#this chapter is probably gonna be a bit shorter... maybe????....

[sophiethewitch1]

www reader showing that she has brain cells for once in her life. good going girl have a drink as a reward or something

[hazbininlove]

Hopelessly Devoted - Chapter 2

-About 3.6k. Some slightly sexual discussions. Kind of a filler before I really get the story moving.

“What if we made a creature that could fly and walk and swim! Imagine that!” Lucifer says, his hands gesturing wildly around him as he pictures it in his head.

“Ever the ambition one, are you?” Esther replies, laughing into her hand as she sits on the bench in front of him. There’s a fond look in her eyes reserved just for him, and he knows it.

“Don’t tease me! You know it’s a good idea!”

“I do. I have no notes to give! So, what will this creature look like?”

He hums, tapping his foot a bit as he thinks. “Well if they can fly they should be feathery, like us! But like, all over!”

“And they’ll walk, so they’ll obviously need feet. But how will they swim?”

“That’s the best part! They won’t be like other birds, they’ll have wider feet! That’s webbed! And that way they can paddle through the water! And their feathers will be waterproof so that they can take flight without worry!”

Esther giggles at his enthusiasm. “And their colors?”

“Oh there’s definitely going to be a lot of variation in that. But the little babies are going to be yellow and cute and just waddle around on their little big feet,” he says, cooing at the images he’s imagining to himself.

“And what of their sizes? Will they be little? Big?”

“They’re gonna be little! Well, not too little. When they’re babies they’ll be tiny for sure, but as adults I suppose they can be bigger. Though I think it’ll still vary, maybe based on the color of their feathers,” he replies. He looks at her with narrowed eyes and a pointed finger. “The males will be bigger though.”

“Oh not this again,” Esther sighs.

“Nu-uh! Not again! Maybe they won’t be a lot bigger but still bigger! Or some features on them will be bigger!”

“I quite like the idea of a shorter male,” she says, a smirk on her face and she stands at full height and looks down slightly at him.

He blushes at her soft gaze, but pouts at her words. And suddenly an idea strikes him, and he smirks up at her. “You know what else of theirs is gonna be big?”

“Pray tell.”

He motions down his own body as his smirk widens. She looks confused for a moment, her head tilting slightly, before her nose scrunches and her hands are on his face and pushing him away from her.

“Oh gross! Luci, you fiend!”

“What can I say? If there’s anything about myself I’d like to give to my little creatures, why not let it be that?”

She groans and leans away from him.

“I kind of want to give it a weird shape,” he adds.

“Please don’t.”

“Come on! It’ll be interesting! How about we make it all coiled up?”

“Now why would you do that?”

“Because it’s kinda funny,” he says, laughing at her disgusted expression.

She continues to lean away from him, but there’s a twinkle in her eyes that tell him she’s still amused by him.

“Well in that case, I vote that the females have something similar. Except, they have false entrances to trick a male should she want to,” she adds.

“Oh that’s just terrible,” he replies. “I love it!”

“And the male has to do a dance,” she says, reaching a hand to stroke his wings. He shivers at her soft touch. “Show off some feathers, prove he deserves her.”

His wings flutter as he gives her a bright grin and tips his hat to her. “Oh I can show some feathers all right.”

——————————————————————————

Lucifer shuffles his feet as he walks behind her, kicking up dirt as he does. It’s been… well he doesn’t even remember the last time someone called him by his other name. It was definitely before his fall, and probably by Michael who often preferred that name because of its connection to the Divine.

Esther always preferred to call him Lucifer. If she called him Samael, it was usually in relation to work. He didn’t work with her now though, not for years since his fall, so the only thing he can assume is that she’s using the name to keep a distance between them in the same way she referred to him earlier as “Morningstar” and not his first name.

”Soooooo…. How’ve things been?” He asks, keeping his tone light to try and shift the mood a bit. He’s still upset about earlier, and he wants to bring it up again, but he hates seeing her sad, and he knows that she’ll only shield herself from him if he tries. Years may have passed but he still knows her. It’s the reason she hasn’t hidden her wings in all this time. She’s made them smaller than their true size, but they’re still present at her back.

”Don’t,” is all she says. He sighs at her curt tone. He wants to look away, avoid her gaze, but he also wants to stare at her and take the time to relearn all the details of her face.

She turns to face him when she decides they’re far away enough from the others. “Samael, I-“

”No,” he says, holding up a hand and looking up at her with a frown. “I won’t hear you if you use that name. You never used that name, so don’t start now.”

”Don’t make this more difficult,” she whispers to him. He can see the tears already forming in her eyes. “Please just let me do what I need to do.”

“Star, please,” he all but begs. His hand moves too quickly for her, and he holds hers gently in his. It feels as soft as he remembers, cold as it always was. “Let me explain everything to you. You know I’d never lie to you. I can’t lie to you.”

Her hand squeezes his, and he brings it up to his face, holding it against his cheek. He feels her thumb stroke his cheek. He smiles a bit at the touch and watches her close her eyes and let out a shaky sigh.

“Why must you always be so difficult, Lucifer?”

He wants to hug her. He wants his arms around her and holding her impossibly close.

“It’s part of my charm?” He settles for that, giving her a sheepish grin as she shakes her head at him. His smile falls as he presses his cheek further into his hand, holding her there. “I didn’t do anything with Lilith before the fall, or for thousands of years after. We were just friends, I promise. I… I empathized with her. I saw so much of us in her. Adam was supposed to be like me but he lacked any respect for his half. It was so different from us. We had our scuffles sure, but I always respected you, and I know you respected me too. I just- I thought she needed a friend, and there were no other humans so I tried to be that.”

“You never spoke to me of any of that. You stopped speaking to me about anything. What was I supposed to think?”

“I know!” His voice raises a bit, but he takes a deep breath and lets it out before he continues. “I know. And that was my mistake. I didn’t think, okay? I was just so caught up in everything, in talking, and I thought… I thought if I told you, you’d stop me.”

”Can you blame me?” Esther asks back. “Knowing what you do now, can you blame me for wanting to stop you? I always encouraged your dreams, Lucifer. I always supported your ideas. But you know that I also always wanted to make sure you’d stop to think before rushing in.”

”You definitely were the smarter one,” he joked. She strokes his cheek again, and he melts into her touch. “Lilith and I just remained friends. Charlie was… well depression’s a bitch and both of us were alone. I thought of you, of how I’m not allowed to step into Heaven, of how you would never be allowed down here, and we both let ourselves be stupid for a moment. And you know what they say! It just takes one time! I mean, I’m sure other people struggle but come on. I’m me!”

”Your pride will surely lead to your downfall if you continue with these jokes,” she says, her tone sharp. “Why you think I’d enjoy jokes about your intimacy with someone else is beyond me.”

He coughs, lowering her hand from his face and using his other to pull at his collar.

“Right, that was stupid. Uhhh,” he looks around, trying to figure out how to continue. “So uh, yeah. Nothing else happened. Just the once, felt like shit about it after, then woah! Charlie happens! And I don’t know, maybe we thought something else could happen, or whatever, but it just never did. I couldn’t forget you and Lilith… Well quite honestly I don’t think Lilith’s ever been romantically interested in anyone. Or at least no one that she ever told me about.”

He looks back at her with pursed lips, worried he’d further upset her. She smiles softly at him, but doesn’t say anything.

“What about you?” He asks nervously. He doesn’t actually want to know, but considering his own actions, he can’t say he’d blame her if she had moved on.

“No, never,” she says quietly. “It was especially difficult, at first. The others were worried I’d fall as well, so I was kept in Primum Mobile close to the Divine. I wasn’t allowed to leave for… let’s just say it was a long time. A few centuries ago, they decided it was enough and I could leave, but by then I saw no point. So I haven’t really been around others. Mostly the Seven, some of the other seraphs and archangels, but that’s about it.”

“So, who took my place in the Seven?”

“Raphael,” she replies. “He’s not around often. He spends most of his time on Earth and has dedicated his life to hospitals and clinics.”

“And the others?” He asks cautiously. He hates that he misses them, especially after what they, what Michael, did to him. But they’re his family just as much as the sins are and he misses them.

“They’re well! I saw Ramiel a few days ago, she’s doing well. Gabriel is all over the place, as usual. It’s hard to catch him unless you happen to be close to the Divine as well. And Michael… he’s fine.”

“You don’t seem too sure of that.”

“It’s a bit complicated with him,” she sighs. She looks away from him for a moment before turning fully towards him. This time, she brings both of her hands to his cheeks. “I’ve never forgiven him for his part in your fall. And I’m still mad at him for causing my own seclusion but he’s- he’s been there for me. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s been the one to check on me the most throughout everything and make sure I wasn’t always alone.”

“Careful now, you almost sound fond of him. I hear Stockholm Syndrome can be a bitch to deal with.”

“Lucifer Samael Morningstar, don’t start with your jokes again,” she scolds him, now pinching his cheeks. “I am not in love with Michael, or any of the others. He did terrible things, yes, but so did you and he did them under orders of the Divine and you know that.”

She lets go of his cheeks but continues to look at him, her eyes a bit sharper than before.

“Sooooo… no one after all these years?”

“Some of us didn’t give up hope,” she mumbled as her arms crossed over her chest and yeah, yeowch that hurt, but deserved.

“I’m sorry. I know that’ll never be enough, I’ll always have that guilt and I can’t fault you for being upset but… I don’t regret having Charlie,” he replies, his tone serious. Because if there’s one thing he wants to clear, Charlie isn’t to be blamed for his mistakes. He messed up, all on his own. Well, it takes two but that's besides the point. Lilith isn’t here to take her side of the blame and it’s probably for the best that she isn’t here. “She’s so amazing, Esther. She’s so cheerful and bright and she reminds me of us back then. About all the best parts of us. I know the way she came to be isn’t ideal but she’s here and she’s my daughter. I love her more than anything.”

“I know, Lucifer,” she says. Her arms are still crossed and her eyes still look sad but she’s smiling at him. “Regardless of how she came to be, she’s here, and she seems like a wonderful girl. She reminds me so much of you when we were younger. Looks so much like you too. If it wasn’t for her height, I’d have thought you’d cloned a female version of yourself.”

“Oh! Ha ha! So jokes at my expense are fine, huh?” He hip checks her for it and she stumbles a bit, not expecting the move.

“Mine are harmless compared to your more crass ones.” She hip checks him back and he laughs heartily. “We’ve gone off track. I was serious earlier, Lucifer. We didn’t know what Sera was doing.”

“Well, she is the High Seraphim. There’s a lot of power for a person.”

“She’s the High Seraphim of the first sphere, and you know that! Her duty is to her sphere, not the entirety of Heaven. For that, Michael is involved. He leads Heaven’s protection. And even as the High Seraphim, there are still others far above her! Or did you forget about Seraphiel? Johoel? For Heaven’s sake Lucifer, time away from it all couldn’t have made you forget all of that!”

“It didn’t!” He replied. His own arms crossed and he turned away from her, pacing back and forth. He never liked admitting when he was wrong. “You think the exterminations were my first thought? I wanted to redeem souls! You know I never wanted to be the one to create evil!”

“I know,” she says. She stops his movements with an arm around his shoulders, pulling his back to her chest. “But you forget yourself at times. You are Lucifer, the shining one, the leader of the choir, but you’re also Samael the destroyer. It was your job to destroy sin.”

“And it was also my job to tempt it,” he signed, leaning into her hold.

“So much so that you became the first,” she tried joking to ease the mood. “I always did say your head was too big for the rest of you. It’s a miracle you can stand up straight.”

“Oh we’re back to this? It’s time for jokes again?” His tone was bland and she laughed, pressing her cheek against his.

“I never said it’s a bad thing. I’ve always believed in you Lucifer. I know you were just doing your job, wanting to believe the best in everyone. And I hate that you’ve never been allowed to see proof of that. But we can change that now. Yes, there are some sinners that deserve damnation but not like this. Not in masses like what has been going on with the exterminations. We need a system.”

He looks up to her dark blue eyes, and feels hope swelling in his chest. “We?”

“I did mention that I’d be coming back down every so often, didn’t I?”

“Why not stay,” he asks. “Here, with me. We could be together again, like old times.”

Her arm starts slipping away from him until he grabs it. He turns around and wraps his own around her waist.

“Oh love, you have no idea how much I wish things could be like old times.” She presses her forehead against his and closes her eyes. Her hands move to grip his jacket on his shoulders. His heart soars hearing her call him that and he pulls her closer to him. “But so much time has passed, and I sent eons believing you’d moved on. And it hurt me. It still hurts, even knowing what I know now. And I don’t even know how long the Divine will allow me this happiness to be here with you.”

“But that’s the beauty of free will, isn’t it? You get to choose what you want to do. You could stay! I’ll spend even longer making it up to you, to prove to you that you’re the only person I’ve ever loved.”

“It seems I’ve forgotten that Samael is also known as the seducer,” she replies, tone sarcastic now. She leans forward and presses a kiss to his cheek before pulling away.

“You haven’t seen seduction yet, my love,” he smirks to her, looking up at her with half lidded eyes and a confident smirk. She laughs a bit before leaning away slightly. Not so far that she’s out of his arms, but enough to put some distance between their faces.

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself. I meant what I said earlier. Forgiveness isn’t easy, but it’s not impossible.” She smirks, poking him in the side. He startles and lets go of her, and she takes the chance to step away from him, wings extending. “So you better preen those wings and get them nice and ready for your next routine. I expect the dance of a lifetime and a beautiful show of feathers.”

Esther’s wings move and she lifts off the ground, just as a portal opens some ways above her.

“I’ll show you some feathers,” he says to her as the portal closes, a proud smile on his lips.

——————————————————————————

“Sooooo,” is the first thing she hears as the portal closes behind her. “How’d it go?”

She looks up to see Cassiel, Ramiel, and Uriel waiting for her, Michael off to the side watching all of them.

“It went well,” she replies, her cheeks a bit red as she hadn’t expected them to be waiting there for her.

“They want to know if you got back together with him,” Uriel says bluntly, getting straight to the point as always. Ramiel smacks her arm.

“Must you act so tactless!”

