the verse coming from your lips.

Then, a small promise falls from Daniela’s lips. Again, you would not know the true meaning of the spoken phrase until later.

“I would not for the world they saw thee here”, she says, and means it.

Her sisters will not find this delicious and intriguing intruder. You’re all hers, she decides.

You’re quick to respond to her.

“I have night's cloak to hide me from their eyes, and but thou love me, let them find me here. My life were better ended by their hate, than death proroguèd, wanting of thy love.”

You smile at her blush, as well as when you notice her breath quicken. This woman is adorable.

Daniela feels as though her head is spinning. She feels weak at her knees at your romantic words. This is like the most delightful of games!

The auburn haired woman grips the flower a little tighter, smirking at you as she smells it again and smiles.

With a light push to your shoulder, she walks past you, elegant in her slow and seductive movements.

“By whose direction found'st thou out this place?”, she asks, real curiosity burning in her golden eyes.

You see what she is doing, too. She’s testing you, to see how far you will be able to go until you cannot keep up with her.

As though you were the predator you know this woman apparently is, you stalk after her as she moves, admiration and want clear on your face whereas her is a perfect mask of seductiveness, hope and eagerness.

You don’t keep the beautiful woman waiting, instead answer proudly: “By love, that first did prompt me to inquire. He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes. I am no pilot, yet wert thou as far as that vast shore washed with the farthest sea, I would adventure for such merchandise.”

The woman’s eyes shine at your answer, and yet as you reach out to grab her, she spins and keeps moving.

She’s a siren, and you’re eager to be pulled under.

Her fingertips caress the flowers she passes, the vines and even the cold stone wall. She rests on top of the stairs of a gazebo, excitement betrayed in her eyes.

You stare in anticipation, your greedy eyes taking in the sight of this woman. Her auburn hair falling gently and blowing in the warm wind, the black rose tattoo in her forehead symbolizing her house. You wish to trace it.

The choker necklace sitting snuggly around her throat, regal and gothic looking, with a single, green gemstone embedded in it.

Her large cleavage, exposed due to the V-Cut of her dress. You do your best not to stare, yet feel your dick twitching beneath your trousers at the sight and scent of the woman, the flowery and sweet one lingering in the air as long as she is only around. You feel your arousal rising with every passing moment.

She’s the most stunning creature you have ever encountered.

“Thou knowest the mask of night is on my face, else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek for that which thou hast heard me speak tonight. Fain would I dwell on form; fain, fain deny what I have spoke. But farewell, compliment. Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 'Ay,' And I will take thy word; yet if thou swear'st,

Thou mayst prove false. At lovers' perjuries they say Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo, if thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully; or if thou thinkest I am too quickly won, I'll frown and be perverse and say thee nay,

So thou wilt woo, but else not for the world. In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond, and therefore thou mayst think my behavior light. But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true

Than those that have more coying to be strange. I should have been more strange, I must confess, but that thou overheard'st, ere I was ware, my true-love passion.

Therefore pardon me, and not impute this yielding to light love, which the dark night hath so discoverèd.”

By the end of her turn, she is in front of you, so close that you feel on fire, almost. Her hands, bare and soft, rest on your shoulders as she gazes down at you from the step she stands on. Golden eyes betray the arousal she feels, and give a hint towards the delusional “love” she believes to feel already.

It’s a dangerous game, and one you’re eager to play.

The woman gasps as you grip her hips, slim but soft, and allows you to lift her off the step.

Her golden eyes find you, tension building up farther between the two of you. Her gaze is piercing almost, as is yours.

“Lady, by yonder blessèd moon I vow, that tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops-“, you begin, smiling softly as she eagerly responds, her hands squeezing your shoulders as you squeeze her hips.

Her cheeks are warm and pink as she talks, the dainty creature only yours for this moment.

“O, swear not by the moon, th'inconstant moon, that monthly changes in her circled orb, lest that thy love prove likewise variable.”, she responds, breathless.

Daniela feels eager, and she spots the eagerness in your eyes.

You feel her so close to you, and it’s making your head spin. All in you demands you to lean forwards and capture the woman’s soft looking lips in yours.

“What shall I swear by?”, comes your breathlessly spoken reply.

“Do not swear at all, or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, which is the god of my idolatry, and I'll believe thee.”

You can no longer hold back.

A small, surprised gasp comes from the woman as you grip her back and push her forwards, your lips capturing hers effortlessly. She hums and moans against yours, her small noises more erotic than any you have ever heard before.

She is a seductress, a huntress, and you are her all too eager prey.

“Tell me your name, Juliet, I must know”, you beg, words hushed and whispered against her soft lips. She’s panting from the kiss, hands rising to your neck.

“Daniela”, she answers. “Daniela Dimitrescu”, she adds, as though there was any doubt remaining to her true identity.

You capture her lips in a kiss lest she can speak again, your tongue addicted to the taste of hers again already.

Her little noises, her moans and gasps, hums and giggles do a number on you. You must not look or reach down to feel yourself become hard, and you barely refrain from groping and kneading the soft flesh of her body.

Softly, you lead her inside the gazebo, and an equally soft gasp escapes your lips as the woman pushes you down on the bench.

You must not yearn for her touch, however, as she straddles your thighs immediately and leans in for yet another kiss, her hands coming up to the sleeves of your blouse, tugging gently.

You know what she wants, and grant it to the beauty.

With a simple movement you unbutton and take off your blouse, eyes watching hungrily as Daniela slips off your lap to undo the corset around her waist. You watch greedily as she pulls its strings and it falls to the floor, then reaches back to pull open her dress.

One by one skin is revealed as her dress inches down- pale shoulders, perky, round breasts and hard, slightly darker nipples, a soft stomach and waist with smooth and wide hips, black panties in the way to see her most intimate part. Thick thighs and black, near transparent tights, black heels. You can’t help ogling the beautiful creature.

Daniela blushes under your gaze, climbing back onto your lap as she kisses you. Your hips settle on her hips again, and you feel your bulge press up against her covered cunt.

You want nothing but to press up, to grind against her.

“Perfect”, you whisper, trailing kisses along her sensitive neck. She’s moaning and whimpering on top of you, hands kneading your thigh only arousing you more.

She cups your bulge, and you near bite down on her pale skin. Groans slip past your lips as she gropes and squeezes, eagerly exploring your body with one hand on your bulge, the other traveling up and down your front.

“You’re ethereal. Breathtaking”, you moan. You feel her shiver and hear her gasp at your words. She’s adorably sensitive as you prod at her neck, kissing, biting and sucking, creating hickeys on pale flesh.

Daniela lets out a light gasp as your hands slide up to her breasts, squeezing and cupping them. They’re large and round, soft and firm. A pull of her nipples has the redhead arch her back slightly for you.

“So beautiful”, you whisper, like you at last receive your prize. She whimpers, moaning and mewling softly for you.

With desperation clear in her golden eyes, Daniela grinds down on you, her warm panty-covered core rubbing against your bulge. You feel yourself growing painfully hard and twitching underneath her. You want release, and you want to grant her hers.

“May I, my fair lady?”, you whisper against her neck, lips brushing against her bruised and marked skin as your fingers slide down and toy with the waistband of her underwear.

She nods quickly, eagerly. “Yes, my love, please”, she gasps all so happily.

As soon as she stands enough to allow you to slide her underwear off, her eager hands grip the waistline of your trousers. Eager, seductive eyes set on you yet again and you nod, lifting your hips enough for her to pull the clothing down and expose you.

Your eyes widen as she drops to her knees, a hand snaked between her own legs, her other on your thigh. She stares up at you, submissively and blushing, yet so eager and enticing.

“Please”, you whisper, a gentle command for her to take you in her awaiting mouth. Daniela doesn’t have to be told twice, head leaning forwards as she takes you in, humming and moaning around your tip.

It’s been ages since she’s had one, she feels giddy with excitement at the prospect of getting to play with you!

You tangle your hand in her hair, feeling the soft locks as she bobs her head and squeezes your thigh.

Her cheeks are warm, her eyes bright whenever she glances up at you. Moans ripple from her throat and your head spins when she begins to finger herself, dragging moans and mewls from her lips which’s vibrations bring you immense pleasure.

At the squelching sound of her pussy accepting her fingers inside, you wish for nothing but to bury yourself deep within her.

She takes her fingers well, and is, by the sound of her fingers thrusting in and out, soaked.

You yearn to feel the woman around you, bouncing on your cock and receiving it hard from behind as her adorable, sexy breasts bounce for you, then clean the beauty up.

“Y-Yes, you’re doing so go-good!”, you praise, which only seems to spur her on more. Daniela hums and smiles, hips shaking for a moment as she curls her fingers within herself.

Truly, she would much rather have you inside than her fingers, if only so she wouldn’t have to be as gentle as she must be with her sharp nails.

She tastes the precum dripping from you for a moment, giggling as she lets go of your cock and licks it up eagerly. “Good girl”, you groan, panting and moaning for her. You cup your own breast and guide her head back to your cock, shivering as the minx drags her tongue along you and sucks your tip clean.

You gasp at the feeling, the pleasure driving you closer to your orgasm.

She too feels close, her thighs trembling and her hips bucking up as her thumb grazes against her clit and rubs it as she thrusts her fingers inside.

With gentle, shaky hands you grab her hair again and guide her back to her previous position, moaning as your cock slips back inside her warm and wet mouth and she bobs her head again.

You feel yourself at the back of her throat, pushing up against her collar necklace the deeper she takes you and gags around you.

Your fingers twitch as you play with your breasts, and your head spins. You’re so close, but want her to cum first. So you hold back and continue on moaning and gasping, praises for her falling from your lips that only edge her closer to her own orgasm.

Thankfully, she is not far away from hers, moaning and whimpering constantly with a flushed face and a mouth full of your cum.

At last you notice her cum, her moans and muffled scream bringing you to your own, as you hastily pull away to cover her chest and lips.

You pant and buck your hips beyond control at the erotic picture of the beautiful woman painted in your cum. It drips from her wet lips to her chin, sticks to her chest and collarbone.

You waste no time to pull her back on your lap, the woman’s glee giggles causing a wide smile to form on your face. She’s got you wrapped around your finger, with her sweet voice and adorable appearance and giggles, her unique physique as well as her beautiful eyes- and both of you know this.

Her lips meet yours once again. As you taste yourself on her tongue, you feel the primal urge to taste her.

Daniela blushes shyly when her wrist is grabbed and brought to your face, your eyes taking in the shimmer of slick wetness that coats her fingers.