“Well, what do you expect me to say?! Don’t get me wrong, I love a good love story but after what he did to her? Love my brother, I do, but she shouldn’t fall back into his arms too quickly,” Uriel defends herself. Ramiel says and Cassiel shrugs.

“I can’t say I disagree,” Cassiel adds, wincing when Ramiel elbows him in the ribs. “What! She’s right! Luci shouldn’t get off easy after leaving her for thousands of years! And having a child with someone else, no less! She should make him work for it. And when she thinks he deserves forgiveness, I’ll be there to properly judge him.”

“You’re both impossible. Esther can judge for herself when she’s ready, not a moment sooner,” Ramiel says, moving closer to Esther and fixing her hair. “A wonderful woman such as yourself deserves a wonderful man at her side. I agree that you should make him work for your forgiveness, but remember that your forgiveness is yours to give. Not anyone else’s.”

“Do you really think this is wise?” Michael asks, speaking up from his spot farther from them. “He’s fallen, Esther, don’t forget that. He’s no longer the angel you once knew.”

“He’s not,” she agrees. He raises an eyebrow at her in curiosity. “He’s changed, no doubt, but so have I. He may have fallen but he’s still an angel, and I believe in him. The consequences of his actions may have been terrible but that doesn’t mean he meant for them to happen. He’s a good man, Michael. I know you know that too.”

“Good or not doesn’t change what’s done. Gabriel should’ve been the one to deliver that message to him, and all the messages moving forward,” Michael replies, stepping closer.

“The Divine chose me for this task. I will not question it, and neither should you,” Esther says, stepping closer to him in challenge.

His eyes soften at her as he moves to hold her cheek. She doesn’t pull away from him, but she also doesn’t lean towards his touch either.

“I just don’t want to see you hurt again,” he says to her. Her eyes are closed and she holds his hand against the side of her face. “He is my brother but you are also like family to me. Had Samael been smarter I’d have been able to truly call you my sister. It’s my job to protect you all. It pains me to see you hurt. It hurts me even more knowing that someone I trusted was the cause of that pain.”

“I need you to trust me now, Michael,” she pleads with him, squeezing her hand. “I know it’s too soon for anything to happen. I won’t fall back into his arms over pretty words. But I love him. I love him so endlessly I feel it with every fiber of my being and being apart from him hurts more than the pain I felt at the thought of his betrayal. Let me have this. I’m begging you.”

“And if you fall?”

“Then I fall,” she whispers, a tearing falling from her eyes. “Not to evil or to temptation, but to him. He is a part of me I cannot continue to exist without.”

“I don’t support this,” Michael replies, wiping her tears. “But should the time come, should you choose to accept him again, I will have to remind him of the consequences if he messes up again.”

“You softie,” Esther laughs. Michael smiles down at her. He hates everything about this, but he won’t question the Divine’s plans.

——————————————————————————

Just wanted to lay down some foundations for Esther and Lucifer here. This is going to be sort of slow burn but in the most teasing way possible. Esther will make him put in the work.

Also, I thought I’d drop my original idea for Esther. I changed it because 1. Most of the angels’ clothes looks very covered. Like even before his fall, Lucifer looks to be wearing a robe/gown like what Adam wears. When I first thought of her clothes, I was thinking of something that matched Lucifer’s current ringleader look, which I realized it wasn’t the time for.

Anyway I hope you enjoy! I’m already working on the next chapter and will hopefully have it up within the next few days.

Taglist: @dreamcatcher62 @art3misa635

[m4tthewmurd0ck]

THE MORNING SKY

── Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Reader

CHAPTER ── 2 [ A CHANGE OF HEART ]

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER | TABLE OF CONTENTS

no use of y/n and i try to avoid descriptors other than reader being shorter than the boys (coriolanus, sejanus, and archer). i do use she/her.

CORIOLANUS SNOW HAS ALWAYS BEEN PROUD. As in, too proud to ask for help, well from anyone other than Tigris. If someone would offer him a bit of extra food, he’d try to play it off as if he wasn’t hungry but he’d eat it anyway just so the food wouldn’t go to waste. He’d never let on that this would be the first real food he’d eaten in who knows how long, because often all they could afford were potatoes.

Not surprisingly, there was a brief moment during last years games where he became power hungry. When it seemed like Lucy Gray might actually win and he learned of all that would happen for, and to, mentors that ended up with a winning tribute.

He nearly gave in. Coriolanus was tired of a life of wondering where his next meal might come from. He was tired of hoping nobody would notice his too-tight shoes, or that his uniform wasn’t as neat and tailored as the others. He wanted more, not just for himself, but for Tigris and Grandma’am too.

Before becoming a mentor, the games weren’t something he paid close attention to. After being assured his name would never be drawn, Coriolanus simply stopped caring.

Then he saw firsthand just how horrible the games really were. Witnessed the cruel treatment of the tributes before being thrown into an arena and made to fight to the death. Slowly but surely, he began to have a change of heart.

All of that being said, despite how he’d begun to carry himself, and how he started to realize the way he was thinking wasn’t right, he now knows that all of that has gone out the window. Because even before you’d officially met Coriolanus knows that without a doubt he will once again risk everything, this time, for you. Call it an affect of the soulmate bond, or yet another change of heart, he knows he will do whatever it takes to make sure that you survive.

Luck was partially on his side, in that your fellow district tribute was assigned to Sejanus. Based on your reaction when Archer’s name was called, he assumed it was safe to say that you were good friends.

“ — okay?”

Coriolanus nearly jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder, but he turned and calmed once he realized that it was only Sejanus.

“Sorry… what?”

“I asked if you were okay,” Sejanus lets out a nervous laugh. “Stupid question, I get that now. But listen, it’s gonna be fine. Our campaigning worked. Mentors get to escort their tributes to where they’ll be sleeping. It’s an actual building this time with beds. And we have two weeks to prepare them for the games.”

That was one thing Coriolanus was extremely grateful for, even before he learned that his tribute was also his soulmate. Because he saw the cruelty that was having the tributes sleep in a zoo enclosure up close, he and Sejanus were among the few that agreed changes needed to happen.

Those that disagreed, thought of the tributes as lowly, bottom of the food chain. And they saw no issue with allowing people to come and gawk at them. Nothing wrong with having them sleep on rocks and dirt, maybe a patch of grass if they were so lucky. In fact, some had the nerve to say it was better if their living conditions were like that since “it’s probably closer to what a lot of them are used to”.

Following last years games, Coriolanus spent a good couple of weeks grieving. Grieving the life he knew he wouldn’t get to have, the prize money that wouldn’t be his, but mostly grieving the loss of Lucy Gray. She was good, she’d been kind to him.

During those few weeks, he thought of everything wrong with the games. Of course the games as a whole were ultimately wrong, but he and Sejanus knew it was better to start making smaller changes before they tackled something much bigger.

As a result of many, many meetings with Dr. Gaul, it was decided that the tributes would get 2 weeks to train and strategize, instead of only days to strategize and none to train. A facility was built for those who wished to hone their skills. Mentors would now be allowed to spend as much time with their tributes as they deemed necessary.

Instead of sleeping in a public zoo enclosure, an official tribute living quarters was built, with the rooms resembling hotel rooms rather than bare dorms. This idea came from Sejanus, who pointed out that many of the tributes would be coming from poor districts, and this was at least one thing that could make what they were going through a little less painful.

Coriolanus had been the one to suggest that each mentor should personally escort their tributes to both the arena, and where they’d be sleeping. Being crammed into that train car with Lucy Gray and all other tributes showed him yet another aspect that needed to change.

Luckily, Sejanus ended up offering Coriolanus and whoever his tribute was, to ride with them in one of his families cars. He didn’t know what he would’ve done otherwise.

The ride to greet their tributes at the train station was mostly silent. When Sejanus glanced at his friend, he figured Coriolanus was silent because he was just nervous considering what happened with Lucy Gray. And when Coriolanus glanced back, in reality he was debating whether or not to tell him that you were his soulmate. Sejanus had yet to meet his, but was also one of the many that wasn’t worried about it because he was still young.

In the end, Coriolanus decides not to tell his friend, at least not yet. Although he knows Sejanus wouldn’t use it against him, at the end of the day this is still a competition and they both still have tributes in the games. He also rationalizes this decision by telling himself that telling Sejanus wouldn’t do any good at this point anyway.

Once they arrive at the train station, neither boy is surprised that they’re the only 2 mentors there. Though the train is only 10 minutes away, they know that the other mentors are probably waiting until the last possible minute. That, or they’ll have their tribute wait at the station for a while before finally showing up.

As the train pulls in, Coriolanus begins to feel nervous. But it’s mixed with that nice feeling that comes when your soulmate is close by.

As you step out, he tries to hide his smile. Though this is the first time 2 soulmates are meeting, he knows that if he wants you to stay alive, he has to think like a mentor. And that means focusing on the games. None of the other mentors, besides Sejanus eventually, can know what you mean to him.

Archer helps you off of the train, and he becomes visibly relieved when he sees Coriolanus and Sejanus standing next to each other.

You keep a tight grip on Archer, who held his arm out so that you could hold it as you both walked. Once you walk the short distance to the boys, you slowly let go.

“Hi,” you speak softly.

Coriolanus steps forward to take your hands in his, but stops as he remembers where he is. As he looks around, he realizes he was right. It’s been a few minutes since the tributes arrived and the other mentors are only just now approaching the train.

“You okay?” Archer looks down at you, concern written all over his face.

In lieu of a verbal response, you simply nod.

“We should get to the car so we can show you guys where you’ll be staying for the next two weeks,” Sejanus nods his head, you guess in the direction of where the car is.

Once you all approach the vehicle, Sejanus says he and Archer will take the back row, and you and Coriolanus can take the middle.

Archer breaks the silence and asks the first question, knowing you’re too nervous to.

“So — how does this work? Once we get to the — the place?”

“Where you’ll be staying?” When Archer nods, Sejanus continues. “Since it’s already pretty late in the day, today doesn’t actually count as day one. That’s tomorrow, and from then you’ll have two weeks to train and make whatever preparations you need to for the games. The training facility is on the same property, so you don’t have to do any traveling.”

You think for a moment before finally working up the courage to ask your question. “The — Lucky Flickerman said that this years arena is going to be completely different since last years one was mostly destroyed. Do you know…?”

Sadly, Sejanus shakes his head. “Sorry, I wish we did. They’re keeping us in the dark until we all tour the place tomorrow.”

Hoping it’s subtle enough that Archer and Sejanus don’t see his movements, Coriolanus slowly moves his hand closer to yours, before gently resting it on top.

Sensing he doesn’t want anyone else in the car to know, you turn and mouth “thank you”.

“Will you guys be with us when we train?”

Coriolanus nods. “Most days, yes. Two days are technically to show off your learned skills to those in charge of the games, and mentors aren’t allowed for that. It is optional for mentors to be there every day, but Sejanus and I will be.”

It may be selfish, but you’re glad you’ll have so much time with him before the games. You know the odds of you actually winning the entire thing, and you’re just thankful that you’ll have at least 2 weeks with your soulmate.

After what feels like an eternity but was really less than 20 minutes, the car finally slows before coming to a complete stop. This time, Coriolanus exits first and helps you step down. When you let go of his hand, you find yourself immediately wanting to hold it again.

The first thing he and Sejanus notice, is yours and Archer’s reaction to the tributes living facility. It really does look like a fancy hotel from the outside.

“It basically is,” Sejanus gives you and Archer a sad smile. You can feel your face growing warm. You didn’t realize that you’d said that out loud. “They agreed that tributes can’t be forced to sleep in… well I’m sure you guys saw it last year. Coryo and I were actually two of the people that convinced them to make the living arrangements a lot better. There are still pretty strict rules though, and that we had nothing to do with.”

“Like — like what?” You ask, speaking up for only the second time since stepping off of the train.

Coriolanus tries to ignore the feeling he gets just from hearing your voice. He didn’t realize soulmate feelings would be so intense.

At that moment, you all step onto the elevator, and the ride up to the 12th floor is silent. When Coriolanus twists the key into the lock and pushes the door open, you can’t help but gasp.

(pretend the bottom is just part of the main entrance)

“So, they do want to keep a close tab on all tributes, and because of that when you’re outside of your rooms you’ll be given bracelets with trackers. They wouldn’t tell us why, but outside of training they want tribute interactions to a minimum so other than everyone having breakfast and dinner at the same time, no one is allowed out of their rooms unless training or given special permission. Also because of that, the doors lock from the outside. But mentors have keys so we’ll be able to come see you guys whenever we can.”

When the 4 of you reach the massive walk-in closet, you and Archer are surprised to find it full of clothes. At a quick glance, most of the clothes are for training. But there’s also a tux for Archer and an extremely expensive looking gown for you.

Once you’ve finished touring the entire room, Sejanus and Archer step out onto the balcony, leaving you and Coriolanus alone for the first time.

Anxiety begins to take over you once again. “We’re… we’re trapped in our rooms?”

Finally feeling comfortable enough to do so, Coriolanus takes your hands in his and steps closer. “Nothing will happen to you while you’re here. I swear it.”

“But you’re not here at night, right? What if someone is somehow able to get in and…”

“I know you have no reason to trust me yet. After what happened last year and how I let—”

You shake your head. “It’s not that, I promise. I know it’s probably the soulmate bond talking but I do trust you, with my life. I saw last years games. I know that what happened to Lucy Gray wasn’t your fault. You didn’t let anything happen. You did everything you could to help her win, and she should’ve won but the system failed her. Not you. It’s not you I don’t trust, it’s everyone else.”

Coriolanus gives you a sad smile, allowing himself a brief moment to lift his hand up and gently place it on your cheek. “I swear to you, I will make sure you come home.” He has to refrain himself from saying home to me.

“I know you said mentors have the option of being at training every day but that they don’t have to. Are you sure you —”

“Yes,” he nods. “I’ll be there every day.”

Sejanus and Archer re-enter the room just then, and you and Coriolanus take a few steps apart.

“We have to get going,” Sejanus nods towards the door. “But we’ll be back first thing in the morning. Tributes aren’t meeting until tomorrow so they’ll be bringing dinner up to your rooms tonight.”

You and Archer walk with them to the door, and Sejanus says his goodbyes before heading back down the hallway. Coriolanus tells him he’ll catch up in a minute.

“I’m gonna go have a shower,” Archer glances between you and Coriolanus before heading off in search of the bathroom.

“I can’t stay long or he’ll know something is up,” Coriolanus speaks softly. “I promise we’ll talk more tomorrow.”

You nod and stand on your toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Like I said, I trust you.”

Before he can overthink once again, Coriolanus takes a step forward, this time putting his hands on either side of your face.

“I will do whatever it takes to make sure you come home. I will keep you safe.” With that, he places a soft kiss on your forehead and smiles at you once more before turning around and leaving.

He knows that if he doesn’t leave right then, if he stays even one moment longer, he may not be able to walk away.

SERIES TAGLIST ── (if you’ve requested to be added to the taglist and don’t see your user, it means I haven’t been able to tag you. once you say you want to be tagged, I make 2 attempts. after that I don’t tag anymore. everyone not able to be tagged so far is either 1. a completely blank account with no profile pic and nothing on their page, 2. there’s a profile pic but still a completely blank account, 3. there is a profile pic but only 1 thing is re-blogged.)

ELEVEN SPOTS LEFT! LET ME KNOW IF YOU’D LIKE TO BE TAGGED!

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[vintagexherry]

Child's Play [2]

pt1

Bully!Miguel O'Hara x Reader

This part a bit shorter than last chapter but consists bit of lore

//Bullying, Degradation, Yandere ,Miguel being rich and a playboy, Miguel isn't as grumpy as we know he kinda ooc here

Previously

For now, you focus on putting your messy and blank-ish notes in your bag and head for the doorway, hoping he didn't notice you. "Y/N? That you?" And there you wish somebody had a shovel so you could bury yourself.

"Long time no see Y/N how ya been?"

Forget a shovel, you hope somebody bulldoze this building so you don't have to go back, But you're here now so might as well get through it, maybe he changed? acted more mature than before?.

You nervously laugh of his question

"oh uh Yea, doing fine...?"

Miguel seemed to notice your hesitation and signed.

"Come on Y/N you ain't foolin anyone cariño, is this about high school? You know I was just teasing you."

The thought of him getting matured was immediately thrown out the window.

"Ok um, Look Miguel as much as glad your doing alright I think it's best if we just stopped talking to each other."

You tried to evade him, seeing him again in the flesh doesn't do your mental health well, so much more when your talking to him.

You think the best course is to just turn a new page and seperate ways.

Miguel thinks different.

"Oh so it is about the high school? Look how bout you and me go to this cafe near campus and we can talk about it yea?"

You want to laugh at that idea, the last time you and him decided to talk things out in a cafe, he ended up spilling hot coffee on you, you swear you could feel the burns again.

You look at the your watch and you remember you don't have any more subjects to take for the rest of the day.

"Miguel the last time you took to me to a cafe, you burnt me with coffee..."

Miguel doesn't seemed fazed and shrugged.

"And? come on, hermosa, you know that was an accident, and if it happened again, I would be embarrassed and probably lend you a jacket, or we could order cold drinks if you want. How bout that, huh?"

Miguel pushed on even further and you tried to ignore his nicknames for you, you can't lie that your surprised with the turn of nicknames, usually he would call you a slut,a whore, a nobody, an idiota and etc etc.

Knowing Miguel, he isn't a quitter so for you to live to see another day you have to go with his whims and you go as you did.

"Alright...Alright, just uhh send me the location I guess? I'm just gonna drop my things at my dorm and I'll see you there" Or maybe you could use this as an escape and just say your pet needs to go to the vet or you suddenly feel sick.

But life ain't always that easy.

Miguel chuckled "No need for that hermosa, We can directly go to the cafe in my car"

You felt yourself shake, one thing you always tell yourself is to never be alone with Miguel aside from him taking you home, you never ever want to be in a closed space with him.

"No uh- it's really oka-" You wanted to relent more but Miguel is...well Miguel.

"Y/N come on, don't make this harder as it is, all I wanna do is talk in a sweet,relaxing and quiet environment, is that so hard?"

You panic even more in the inside but your scared what he could do if you reject further.

"Alright...Okay I'll go..."

Miguel beamed brightly at your (forced) agreement.

"Good. Follow me"

As you follow him out to the parking lot you panic to see lesser people but you can't help but admire the Rolls-Royce Phantom Series II coated in a dark blue color.

Miguel noticed your awe and chuckled.

"Like it? My parents gave it to me once I graduated from high-school"

Of course, anything for their priced baby, you sometimes forget how rich Miguel really is.

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

The car ride was silent in a way aside from the radio, you opted to sit at the back but Miguel, once again, relented you sit at front. And you're running out of energy to fight back.

So here you are at front, next to Miguel, and stuck at traffic.

You guess it gotten too quiet for you started feeling tense. So you decided to break it.

"So uh.....While we're here, maybe you can tell me what your planning to tell me at the cafe."

Miguel wordlessly glanced at you and back at the street while awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

"Well...How do I start this" Miguel seemed to be forming words at his head and you can't help but be surprised, Miguel always projected himself as confident and always know what to say at any given moment but this the first you witness this so you waited as traffic already moves and Miguel started driving again.

"You know what, we're almost to the cafe, let's save it for there"

You wordlessly nodded and once again the ride was silent.

Both finally arrived and as you sat down Miguel asked for what you want, saying that your fine didn't do you any good since Miguel decided to order for you, so you sighed and waited for him while you sat down by a window and admired the setting sun.

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

"...So now I got that out of my chest, maybe we can go to this year's prom and laugh about the past? What do you say?"

You knew this was a bad idea

Once both you got your drinks he started apologizing for his actions during high school, but also proceeded to tell you it was due to his parent's pressure on him.

You can't even swallow your drink properly. ""Look....Miguel I... I think it's really best for us to seperate ways and move on, you can't just invite me go prom after saying you made me your personal stress ball for your problems...I-I'm gonna go...But here" You slide him some money

"Thank you for the drink, goodbye Miguel" You stood up without waiting for his answer who only clenched his fist as if forcing himself to stop grabbing your wrist to pull you back to sit down.

You got a taxi and head straight to your dorm and Miguel was left seething.

[toxicpineapple]

the big amamota essay

the age old question. why do i ship kaito momota and rantaro amami from new danganronpa v3: killing harmony. two characters who have one mildly hostile onscreen interaction in chapter one, a few interactions via the anthology, and now a shorter than short dr:s scene. is this deranged? maybe. but i've been in the fandom for a long time and as such i've had a while to do a lot of thinking, and kaito and rantaro are my favourite characters of all TIME, which basically means i live in their heads. i am them. they are me. they exist in my heart and brain. even when i eventually leave danganronpa behind, i will be taking them with me.

there are a lot of reasons and we're gonna get into the messy details down below, but for the ones looking for a true thesis style TLDR: i think they could act as a mirror for one another's weaknesses. i think they have opposing strengths that could complement each other. i think they would just straight up get along. i think they embody so many of the traits that the other admires most in people. they could take care of each other SO well. they're both asexual. and most importantly, i think they are both two people who have suffered so much and grew up so fast and together maybe they could have a little bit of fun.

(you know you're in deep when the tldr is too wordy. essay below!)

so one thing you probably don't know about rantaro unless you've done his free time events is that the motherfucker is evasive as hell -- but not to a fault. i'll explain.

first, here are some screenshots from rantaro's free time events with shuichi.

these screenshots are from rantaro's first and second free time events respectively. as early as his first hangout with shuichi, rantaro drops a mention of his biggest trauma, but quickly pulls back when questioned. then he continues to dodge talking about it, even when shuichi tries to inquire further. rantaro is secretive. he has a pretty good reason for this -- twelve missing sisters is a doozy -- but he does eventually open up to shuichi. later on he admits that the reason he dodged talking about it in the first place was because he was terrified that shuichi would judge him or tell him to give up on his search. rantaro is an incredibly dedicated person, so being told that he needs to quit the one thing he feels personally responsible for doing... yeowch. but it's obvious especially from the bonus modes where rantaro does NOT share information about himself that these free time events with shuichi are a rare occurrence. rantaro doesn't often share those kinds of personal details about himself.

which brings us to kaito. the biggest and best example i can point to, other than kaito's repeated attempts at hiding weakness throughout the game (from his ghost fear to his injury to going so far as to try and confront ouma himself rather than wait for the class to save him) is his harmonious heart event.

kaito clearly also struggles with lowering his guard around people. he does NOT want to accept help, especially from his sidekicks, but that's beyond the point of this essay lol. the point is kaito has a repression complex, but there IS a part of him that wants to be heard. he responds most positively to shuichi telling him that he can be weak.

which brings me to my first point as to why these two work so well for each other. we can see here that kaito and rantaro are both incredibly resistant to accepting help from people for their own reasons. rantaro has been doubted his whole life, dealing with a deep inner shame and fear of judgement for his mistakes. kaito doesn't want to be viewed as less-than or weak, but a part of him does want support and validation... do you see where i'm going with this?

kaito is the luminary of the stars! he's THE believe in you guy. if rantaro even started to hint about being a useless older brother, much like shuichi in the ftes kaito would not leave him alone. he'd persist until rantaro opened up, and when rantaro eventually does open up, he'd encourage him. he'd reaffirm that rantaro is doing the right thing, that he CAN do it, that it's possible and that kaito believes he will do it. it's the kind of support and validation rantaro hasn't received from anyone, even people who are well meaning, in such a long time. getting it from kaito would impact him deeply.

now on kaito's end, rantaro is very very observant. in his first fte with kaede he lists off really shrewd observations about miu, kiibo, and korekiyo showing he's good at seeing people are more than meets the eye. which leads me to believe seeing kaito he'd understand that while kaito does genuinely have passion for being a hero, he also has difficulties showing his weaknesses to others. rantaro is very tactful. i believe he would be very patient with kaito and let him open up on his own time, but seek him out. while he's scared of ghosts, while he's sick, you name it. he wouldn't have to say much. just that even heroes have their weaknesses. and i think that eventually, kaito would listen to.

the other part of this is that these two both have incredibly high eqs, so they WOULD be able to see that the other is struggling. they WOULD see that intense fear of vulnerability, of expressing themselves... and they'd recognise it in themselves, especially through witnessing or even dodging the others' attempts at helping them. rantaro is smart, he would call out kaito's attempts at helping him without accepting anything for himself, and kaito would NEVER accept a hand from someone who he couldn't support in turn. and as they get closer they'd start to think... maybe a little bit is okay. maybe if it's for his sake, it's okay. if i can help him, then i'll let him help me.

kaito and rantaro also have complementary strengths! kaito is inuitive, outgoing, vocally encouraging. rantaro is shrewd, observant, and a good listener. kaito is highly trusting to rantaro's distrust. rantaro is measured and careful to kaito's recklessness. kaito has temper issues, rantaro is extremely calm and rational. rantaro struggles to take up space, kaito will boldly make himself the centre of attention. kaito runs hot and rantaro runs cool. kaito conquers the stars and rantaro conquers the earth. kaito is the home that rantaro comes back to after every failed search for his sisters, and rantaro in turn is the home kaito wants to return to when he's out in space. they complete each other. they both have high eq but in different ways, with rantaro skilled at reasoning out why people are the way they are and kaito good at knowing where someone's heart lies. you'll notice this is also the thing they're missing. in canon rantaro never knows who to trust or how people will react to him. kaito struggles to understand ouma because he has no idea why he is the way they is. they can help each other to grow and cover each other's blind spots.

my next point is that they really would just get along! rantaro is incredibly tactful, never the type to be insulting or rude. you can see it in the way they interact in dr:s, when kaito is saying downright ridiculous stuff about looking for rantaro's sisters in space rantaro just thanks him for the help. he wouldn't call him stupid or belittle him or target his insecurities. and on the flip side i think kaito has so much energy and positivity, rantaro would really enjoy that. rantaro is so exhausted and beaten down by the world, meanwhile kaito looks at it with starry eyes. but it's worth noting that rantaro ISN'T a staunch pessimist. he DOES believe impossible things can happen, or he wouldn't be on his search. they would mesh in that way.

beyond meshing, i also think that the two of them really do mirror each others' admired qualities. we see this in the artbook, where rantaro comments that he likes space and kaito says something along the lines of "we should fight!" i think saying that he wants rantaro to join him in fighting the monokumas lol. kaito can tell at a glance that rantaro is formidable and could potentially hold his own in a fight, hence inviting him into the squad. furthermore, just take a look at rantaro's backstory. the dude is an adventurer. he travels the world by boat and survives close calls with spies and assassins -- KAITO WOULD THINK HE IS AWESOME.

rantaro also i think really would admire kaito's passion and expertise when it comes to space. he's a hard dedicated worker and rantaro would be able to tell, as well as recognise his talent in his field. i think he'd really admire that and want to learn more, especially enjoying space himself.

it's also worth noting that we see in kaito's love hotel that his romantic ideal is someone who can challenge him. someone who he admires who will be neck and neck with him... and who better than a seasoned adventurer who hasn't quite lost his spark yet?

as well as admiring each other, i also think kaito and rantaro would just be really really good at taking care of one another. kaito is such a high eq person and a good listener, highly attentive to the specific ways to reach out and comfort people, always there to lend a listening ear when someone's upset. he's really good with his words, and would be really good at offering rantaro pep talks when he's weighed down by his search. kaito is also very physically affectionate as his main love language with his friends, and i think that would really be good for rantaro who is so lonely and withdrawn.

rantaro as well is excellent with his words, perceptive, and caring. we see from his love hotel event that all he wants is somebody he can protect in some capacity. he'd want to take care of kaito and help him more than anything. in utdp we see him bringing back thoughtful souvenirs and making sure to show up for every major school event even with all his travels. he's attentive to other people's needs and what is important to them! he'd love to listen to kaito's space rambles and bring him gifts from all over the world as he continues on his journey.

kaito having someone who will listen to him is SO important to, because so many of his classmates and even his closest friends oftentimes brush him off or call him ridiculous for the things he says. i think rantaro would genuinely enjoy just hearing what he has to say. they pay attention to one another and enjoy spending quality time together. and i think kaito would absolutely insist on helping rantaro find his sisters, too, to the best of his abilities. travel montage :]

this is a quick note lmao but i think that kaito and rantaro of everyone have really strong asexual coding. i made a whole post about rantaro once but the long and the short is rantaro's aversion to sex in the salmon mode as well as his love hotel being nonsexual give me vibes, and then kaito's response to maki's confession as well as the utdp scene where he talks about peeping with leon and hifumi but ends up just talking about adventure the whole time... they're ace4ace. they are so comfortable in their own bodies together.

finally, i really do think these two could just have so much fun. kaito is so competitive! he'd challenge rantaro to all sorts of games and physical tests, bring him along to training, bring him out to enjoy the stars and go for outings. rantaro on the flip side will whisk kaito away to all kinds of foreign destinations and fancy restaurants. they can talk together in other languages and tour america, they can play fight, they can laugh together... i would like rantaro to read aloud to kaito and scratch his hair, or for kaito to carry rantaro on his back and jump into a lake...

it's the little things like that, you know? they just both grew up so quickly. we see how kaito ages in the killing game alone burdened by an illness and all the people who need him. we know he feels that way even outside of a killing game setting. and rantaro has this quest to find his sisters and NOBODY around to support him. when they find each other they can take the weight off each other's shoulders and really just... play. have a good time.

i know i'm insane. i know that there are people who ship these two because they're two attractive hunks or because one of them can take care of the other or whatever but for me it has always been about give and take with these two. mutual exchange. mutual vulnerability. mutual growth. they don't just add to each other, they learn from each other. they don't FIX each other, they CHOOSE to heal because when they get close together, they finally have a reason to. they finally have someone to heal for. they finally have a home again.

thank you. stan amamota for clear skin.