When you wrap your mouth around the digits, the auburn haired woman grinds down again. Her wet cunt rubs directly against your cock and your head spins at the feeling of her wetness smeared against you.

You hum around her fingers, tasting the sweet, candy-like wetness that must be her cum. You almost chuckle. The sweet flavored taste matches her perfectly.

Daniela watches panting as you suck her fingers clean completely, only letting go of her wrist once all wetness is licked and sucked away.

As you feel your cock hardening between your legs and pushing up against her, Daniela squeaks adorably. She grinds down properly, moaning and whimpering at the feeling of her wet and sensitive clit rubbing against you.

As much as you are a fan of her wet body humping your cock, you barely have any restraint left. All of you urges you to push inside the beautiful woman.

“Can I?”, you ask, wanting to confirm her consent to this. Daniela giggles breathlessly, her hips raising already and her hand reaching between her legs as she sinks down on you.

“O-Oooh!~”, she moans, her mouth dropped open at the feeling of having you slide deep inside of her. She’s shivering and grips your shoulders tightly, as though to adjust to the feeling.

You stay still despite your urges to take the dainty creature and fuck her sore, instead allow her this time to get used to the feeling. Still, your cock twitches and throbs inside of her, and her cunt clenches around you as if to milk you of your cum.

“You feel s-so good, my love”, she whispers, panting and moaning as she moves her hips a little.

“As do you, my beautiful Daniela”

The phrase makes her head spin and has her clench around you tightly. To be called yours so boldly is doing things to her. She doesn’t ever want to let you go! No, you’re all hers, intruder or not. Her sisters would never have to find out…

Daniela gasps when your patience seems to come to an end. You thrust upwards roughly, eager to feel her clench around you again; and you are granted this.

“Divine”, you whisper back, your hands at her hips as you work your hips. You thrust fast and deep, and watch in delight as the redhead moans and shrieks from the pleasure, her hands tightening on your shoulders, her breasts bouncing as she is fucked on top of your lap.

Daniela’s head is thrown back when you lean down and wrap your lips around her breast, sucking eagerly. Now you have a taste of her, you are sure she is what can only be described as utter bliss.

“Ah-ah! A-AAAh!”, she shrieks and moans, little whimpers and moans falling from her black painted lips. She feels you thrust deep into her and does her best to match your thrusts, grinding down and panting soon at your pace.

You don’t deny her, instead move your hand down to rub her small clit in tight circles.

She can’t remember ever being taken like this; raw want and lust displayed in the form of pointed, skilled thrusts into her, hands gripping her hips tightly to ensure she would stay in place right where you want her, as well as the way your lips wrap around her nipple eagerly.

“Ple-A-AH! Yes! Yes! AAHMORE!”

She feels helpless in the best way, succumbing to pleasure and love, whimpering and gasping for more. Her thick ass presses against your balls every time she grinds down again, and as your limbs ache, you feel her riding you eagerly.

Daniela’s hips buck helplessly after a short while already. You feel her tightening around you every few seconds, her chest heaving and her arched back causing her breasts to push against you tighter.

You lose your other hand from her hip and slide it up her ribcage, until you cup her unoccupied breast.

The poor redhead feels herself be brought to her orgasm fast; with your cock buried deep inside of her and her clit rubbed, her sensitive nipples squeezed and sucked.

Eager to repay the favor, one of her hands slides down to cup your breast. The dainty thing is a lot stronger and naughtier than she appears, her fingers bringing you pleasure with ease even as her hips rise and fall.

She looks graceful riding you, even as her head is thrown back and her back is arched for you.

“S-So close, A-AAAAH! Y-yes! YES!”

You bite down on her gently, tearing yet another squeak and gasp from her lips. Her clit feels warm as it throbs under your fingertip, the needy woman so close.

When she cums, she tightens around you, so much it takes all of your willpower not to cum inside of her yet. You don’t want things to end just yet, too caught up in her bliss.

Daniela gasps when within moments she is picked up and turned, instead leaned against the bench with you still inside.

The new position allows you to thrust even deeper into your sweet newfound darling.

It’s ironic in a way; your intention to pick and steal a single flower from the Castle gardens, yet you pluck the most beautiful and precious one for yourself

#cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu x reader #dianabetic6

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merlot-and-chardonnay · 4 months

Text

A Lark Among the Wolves and Dragons: Chapter 24

Chapter 23.5

Masterlist

The curtain went up, and the actors took their places.

The opening act begins in a tavern in a town that was situated at the edge of the world, where a bard gets thrown out after failing to woo the patrons with his songs (but at least he managed to receive scraps of food as payment for his performances).

He addresses the crowd, making his disdain known that some people just don't know good art when they see it.

Everyone is a critic.

Some amongst the audience laughed at that.

While the Bard walked about the stage, he runs into a man with white hair and spoke in a gravely voice. The white haired man grunts here and there as the Bard follows him on his quest to slay a devil.

"Slay, you say?" the actor Bard speaks, to which the man grunts a response, and the Bard recognizes who he was, "why, I must say, I know who you are. You are the witcher Geralt of Rivia, the Butcher of Blaviken."

The aforementioned butcher gave the Bard a fist to the gut in response.

Aegon was laughing hard at that part as he sipped some more vodka from his flask.

"Are you drinking wine again?" Jace asks. "Oh, this isn't wine," Aegon assures, "it's...water, look," he tilts the flask lightly so some of the clear liquid would spill out, "here try it." Jace gives Aegon a suspicious look and takes a sip, "this is...the strangest water I've ever tasted," he grimaces lightly. "It's flavored with special Continental oils, they're supposed to be good for you," Aegon explains, so Jace takes another sip.

Aemond was looking at Aemma and noticed she had a certain scowl on her face as she watched the play.

The Bard and the Witcher continued their trek until they chanced across the so-called devil who was stealing grain from the fields. Sword in hand, the Witcher went to challenge the devil, who only taunted and bleated at the man.

The witcher chased the devil, as the bard followed.

In the midst of the 'chase', the duo was suddenly ambushed by elven bandits. The bard and the witcher gasp in shock, realizing they've been lured into a trap.

"Those aren't real elves, right?" Jace asks, observing the 'elven' actors, and looking at their pointed ears, "those have to be fake ears."

"Does it matter?" Aegon shrugs, paying more attention to the scantily clad she-elves.

Aemma looked closer, noticing some of the women elves were dressed differently from the others. The more modestly dressed actress elves' ears looked more prosthetic compared to the scantily clad ones, who also moved about the stage more provocatively. Looking even closer she noticed chains attached to the ankles.

"I think there might be real elves among the actors," she states, to which Aegon only scoffed in disbelief.

The 'battle' continued for some time, until the leader of the elves ordered the bard and witcher captured and tied up.

The crowd gasp in anticipation as the elven leader drew his sword, ready to execute the heroes of this play, and taunting them with a villainous monologue.

Distracted by his moment of impending triumph, the witcher freed himself and the bard, and then proceeded to slaughter the elves in a bloody fashion.

At the end of the onslaught, the witcher raised his sword and the audience applauded and cheered.

The Bard then spoke, addressing the audience, "let it be known from this day forth, the Butcher of Blaviken is no more. From now he is the White Wolf. A friend of humanity, a hero to all, a slayer of monsters and elven bastards. From those in the audience I ask of thee, toss your coin if you can, for a witcher must be paid for his noble and heroic deeds."

And indeed, those in the audience that could spare the coin, tossed them up on the stage while the rest cheered and applauded as the rest of the actors came onto the stage and took a bow (suspiciously the she elf actresses were not present for the finale).

Aemma was not among those who applauded; Aegon and Jace, both being tipsy on vodka (Aegon more so than Jace) hooted and shouted in approval. Aemond clapped lightly, not all that impressed with the play, but noticed the way his cousin was staring at the stage and at the actors, anger in her eyes. It's something he's noticed from Aemma since the mention of this mysterious witcher character. Has she heard about this man before? Was there something about him that maybe she read about in her books?

In the midst of the festivities, a woman's screams of terror cut through, bringing the audience's attention away from the stage and towards one of the ships.

Suspenseful silence followed.

The suddenly from the ship's haul broke out a strange monster unlike anyone in this side of the world has seen before. It was an insectoid monster of some sorts, stinger like a scorpion, green in appearance, and goo spewing from its mandibles.

The creature growled and hissed, beginning its onslaught as patrons scattered in fear.

"What in the Seven Hells is that?!" Aegon exclaims, hoping to the Seven that his drunk mind was playing tricks on him.

Aemma had read the bestiaries enough times to recognize the monster, "I think it's an endraga."

The boys look at her strangely before the aforementioned monster charges at whatever was left of the crows, "We need to run," Aemma says, hastily pushing the boys away from the scene.

For whatever reason, the endraga caught sight of our dragon royals and began to pursue them as they ran across the docks.

"Why is it coming after us?!" Aegon exasperates. "Does it really matter why?!" Aemond exasperates back.

Jace suddenly stops, "Why are we even running?" he unsheathes a dagger, "We can take it. Aemma's read the books, she must know its weak spots." "Jace!" Aemma grabs her cousin and gets him moving again, "we can't take on an endraga! Their stingers carry poison! And there's no cure for it!"

"Well then what do we do?" Aegon asks.

Aemma has to think about it for a moment, "we should split up," she suggests, "it can't go after all us." "That's insane!" Aegon exasperates. "I think we should split up," Aemond agrees, "as Aemma said, if we do so, it can't after all four of us. It might get confused."

"Up ahead!" Aemma shouts, pointing at a little intersection.

Aemma and the boys split up, and as expected, the endraga was briefly distracted, only to take the direction the young princess was heading.

Aemma ran across the docks, taking a turn around a corner. She stopped, suddenly realizing it was a dead end. Aemma remembered the dagger she kept sheathed under her tunic, the one made of silver that her mother had left behind.

She pulled out the dagger, slowly turning around and walking back towards the corner, ready to attack the endraga. She had a feeling her chances would be very slim if she did have to fight this monster, especially if it succeeded in piercing its stinger into her and injected the poison. Aemma was not prepared to die, not today anyway.

The princess didn't see the endraga sneak up behind her. Before it could get the jump on her, scaffolds that carried heavy stones and other equipment fell over and landed on the monster. The weight of the derbies wasn't heavy enough to crush the endraga to death, but it was more then enough to keep it immobilized.

Eyes wide, Aemma stared at the monster, that was starting to struggle in pain, and then looked to see something...or someone crawling out the mess.