[joeys-babe]

Someday We’ll Be Together

Chapter 10: Can I kiss you?

———————————————————————

(y/n's pov)

September 12, 2021

the car ride had been silent for a little bit, but a content and comfortable silence. that was until joe broke it.

"you warm enough?" - joe

"oh yeah, i'm fine." - you

"i see chill bumps on your arms." - joe

"i'm fine joe, i promise." - you

joe sighed, and i thought that was the end of it, but when we got to a red light he pulled his sweatshirt off and handed it over to me.

"you can wear it." - joe

in all honesty i really wasn't cold, but i'm also not going to pass up on wearing joes hoodie so i slipped it on over my game day fit.

in the corner of my eye i saw joe look over at me and smile, a light blush forming on his cheeks when he looked away.

"what?" - you

"it looks better on you than me." - joe grinned

"i don't think that's true, it actually fits you."

- you

"oversized is in right now." - joe shrugged

"oh shush" - you laughed

*time skip*

joe was parking the car as i was looking at myself in the car mirror, trying to fix my mascara and touch up my hair after that long game.

"you almost ready?" - joe chuckled

"yeah, hold on. just gotta fix my hair a bit." - you

"you look fine. come on." - joe unbuckled his seatbelt, clearly getting impatient

"hold on, joe!" - you

joe exhaled loudly before getting out of the car and walking over to my side, he opened my door and pulled me out.

"you look beautiful like always, let's go." - joe

"i don't know if i should say thank you or not."

- you caused joe to laugh

joe was walking a few steps ahead of me on my left, but he stopped in his tracks so we could walk at the same pace.

once i was directly next to joe, he held his hand out in front of me. i took it in mine and laced my fingers with his.

"thanks for comin with me." - joe

"of course, joey." - you

"love when you call me that." - joe smiled and squeezed your hand before opening the door of the bar.

joe opened the door and pulled me inside behind him, it didn't take him long to find the rest of the team in a back room that was away from everyone else.

"look at you two!" - ja'marr

"our favorite couple" - sam teased

"not a couple" - you

"the hand holding says otherwise." - jess slipped into the booth and sat next to sam.

"cincinnati's sketchy, don't want her to get grabbed or something." - joe

"so you have to hold her hand, can't just stand by her or something?" - sam smirked

"just drop it." - joe

"okay okay, we'll quit" - sam

the group had made room for joe and i in the booth and as we were both sitting down tee came rushing over to the table.

"bro you good?" - ja'marr

"uhm. joe don't flip the hell out, but somehow lexie found out what bar we were going to.. and she's here." - tee

my mouth dropped and when i turned to joe to see his facial expression, i noticed that his jaw was clenched and he looked evidently pissed off.

"like my ex lexie?" - joe

"yeah.. i don't know how she got the location. she's here with a guy and she was literally grinding on him while they were on the dance floor so i think it's her boyfriend." - tee

joe rolled his eyes and popped his knuckles before ja'marr spoke up.

"what's he look like?” - ja’marr

“shorter, maybe 5’10, brown hair, brown eyes, scrawny lookin.” - tee

“that’s the guy she made out with at that party!”

- ja’marr

“the exact opposite of me” - joe mumbled

“oh so he’s ugly too?” - you asked causing everyone to laugh, joe even cracked a small smile

“smooth, y/n.” - sam laughed

“what?? if he’s the exact opposite of joe that’s gotta be one unattractive dude!” - you

we all continued laughing and carrying on for awhile until i felt joe pat my leg.

“mhm?” - you

“im gonna get something to drink, you want anything?” - joe

“can i just come with you?” - you

“oh yeah sure” - joe smiled as he stood up, you followed behind him

as we made our way up to the bar i watched joes eyes scan the crowd, he was probably looking for lexie.

“joey.” - you got joes attention, the sound of your voice stopped him dead in his tracks as he turned to you

“stop looking for her.” - you

“i’m no-” - joe

“yeah ya are, i’ll hurt worse if you try to see her with him, if i were you i’d avoid her.” - you

“i’m trying to. i’m trying to stay conscious to where she is so i can go somewhere else” - joe

“i’ll be on the lookout okay?” - you

“okay” - joe nodded before striding up to the bar

he didn’t even ask what i wanted?

i watched him order before doing a quick glance around to make sure the wicked which of the west wasn’t around. a few minutes later, joe walked back over to me and handed me a mai tai.

“how’d you know that’s what i wanted?”

- you smiled

“i know you like that back of my damn hand, y/n. plus i use to give you a hard time about drinking summery drinks in the fall, so it’s easy to remember.” - joe shrugged

we stood there for a little bit, making casual conversation until the song over the speakers caught my attention. it was a slower song, and i recognized it as Starting Over by Chris Stapleton.

“i like this song” - you smiled

“i didn’t know bars played slow country songs.”

- joe laughed

“it was requested i guess” - you shrugged as you started swaying

joe put his cup down on the nearest empty table before taking mine out of my hand and setting it down also.

“what?” - you nervously laughed

“wanna dance?” - joe

the butterflies in my stomach tripled all at once. i was probably beet red right now.

i couldn’t formulate words so all i did was nod with a smile on my face.

joe put his hands on a respectable spot on my waist as mine were on his chest.

as time went on, we got closer together. we were flush against each other, still swaying to the song.

“i don’t ever want this to end” - joe

“me neither, joey.” - you

*time skip*

joe and i had made our way into a more secluded corner, away from everyone.

of course you didn’t know, but joe had noticed that you two had been on a certain someones radar. lexie was watching you both like a hawk after she saw you two dancing together. out of pure jealousy too.

after dancing, there was definitely a tension between joe and i that was just begging to be broken.

i was leaning my back against the wall, while joe was facing me with his hand against the wall above my head.

my eyes scanned the crowd as i stirred the drink in my hand with the straw. i felt a hand move a piece of my hair off my forehead which caused my eyes to leave my surroundings and up to joes face. he was looking down at me with so much admiration in his eyes.

"have i ever told you that you're the most beautiful girl?" - joe smiled

my heart skipped a beat, is what i've always dreamed of happening.. about to happen?

"i don't think so." - you

"well ya are." - joe caresses your cheek as he leans down to where his face is closer to yours

"y/n.. can i kiss you?" - joe

my voice was caught in my throat so all i could do was nod before joe smashed his lips onto mine.

am i really kissing joe right now?!

our lips molded together perfectly, like they were puzzle pieces perfectly made for each other.

joe leaned away and took a deep breath before connecting our lips again, his arms snaking around my waist.

we were both finally out of breath, our foreheads touching as we smiled at each other.

we stayed like that for a few seconds before joe fully moved away, just his arm around my waist connecting us as he looked around.

"ha it worked!" - joe

my heart shattered as i looked to where joe was looking, lexie storming out of the bar with her boyfriend close behind her.

"wait what? you did that to make her jealous?"

- you looked back up at joe, you were completely heartbroken as the tears threatened to spill over

"yeah duh, i thought you knew that? plus i mean you're my best friend why'd i ever kiss you?" - joe

my mouth dropped open at his words, and my stomach flipped- not in the good way that my stomach usually flips because of joe.

"y/n?" - joes eyes scanned your face, trying to see what you were thinking

"i- i have to go" - you turned and practically ran, the tears now spilling down your face

i sprinted across the bar, the ladies restroom in sight. i could hear joe behind me shouting my name as he ran after me but all i did was run faster.

when i had finally got to the bathroom, a hand grabbed my wrist.

"y/n listen-" - joe started

"shut the fuck up joe! leave me the hell alone. i don't want to talk to you now, or preferably ever again." - you cried

"you- you don't mean that." - joe

"yes i do, now let me go." - you pulled your wrist away from joes grasp and opened the bathroom door

"y/n please-" - joe pleaded before you slammed the bathroom door in his face

the bathroom was completely empty so i picked the closest stall to cry in.

i locked the door before sliding down the wall to the floor. my feelings for joe really were just one sided. to him i was nothing but his best friend.

that's not even the worst part. he used me to make his ex girlfriend jealous, the same ex girlfriend that cheated on him so i had to hold him an entire night.

it just really didn't make sense; i was so convinced he felt the same way. maybe he was leading me on this entire time?

whatever the answer was, i didn't want to know and didn't really care. i just hope to never talk to him again.

*time skip*

after crying in the floor for thirty minutes, i stood up from said floor and made my way out of the stall. when i walked over to the mirror, i didn't like who i saw; a lovesick, heartbroken, jealous girl.

i grabbed a couple paper towels to wipe the running mascara off my cheeks and eyes before looking back in the mirror. i was decent for the most part, but when i my eyes traveled to joes sweatshirt i felt like crying again.

i need to get out of this shirt, and out of here.

when i pulled his sweatshirt off, his jersey was shown underneath. there was no escaping him, seemed to be a common theme with joe.

i came up with a game plan before walking out of the bathroom.

joe wasn’t waiting outside the bathroom like i thought he would be, but it wouldn’t be too hard to find him.

after my disappearance i figured he’d be hitting the bar, and i was right.

he was sitting at a table by himself, 4 empty mic ultra cans next to him.

i was about to walk up to him and give him what for when none other than lexie came striding up to him.

“you ready to go joey?” - lexie

“yup” - joe took lexies hand to steady himself as he stood up before wrapping both arms around her waist

i turned around before they could see me and ran to where the other guys were sitting.

he’s holding her and i’m still around.

“woah y/n, you okay?” - ja’marr

“what’s wrong, why are you crying?” - jess

i didn’t answer their questions, just slammed joes folded sweatshirt on the table.

“this is joes, get it back to him. also, tell him i said go to hell.” - you wiped your eyes before striding out of the bar completely

when i got to the sidewalk, everything i was holding back bubbled up and practically exploded.

i pulled my phone out of my purse and immediately pulled up my moms number.

she answered on the second ring.

“honey, is everything okay?” - your mom

“no, please come pick me up” - you cried

“what’s wrong, are you hurt?” - your mom

“not really, not physically..” - you

“i’m on my way. care to tell me what’s wrong?”

- your mom

“i hate joe, so much” - you cried out

_________________________________

authors note: DRAMMAAAAAA

hope you enjoyed! ❤️

[mollierdr2]

Cherry Waves

hey guys here is my fic

Summary: Long play off of Harvest Moon (and another bit I should probably write at some point) that takes place during Chapter Six. F!reader wants Arthur to leave the gang, but he feels a sense of obligation to his family, so he wants to stay.

Warnings: Majorly canon-compliant, could have been shorter, cussing????

Word Count: 13k

'He thinks we’re a lost cause, you thought. He thinks we’re not gonna get out in time.  Deciding not to press it, for fear of getting a response you didn’t want to hear, you nestled your head into Arthur’s chest.  “Goodnight.”

Arthur kissed your head, saying, “Mmm, goodnight.”

He knew you knew.'

In the swamp, you found that a shift had occurred in yours and Arthur’s relationship.  He was more distant, spending more time away from camp.  He’d come back exhausted and bloodied, often crawling straight into bed without a word.  When you asked why, he’d give you the same answer: ”well, somebody’s gotta do the work”.  You’d noticed a new weakness in his muscles, a hollowing of his face.  He’d acquired a cough, too, and sometimes you’d wake up to him hacking in his sleep.  He blamed it on the weather, saying that he was just getting used to being back in America. 

It was no surprise when, after a day out with Sadie, he came and told you that he was sick.  “What is it?” you asked, looking up at him from your shared cot.  He stood, hands on his hips, in the corner of your rickety room.

“Tuberculosis,” he said, wiping his face with his hand.  “I ain’t got much longer.”

“Okay,” you said after a while, staring at his worn boots and swallowing hard.  “What are you gonna do?”

“I dunno,” he admitted, looking past you.  “I can’t just die though.”

“No,” you agreed.  “We could head West and get you some good air, maybe?  Colorado?”

“They know us there; we won’t be able to hide out.”

“Not if we stay in the mountains.  Hell, you could stay in a sanatorium and I could-”

“I ain’t goin’ to a sanatorium.”  Arthur put his hat on the small table next to your cot and took a seat.  He shook his head.  “That won’t work.”

“So what will?  We can’t stay in the swamp.”

“Dutch wants me and Charles to go find us a new camp anyway–somewhere North of here–so it’ll be better.”  Arthur took a deep breath, wheezing.  

“I suppose,” you said, taking his hand.  “It’ll be okay.”

“Sure,” he said, grim.  

*****

The new camp was bleak.  Everyone was on edge with each other, and poor Molly had been killed–bless her soul–for none other than loving Dutch.  She’d never taken to the rest of the group, becoming a bit of scapegoat, but you had tried a couple of times to know her.  You figured her death was more of a reason to get away from the gang you had loved so much; you weren’t sure how much longer you guys would have together.  In your almost 6 years with everyone, you’d never seen someone from the gang killed in camp until now.  You felt bad.  

The whole deal felt bad.  Seeing Micah and his new “friends” filled you with an anger you couldn’t describe.  Seeing Dutch pull away from the rest of you, abandoning the gang that he had created was infuriating.  Watching your husband the workhorse go and do everyone’s bidding while he was dying made you feel the worst, though.  His plan, you had learned, was to change nothing.  He’d just keep chugging along, doing the same as before, despite the obvious restrictions his body was trying to put on him.  He’d thinned considerably, attempting to hide this with vests and jackets, but you noticed how his shirts hung from his shoulders.  You noticed the circles around his gray eyes, which used to glow green and blue and gold.  

You nagged at him constantly–about eating, getting away from the gang, resting when he needed to–but he never listened to you, always dismissing it with yes, dears and we’ll sees.  You hated it.  You hated that the two of you were stuck in this mess.  Arthur needed to get away from this!  He was dying.  You guys had a limited time together, now more so than before, and you didn’t want to give any of it up, but he was just throwing it all away.  To keep your mind off of this, you spent your time split between Abigail’s tent and your own, either talking to her or reading (you found reading to be the perfect escape).  In doing this, in keeping to yourself and avoiding the war that tore down the only home you’d ever known, you found yourself resenting it all.  You resented your husband for staying here and getting himself sick.  You resented Dutch for leading all of you into this mess.  You resented Miss Grimshaw for continuing to put you girls to work, despite her obvious knowledge that it was all going to shit.  Most of all, though, you resented yourself for letting this happen to you.  Yes, Arthur had dragged you to camp all those years ago, but you had chosen to stay.  You chose to marry him, to love him in sickness and/or in health, and now you were face-to-face with the reality of that statement.  To run away on him–to get the hell away from this disaster and go somewhere proper–would be a betrayal, and that was something you weren’t willing to do.  

Arthur was away with Sadie–shooting some O’Driscolls, or so you’d heard–and you occupied your mind with a poetry book.  Back against a big tree, you lazily gazed upon the words on the papers, hardly comprehending any of them.  You couldn’t help but wonder if he’d even come back.  If he’d get himself killed this time.  You could picture it perfectly: Sadie would come riding back into camp, calling for you or Dutch or John or maybe all three of you.  She’d tell you guys that something’s wrong–something with Arthur–and that he fell and couldn’t get back up and she wasn’t strong enough to get him herself.  Dutch would send out battalions to fetch him (or at least the Old Dutch would, but that seemed to be an entirely different man, as of recent) and you’d sit and wait like you always did, just hoping to God that Arthur would come back home to you and cup your face and kiss your forehead like he always had.  And he wouldn’t.  John would tell you that Arthur was dead and you wouldn’t even cry.  That was the worst part of these visions–you wouldn’t cry in any of them.  You couldn’t bring yourself to shed a single tear, not even in your imagination.  No tears for a man who did it to himself.

The truth is that you felt, in the deepest part of your psyche, that things would be easier if Arthur would just die.  If he died, you could breathe again, even if only for a little while.  You knew your husband; you knew he’d never leave.  And you would never leave him because he’d been there for you for everything.  He was there when your mother wrote, asking for help.  He was there when you pretended to hate him and instead of being angry at you for it, he told you he loved you–the first person to say that–and danced with you all night long.  He was there when you learned you were pregnant and he was there when the baby was born blue.  He was there for everything, so you had to be there for him.  

When Arthur did come back, you hadn’t even flipped the page.  You were so lost in thought that you didn’t notice him striding toward you, quietly coughing into his fist.  “Y/N,” he said, catching your attention.  “Hey.”

“Hey, Arthur,” you said back, not looking at him.  You felt bad for what you’d been thinking about–thinking about how it would be if he was dead–but you couldn’t help but ponder these things.  It was a very real possibility that he would leave and never come back.  You used to go with him on these things, that way you never had to sit and worry–besides, you knew your way around a weapon–but since you learned you were going to be a mother, you hadn’t picked up your rifle.  It didn’t matter that your son hadn’t lived; you were trying to be a new woman.  Less angry, less impulsive.  Less like Arthur, you supposed.  You weren’t the one flirting with death.  You were caught up in their torrid love affair, waiting on your darling lover to come back home and realize he wanted you.  The waiting killed you.  The realization that it would be easier if you didn’t have to wait any longer on him–if it would just end then–killed you a little less.  

“Whatchu readin’?” he asked, sinking down next to you.  “Something far beyond my level, no doubt.”

“No, it’s just Dickinson,” you replied softly, resting your head on his shoulder.  

“Read to me.”

Taking a shaky breath, you sat up and recited the poem on the page, saying, “‘There is a pain—so utter— / It swallows substance up— / Then covers the abyss with Trance— / So Memory can step / Around—across—upon it— / As one within a Swoon— / Goes safely—where an open eye— / Would drop Him—Bone by Bone.’”

“I don’t even know what that means,” Arthur said, chuckling a little.  “But it sounds pretty, don’t it?”

“Yeah,” you whispered.  You put your head back on Arthur’s shoulder, inhaling sharply.  “I’m glad you didn’t get yourself killed.”

“Did you think I would?”

“Maybe.  You know I’d prefer that you… minimize your excursions.”  You folded the book shut and held it in your lap.  “I don’t want whoever you’re out with to bring me back a damn corpse for a husband.”

“I ain’t gonna get killed-”

“You’re killing yourself right now, Arthur.  Don’t be a fool,” you interrupted, sitting up.  “This is killing you, and you know it as well as I.”

“Don’t talk about that here,” Arthur said, hushed.  “We can discuss it later, okay?”

“Okay,” you said after a while.  “Okay.”

“Let’s just sit here for a while, though,” Arthur said, grabbing your hand.  “It’s rest, like you’ve been askin’ for.”

Electing not to argue, you leaned back into Arthur’s side.  You had fought and fought for the past month, and it was nice to pretend for a soft, sweet moment that everything would be alright.  That he wasn’t going to die.  That you probably wouldn’t go with him, whether you wanted to or not.  The dread had weighed on your chest since you’d heard his diagnosis–like a heavy man was sitting atop your ribcage–but you could ignore it when it was just the two of you like this.  And then Arthur would cough or wheeze and the weight would be back.

*****

Days later, Arthur was supposed to blow up a bridge with John.  Sitting in your tent with the canvas drawn, you said, “What’s the point of this anyway, Arthur?  What’s this gonna do?”

“I dunno,” he admitted, standing next to his wardrobe, grabbing a black shirt.  “But Dutch is convinced that the ‘noise’ that will come with it is gonna help us; I can’t see how.”

“You’re a fool if you do what he says for much longer.  He’s not worth it anymore.” You grabbed your book–a new one, called Her Ladyship’s Elephant–and lay back on the cot.  Arthur tucked his shirt into his pants, wheezing a little.  Your stomach flipped.

“I know he ain’t, but…”

“But you’re too loyal to do anything about it; I know.” You opened the book to the page you were on, adding, “I’d just like to get to spend more time with you, you know.  Away from all of this-”

“Y/N…”

“But you won’t leave; I know.”

Arthur put his hands on his hips, breathing shallowly and looking at his feet.  “Now, I-”

“Don’t try pretendin’ otherwise.  You know it.  I just want to spend my last days with you someplace nice; not in this shithole.”  You stood, walking over to your husband and linked your arms through his, wrapping yourself around his weakened torso.  “I love you too much for that, okay?”

Arthur returned your embrace, saying, “Okay, darlin’... okay.”

You dug your chin into his chest, taking him in with all you could muster.  He was dancing a dangerous line, teetering closer and closer to death every day.  You wanted to remember every detail, every single sensation you felt as he held you in his arms which, even in their weakened state, were strong around your body.  “For me?”

“For you,” Arthur agreed, pulling back and holding you at an elbow’s length.  You pretended not to notice his hesitation in answering.  “I’ll try my best to get us outta here.”

“That’s all I ask.”  

He cupped your face, kissed your forehead, and said, “I gotta go now, okay?  I’ll be back in an hour or so; no longer.  Just gotta blow up this damn bridge and I’ll be back to you and we can work on findin’ a way out.”

“Okay.”

“I love you, darlin’.”

“I love you too.  More than anything,” you answered, smiling softly.  “I’ll see you soon, cowboy.”  Arthur jokingly tipped his hat and exited the tent, leaving you with your book.  You climbed back onto the cot, opened the book, and started reading, enveloping yourself in a world you could never escape to.  

When Arthur got back, the two of you laid on the cot together.  You read him passages from the book that you found interesting, and he listened, despite having no interest in a woman who had randomly acquired an elephant.  At this stage, the two of you spent every possible moment together, clinging to the other’s company like it was the only thing preserving your sanity.  Maybe it was.  You never could tell when Arthur would meet his maker, so you felt every inclination to stay as close as you could to him; to hold on and never let go.  When it got dark, you put up the book and turned to Arthur, asking, “Did you talk to John?”

“About what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Arthur; about leaving?” 

Arthur glanced down at you, brow furrowed.  “I told him that he needs to get the hell out of here before it’s too late, if that’s what you mean.”

“And what about us?”

“I’m not leaving until John is safe, Y/N.  He’s got… more, if that makes sense.  It’s not just him and Abigail; they got Jack, and the boy deserves a better life than this.”

You nodded, your stomach flipping again.  He thinks we’re a lost cause, you thought. He thinks we’re not gonna get out in time.  Deciding not to press it, for fear of getting a response you didn’t want to hear, you nestled your head into Arthur’s chest.  “Goodnight.”

Arthur kissed your head, saying, “Mmm, goodnight.”

He knew you knew.

*****

The day had started like any other–Arthur would wake from his restless slumber and scramble out of bed, pulling his pants and boots on, kissing your forehead, and leaving without waking you–but you were unable to shake the uneasiness that hung over Camp like a wall cloud before a tornado.  Dutch had disappeared into the cave and you could hear fragments of his conversation, though you couldn’t tell who he was speaking with.  Perhaps it was himself, or it was another one of his “visions”, where he claimed that he could see Hosea.  It wasn’t worth trying to figure out, at this point.  Dutch was more than a loose cannon; he was a lit fuse.  Everyone in Camp waited, air thick with anticipation, for Dutch’s inevitable explosion.  You couldn’t blame Arthur for leaving so early.  

“Hey, Y/N, would you mind talkin’ to Dutch for me?”  Abigail said, startling you.  You looked up from your journal, which you hadn’t written in for weeks, and snapped it shut.  “I think I’m onto something, but I need you to, uh…”

“Get him out?”

“Yes, if you would.”  Abigail smiled sheepishly.  “You don’t have to–I don’t blame you if you don’t want to–but I think I found somethin’ good.”  Leaning in, Abigail whispered, “I think he’s hidin’ our money in there.”

You raised your eyebrows.  “I can try, Abigail, but you know he’s not doin’ well.  He knows as good as you how I feel about this place…”

“I won’t be long; promise.”

“I guess you have yourself a deal, then,” You said, standing.  

“Maybe, if you’re lucky, he’ll kick you out of Camp.  That’d force Arthur to listen to you,” Abigail said, stepping off toward the cave.  

“Or I’d end up like Molly…” You responded, too quiet to hear.  

You glanced around Camp as you made your way to the cave, taking note of Javier and Bill’s strange alliance.  It had always been your impression that they hated each other–it seemed that Bill hated Javier for being Mexican and Javier hated Bill for hating Mexicans–but now the two of them found middle ground in their fiercely blind loyalty to Dutch.  Arthur was loyal like a dog, but even a dog learns to stay away from the owner that abuses them for so long.  It puzzled you, their loyalty.  You wondered how bad things had to have been for them to think that this–the constant badgering about faith and money and scores while running faster and further than you’ve ever had to run before–was better than what they would have faced.  Did they really still believe that this was freedom?  If you could still bring yourself to write, you figured, you’d write about that.  

As you approached the cave’s entrance, Abigail split off to the right, waiting in the corner behind Dutch’s tent, safely tucked out of sight.  “Dutch?” you asked, voice echoing on the cave’s moist walls.  “Are you in here?”

“Mrs. Morgan!” Dutch boomed, appearing from one of the many tunnels.  “How are you?”

“Well, I’m… I’m not well, Dutch.  Do you have a moment to talk about Arthur?”  You asked, craning your neck and frowning slightly.  “He’s in a bad way.”

“Of course!” Dutch put his hand on the small of your back, guiding you to his tent.  “We can always talk about Arthur and his issues with Old Dutch.”

“Oh, he doesn’t have issues with you,” you lied, “but I’m sure you’ve noticed that he’s not doin’ too well.”  The two of you stepped into the tent, with Dutch motioning for you to take a seat in the wooden chair across from his cot.  He settled into a chair of his own.  Abigail scurried into the cave without catching anyone’s attention but your own.

“This is about that?  My dear, Arthur is fine.  Hosea was sick for years and that wasn’t what took him out.  It’ll pass–all things do.  This, this will pass.  I know things are hard for you right now, it’s hard for everyone, but I promise you that I will get us out.  We’ve got a train job planned and that will be it, Mrs. Morgan.  Just one more score and you don’t have anything to worry about.  We will hop on a riverboat and head to Chicago or New York and then head off for the tropics.  I have a plan.  You just need to have some faith.”

“Dutch, he has tuberculosis.” You said bluntly.  “He doesn’t have much time left.  I’m not asking for a grandiose speech to inspire me, I’m just asking that you help him out a little.  He’s sick.  I know that you love him–I love him–and I’m afraid that you’re working him to death.”  

“I’m doing no such thing!” Dutch said, raising his voice slightly.  “It’s all apart of the plan.”

“And what is that plan?”

“I told you: Tahiti.  One last score, and we can get there.”

“You’ve been saying that for as long as I’ve known you; how do I know that this is the real one?”

“Have some goddamn faith in me.” Dutch fired back, a scowl painting itself on his face.

“Why should I?” You challenged, leaning forward.  “Where did faith get Sean and Lenny?  Hosea?”