Aemma ran over to investigate, no longer worried of her life being in danger.

The being groaned out, like they were in pain. "Hey!" she called out, "Hey, wait!" The figure tried to crawl out faster, trying to get back up on his feet, but Aemma stopped them. "Wait!" she said again. She investigated to realize the person that may have saved her life was a boy, who looked to be around her age if not one year more. He had short hair, that was covered up by a hat, was dressed in rags, and looked like he hadn't had a decent meal in quite some time. Looking down, Aemma noticed this strange boy had scrapes on his knees.

When he tried to stand up, the boy had trouble putting weight on his right foot, "don't do that," Aemma says, extending a hand to help, "you're hurt."

The boy look up, seeming reluctant to except the princess's help, "you saved my life," she says, "do you have a name?"

Before the boy could answer, some grabbed Aemma by the arm, "Are you boys alright?" Aemma looked up at the man who held her arm and recognized him immediately, "Ser Laenor." Laenor Velaryon, who had spent some time drinking with his fellow knights before investigating the commotion, had to blink twice before he recognized the girl, "Princess Aemma?"

"Princess?" the boy's eyes widen, and he proceeded to hop away, only to be apprehended by a several gold cloaks who came onto the scene.

"Wait, don't hurt him!" Aemma calls out, removing her hat to let her silver blonde hair fall forth, "by order of the princess!"

"Aemma," she hears Aemond's voice call out as he runs over to her side, "are you alright?" Aemma nods in response, "Are you sure?" Aemond asks insistently, "you're not hiding any injuries are you?" "Aemond, I'm fine," Aemma assures, "Where are Jace and Aegon?"

"What is going on here, why are you children out at this hour?" Laenor questions. Before anyone could answer, however, the trapped endraga growls out, getting the knight's and gold cloaks' attention. The men slowly approach the creature, "be careful of its stinger," Aemma warns, but it came too late, as one gold cloak came too close and the stinger struck the poor soul through the heart. Aemma gasp in horror as the man fell, the poison quickly taking effect.

Laenor took his sword, playing to finish off the creature, but Aemma pulled out her silver dagger and stabbed the monster through the head, instantly killing it.

The boys look on in total shock.

By then, the rest of the City Watch had shown up, led by Ser Harwin. Several of the watch also had Aegon and Jace in their custody as well.

No one was sure what to do, so Harwin had the children escorted back to the keep, including the strange and injured street urchin boy.

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

Back at the Red Keep, both the king and queen were roused from sleep by the guards who had received news of the commotion that had occurred this night at the docks. Normally, this matter would've been resolved by the City Watch, but at the mention of a monster and the fact that Princess Aemma, and Princes Aegon, Aemond, and Jace had also been involved, it was important to wake the king and give him the report along with his wife and eldest daughter.

It was worth noting that Rhaenyra was particularly difficult to waken, given that she was due to give birth in about a month or so, but the moment she heard that her eldest son was involved, she wasted no time getting dressed and heading for the throne room.

The children waited in suspense in the throne room, saying nothing but occasionally exchanging some awkward looks.

Aegon dared not reach for his flask of vodka, though he wished for a little more drink, knowing full well he was not going to hear the end of this from his mother. Jace had a look on his face like he was going to vomit. Aemond keep his gaze on Aemma in the event she had hurt herself from the chase and didn't know it, and Aemma kept her gaze on the strange boy, who was surrounded by two of the guard to keep him from escaping (not that he could given his current condition), that had saved her life from the endraga.

"Where is my son?" Rhaenyra demands as she walks in. "Mother!" Jace ran over to Rhaenyra who hugged him close, "what happen?" she question. "I was, I mean we were, Aemma was-" "What has happened?" Alicent demands as she walked in; she looked to see Aemma and the boys were present, and she took notice of Aemma's clothing and that the boys were wearing cloaks as well.

"Aemma," Alicent approaches the princess, who didn't need to say anything as the Queen knew exactly where she was this night.

"I've told you before, time and time again that you were not to set foot at the docks," Alicent scolds. "must I have you bound to your bed at night to keep you from sneaking out?!"

"And you," Alicent turned her ire towards Aemond, "I expected more from you, Aemond, you allowed yourself to goaded by your cousin and sneak out in the dead of night? You could've been killed out there!" "Neither of them would've been killed, mother," Aegon assures, but he dropped his flask and liquid spilled out.

"There's that strange water again," Jace speaks; though the chase had sobered the boy up slightly, there was some slur in his speech. "Jace, will you look at me?" Rhaenyra coaxes and Jace does so. She could see her son's eyes were bloodshot somewhat, "have you been drinking?" "Only the water from Aegon's flask," Jace assures.

Alicent picked up the flask and took a whiff, realizing the 'water' was actually a clear liquor. Aegon made no eye contact, knowing he was in trouble.

Alicent slap her eldest son across the face. "Ow!" Aegon protests. "You stupid, boy!" Alicent scolds, "it wasn't enough to seek out indulgences in that part of the city, you had to drag your brother and betrothed into it?" "I didn't drag anyone into anything!" Aegon insists, only to earn another slap by Alicent.

"I'll have you know, your Grace, your son has also put mine at risk," Rhaenyra interjects, "look at him. Prince Aegon can barely stand, and Jacaerys' own mind has been addled by that strange liquor. Your son was clearly in the wrong here." "Pfft, for all I know, your son had been sneaking sips from Aegon's flask without his knowing," Alicent scoffs, "As you've said, Rhaenyra, my son can barely stand, how could he know what was going on around him?"

The queen didn't actually care that Jace was the only one affected by Aegon's drunken stupidity, but after hearing the reports, in her eyes, the older prince may just as well have put his younger brother and future wife in danger himself.

"What is the meaning of all this fuss?" Viserys speaks up as he walks into the throne room. Among those who joined the king were Ser Harrold, the king's current Hand Lyonel Strong, and Grand Maester Mellos.

Everyone stopped bickering and arguing as Viserys slowly made his way to the middle. No one made eye contact with the king, even as he spoke, "I have heard troubling reports this night. I must have the truth of what happened?"

Jace, Aemond, and Aegon began to talk at once, telling their own version of events.

"It was my fault, your Grace," Aemma speaks out loud, getting everyone's attention. Viserys turned his gaze to his oldest niece, "and how is that so, Aemma?"

Aemma then proceeded to tell her story, how she heard about the exhibition that had taken place at the docks and she wanted to go, how Jace and Aemond got involved, and later Aegon.

She also told the king about the endraga (giving a brief description of the monster), how it broke out of the merchant's ship and attacked the patrons. And how it chased her after she and the boys split up.

Right as she concluded her story, Ser Harwin had walked into the throne and room, "your Grace," he greets, "We have apprehended the merchant. The one whose ship the monster was chained up in before its unfortunate escape."

Right then, two of the gold cloaks came in with the Velen merchant, who struggled to break his bonds.

Viserys spoke to the merchant, tone seemingly calm, yet his anger threatened to break the surface, "you have much to answer for. I know not what business of yours has brought you to this side of the world, but your doings, it seems, have cost many lives this night, and have endangered the lives of many more. Among those include two of my sons, my eldest niece, and my eldest grandson."

"I beg your mercy, your Grace," the merchant gets on his knees, "I meant no harm. The endraga was supposed to be dead, or at least I thought so, I swear by all the gods, I did not know it was still alive. I did not wish to cause death. I am, but a simple merchant, I only meant to bring culture and education to the people of this city."

"And slaves too," Aemma speaks up, garner attention back towards her, "your Grace," she continues, "there were women on the stage who bore chains to their ankles. It is my belief they were not there of their own accord."

Is this true?" Viserys asks. "They were mere actresses," the merchant assures, "they were not forced there, surely not." "The actresses were elves," Aemma exclaims.

"The princess speaks the truth, your Grace," the strange boy speaks up for the first time. Viserys gave the boy a strange look, "it is not uncommon for elves, elven women especially to be captured and sold to different parts of the Continent, either to labor camps...or to pleasure houses." the boy explains, "More often then not, they rarely survive their captivity."

"And how do you know this?" Viserys asks. "I've seen it myself with my own eyes," the boy answers, "on the Continent."

"You're a Continental?" Aemma's eyes widen.

Viserys thinks long and hard on this before he makes a decision, "there will be an investigation into this matter. In the meantime have this man confined to the dungeons until such an investigation is concluded."

The Velen merchant protests and begs for mercy as the gold cloaks take him away.

The king turned his attention to the boy, "what is your name, boy?" The same boy had a nervous look in his eye, but he answers, "...Ivan, your Grace. My name is Ivan." "You are a Continental, Ivan?" "I was born in northern kingdom of Aedirn, your Grace," Ivan nods, "I lived in a small fishing village for a time until my father died in a pogrom. My mother and I fled on a ship that took us to King's Landing. She worked as a seamstress in Flea Bottom."

"And where is your mother now?" Alicent asks. "Dead," Ivan answers, "three years past. I have been living on the streets ever since."

"Whatever have you been doing for food?"

"He saved my life," Aemma quips in, "he threw his weight on the scaffold that brought down the endraga. If he hadn't...the monster would've surely killed me."

"It's true," Aemond also quips in, "I saw it happen."

"Well that would explain the injury then," Viserys nods at Ivan's ankle, which was somewhat swollen.

"Your Grace," Aemma speaks up again, "Uncle, I would like to ask for Ivan to stay with us. It is as he said, he has no home of his own. We surely can't toss back into the streets again, especially after he just saved my life."

"I...agree with the princess," Alicent admits, "the boy, it seems, has shown true courage. And such courage should be rewarded."

"...very well," Viserys nods. "Thank you, uncle," Aemma says.

With this meeting concluded, Viserys dismissed everyone in the throne room and was returned to his own chambers, but Rhaenyra speaks up, "father, not all is yet resolved. There is still the matter of my eldest half-brother who has put Jacaerys at risk." "Oh, not this again," Alicent grumbles.

"It will be dealt with in the morning," Viserys assures, "but now the hour is late. And I must rest."

Heading the king's word, everyone else left the throne room to return to their own. Alicent had Aemond escort Aemma back to her chambers, not fully trusting the princess will try and sneak out again. Aemma had a feeling extra guards will be posted by her door to keep her from doing so.

"Aemma," Aemond speaks up, bringing her from her thoughts, "why didn't you applaud after the play? Back at the docks?"

Aemma said nothing, but Aemond could sense her anger growing again, "was this about that man? The White Wolf? What was his name, Ger-" "We don't say his name," Aemma snaps, "sorry, Aemond, but father had forbidden his name be mentioned in his presence a long time ago."

"And why is that?"

Aemma stopped at her door, "that was the man who took my mother away from me," she answered, to which Aemond's eyes widen. Aemma took the dagger out, "this belonged to my mother. She left it behind when he took her away." "Oh, uh, I'm sorry Aemma."

"I'm will travel to the Continent someday on Cirillia," Aemma says in a low tone as she opens the door, starring at the dagger, "I'll have her hunt the witcher down. And before she burns and eats her fill of him, I will have him confess his crime. Then I will take this dagger and plunge it into his heart."

With that said, Aemma closed bid Aemond goodnight and closed the doors behind her.

Chapter 25

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #rhaenyra targaryen #aegon ii #aegon ii targaryen #aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #alicent hightower #oc #hotd #elves #laenor velaryon #jacerys velaryon #jacerys targaryen #viserys targaryen #harwin strong

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garagesesh · 5 months

Text

A Bushel of Oranges for Thee

gif: notalicent ↸

Pairings: Criston Cole & Rhaenyra Targaryen

Summary: Everything he did, he did for her. And now he will die for her.

Warning(s): Violence & Death

A/N: Honestly I really cannot tell you why I wrote this. I don’t ship them. I don’t even like him. I was just rewatching HOTD and found myself intrigued by their dynamic and I guess with tbosas just being released, the theme of men being rejected by women they love turning them into spiteful people has been running through my mind lately. I have also been finding myself unable to sleep nowadays so this is how I spent my evening yesterday.

⌘ this is also available on ao3

␛ to masterlist

part one of the begging for rain series | go to part two ⌦

✦ looking for more asoiaf stories? check out my wintering series! ✦

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

　　　. 　　˚　　　　*　　　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　　　　　　　

Ser Criston Cole surrendered himself to the black army at the second battle of Tumbleton.

He knew that his fight was over as he laid down his sword in the scorched field. Removing his gilded helmet on his own.

Stripped of the rest of his armor and of the Hand’s sigil by the Tully army under the looming threat of Addam Velaryon’s dragon. Lord Tully and Velaryon had not taken long to sentence him to face the Queen one last time but not before they made him reap what he had sown.

He was further stripped to his smallclothes, tied to a post and lashed for his sins until they deemed him worthy to be brought before his judge.

The tight iron chains rubbed his wrists raw, blood seeped out of his blisters making them only more irritated. The chill in the air made his wounds fester and he had once tried to wash them in the river before he was concussed with the heel of a Blackwood sword

“Get on.”

So he marched for weeks. From the Reach into the Crownlands until his exhausted, bloodshot eyes saw the Red Keep.

Where he would undoubtedly meet his end.

At the gates of King’s Landing, they leashed him. A rope around his neck that just like his chains were too tight, choking him. What was left of his small clothes were also relieved from his body.

A walk of shame to welcome him back to where he once considered home.

Through the gates, hundreds of peasants waited for the parade of the victors and their prizes. They threw anything and everything at him. Food, mud, stone, animal excrement. Human excrement. They screamed and mocked. They exposed themselves. He had nothing left of his ego.

Kings- no, Queensguards awaited him at the end of his shameful return. They had no care for their once brother. Pushing and shoving him along. Pulling at the rope around his neck.

He used to patrol, to protect the walls from monsters. Monsters like him that he used to throw into the cavernous dungeons they were now confining him to. The pride that came with the clink of his armor heavy on his once muscular, built young body and the feel of the heavy white velvet cloak on his shoulder that was now long ripped from his person.

He spent days chained to the wall unclothed. Meager rations of water and food were given to him when the guards felt like it. Rats ran across the floor and his flesh when he slept.

It was a fortnight before they let him down.

A moon before they gave him some sort of robe.

Two moons before they had given him anything other than stale bread.

Three moons before they changed his hay.

Just shy of the fourth moon when they gave him a bucket of water to wash. That’s when he knew that the Queen was ready to sentence him.

“Clean your filth, mutt.”

He peered into the bucket and saw his reflection for the first time. His black hair was stringy and outgrown. A beard covered his face. Dirt and excrement caked all over. He scrubbed his skin raw with the bar of tallow given. Trying to bring forth some sort of good appearance for her.

He wished he could have shaved.

After, he was dragged to the dark halls of the dungeons and into the bright keep. His eyes took long to readjust to the soft light.

“Ser Criston Cole the traitor.” Corlys Velayron was older but his wrath was still strong and his hatred still burned, wearing the very symbol he used to flaunt. “You stand before Queen Rhaenyra, Princess of Dragonstone, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.”

His eyes shifted upon the throne.

Rhaenyra.

She was stoic on the iron and unmoving before him, her face was shadowed by the haze streaming through the window. Anonymous to those who had not been graced to look upon her features. Her quiet presence dominated the grand hall, like he should completely submit himself to her again with vows of obedience. Like they all should.

Like a true Queen.

The throne had been waiting for its rightful owner and it finally had it. She commanded the throne, the throne did not command her.

Or was he just a man back from the battlefield looking upon the woman he loved for so long? He surmised it was both.

“You are charged with treason.”

Criston recalls when he made a King of Aegon in spite of her.

“Murder.”

He can’t recall names or faces of the dozens he had killed but he had killed for her. Both those who wished her dead and those who died in her name.

“And for breaking your sworn vows of the Kingsguard.”

He looked up at the last of his crimes.

Once again betrayed by her for something he had done for her.

He has been replaying the night of which she guided him gently to her bed. Kissed him. Undressed him. He hadn’t made love since then.

He had fucked and whored himself to the green queen. Locked himself away in pleasure houses on the street of silk and buried himself in maids but he never let go of that moment with her.

“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?” She finally spoke. He couldn’t tell whether she was challenging him or pitying him.

He had nothing, nothing but empty air when it came to her and instead just shook his head.

“Ser Criston Cole, you are hereby sentenced to death.”

Now he will die for her.

All for her.

He spent his life still avow to her, even through his betrayal.

He made no move, made no indication of his thoughts or feelings at his doom.

“Bend the knee to your rightful Queen.” Corlys barked but Rhaenyra’s fingers lifted from the pommel of Blackfyre, stopping her Hand.

“He has already resigned himself to me, Lord Corlys.” She rose, now completely haloed by the light. “The terms of your execution will be determined by the small council.”

“Do you understand?”

“Yes, my Queen.” His shackles shifted as he hung his head in unmitigated submission to his queen.

“Take him away.”

He was dragged back to his damp cell like before. His withered and broken body was thrown into the old hay and chained to the wall once more and despite being condemned to the grave, sleep found him easily.

He dreamed of her. Accepting his proposal of running away to Essos. He saw her clearly in the grove of oranges they planted together at their seaside home, isolated from the rest of the world. Orange blossoms in her hair as she swelled with their child. Them in the ocean and devouring orange slices on the rocks in the warm sun afterwards.

“Kingsguard.” He jolted awake from the dream. “A Princess’s and Queen’s sworn guard. Hand of the King. Coward, traitor, prisoner. How far you have fallen, Ser Criston.”

“Rhaenyra-“ He croaked. He couldn’t see her at first in the dim light but her voice he would remember even in death.

Rhaenyra stopped, meeting his eyes in the torch light before nodding to her sworn guard. The cell door closed swiftly behind her just as quickly as it had opened. “Leave us.”

The guard bowed his head and clanked down the dark hallway. Leaving only the two of them in the dungeons.

“Ser Criston Cole.” He remembered when she used to say his name full of honey and attention back when he used to delude himself into believing she had felt the same toward him. He almost smiled.

“The council has decided.” He hung his head. ” You will die in a fortnight. I thought that I should tell you myself.”

He stayed silent, for he had nothing to say. Only his dark bruised eyes watched her as she paced in the soiled hay. No longer wearing her crown and stripped of her own regal gowns for rough woven trousers and a starched blouse underneath a crimson doublet.

“I hope you are satisfied with your time on this short life journey, for I’m sure you have enjoyed the years spent as a traitorous dog.”

He flinched but finally found his voice. His throat was dry from the lack of water and felt coated in sawdust. His voice broke. “I was o-nce a traitorous dog for you.”

“Yes, I remember it all too well. When you broke your vow of duty, of honor for me.” She stopped pacing to kneel in front of him, pausing. It was then he could see the scars from dragon fire puckering at her neck and up upon her left ear. “For Jaecerys.”

He met her violet eyes with her words, first confused at what the Queen had meant before understanding. His mind for the hundredth time that day thought of when she stole his helmet all those years ago. When they had spent weeks together reveling in each other, he fell harder for her than he already had. When she had married only a moon after she rejected him, where he stood in the corner unable to look at the princess without his heart unequivocally breaking. He can still hear the echoes of her screams in labor only to see the babe she birthed lacked the Valyrian features of what was expected of a Targaryen and Velaryon coupling.

He, like the rest of the court and of what the green queen told him, had assumed Ser Harwin Strong as the father.

He would watch the young boy with disdain. Remembering how disgusted he felt whenever the Prince would pick up a sword in the training yard. Telling Aegon to hit him hard. Hit the bastard hard.

Bastard was dirty in his mind now. A black spot that has forever now tainted him.

Alicent had directed and manipulated him with her sweet voice. Telling him of the ways Rhaenyra was a whore.

Another dirty word.

Visions of the battle in the Neck began to blur his mind. Visions of where he plunged his sword into the Prince’s back. Jacaerys had died before he even reached the floor.

His son.

Ser Criston Cole had been a father all this time.

Bringing his own son into the world and taking him out of it. For all he had endured in the years of his now realized meaningless life, this was the worst torture of them all. Cruelty in its highest form.

Murderer of his son.

“Forgive me, Rhaenyra.” He wasn’t asking, he was begging.

Rhaenyra hummed. “You murdered your own son. For what? Traitors?”

“Rhaenyra-“ The only water he has tasted in days was from the tears streaming down his face. “If only I had known-“

“If you had only known what? Ser Criston?” She stood, her shadow flickering in the firelight above him. “Hm? Known that you had a son? What would have that changed?”

“Everything-everything would have changed!” He sobbed.

“Is my claim to the throne valid now? Is that what it takes for you?” Rhaenyra sneered at him. “A child dead in the grave!”

“F-forgive me!” He strained against the chains, “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry-“

“I think we are far past the time for apologies and forgiveness between us.”