“Don’t talk about Hosea-”

“Hosea would be so disappointed in you.”  

“Don’t talk about Hosea!” Dutch repeated, glowering.   

“Why?  You don’t want to think about what he’d say?  I’ll tell you what he’d say; he’d-”

Before you could finish, Dutch was in your face screaming, “I have a plan!  You do not get to tell me anything.  I am sick of your incessant complaining!  You know nothing of Hosea, and you know nothing of this situation!”

You raised an eyebrow, holding your mouth agape.  The tension between the two of you was palpable; the hatred radiating off of his body was overwhelming, but you held his stare.  For a moment, you didn’t know what to say.  Arguing had always come easy enough for you–sometimes your timing was a little off or you didn’t emphasize the right words–but you rarely found yourself at a loss of words.  When you did find the right words, though, you knew they’d hit.  “I see straight through you, Dutch van der Linde.  It’s a shame that no one else does.”  Carefully, reeling from the encounter, you stood and excused yourself back to your tent, hoping that Abigail had made her exit from the cave in enough time.  

Upon exiting Dutch’s tent, you found that everyone was watching you, aside from Karen, who was passed out by a tree, and Jack, who was playing quietly in the dirt.  Javier gave you a nasty look and muttered something to Bill, who smiled.  “Gentlemen,” you quietly uttered, scurrying past them.

“You know, Arthur can’t protect you forever,” Javier called after you.  You kept your head down, closing the flaps of your tent.  You hadn’t intended to cause a scene, but you were having an increased difficulty in holding your tongue in times like these.  Maybe you were just tired of always doing what you were told.  You couldn’t tell.

It was no secret that you were unhappy.  You had your moments, sure, but you hadn’t been content since you lost your baby.  Samuel, your son, was supposed to make things better.  He would’ve given you a life away from all this.  Sometimes you’d lay awake at night and see his tiny, wrinkled face.  His face that never crunched up and cried.  And just like every image you’d conjured of Arthur’s death, you could not cry at the death of your son.  You could not cry at anything.  You could only observe, watching and silently simmering at the injustice that had been committed against you.  Your life, you felt, was an injustice.  You could’ve been good, somehow, and you never were.  It was easy to blame the circumstances–it was easy to say that this was Dutch’s or Arthur’s or Samuel’s or society’s fault–but you knew it was no one’s but your own.  You were bitter and devoid of anything positive.  You’d fought against living your whole life and now here you were, a shell of a person with nothing to come from an empty existence.  When you died, there would be no one left to remember you by.  

You climbed onto your cot and grabbed the journal from your nightstand, opening to an empty page.  You had nothing to write.  You wanted to write something, you wanted this desperately, but you couldn’t find the words to adequately express your emotions.  You were stuck.  You began scribbling the word stuck over and over and over again, handwriting growing larger as you went on.  You were stuck.  You could not leave but you could not stay.  You could not go to sleep but you could not stay awake.  You could not fully love Arthur but you could not hate him.  Stuck.

You were interrupted by the front curtain flap opening.  Quickly, you slammed your journal shut as Arthur strode into your tent.  “I been thinkin’”, he said.

“Does it pay well?” you responded, too quiet, in a daze.

“Funny,” Arthur fired back.  “Anyway, I was thinkin’ and you know how we need to get John and Abigail and Jack outta here, right?  All of the girls, too?”

“Yeah…” 

“I got a plan for it; I have to run it by John, but we’ll… what’s wrong?” Your husband took a seat at the edge of the cot, looking at you with a furrowed brow.  

“I talked with Dutch.”

“Why’d you do that?” Arthur leaned back, taking your hand.  “It wasn’t good, no?”

You chuckled slightly.  “Of course it wasn’t.  I was tryin’ to help out Abigail but instead made it all about myself; she must think I’m terribly selfish.”

“You live with criminals of the highest offense and you’re worried about bein’ selfish?” Arthur teased.  “She seemed fine; don’t worry about it.”

“Wait, you saw her?” you leaned forward, turning toward Arthur.

“Well, yeah.  She was gettin’ onto Jack about runnin’ away or somethin’.  It was pretty loud; I’m surprised you didn’t hear it.” He said it like it was obvious.  You sighed.

“That’s good.”  You leaned into Arthur’s side, resting your head on his chest.  “I missed you today.”

“I missed you too, darlin’,” he said back, but you were sure that he didn’t miss you the way you’d missed him.  He put his arm over your torso, holding you comfortably.  

“You’re so warm.”  A soft smile crept across your face and you wiggled closer to your husband.  “What’d you do today?”

“Well, I went fishin’ with a Civil War veteran named Hamish and taught a young widow how to shoot.  Then I went into Annesburg for a drink and ran into Archie Downes–Mr. Downes’s son–and learned that him and his Mama never left like I told them to, so I went an’ fetched his mother and gave ‘em more money.  It’s the least I can do.”

You nodded.  “I got screamed at by Dutch and maybe threatened by Javier.”

Arthur chuckled.  “A day in the life.”

Smiling, you responded, “No doubt.” 

*****

In the week that followed, you watched and waited as Arthur followed Dutch around, doing whatever he asked.  You quietly simmered, doing your chores and reading without a word to anyone.  How could Arthur go and obey Dutch’s every word, execute his every whim, and not try to get you guys out?  Did he not value you?  The relationship the two of you had carefully fostered for the past 5 years?  Maintaining a relationship with Arthur was like trying to fight the government; you were always losing.  You’d fought the government for the greater portion of two decades, and you never won.  The same was true with Arthur–you never won.  At the end of the day, you might be in his bed, but his mind was occupied by Dutch Van Der Linde and his fancy words.  You knew when you fell in love 5 years ago that you’d never be the sole occupant of Arthur’s heart, but it was worse now, knowing that Dutch didn’t care for Arthur anymore, or at least not in the way he had.  For him now, Arthur was a weapon, and it simultaneously broke your heart and filled it with rage.  

Was Arthur this oblivious or had he just allowed it to happen?

You figured it was the latter.  You were tired of it.  When Arthur returned from the oil fields–Dutch’s latest escapade, with the intent of sticking it to the Army–it was late and you were looking for a fight.  You’d quietly stepped aside all week, but you were done.  You were sick of this, of giving Arthur everything and getting nothing in return.  

“You’re late,” you said, standing with your hands on your hips.

“It was a goddamn mess; I need to sleep.” Arthur sat at the edge of the cot, yanking his boots off of his feet.

You scoffed, eyebrows raised.  “That’s it?”

“Yes.  I don’t want to talk about it right now, Y/N, please.  It was awful.”  He stood and removed his gun belt and pants, tucking them neatly into his wardrobe.  

“It’s almost like I told you it would be bad–that all of this would be bad.  How long have I been trying to get you to leave this life?  A year?  I thought that getting sick would give you some sort of clarity–that you’d decide that this is what matters–and you’d finally choose me, but you’ve done the opposite!  You’re leaving more, and you come back looking worse and worse every time… When are you gonna come back in a casket, Arthur Morgan?”  You spat, voice hushed.  You were surprised that Arthur hadn’t interjected to defend himself.

“Not now.”

“Now,” you said, remaining firm.  “I waited for you.  Everyone got back here way before you did; why?”

“Because I got a goddamn boy killed, okay?!” Arthur fired back, looking up at you.  “I… I don’t know exactly how it happened, but we was leaving the building and I slipped and he saved me, but… not before it was too late.  He was shot in the belly for savin’ me.”

You were quiet at that.  “Oh,” you said, softening.  

“Dutch… he left me.  He could’ve turned around and helped me, but he didn’t and got that poor boy–Eagle Flies–killed for it.” He paused before quietly adding, “Charles and I brought him back to his pa before he died; that’s what took me so long.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, trying to meet his eyes.

“I know you are,” Arthur answered, staring straight ahead.  Then, almost out of nowhere, he began coughing, his body quaking.  He stooped over, hands on his knees, hacking up blood, desperately gasping for air in between each croup.  You were at his side immediately, softly rubbing circles on his shoulder.  The pit in your stomach seemed to reach your feet.  You couldn’t help but feel selfish for all of this–for throwing a fit when a boy got killed–and now Arthur was hurting again and you couldn’t do anything to help him.  

As he continued to choke on his own air, you guided his shoulders down, laying him flat on the cot.  “Shh, it’s okay,” you whispered.  “I’m sorry, Arthur.”

Tears brimmed your eyes as you watched your husband slip into unconsciousness.  You couldn’t fall asleep for a while–not until the sun was beginning to rise–and when you did, it was filled with the same bad dream, playing over and over in your mind.  You were stranded in a county jail when Arthur–young, healthy Arthur–came bursting in to bust you out.  Guns brandished, he told them that he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot first and think second, something he used to threaten people with often.  Every time, the deputies elected to shoot him.  You watched Arthur die again and again and again, shot down by some scrawny teenagers with guns who shot for the sake of shooting, and there was nothing you could do.  He crumpled to the ground, crawling toward you, saying your name–a plea of sorts, begging you to help him.  Just as he’d get to you, finally gripping the cuff of your worn-out jeans, you’d wake up.  You’d wake up in his arms, letting the sound of his slow, steady breath ease you back into your fitful slumber.   

You slipped out of bed before he’d begun to stir, grabbing some coffee for the both of you.  When you came back, Arthur was sitting on the cot, legs hanging over the edge.  “Just the two of us today,” he said, taking the cup from you.  “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” You took a seat next to him.  “You takin’ me somewhere?”

“I was thinkin’ we’d go to Valentine or Strawberry–get you a book or something and rent a Hotel room.”  He took a sip of the coffee.  

“Careful, it’s-”

“Damn, that’s hot!” he said, yanking the cup away from his mouth.  The two of you shared a sideways glance and burst out laughing. 

“I tried to warn you!”  You said, setting your drink on the nightstand.  “I just poured it!”

A smile spread its way across Arthur’s face, but it faded as his laughs were replaced with coughs.  Right, you reminded yourself.  We can’t laugh anymore.  You took a sip of your coffee, cheeks flushed.  It was embarrassing to watch him like this.  You felt bad–the constant stomachache you had was a way of always remembering–but you felt embarrassed for seeing Arthur, a man used to being strong, in such a pitiful state.  It felt like you were looking down on him somehow.  

“I’m okay,” he mustered, still coughing.  “It’s… it’s okay.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, staring at the ground before you.  “I think we should camp out in Big Valley.  It’s so beautiful over there.”  

The coughing ceased and Arthur nodded, wiping blood from the corners of his mouth.  “Sure.”

“We could go fishing and then stay the night in Strawberry–I think a bed will help you, you know–and maybe we could get a portrait done… Well, I don’t know, there’s no portrait places around, but I think it would be nice,” you rambled, turning back to your husband.  

“Yeah, that would be-”

“Arthur!” Dutch called, side-stepping into your tent.  He shot you a dirty look.  He hadn’t been very welcoming since your encounter in his tent.  “I thought I heard you.  At least you ain’t run off like the rest of them.”  

“Whatchu mean?” Arthur asked, leaning forward.  

“Pearson, Old Uncle–the traitors–both gone at dawn.  They said to young Tilly they were runnin’ to save themselves.  I think Mary-Beth left as well.”

“So it goes,” Arthur muttered, shaking his head.  So it did.  If it were up to you, you and Arthur would have been gone with them.  Of course, it wasn’t, so here you sat, next to your husband and the man he loved more than anything.  You slipped your arm around his, a subtle and unconscious showing of possession.  

“They are goddamn cowards, Arthur.  Cowards.  Of all the time we spent, to run off…”

Standing, Arthur interrupted, saying, “Well I guess they don’t wanna die, Dutch.”  Your arm fell to your side.  

“Ain’t nobody gonna…” Dutch grabbed Arthur by the shoulder and led him out of the tent, leaving you to yourself.  You made it your business not to listen, out of respect for Arthur’s privacy, more than anything, and perhaps as a sort of guilt for the way you’d carried on the night before.  

You could hear bits of the conversation.  You heard Arthur loudly exclaim something about there always being a train, before coughing.  You heard Dutch saying something about insisting–and from his tone he was not happy–before Arthur came barging back into the tent, saying, “Get ready.  We gotta go rob this damn train and we need all the guns we can get.”

“Arthur, I ain’t been on a job since-”

“I know, Y/N, but I’d feel better if you were with me than if you were waitin’ back here.  Miss Grimshaw, Tilly, and Abigail can handle the packing just fine without you; I need you with me, okay?”

You nodded.  “Okay.”  You quietly stood and made your way to the weapon cabinet, digging your engraved Bolt Action out from the bottom.  Arthur stepped out, quietly talking with John about the train job.  You then dressed yourself in a purple checkered shirt and navy jeans, topping off the outfit with a black hat.  You clipped your gun belt into place, carefully tucking your volcanic pistol into its holster.  Arthur had his own matching set, engraved with his initials.  You hadn’t carried your weapons in almost a year in an attempt to get straight, but if Arthur said now was the time to dig them back out, you believed him.  And, admittedly, you had missed the rush you felt behind a powerful weapon.  

When you stepped out of the tent, Arthur smiled a little.  “Hey,” he said.

“Let’s get this over with,” you responded, walking past him.  Dutch stood at the center of the camp, rallying the troops in some way or another.  “Let’s ride out, gentleman,” Dutch shouted, arms raised.  Everyone muttered their agreements, climbing onto their mounts, as Dutch repeated himself, saying, “Let’s go!”

The group of you took off, heading South for what would either be your ticket out of hell or your ticket straight to it.  You stayed close to Arthur’s side, for fear of harassment by Micah or his lackeys, and did your best to keep the growing uneasiness in your stomach at bay.  Arthur had respected your wishes to stay out of the fight for almost a year–since Micah had joined the gang–and now he was asking you throw yourself back into it.  You wondered if it meant Arthur was worried–if he thought that it was going to be so bad that he needed you to be there.  You swallowed hard, paying attention to the road in front of you.  

“Okay, let’s pick up the pace,” Dutch called, “The train is due in Saint Denis in an hour.”

“We’re robbin’ a train in the middle of a city?” Arthur asked.  

“No,” Dutch clarified. “It’s going to stop there, take on mail and water, let off some boys headin’ home on leave, and then it heads out.”