“Kill me then.” He was almost incoherent through his sobs. “Please! Kill me!”

“You had begged me once, remember? But I think it’s time you forget your dreams of oranges, for you had squashed them when you betrayed me.”

He had no response. His chains rattled as he strained against them, trying break free of the confines before he was consumed.

“Ser Cerwyn?” The guard appeared, “I think it’s time for my bath.”

“Certainly, my Queen.” Unlocking the cell, he held it open for the queen and extended a gloved hand for her to take.

His chest heaved, unable to breathe through his tears and guilt. The walls closed in, pushing him against the wall with an imaginary force. He continued to plead but it came out as a gurgle into the void as the light that was Rhaenyra disappeared. “I’m sorry!”

“Rhaenyra!”

He spent his last days completely mad. Murmuring his apologies to his dead son and to the queen. Cursing the green queen and all of those who were traitors.

When the sun set on his last evening, a covered platter was brought before his decrepit being.

“Eat, mutt.” The guard commanded as he opened the cell, all but throwing the concealed meal on the floor. The cover flew off, clattering against the stone to allow the ochre meal roll away from him.

His last meal was an orange.

Tears rolled down his cheeks silently as the guard freed a single arm from the confines of his chains. A kindness for his last night.

Picking up the orange from the soiled floor, it took effort and strength that he no longer had to peel back the citruses layer. The smell of the fruit overcame him and he was reminded of her. Taking his time with each of the slices, sucking their juice, smelling and savoring each one.

The orange lasted until apologies spewed from his mouth when the guards came to collect him at dawn. He put up no fight as they sheared off his lice infested hair to be able to get a clean swipe. They paraded him in empty halls to the outside chopping block in the cold pouring rain.

Ser Criston Cole was beheaded in front of a single witness, a gold cloak.

Some say no one showed up at all.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔ 　　　. 　　˚　　　　*　　　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　　　　　　　

go to part two ⌦

␛ to masterlist

✦ looking for more asoiaf stories? check out my wintering series! ✦

#rhaenyra targaryen x criston cole #house of the dragon #rhaenyra targaryen #hotd #criston cole #asoiaf #ser criston cole #jacaerys velaryon #alicent hightower

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aswho1estuff · 9 months

Text

Thee Other women

Ep. 3 wo-men: defined

-wo: woes or worries

-men: caused by and or having involvement with more than one man even unintentionally

Plot: May had life all planned out she was successful, comfortable, and about to get married to the man of her dreams until she answers his phone. Out of all things she never expected another woman and she certainly never expected to meet jungwoo through it.

Ep.3 Overview: "..what kinda plans do you have?"

"We're gonna send him to hell inna hand basket"

Masterlist

Playlist

May pov:

"In the most respectful way you have a perfectly acceptable reason for revenge and even if you don't want revenge you're gonna need evidence in case to be safe" the girl I've found to be named Ciara says leaning in from over her milkshake.

I can't even eat my stomach was filled with the bitter aftertaste of 'love' a feeling familiar to acid. I want to handle this like an adult but...I was planning our forever.

"You don't have to plan a revenge plot but anything you do, if you'll allow us we'd love to help. Unless your friends are we don't want overstep even more" Jungwoo says making me shake and from the side of me he reaches out to grab my hand cradling it.

Tears expand in my waterline from the comfort, I don't even remember having any lasting friendships the only friend I had was him. All his preaching of only needing each other but going to drink with his friends or what he quotes as 'coworkers' hell they probably were love interest.

I double over trying to hide my face as tears prick both sides of my face. Ciara joins my side to rub my back and cradles me with the other arm. I haven't had anyone in a while to just let me cry in peace.

"..what kinda plans do you have?"

"We're gonna send him to hell inna hand basket"

"he shall be forced to dance until he perishes"

"..with gasoline draws"

"ohh great minds think so alike"

"so that's a real saying, thought you were lying"

"Okay let's go over the plan one more time" I tell Ciara smoothing my dress over. "So we head to this club snap some pictures even videos for evidence, and it's full proof because Jungwoo said he talked about this club lots" Ciara finishes her grand speech that almost relieves the nerve in my stomach.

"If he's not bothering y'all who's he entertaining?, The answers bound to be in there based on pattern" Ciara says grabbing the phones from her purse on the sink. "First things first take a big deep breath in, now deep breath out" she gives me the phone cradling it "and repeat" she says resuming the breathing practice with me.

"I already spotted, do you want me to show you?" Jungwoo asks each words feathering off from the other side of the door walking out I face him with "I'm completely sure" I nod more for myself than him.

Jungwoo pov:

"...Alright I'll lead....I like.. your dress, a lot" I can't help but tell her "oh thank you" she replies silence now taking over as we all collectively find him. "Let's sit here and pretend to take a pictures" Ciara says guiding us to a booth "I'll record him on mine" I join in pulling my phone out.

"Okay I think that's enough, what would you like to do now ?" Ciara asks "I think I'm gonna head for the ladies room then a drink honestly" may responds getting up I join her "I'll join you for that drink if you don't mind, but Ciara can't stay you've got work" I finish pulling Ciara up.

"Thank y'all lots, really"

"of course"

"not a problem"

May pov :

I finish blowing my nose dumping the tissues down the toilet. Opening the stall door i come face to face with the mirror and suddenly I'm now hunched over the toilet hands stabbing into my knees to stabilize myself.

Getting up I wash out my mouth and finish cleaning my hands. "I need a drink and some food" I say to myself pushing the bathroom door opens.

"that sounds good to me" turning quickly I expect to find Jungwoo but instead find an unknown male covered head to toe in black. "I didn't mean to scare thought you'd be braver mouse, you did take pictures of me after all".

"Oh that i- it's a long story really,umm"

"There you are May, what's going on ?"

"I endorse that question also"

"Well... that's something that can be explained at a diner so"

Yuta pov:

"how do you know James" the man sitting across from me says.

"I was really using him for money I think everyone does really" i say bluntly picking up some fruit, honestly everyone in the club thinks he's like a cash cow but I digress.

"so he's a serial cheater" may says making me audible gasp the pictures make sense now "damn you're with him you're too pretty, what's he giving you ?" I twist my head in confusion biting into the waffles now.

"We're married" I gasp again now choking on the waffle piece she hands me my drink "you alright?" "Yeah just wasn't thinking that" facing her she looks so unhappy.

"damn what's he doing that's got you stuck, and is there any room for me?"

"What?"

"Total pig move" she says bluntly and for a minute I think she's gonna stab me with my fork "gosh" she starts laughing "and and..I don't think I can be with a guy who eats waffles".

"their not that bad" laughing i offer her my fork that she avoids like the plague.

Jungwoo joins picking up her hand to take the fork making her laugh louder "ewww".

She looks better like this .... smiling, everyone does.

Masterlist

<- Rewind ⏪ ⏸️ ⏯️ Fast Forward ->

Thank you for reading

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fatalitysficbakery · 1 year

Text

𓆰♡︎𓆪 Fatility’s Fic Bakery Masterlist; Multifandomed & OC Menu Updated Pt. Two 5•10•24 𓆰♥︎𓆪

↳ A Multifandom blog, that caters to less represented. Mainly black women but other poc and minorities as well.

↳ CHECK THE RULE LIST. Highly important to check my rule post before requesting ANYTHING.

↳ ❦ Fatalitysficbakery navigation menu ❦.

↳ ❦ Fatalitysficbakery rules + drabble menu ❦.

↳ ❦ Fatalitysficbakery requests guidelines menu ❦.

••[❦]•••[❦❦]••[❦]•••[❦❦]••[❦]•••[❦❦]••[❦]•••[❦❦]••

𓆰♥︎︎𓆪 Welcome To The Bakery 𓆰♥︎𓆪

series (☀︎︎) oneshots (☦︎︎) smut (✞)

fluff (☻︎) angst (☹︎)

two parters (♫) is

reactions (❥) headcanons (☠︎︎)

drabbles (☾)

••[❦]•••[❦❦]••[❦]•••[❦❦]••[❦]•••[❦❦]••[❦]•••[❦❦]••

𓆰♡︎𓆪 9-1-1 𓆰♡︎𓆪

↳ Athena Grant.

coming soon!!

↳ Henrietta Wilson.

coming soon!!

↳ May Grant.

coming soon!!

↳ Maddie Buckley.

coming soon!!

↳ Karen Wilson.

coming soon!!

↳ Bobby Nash.

coming soon!!

↳ Edmundo “Eddie” Diaz.

coming soon!!

↳ Howie “Chimney” Han.

coming soon!!

↳ Evan Buckley.

coming soon!!

↳ Ravi Panikkar.

coming soon!!

↳ Albert Han.

coming soon!!

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𓆰♥︎︎𓆪 9-1-1: Lonestar 𓆰♥︎𓆪

↳ Tyler “T.K” Kennedy Strand.

coming soon!!

↳ Carlos Reyes.

coming soon!!

↳ Judson “Judd” Ryder.

coming soon!!

↳ Paul Strickland.

coming soon!!

↳ Mateo Chavez.

coming soon!!

↳ Wyatt Harris.

coming soon!!

↳ Owen Strand.

coming soon!!

↳ Gabriel Reyes.

coming soon!!

↳ Tommy Vega.

coming soon!!

↳ Grace Ryder.

coming soon!!

↳ Marjan Marwani.

coming soon!!

↳ Nancy Gillian.

coming soon!!

↳ Kendra Harrington.

coming soon!!

••[❦]•••[❦❦]••[❦]•••[❦❦]••[❦]•••[❦❦]••[❦]•••[❦❦]••

𓆰♡︎𓆪 Miscellaneous (Artist ++) 𓆰♡︎𓆪

↳ Beyoncé Knowles-Carter.

Tongue, Teeth, &’ Fire. (☦︎︎ - ✞ - light ☻︎) x Black Fem!Y/n

warnings: possessive (angry???) public makeup oral/fingering (reader receiving), slight dirty talk, adultery, calm dom!bey, shy sub!y/n.

synopsis: she missed you. more than anything, she missed you.

↳ Megan “Thee Stallion/Tina Snow” Pete.

coming soon!!

↳ Solange Knowles.

coming soon!!

↳ Kelly Rowland.

coming soon!!

••[❦]•••[❦❦]••[❦]•••[❦❦]••[❦]•••[❦❦]••[❦]•••[❦❦]••

𓆰♡︎𓆪 The Last Of Us 𓆰♡︎𓆪

↳ Ellie Williams.

coming soon!!

↳ Riley Abel.

coming soon!!

↳ Dina.

coming soon!!

↳ Abby Anderson.

coming soon!!

↳ ((Ships)) 𓆰♡︎𓆪

↳ Riley x Ellie

coming soon!!

↳ Dina x Ellie

coming soon!!

••[❦]•••[❦❦]••[❦]•••[❦❦]••[❦]•••[❦❦]••[❦]•••[❦❦]••

𓆰♡︎𓆪 Scream 𓆰♡︎𓆪

↳ Samantha Carpenter

Never Trust The Love Interest. (☦︎︎ - ☹︎ - ☻︎ - ✞) x Black Fem!Y/n

warnings: listen to 'What a wonderful world' by Louis Armstrong while reading, ghostface!sam, sub!sam, soft dom!y/n, praise, oral (reader giving), slight!fingering, soft ‘reuinited’ smut, sub worship.

synopsis: legacies make franchises.

↳ Tara Carpenter

coming soon!!

↳ Billy Loomis

coming soon!!

↳ Stu Macher

coming soon!!

••[❦]•••[❦❦]••[❦]•••[❦❦]••[❦]•••[❦❦]••[❦]•••[❦❦]••

𓆰♡︎𓆪 Gen V 𓆰♡︎𓆪

↳ Jordan Li.

Bad For Me (☦︎︎ - ✞ - ☹︎??? - ☻︎) x Black Fem!Y/n

warnings: enemies to lovers, car sex, slight humor, possessive dom!jordan, got your tea bitch sub!y/n.

synopsis: jordan hates your guts or wants to rearrange them. they haven’t decided yet. (yes they have).

↳ Marie Moreau

coming soon!!

••[❦]•••[❦❦]••[❦]•••[❦❦]••[❦]•••[❦❦]••[❦]•••[❦❦]••

𓆰♡︎𓆪 The Originals 𓆰♡︎𓆪

↳ Elijah Mikaelson

I choose me. (♫ - ✞ - ☹︎ - ☻︎) x Black Fem!Y/n

warnings: breeding kink, soft dom!elijah, hybrid!y/n, desperation, need, man falls first, woman falls harder, soft smut, gentle dirty talk. grab tissues for your eyes and tomatoes for niklaus, it’s time for elijah’s ending.

synopsis: but what about elijah’s happiness?

↳ Freya Mikaelson.

Found Peace. (☦︎︎ - ☹︎ - ☻︎ - ✞) x Black Fem!Y/n

coming soon!!

↳ Hayley Marshall

coming soon!!

↳ Rebekah Mikaelson.

A Family Of Her Own. (☦︎︎ - ☹︎ - ☻︎) x Black Fem!Y/n

coming soon!!

↳ Niklaus Mikaelson.

coming soon!!

↳ Marcel Gerard.

coming soon!!

••[❦]•••[❦❦]••[❦]•••[❦❦]••[❦]•••[❦❦]••[❦]•••[❦❦]••

𓆰♡︎𓆪 Wednesday 𓆰♡︎𓆪

↳ Wednesday Addams.

coming soon!!

↳ Morticia Addams.

coming soon!!

↳ Enid Sinclair.

coming soon!!

↳ Larissa Weems.

coming soon!!

••[❦]•••[❦❦]••[❦]•••[❦❦]••[❦]•••[❦❦]••[❦]•••[❦❦]••

This List will be updated regularly as I go on. Enjoy the baked goods in Heaven’s Fic Bakery! 🥖🥐🥯🍞🥨🥮🧁🍧🍨🍯

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a-complex-joke · 2 months

Text

The Toymaker Chapter 4

MASTERLIST

A day after the somewhat weird visit from Thee Rumpelstiltskin, another surprising visit Arrived at the Toy shop.

"Welcome, Si-" The girl was stunned, and in her shop stood the king.

"Your Majesty, to what do I owe the pleasure of you being in my shop? '' she said, bowing to the monarch.

"I've come to inform you, you're out. You have but a fortnight to vacate the premises" The King said, already turning to leave.

"What? But why? Im-" she started to protest.

Hush, it has already been decided. This town has no use for a loly Toy Maker such as yourself"

"But your Majesty, I have nothing else, no family, no place to go off to, I'd be forced into prostitution to feed myself, " He said pleading for some kind of pity.

"I care not of what happens to you, your shop will be replaced with something that will actually help the town" the King stormed off with his court in tow.

The Toymaker fell to her knees, tears starting to form.

"Don't worry you'll figure it out" A cloth doll said, patting the girl's back.

"Just seduce a prince then you'll never need to worry again." a jester doll said snickering.

"Wasn't the king throwing a ball so his son could find a wife?" the cloth doll said, jumping and clapping her hands together.

"But I don't even know him" the Toymaker argued.

"So what," the dolls said towering over the girl in her variable position.

Later that night, the ball was held. Everyone wore their finest clothes, Including the Toymaker, A beautiful dress, yet still modest that cost way too much but it would be worth it, she thought.

The people danced, talked, and drank, but if there was another common theme it was young women crowding around the prince.

"Your highness" She Curtseyed towards the prince, though he seemed distracted by a different young lady.

"Uh Pardon me," He said walking away from the Toymaker.

Almost instantly the plan to course the prince had failed.

Though he wasn't the only man here with money, surely another man would ask for her next dance.

Song after song the girl waited to be approached by someone, other than the Servants carrying drinks on their trays.

All while the Prince danced with some blonde the whole time.

"You seem rather appalled by being here," a voice said startling her.

"Ah, Mr.Stiltskin you started me. What are you doing here?" She asked, starting with his sudden appearance.

"While I'm in town I might as well show up to a ball, not every day those are thrown. Why are you standing here"

"Asking myself the same thing. I thought at least one person would ask me to dance. I'm just gonna head back to the shop at this point" she began to walk away but was pulled back.

"The night is still young, one dance won't kill you," Rumpelstiltskin said, leading her to the other dancing people.

At first, the dance was off wrong timing and clumsy but as the song progressed and the Toymaker relaxed the movements were more fluid.

With a final kiss on the hand, the two split their ways until the following day.

The Toymaker had gotten no sleep, due to worry about what she would do, she tried making things to ease her mind but in the end, it was pointless.

"Hello welcome to my shop how may I help you" she muttered

"Down in the dumps, I see" It was Rumpelstiltskin

"Oh, hello Mr.Stiltskin, she's all finished up I'll go grab her" she Sighed heading to the back before emerging once again, with a gorgeous doll.

"Are you moving shop ?" he asked looking around the now depressing shop.

"Not by my own choice, The king I kicking me out. It's just terrible I have nothing, I'll have to sell myself on the street, and he could care less" She hissed out.

"Sorry I have a lot on my mind" her glare softened as she handed him the doll.

"Here she is, funny how my prettiest doll will be my last"

"You're just giving up ?" he sounded disappointed.

"Well I did attempt to seduce the prince last night, but As you can see I'm no doll" she gestured to herself.

"I think ill head off to the next kingdom over," she said unsure of her answer.

"Work you me" he blurted out

A silence formed between the two.

"Ok, yeah I work for you. Oh and you can call me Emily, Emily O,hare.

#fanfic #ouat #rumplestiltskin

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moeitsu · 1 month

Text

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Summary: Welcome to Horseshoe Overlook

Ao3 Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9 Ch.10

Tags: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character, Widowed, Original Character, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby Arthur Morgan, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Ch 3 - The Suns Low Down The Sky

Arthur escorted Kate to Dutch’s tent first, where the other gang members looked on curiously. Jack leapt into his mother's arms, as she eyed the mystery woman who rode in with her son. Arthur explained the situation to Dutch, introducing Kate as a traveler heading west, planning to stay for only a few days.

“Nonsense!” Dutch laughed heartily. “Drifter, outcast, or outlaw, whatever you may be, Miss McCanon, you’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like. We only ask that you pitch in with meals and chores.” He smiled, taking a puff from his cigar.

Kate nodded gratefully. “That's very kind of you, Mr. Van der Linde,” she replied.

“Please, call me Dutch,” he insisted. Kate reciprocated the informalities.

Dutch continued, “Arthur, show our new friend here where she can settle her things. Then come find me afterward; I’d like to discuss these Pinkertons you’re so worked up about.” He spoke casually, as if discussing the weather.

Arthur led Kate to a small clearing next to the ladies' tents, where they whispered among themselves. Though Kate felt like an outcast among the group, she hoped to get to know them better, especially the other women. It had been a long time since she’s had the company of fellow girls. Even though she was still unsure about just how long she would remain here.

“You get yourself settled,” Arthur said warmly, “I’m gonna go speak with Dutch. I’ll come find you for dinner.” He bid her farewell, Kate nodded and set to work unpacking her few belongings—a tent cloth, bedroll, and a small bag of clothes. She chose to travel light, since she had no wagon to pull.

From the adjacent tent, two heads peeked out with nervous giggles. One woman had a head full of curls and a face full of freckles, while the other was dark-skinned and wore a vibrant yellow dress. They whispered amongst each other before addressing Kate.

“Hello,” Kate said, feeling a hint of sudden nervousness, it really had been awhile since she was around so much company.

“Hi Miss,” said the curly-haired girl, “are you Arthur’s new mistress?” She asked with a giggle.

Kate’s eyes widened in surprise and her cheeks tinted red, she hadn't thought about what the situation looked like to the other members. A strange woman riding in with one of the men, of course they would think she was a prostitute. Yet she was a little flattered, she did not feel nearly as pretty enough to be considered as such.

Kate used to be all “ladylike” back in the days when she was tending to her husband and daughter. But she's always been more on the rugged side, she stood about 5 foot 10 inches, and had wide shoulders and thick thighs like sturdy tree trunks. All the years on the open plains she's gained muscle in places she didn't even know she had. But the beginning of her journey west is what really hardened her, she shuddered at the memory.

“No, no, I assure you it’s nothing like that,” she clarified. .

“Oh, quit it, Mary-Beth,” the girl in yellow scolded, stepping out from the tent. “My name's Tilly. Nosey Nelly over here is Mary-Beth.”

Kate chuckled softly, relieved by Tilly's playful interruption. "Nice to meet you both," she said, offering a warm smile. "I'm Kate. And no, I'm not Arthur's mistress. Just passing through, like he said.” She restated, taking a good look at the two girls, she noticed they were incredibly young. Tilly couldn't be much older than 18, and Mary-Beth only looked a handful of years older. The faces were full of youth, and eyes still bright with hopes and dreams. She wondered how two beautiful young women ended up with a gang of outlaws. She prayed it was nothing nefarious.