“They know the bridge is gone, Black Lung,” Micah taunted, inching closer to the two of you.  “There’ll be a patrol past Annesburg, waitin’ down by the river to collect the money.”

“Shut up, Micah,” you whispered.

Simultaneously, Dutch said, “We sneak on quietly and then we get a short time to stop the train–before it reaches the patrol.”  The bunch of you continued forward before Dutch said, “John, you go get that dynamite.  We’ll meet back up outside of Saint Denis.”

“Y/N and I will go with him,” Arthur added, motioning at you with his hand.  

“As you wish,” Dutch said back.

The three of you broke off from the group, heading westward to wherever John had planted the leftover dynamite he and Arthur had used to blow up the bridge.  “It’s this way,” John instructed, leading the pack.  “It’s nice to see you back with the gang, Y/N,” he added.

“I asked her to come with,” said Arthur.  “It might be a shitshow–trains always are–and I wanted some extra insurance.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure how all this will play out.”  

“This is one big goddamn group to be riding back into Saint Denis,” Arthur admitted, getting side-by-side with John.

“Yeah, and I heard the Pinkertons have pretty much taken over Van Horn,” John responded.  You nodded, as if either of them could see you.  “They moved a whole heap of men in there.  Things are closin’ in fast.”

“Shit,” Arthur softly exclaimed.  

John led you and Arthur the rest of the way to the wagon, and despite yours and John’s protests, Arthur insisted upon getting the dynamite himself.  You rolled your eyes.  He didn’t need to be carrying a 30-pound crate anymore.

“You know we can get that, Arthur,” you reminded him, leaning forward on Waldo, your horse.  A red chestnut Arabian, Waldo had been your horse for nearly as long as you’d been with the gang–you and Arthur found him shortly after you’d fallen in with them.  

“I’m fine,” he called back, a hint of aggression in his voice.

“As you like.”  You patted Waldo and gave him a sugar cube.  “You’re a good horse, boy.”

Arthur tucked the dynamite into his satchel and mounted back up.  “So listen,” John said, “Abigail just told me… the money… it’s hidden in the caves at Beaver Hollow.”

“What the hell is it doin’ that close to camp?” You exclaimed, falling into step next to John and Arthur.  

“I know!  Dutch is gettin’ even sloppier than we thought!” John said back.

“Are Abigail and Jack ready to leave?” Arthur asked.

“I think so,” John responded, an uneasiness in his voice.  

“Okay… Whatever happens with this job today…” Arthur began coughing, still saying, “wherever Dutch and them go next, we’re getting you the hell outta here.  We’re gonna get you the money you need.  Knowin’ the three of you got out, well… Maybe all this’ll still mean somethin’... Tilly and Susan too.  I’ll do whatever it takes.”

You hoped that included you.

He wouldn’t say it then, whatever plan he had for getting you guys out of there, and you knew that–it was a conversation for you two to have in private–and despite knowing the end was coming, you hadn’t anticipated its arrival to be this soon.  But part of you wished that he would have mentioned you–his wife, the woman who had stood by his side for nigh on 6 years now–because it would have meant that he believed that you were something he was fighting for.  

You’d talk about it later, if you could, and you’d apologize for making an ass of yourself the night before.  These weren’t things to be discussing with John around; he didn’t need to be aware of your guys’s relationship issues, especially when he was having his own.  “You’ve always had my back, Arthur,” John said.

“Well, perhaps not always,” Arthur corrected, and you smiled, remembering how angry he’d been when John left.  

“Anyway, here we go… One last train, guys.” John pushed forward.

“One last train…” Arthur repeated.  Your stomach flipped.  One last train.

*****

The three of you caught up to the rest of the gang soon after, and you couldn’t help but remember the last time all of you had ridden into Saint Denis–when Hosea died.  You slipped away with Abigail, but you still saw it all happen.  You shook off the memory, trying your best to seem nonchalant.  To the people of Saint Denis, you were just a woman with her husband and his friends.  Sure, the whole lot of you were heavily armed, but many people in Saint Denis were.  Besides, this was a city–people would have needed to worry about other people to care about what you were doing.  You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that you would be okay.

“You good?” Arthur asked, having noticed your anxiety.

You nodded.  “Just nervous, is all.  Haven’t been on a job in ages.”

“One last time, gentlemen,” Dutch started.  “I got us a river boat.  We’ll head up to New York or Chicago, and get a real boat from there to the tropics.”

“Chicago ain’t on the Coast,” you whispered, rolling your eyes.  He didn’t have a damn plan, and you knew it.  These other people, they might not have caught on, but you could see his bullshit from miles away.  

“So long as it isn’t Guarma,” Javier said from behind you.  

“Oh, it’ll be paradise, son!” Dutch reassured, as if he knew what paradise even was.  You were certain that he’d do the same thing he always had–the whole ordeal reeked of his and Micah’s ferry job in Blackwater, and all that had come from that ‘one last score’ was more ‘one last scores’.  

“It’s all coming together, Dutch, just like we planned,” Micah chimed in.  

“That okay with you John?  Arthur?” Dutch mocked, “Or do you ‘insist’ on something different?”  You wanted to say something, but Arthur put his hand out, as if to say ‘do not’.

“Sounds about as good now as every time I heard it before,” John fired back, saying exactly what you were thinking.  

“Oh, Abigail must be real excited, all packed up like she is,” Micah taunted.  “I could just see her in a little grass skirt-”

“Don’t talk to me, you son-of-a-bitch,” John interrupted.  

“Boys, boys, okay now, let’s keep it down,” Dutch said, attempting to slip back into the role of the level-headed peacemaker that he’d refused to play for so long.  “We don’t wanna draw attention to ourselves goin’ through here.  Nice and easy through town, fellers.”

Continuing to push, Micah said, “Ah, Saint Denis… good to be back.  Happy memories, huh, John?”

“Will you shut up, Micah?” you fired.  “He ain’t  botherin’ you.”

“That’s enough!” Dutch declared.  “Quiet, all of you.”

Dutch led the lot of you the rest of the way to the train station, occasionally nodding or saying hello to people on the sidewalks.  When you arrived, all of you dismounted, Dutch giving everyone their instructions, saying, “Cleet, Sadie, and Y/N, you board halfway along.  John, you and Arthur are gonna board at the back.  Rest of you, follow Micah and I, and join once they stop the train.”

As if on cue, the train came barrelling into the station.  Bill, in his infinite wisdom, said, “Here she comes,” as if it was not already abundantly clear that the train was on its way.  What also happened to be obvious was the fact that the train was not slowing down.

Arthur glanced at Dutch as the train passed you by, saying, “Should I just… sneak on now?”

“Goddamnit,” Dutch said, looking back at Micah.  It was odd how he’d gone from looking at Hosea to Micah, of all people.  “Well,” he decided, “everyone mount up.”

“We’re still going through with this?” Arthur asked, brows furrowed in disbelief. 

“Of course we are!” Dutch fired back, and the lot of you climbed back onto your mounts in hot pursuit of the runaway train.  John yelled at Arthur–something about catching up–but you ignored it, focusing on your own task: getting onboard the train and getting to the money.  You pushed Waldo forward, guiding him into a sprint.  You jumped onboard in the back carriage, which was flat.  Pistol drawn, you took out two of the guards that emerged from the car in front of you with a familiar ease.  You followed Sadie and Cleet through the train, taking out guards whenever you could.  The three of you made it through without much kickback, and it wasn’t until you heard yelling from behind you that you realized something had gone wrong: one of the train cars caught on fire, and John and Arthur were stuck on the other side of the fire.  

“Let’s get over there and see what we can do to help,” you said, motioning for the other two.  Without checking to see if they had followed, you made your way to the flat car in front of the one on fire.  Just as you got there, Arthur and John jumped onto the car from The Count and Brown Jack.  

“Uncouple that carriage, before it blows us all up!” Arthur shouted, pointing at the burning carriage.  

“I’m on it!” John called, running to the back of the car.  

In front of Arthur, there was a gatling gun, presumably left out open by whatever soldiers you’d shot down minutes before.  He looked around, taking note of the lookout on the hill–meaning you guys hadn’t stopped the train in time–and glanced back down at the gun.

“Man the gun, Arthur!” John shouted.

“Sure,” Arthur said back, grabbing the head from its wooden crate and latching it onto the post.  John uncoupled the carriage with ease, too, releasing the train from the fire that had threatened your pursuit.  John called for all of the riders to get on the train, and, as Bill jumped onboard, John was clipped by a bullet in the shoulder, sending him flying backwards off of the train.  

“John!” Arthur shouted, flinching from the shots.  Quickly, he whipped back around, shooting the soldier who had knocked John down in the head.  Dutch promised to get John, so long as the rest of you got the money.  

You nodded at your husband to reassure him, saying, “Man the gun.  We got you covered.”

“I’ll go stop the train,” Bill said, grabbing his rifle.  

“Do not stop the train!” You responded, shooting a soldier trailing you guys.  “You can secure up ahead, but do not stop this damn train or we’re dead, you hear me?”

“Got it!” Bill shouted back, heading to the front with Javier and Cleet.  

“Shit, we got a lot of riders on our tail, Arthur,” Sadie said, guns drawn.  

“I see ‘em.” Arthur was already shooting at the three or so men headed towards you.  As the soldiers approached from all sides, Arthur began swinging the gun around, killing men and horses alike–it’s hard to aim with a gatling gun, after all–and you and Sadie tried your best to assist him.  

“It’s nice to see you in action, Y/N,” Sadie shouted.  “I heard you was good with a gun!”

“I’m better with poetry books, but sure, I can handle myself in a gunfight,” you said back, shooting the hat off of a soldier in pursuit.  “There’s a horde of ‘em to the left, Arthur.”  Arthur nodded and swung the gun to the left as you shot at the soldier again, this time shooting him out of the saddle.  You and Sadie continued to shout your warnings at him.  After passing through a bridge, there appeared to be no one else on your tail, so you said, “Get off the gun; we gotta get to the money.”

The three of you pushed forward, only going a couple of cars further than where you’d been.  Arthur quickly dug the dynamite out of his satchel and placed it on the doors.  “Alright, I guess I better blow this thing,” he muttered. 

Stepping back, he shot the dynamite, and the doors came open.  He ran inside, with you and Sadie posting on either side of the door.  “We got something,” he said, looking around.  “We got something!” 

Throwing a money bag to you, he instructed you to catch.  “There’s more!” he said, tossing a bag the size of your torso at you.  And another.  And another.  You were so overwhelmed with the amount of money that you didn’t notice Bill barrelling toward you, jumping from the top of the carriage.  

“Morgan!” he said, “The driver’s dead!  This thing ain’t stoppin’, we gotta get off.”

“Okay then,” Sadie said, dumping a bag of money into Bill’s arms. “Let’s go!”  The four of you grabbed your bags and dove off of the train, barely making it off before it went flying from the bridge Arthur and John had blown up.  

You looked down at the wreckage, saying, “Jesus.”

“We’re alive,” Bill chimed in.

“Yeah, just about,” Arthur said back, looking at the rest of you and coughing.  

“Let’s get the hell outta here; regroup with the others,” you said, stepping away from the cliff, which you preferred not to be particularly close to in the first place.  The rest of them followed you back.  You were met on the tracks by Dutch, Micah and Joe.  “Where’s everyone else?” You asked, heaving your money sack onto the ground.

“Where’s John?” Arthur added, staring at Dutch expectantly.  The rest of the men–Javier and Cleet–fell in.

“I tried,” Dutch said, looking down at all of you.  You slipped your arm around Arthur’s–a reminder not to fly off the handle at whatever response he got.  “I tried.”

“He didn’t make it,” Micah said, peering at you guys from behind Dutch.  You felt sick.  With John gone–dead, apparently–Arthur was left with a choice you knew he’d never make.  He could stay with Dutch, link himself to the carnage, latching even tighter to Dutch’s dry, empty teat, or he could take you and leave, ending all of this once and for all.  “That patrol killed him.  We had to run.”

“Come on,”  Dutch said abruptly, before any questions could be asked.  “Let’s go.  Before another patrol turns up.”  The men took off, leaving you and Arthur on the tracks.  You watched him, trying to catch his gaze for just a moment, but he wouldn’t look at you.  He stared straight down, wheezing.  

“Let’s go, Arthur.  We don’t have time to fret, okay?  We can worry about this later, but right now, Dutch is right; we gotta go.”  You tugged at Arthur’s arm, dragging toward your horses.  He moved without protest, still quietly pondering the events that had just unfolded.  You had a feeling that whatever happened after this would not be good.  

You and Arthur saddled up, taking off after the gang.  The ride back to camp was… solemn, with no one saying much.  As tense as things had gotten between everyone, John was a part of the family, and that took its toll.  At least it did on most of you.  Dutch and Micah seemed to be just fine about the ordeal, quietly chattering at the front of the pack.  You were sure Arthur had noticed this too, but didn’t say anything about it–he wouldn’t be in the mood to talk much, not after what you’d learned.  

Right before the turn to enter camp, everyone in front of you slowed up.  You eased Waldo to a halt, looking around.  “What’s goin’ on?” you asked Arthur, brow furrowed.  

“Don’t know, but I don’t like it,” he whispered back.  

And then you heard it.  Young Tilly, scared out of her mind, saying that the Pinkertons took Abigail.  Arthur sent you a sideways glance, an odd expression painted across his face, and you realized that he’d chosen to fight for John, even though he was out of the picture.  The family he never had, or something like that.  Maybe if your son had lived, he’d fight like this for you, you thought.  Micah insisted to let Abigail go–to let her die–because John was already gone, and despite Arthur’s pleas, Dutch could not be swayed in the opposite direction.  

Arthur threw himself out of the saddle, positioning himself beneath Dutch–in front of The Count–like he was begging him to go rescue Abigail.  Tears swelled in your eyes at the sight of it–seeing your husband begging Dutch to save a woman he’d refused to let go hours earlier–and you knew that, despite your own protests to the whole affair, you’d go with him.  You’d help, not because you thought it was the best way (you couldn’t help but side somewhere in the middle with this; you found yourself wishing for a third option where you waited a while before sneaking in and getting her out), but because you knew that it was the only way Arthur would go, and you were afraid he’d get himself killed while you weren’t with him.  