Mary-Beth blushed, realizing her bluntness. "Sorry about that," she mumbled sheepishly.

Tilly waved off the apology with a grin. "Don't mind her. She's a hopeless romantic always jumping to conclusions," she explained, shooting a teasing glance at her friend.

"It's alright," Kate assured them, continuing to unpack her belongings. "I'm just grateful for a place to rest for a few days."

"Well, you're welcome here," Tilly said warmly. "We might be a ragtag bunch, but we look out for each other." The girls smiled in unison. It was clear they were eager to make a new friend.

Kate nodded, feeling a sense of security and camaraderie with the girls already. "Thank you Tilly. I really appreciate it."

“Can we introduce you to the others?” Mary-Beth inquired. Kate put down the bed roll she was spreading out and wiped her hands. She took a look around the camp and saw people milling about doing all sorts of activities. Some were cooking, some cleaning, others sat by a fire while two played dominos at a nearby table. She couldn't see him, but she knew Arthur would be inside the large canvas tent with Dutch and Hosea discussing the encounter by the river.

“That would be nice,” she answered with a nod. Mary-Beth lept at the opportunity and linked her arm with Kates, the gesture took her by surprise.

“Oh, it's so nice to have another woman around here. C’mon, I’ll introduce you to the girls first,” Mary-Beth exclaimed, her excitement infectious.

Kate couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm; this was slowly becoming exciting for her too. Together, the three of them strolled a short distance to a larger tent near a crackling fire. Jack sat on the ground, drawing shapes in the dirt with a stick, his eyes lighting up when they approached. Kate recognized the woman beside him as his mother from their earlier encounter. She wore a worn blue dress covered by a long plaid-brown trench coat, busy sewing Jack's sleepwear.

“Hello, Miss,” Kate greeted politely, acknowledging Abigail's tired smile. “I’ve had the pleasure of meeting your boy already. He's a wonderful kid.”

Abigail nodded gratefully, the weariness evident in her eyes. “Jack told me all about his adventures,” she paused her sewing to shake Kate's hand. “I’m Abigail.”

Kate returned the handshake warmly. “It's a pleasure, Abigail.”

As they moved on, Mary-Beth leaned close to Kate's ear, her voice hushed. “Abigail’s been under a lot of pressure lately,” she confided. “Her husband, well, I guess they're not technically married. Anyways, John hasn’t been the best father to Jack. She worries about her boy a lot.”

Kate's sympathy for Abigail deepened. Motherhood was challenging, even under the best circumstances, and she couldn't imagine the strain of raising a child in their risky situation. She wondered if this had anything to do with why Arthur took Jack fishing. Maybe he was trying to give his mother a break. She hoped to offer her support to Abigail when the opportunity arose.

Approaching the tree line, they encountered a blonde woman holding a rifle, evidently on guard duty. Kate noted the caution in her stance, understanding their wariness toward strangers.

“Well, who do we have here?” the woman greeted, her tone wary.

Mary-Beth took the lead in introducing Kate. “This is Kate, she’s our newest member!” she announced.

Karen eyed Kate suspiciously, her grip on the rifle tightening slightly. “Newest member, huh?” she said bluntly.

Kate raised her hands in a friendly gesture. “I’m just passin’ through, only staying for a night or two,” she explained. “I’m uh - a friend of Arthur’s.” She wasn't sure why the words came out so strange.

“I’m Karen,” she replied tersely. “Sorry if we don't take kindly to strangers. It's been real hard these past couple weeks.” Mary-Beth nodded in agreement. “I best get back to my lookout, holler when dinners ready.” She added, turning around and heading back into the thicket of trees.

As they returned to camp, the aroma of meat stew filled the air, and the fire crackled brighter with the encroaching darkness. People began claiming their seats by the fire's warm glow. Kate scanned the camp but saw no sign of Arthur, she figured he must still be with Dutch. She hoped he was alright after his encounter with the Agents, though she understood his agitation. If he truly was an outlaw, then any government official would probably trigger his flight or fight. She wanted to ask him about it, and ask him what happened.

She longed to hear his side of the story, but she knew it wasn't her place to pry. If he chose to confide in her, she would listen eagerly. After all, sharing stories was what kept her journey alive, each encounter offering a new perspective and enriching her travels. In return, she kept their memory alive, as they lived on through her.

As Mary-Beth led her to a spot by the fire, a formidable older woman with a head full of gray hair strode over, her voice carrying the weight of authority.

“Mary-Beth, I swear to the Lord above if those clothes aren’t washed by tomorrow morning I will—” she halted mid-sentence, her gaze landing on Kate. “Oh, hello dear. Who might you be?” Straightening her dress and tucking a stray hair behind her ear, she composed herself before the stranger.

“Miss Grimshaw, this is Kate McCanon. She’s going to be staying for a few days,” Mary-Beth introduced, a hint of hesitation in her voice.

Kate realized that Miss Grimshaw must be the matriarch of the camp, responsible for keeping things in order. She offered a warm smile. “It's a pleasure, Miss Grimshaw,” she said, extending her hand for a shake. “I’m very grateful to be welcomed here. Whatever you need me to do will be done, be it cleaning, cooking, hunting—you name it. Anything I can do to repay the kindness.”

Miss Grimshaw seemed pleased by Kate’s graciousness. “Well, my oh my, if only the other girls had as much responsibility as you, young lady, then maybe we wouldn’t be living in this dump,” she chuckled. “Well, enjoy your evening, dear. The work can wait until tomorrow.”

Kate nodded her thanks, noting Mary-Beth's subtle eye-roll as Miss Grimshaw walked away. As the dinner bell rang, a heavyset man by the chuck wagon announced that dinner was ready. Mary-Beth informed Kate that he was Mr. Pearson, the camp cook.

The two of them lined up and filled their bowls, then settled by the fire. Kate found herself between Mary-Beth and Tilly, enjoying the warmth and the chatter of the camp. As the commotion continued, she spotted three men emerging from Dutch’s large tent. Among them was Arthur, making his way over to join them at the fire.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Arthur left Dutch’s tent feeling irritated. He laid out the entire situation to him and Hosea—the Pinkertons, Milton’s offer, everything. He stressed that they were being watched, that danger lurked closer than they might realize.

Dutch had questioned his decision to refuse the offer, which Arthur found absurd. Why would he betray his own for a deal with the devil? He was raised not to trust the government and this camp was the closest thing he had to a family, and he’d sooner face down the law than betray them.

The conversation echoed in his mind, “ What's our move, Dutch? ” Arthur had asked, desperation creeping into his voice. Dutch's response was predictably vague, “ We do nothing, son, ” he asserted, “ They want us scrambling, like headless chickens, but we will stand our ground. We just need a bit more cash, then we’ll set sail east. ” Hosea sighed in resignation—“ Have faith ,” Dutch added, as if it were a magic word.

Arthur had never once doubted Dutch or Hosea, they were the people who clothed him, fed him, and protected him from a very young age, but he was beginning to wonder when the robbing and running would end. They had already lost Mac, Davey, and young Jenny. This life was not a safe one, and everyday he wonders if it will be his last.

He bid them farewell and exited the tent, he made his way towards the fire and spotted Kate eating dinner and integrating herself with the gang. He noticed her smile as he tipped his hat in greeting, and sat on a log opposite from her.

“Looks like you've made yourself at home, Miss McCanon,” Arthur remarked with a friendly grin, not revealing any of the stress that weighed heavy on his shoulders.

“Kate,” she corrected him, casual and warm, “and yes, everyone's been lovely. I’m grateful for the company,” she replied, spooning up some stew.

“So, where is it you come from?” Lenny chimed in, initiating the conversation.

“I was born up north, near Boston. I lived there for about 20 years before traveling southwest,” she answered truthfully. Arthur noted this must be why her accent was different from most people around these parts.

“Long way from home!” Javier exclaimed, joining the conversation, “I’ve always wanted to see the north, I hear it's beautiful,” he looked up, picturing the image in his head.

Kate nodded and hummed an answer as she remembered her home, “it's very green and mountainous.”

Lenny’s voice chimed in again, “what brought you out this way? If ya dont mind me asking.” He said politely.

Kate inhaled a breath and shook her head slightly, “it's quite a long story. Suffice to say, there’s nothing left for me up there. Ain't got no family, no land or property.” She said as her expression darkened briefly.

“How come a pretty thing like you ain't married eh?” The Irish man, Sean, quipped from his seat across from her, his voice lubricated with ale. He was more than a little tipsy, already on his fourth beer of the night. Arthur tensed at his comment, Sean had a knack for stirring trouble with his loose tongue. To his surprise Kate laughed and met his banter with her own.

“Well, you see Sean, I’m just waiting for a man who can match my charm. But they seem as rare as a sober Irishman in a pub.” She shot back with a playful wink. Arthur couldn't help but chuckle.

Sean let out a whooping laugh and slapped his leg, “oh she’s a feisty Lass!” he hollered, “what’s a woman like you doing with a grumpy old bastard like Arthur? Maybe you’d like to take your chances with a handsome young gentleman such as myself.” Sean shimmied his body insinuating something nefarious. Kate only laughed and shook her head.

Arthur couldn't help but join in, “I shoulda let you hang,” he said with a snicker, masking his annoyance, “and we met on a job a few weeks back. Ran into her again down by the river when I was fishin’ with the kid.” He explained, taking a swig of his drink, he didn't want Kate to think he had any ulterior motive based on Sean’s comment.

They continued to chat together, but the conversation shifted from being about Kate to whatever absurd tale Uncle was telling. Arthur’s peace was interrupted for the third time that day by the sound of hooves approaching.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate leaned back against the log and placed her empty bowl beside her. Content after a warm hearty meal. She listened with content as the other members of the camp shared stories amongst each other.

Her gaze lingered over to Arthur, who seemed lost in thought whilst looking deep in the fire. He wrung his hands together and Kate noticed he did not grab dinner for himself. Before she could offer to fill him a bowl they all turned to the sound of hooves.

Three men were returning to camp, with a woman following behind them. She noticed, unlike the other ladies of the camp, the woman was wearing trousers, and carrying iron on her hip, she made a note to introduce herself later. Next to her, Tilly pointed out the new arrivals. The one with shaggy black hair was John, Jack’s father and Abigail’s not-so husband. He dismounted and immediately went to his tent, where Abigail was eating with Jack. The other two men were heavier, and rougher looking. Tilly said their names were Bill and Micah. The one called Bill helped himself to the stew, while the one she called Micah caught Dutch’s attention and they entered his tent together. That just left the woman, Tilly explained that she was a widow they rescued in the Grizzlies. O’Driscoll’s had killed her husband, and Micah accidently set her cabin aflame. She dismounted and pulled a white envelope from her satchel.

Approaching Arthur she held out the paper, “for you.” She said handing him the letter, “from a woman, uh, Mary Linton, I think.” He nodded and took the envelope, opening its contents. Kate was suddenly curious about this Mary woman.

The woman, Sadie, tipped her hat at Kate and Tilly before grabbing a bowl of stew and retreating back to her tent. A woman of few words, Kate recalled.

She tried to watch the fire and go back to listening to the stories, but her gaze lingered on Arthur, whatever this woman said in her letter gave him a sorrowful expression. Abruptly he stood up, shoving the paper in his back pocket, and walked away. Kate was a little disappointed he didn't say goodnight, or give any acknowledgement. She had the idea to bring him some food later to cheer him up.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Over an hour had passed and Kate was confident she knew all the camp members now, after everyone shared tales and fun memories of one another. The only people missing were Charles, who Tilly informed her he often went out hunting, and Kieren, who hasn't really integrated himself with the others yet. It was getting late, and she needed to feed and tend to her horse before resting herself. She bid her farewell to everyone and made her way over to her beloved mare Lorena. Briefly stopping by her tent to grab an apple for her, and a peach for Arthur. She would have to pass his tent on her way, so she figured she would offer the food then, if he wasn't already asleep.

To her surprise he wasn't on his cot, perhaps he went for a ride she thought. She continued on to find her mare with the other gang's horses near the entrance to their camp. Lorena greeted her excitedly, it had only been a few hours since she last saw her, but her baby had always been clingy.

“How ya doin’ girl,” she cooed, scratching her snout. She reached around and undid the saddle strapped to her back, “let's get this heavy thing off ya so you can rest properly.” She said pulling the saddle down. Lorena let out a happy huff in response.

Kate reached into her satchel pulling out a small blade, she tenderly cut small pieces from the apple and fed them to her horse. While she fed her she sang a soft tune, almost like a lullaby, to ease her mares nerves and settle her in for the night.

This house, she’s holding secrets.

I got my change behind the bed,

In a coffee can I can throw my nickels in.

Just in case I have to leave.

She sliced another piece of the apple and Lorena lapped it from her hand, nudging her snout into Kate’s hair, making her laugh. She continued on with her song as the quiet of the night sang its own gentle tune.

I will go if you ask me to,

I will stay if you dare.

And I go, I’m goin’ shameless.

Let my hunger take me there.

Lorena let out a soft, breathy whinny, her body growing visibly relaxed. Kate watched the other horses as she sang, most of them paid her no mind, lazily grazing on the little tufts of grass that the overlook had to offer them. She noticed Arthur’s mare, Belle, standing near a tree about a yard away. She watched them wearily, probably interested in the apple Kate was feeding. She was a beautiful white Arabian, and a stark contrast to her own black beauty, as Arthur had called her.

She paused her tune and clicked her tongue, inviting his horse to join her. Lorena stomped a hoof in protest but Kate ignored. She wanted to feed his beautiful horse, and get to know her.

“Nice to see you again, pretty girl,” she said when Belle came around the tree she was hiding near. She cut another slice of the apple and Belle sniffed her palm before gently taking the piece from her.

While feeding the two horses and gently running her fingers through their manes, she finished her song.

I will go if you ask me to.

I will stay if you dare.

And if I go, I’m goin’ crazy.

Let my darlin’ take me there.

Kate doesn't remember how she discovered it, but since the day she’s had Lorena her voice always had an effect on her horse. Maybe it was because she was the first to show her mare kindness, being rescued as a young filly taken from her mother too soon. Kate had always been a bit of a singer, her father taught her to play guitar, and her mother would often sing lullabies to her siblings when they were little. She picked it up somewhere along the way in life, it was a comfort for her. One of the last things she has of her family was their love for music, and she always carried that with her.

“That was real pretty,” a rugged voice said from the ground, a few feet away from where Kate stood. She yelped and jumped back, in the moonlight she could just barely make out Arthur’s figure resting against the tree that Belle had been standing by.

“Arthur, you scared the shit out of me! I’m surprised Lorena didn’t take off again!” She scolded. Grabbing her mare’s reins as if she were about to bolt.

He chuckled and stood up, brushing his jeans, “well Lorena already knew I was here,” he said in a hushed voice, almost teasing.

Kate blushed and realized he was right, the horses knew he was there, she was the one who didn't look down. “Sorry,” she admitted, “but you really did scare the daylight out of me,” she laughed, feeling less embarrassed now. “I um, noticed you didn't have dinner with us tonight,” she said changing the subject.

Arthur sighed and scratched the back of his neck, “uh yeah, just wasn't hungry is all.” He said bluntly.

“Are you alright?” Kate asked flat-out, Arthur blinked in surprise at her question, “the letter you received earlier, I noticed it made you upset.” She explained.

Arthur let out a breath, “oh that, it’s…complicated,” he admitted.

“I see. I won’t pry if you don’t want to talk about it,” she said, reaching into her satchel and pulling out the fresh peach she had brought him. “I brought you a snack, in case you were hungry. I was gonna bring it to your tent but you weren’t there,” she smiled handing him the treat.

Arthur’s heart leapt at the gesture. It had been a long time since someone paid attention to him like this. Sure everyone at the camp always asks how he is or how his day went, what he’s up to and what not. Aside from his short talks with Tilly and Mary-Beth. The rest of the gang never seemed to notice when he doesn't eat, or when he’s not at camp. When he was in a sour mood they avoided him like the plague, and when he was upset Dutch would just say, “chin up, boy.” He was the right hand man of the gang leader, but he always felt invisible. Like he was nothing more than a big dumb strong arm.

“That really for me?” He said, unable to hide the smile in his voice, “peaches ain’t even in season, where'd you get this?”

“A man from Georgia came through Emerald ranch the other day, he was selling a bunch of fruit so I bought some peaches,” she explained. She went back to cutting slices of her apple and feeding them to Lorena.

Arthur held the peach in his hands as if he were admiring the plushy soft flesh, “thank you,” he said sincerely.

“Don't mention it,” she replied warmly. Arthur held the peach and watched Kate feed her horse while he stroked his mare with his free hand.

“I meant what I said earlier, ‘fore I scared you,” he said quietly, “the song, well, your voice, is real pretty,” he complimented again.

Kate laughed quietly, “thank you Arthur, It's something I've always found comfort in.”

“I heard you singin’ for her when we was back at Emerald ranch,” he continued, “you must have a special bond with that horse.” He looked at Lorena who was breathing quietly and closing her eyes as Kate scratched under her jaw.

“Lorena and I have a complicated history,” she began, “she was just a filly when I got her, scared and alone, and I was, well I was pretty much the same,” she added quietly, not wanting to reveal too much emotion in her tone, “I guess her and I needed each other more than we realized.”

Arthur sensed her discomfort and began telling her about his own mare, “well that's more than I can say about Belle,” he started with a half laugh to ease the tension, “She found me in the Grizzlies about a month ago, I was stuck between a rock and a hard place when,” he paused a moment and looked somber as he reflected on the memory, “when my old horse Bodasia didn't make it through the snow storm, I thought I was going to die too.” He patted Belle affectionately. “That's when she found me, I could barely make out between her white coat and the snow. But she wasn't scared of me, came right up to me as if she was sayin’ follow me, I’ll get you out of here .”

Kate watched as Arthur nuzzled his horse lovingly, it always warmed her heart to see people have such deep bonds with their horses. They were incredible animals, and very in tune with their owners' own emotions. For Belle to trust Arthur from the beginning, and stand by his side since, he must be a very special man.

“That's beautiful, she chose you Arthur. That bond is stronger than anything you could have bought from a stable or caught in the wild.” She said somberly.

Arthur nodded in agreement, the two tended to their horses in a comfortable silence. The sound of the night’s chorus around them.

After a moment, Arthur spoke up again, “the letter was from my old flame, Mary,” he began, his voice tinted with quiet sadness. Kate realized he was comfortable enough to open up to her about it, she dared not interrupt. “She's….she's askin’ for my help.”

“What kind of help?” Kate asked softly.

Arthur sighed and shook his head, “She's in a tough spot,” he explained, his gaze distant as he recounted Mary's plea for assistance. "Her family's facing trouble, and she's desperate for someone to turn to."

"Sounds like she trusts you," Kate remarked, offering him a sympathetic look.

Arthur nodded, his expression conflicted. "We had our moments," he admitted, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "But things didn't end well between us."

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she spoke.

He sighed heavily, his gaze drifting to the ground. "Yeah, well, sometimes things just don't work out the way we hope," he replied, his voice tinged with regret.

Kate could sense the weight of his words, the burden of past regrets bearing down on him. She reached out a hand, placing it gently on his arm in a gesture of comfort. "You can't blame yourself for everything, Arthur," she said softly. "People change, circumstances change. It's just a part of life."

For a moment, they sat in silence, lost in their own thoughts as the night enveloped them in its embrace. After a while, Arthur spoke up again, his tone more subdued. "I don't know what to do, Kate," he admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "Part of me wants to help Mary, but another part...well, another part just wants to leave the past behind and move on."

Kate nodded sympathetically, understanding the internal struggle he was facing. "It's not an easy decision to make," she acknowledged. "But whatever you choose, just make sure it's what's best for you."

Arthur let out a weary sigh, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Yeah, easier said than done," he muttered, his brow furrowed in contemplation.

"You'll figure it out, Arthur," she reassured him, her voice filled with conviction. "If life didn't give us second chances, then we would all be alone. We rely on each other, lean on each other, to make it through the tough times. Helping others isn't a weakness, it's a testament to our humanity. Even if they've hurt us in the past.”

Arthur offered her a grateful smile, "Thanks, Kate," he said softly, his voice tinged with gratitude. "I appreciate that more than you know."

With a nod of understanding, Kate squeezed his arm reassuringly before returning her attention to Lorena. Together, they sat in companionable silence, the sound of the forest as their backdrop. After a moment, Arthur retrieved the peach from his satchel, its juicy aroma filling the air as he bit into its sweet flesh. Lost in thought, his mind wandered to the woman who had unexpectedly entered his life and stirred emotions he thought long buried.

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