They ignored him and rode past, leaving you and Sadie and Arthur and Tilly and Jack to yourselves.  Arthur coughed, putting his hands on his knees and spitting blood.  “Well, I guess that’s that, then.”  He stood.  “All them goddamn years.”  Without pausing to think, he grabbed his horn to mount up.  “I’m goin’ to get her.”

“Not without us, Arthur,” Sadie said, pushing forward.  You nodded, adding, “We’ll cover you.”  

Arthur frowned, saying, “No, Y/N, you need to stay.  Me and Sadie’s all we need.  Get everything together and we’re runnin’ after this.  We’ll go down to Big Valley and get that portrait.”  

You frowned.  “I don’t want to leave-”

“I know, but it’ll be faster.  Once Abigail is safe, we’re out of here, no questions asked.  Stay with Tilly and Jack.  We’ll meet up at Copperhead Landing and go from there, okay?”

“Okay,” you said breathlessly.  Climbing out of your saddle and making your way to him, you said, “Oh, Arthur, I-”  You leaned into his chest, holding back tears.

“I know.”  He cupped your face, kissing you softly on the forehead.  “I love you, darlin’.”  He reached into his satchel, pulling out stacks of cash and other valuables.  “Take this back and pack it up.  And the money, too.  It’ll get us out of here.”

“Okay.  Stay alive for me.”

“I will, darlin’.  I will.”  He kissed you again, this time with more urgency.  He mounted up, saying, “I’ll be back.”

“You’d better.”  You climbed back onto Waldo and watched as Arthur and Sadie disappeared into the distance.  Turning to Tilly, you said, “Take the money bags and Jack straight to Copperhead Landing and I’ll meet you there once I’ve got our stuff.  We’ll regroup there and get you someplace safe.”

She nodded, squeezing Jack as if to tell him that things would be okay.

“I don’t think it’s safe for you to go back into Camp.”  You added, and Tilly agreed, so you set off in opposite directions–Tilly towards safety and you towards a battlezone.  

When you got there, everything had been stripped.  Miss Grimshaw was ordering people around while Dutch and Micah conversed by Dutch’s tent, which hadn’t been touched.  You quickly dismounted and made your way to yours and Arthur’s tent, trying your best to be discreet, but it still caught the attention of Javier, who’d been sitting by the fire next to Bill.

“Running from something?” Javier asked.  

“I’m packing, just like the rest of you.”  You bowed your head and continued forward, stepping into your tent.  

“Where’s Arthur, then?” He followed after you.  

“Doing what you folk were too cowardly to do,” you fired back, closing the curtain to your tent in his face.  

As quickly as you could manage, you dug through everything, putting the essentials into a leather suitcase with your initials engraved on the handle.  You packed shirts, skirts, pants, books, and all of your valuables.  Arthur’s pictures, his mother’s flower, his shaving equipment.  Your wedding rings.  Newspaper clippings, your respective journals.  Little knick knacks Arthur had gifted you after his many journeys.  It scarcely fit in the suitcase, but you managed.  You layered your clothes to take more.  You couldn’t leave it all behind, not with the little money you two had.  You gripped your suitcase and hurried out.

“Leaving so soon?” Micah called after you.

“They’re traitors,” Javier taunted.

“I oughta show them what we do to traitors,” Bill said in response.  

You kept your head down and continued towards Waldo, strapping your suitcase onto his back.  The men continued to hurl insults towards you, about how you were abandoning them and that they knew Arthur was crooked.  You wanted to turn and scream at them, to call them fools for staying and bastards for refusing to help Arthur, but you kept your mouth shut, determined to let everything work out.  You’d get out.  You’d head somewhere new, somewhere he could breathe again, and it would be okay.  You’d get your portrait done and live on a homestead like normal couples did.  Maybe you’d try to have a kid again.  

“Going somewhere?” A familiar voice said from behind you.

“I do not wish to speak to you, Dutch,” you said, trying to sound cordial.  

“Ever since you came along, Arthur has been doubtin’ me, you know?”  He stepped next to you, putting his hand on Waldo.  “You’ve been whisperin’ in his ear for six years now.”

“Arthur’s not doing anything.  This is on my own accord,” you lied.  “I can’t stay here any longer–it’s too much for me.”  You mounted up, looking down at Dutch.  “I wish Arthur would agree with me, but he’ll be back, no doubt.  He’s too damn loyal.”

Dutch laughed, watching as you pulled away, riding out of Camp for what would be the last time.  You didn’t know if he believed you or not, but you hoped he wouldn’t follow you.  Everything would be fine if he didn’t follow you out.  You couldn’t imagine that what you did mattered, seeing as how you had hardly contributed to any of Dutch’s causes (except to say that they’re dangerous), but it was hard to tell with Dutch anymore. 

You waited at Copperhead Landing with Tillly for hours.  There was no trace of Dutch or Micah or any of the other guys from Camp, but there was also no trace of Arthur or Sadie.  Eventually, you grew restless, and left your things with Tilly so you could sneak into Van Horn yourself.  You hadn’t been on the radar of the law in years–they wouldn’t expect to see you barrelling into town, especially not dressed like a proper lady.  

You managed to walk through the town completely unscathed, strolling right up to the front of the building the Pinkertons had posted up in before you were questioned.  A fat man with a bald head asked you where you were going and you hastily held a knife against his throat, telling him you’d kill him if he didn’t lead you into the building.  The best part was–being that it was almost dark–that no one could see you.  He walked you straight in, hands up, telling them not to shoot you.  

In the room, you found Sadie hogtied and gagged on the ground and Abigail strapped to a chair.  Arthur was nowhere to be found.  “Put your guns down or I’ll slice his throat,” you instructed the two guards.  They did, raising their hands to the sky.  You stepped forward and kicked their weapons away.  “Untie them.”  You motioned towards Abigail and Sadie with your free hand, grabbing your pistol right afterwards.  

“No can do, Mrs. Morgan,” a voice said from a dark corner of the room.  

“Who the hell are you?”  you asked, looking towards the location of the voice.  

“Agent Milton, Pinkerton Detective Agency.  We thought you were dead until we heard of another woman running with the Van Der Linde gang on that train stunt you pulled earlier.  I never thought I’d see you in the flesh.”  He stepped forward.  

“I’ll slice this fucker’s throat-”

“I don’t doubt that you will.  But we have your husband back here, and it’d be a shame if we did the same to him.”  He grabbed a lantern from a table next to him, holding it towards the dark corner of the room.  Sure enough, there was Arthur, bloodied, barely conscious, and tied to the wall.  “Have you ever heard of lex talionis, Mrs. Morgan?” Milton asked.

“Of course I have,” you spat.  “An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth; what do you want in return?”

“Give me Dutch Van Der Linde or they’re dead.”  Milton smiled.

“I can’t,” you responded.  The man you were holding wrapped his arm around yours.  “He’s packing up to leave right now; I don’t know where he’s going.”

“Tell me the truth.”

“That is the truth,” Arthur said weakly, coughing, from behind Milton.  “They’re leavin’ with the money.”  Blood dripped out of his mouth.  Milton turned towards him, setting down the lantern. 

“Calm down, Mr. Morgan,” he said.  “That’s quite a cough he’s got there.”

“Sure,” you responded.  “Tuberculosis.  He’ll be dead soon anyway… and you with him.”  You tightened your grip on your pistol, getting ready to aim, when the man you were holding flipped you over his body, slamming you into the hardwood floor, winding you.  In doing this, though, he’d managed to slit his own throat.  Suddenly, Milton was staring down at you, gun drawn.  The other men were trying to locate their own weapons.  

“Don’t move an inch!”  Milton shouted.  You still had the knife in your left hand, soaked with the man’s blood, and your pistol in the right.  “Let go of your weapons or we’ll shoot!”

You were effectively stuck.  A gun aimed straight at your face and only a knife to defend yourself with.  One of the men picked up his revolver.  You weighed your options.  You could try and get the knife to Arthur, but there was no guarantee that he’d be strong enough to do anything.  Or the gun, but you weren’t sure he’d be able to see well enough to shoot.  You could try to get it to Abigail, but she wasn’t untied.  Still, her bonds looked loose.  She started wiggling, nodding at you.  You flung the weapons towards her.  

“Arthur will be dead, sure, but I’ll be just fine.  We offered him a deal, Mrs. Morgan.  It’s a pity he refused to take it.”  He sneered at you.  

“He’s a fool.  I’ve been tellin’ him that for 6 years.”  The other two men appeared around you, pointing their revolvers at your head.  Abigail was wiggling her arm loose out of the corner of your eye. 

“Not all you folk have quite so many scruples.  Old Micah Bell…” Milton stepped back, leaning against the table that he’d set the lantern on.  

“Micah?” Arthur asked.

“You mean Molly?” You chimed in, sitting up a little.  One of Milton’s men shoved his revolver in your face, forcing you back down.  

“Molly O’Shea?  We sweated her a couple of times, never talked a word, had to let her go.  Micah Bell… we picked him up when you boys came back from the Caribbean and he’s been a good boy ever since.”

Abigail gave you a slight nod, free, and quickly got to untying Sadie. 

“Micah?”  You asked again, stalling.  “But he’s been so-”

“He told us about everything; the job today, your involvement with the Indians and the Army.”  Milton crossed his arms with a confident swagger.

“Then why’d you ask about Dutch?”  You asked, frowning.  “If you knew where we were the whole time, why would you ask?”

“Wanted to see if you’d tell the truth about the whole thing.  We’ve heard that Mr. Morgan was undecided.”  You glanced back to Abigail and Sadie, then back to Milton.  Arthur coughed, his head limp, and blood dripped from his mouth to the floor.  He looked pathetic.  You wished you could rush to his side and help him somehow, but you were a little occupied.  

You figured the best thing you could do from there was come up with a little sob story until Abigail had freed Sadie and gotten their weapons, so you said, “You know, I’ve waited on Arthur to get away from this for ages.  All I ever wanted was for him to cut loose and run away from that Gang.  I knew it would be our downfall.”

“That it was, Mrs. Morgan,” Milton said, but then a gun was fired and he crumpled to the ground.  Two more shots rang and Milton’s men followed suit, falling onto the hardwood floor.  

“Horrible men,” Abigail muttered, turning away.  

“You okay, Y/N?” Sadie asked, offering you a hand.  You took it and stood, nodding, and then made your way to Arthur.   

His arms were in shackles that were chained to the wall.  “Oh, Arthur,” you whispered.  “Search their bodies for keys to these things.”  

Sadie found them in Milton’s pocket, so you unlocked Arthur’s shackles and he came tumbling down onto you, unable to support himself.  “What did they do to him?” you asked, looking at the girls.

“They nearly beat him to death,” Abigail said, frowning.  “They caught him trying to untie me and attacked him.”

“Let’s get him up,” you said, motioning for Abigail and Sadie to get on either side of him.  The three of you stood in unison, supporting Arthur’s weight.  “They’ll have heard the commotion we made, so more of them will be coming, no doubt.  We need to get out of here.”

The three of you led Arthur to your mounts, helped him on, and hurried out of Van Horn, magically escaping a gunfight.  When you got to Copperhead Landing, Jack was asleep in Tilly’s arms.  The only light in the area was from the moon and stars.  You tapped Arthur’s thigh, saying, “I gotta get down.”  

Arthur nodded glumly and slipped off the side of Ralph, his horse (Abigail was on Waldo), and held on to his back for stability.  He couldn’t hold his head up all the way.  You wanted to take him away somewhere, to bring him to a place where he’d be able to rest, but you guys had a long way to go.  

“Where’s John?” Abigail asked, frowning at the sight of Jack and Tilly, but no John.  “He didn’t run, did he?”

“He’s… he’s dead,” you managed.  “He didn’t run on you guys–he wouldn’t do that again.  I’m so sorry, Abigail, but he… he fell and Dutch-”  Abigail burst into tears, pulling you into a tight hug.  “I’m so sorry.”

“We’ll go back for him,” Arthur mumbled, stepping away from Ralph and towards the two of you.  “We’ll go find him and give him a proper burial like you wanted, but I gotta have a little chat first.”

“Arthur-” You tried to interrupt, but he continued.  You broke from Abigail’s embrace.

“Abigail and Sadie, you go with Tilly and you find someplace nice to stay, please.  You got any money?”

“No, not-” 

“Here.”  Arthur reached into your suitcase and pulled out the stack of money he’d handed you earlier.  “Take it and get the hell away from here.”  You watched frantically as Arthur gave away your last bit of hope that the two of you would make it.  

“Oh, Arthur,” Abigail said, but Arthur put his hand up, telling her not to say anything and just go.  The whole lot of them did, leaving you and your husband with your horses.  

“What the hell was that?” you asked, brow furrowed.  “You’re giving them our money?”

“They need it more.”

“I thought we were running away.”  Your voice broke at this, tears filling your eyes.  “How are we gonna run away if you gave them all of our money?”

Your husband grabbed your shoulders, forcing you to look at him.  He looked defeated, in a way, as if he’d fought against himself about this and finally lost.  “I’m sorry.  I have to go back and warn them.  Micah, he’s… he’s leading all of them to their deaths.”

“They want to kill you, Arthur!  They think you’ve betrayed them!”  You pleaded, trying to catch Arthur’s gaze, which he refused to meet.  “Arthur, please.”

“It’s been 20 goddamn years; I can’t just let them die.”

“What about your wife?”  You begged.  “What about what you said earlier?  What about Big Valley?”

“I can’t… it’s… they need to know, Y/N, I’m sorry.  I need to tell them and then we can meet up again.”  He pulled you close and kissed your head, but you pulled away from him.

“I’ll never forgive you for this,” you spat.  “I’ll never forgive you for picking them over me after they left you!”

“They didn’t-”

“They did!  You told me last night, Arthur.  They left you!  There’s nothing for you there anymore.  Abigail, Tilly, Sadie, and Jack are all gone.  Charles is gone.  John’s dead.  What more could you possibly get there?  I have all of our stuff!”  Tears spilled from your eyes, and as much as you tried to blink them away, they stayed steady.  

“I have to tell them about Micah.  I can’t leave them like that, not after 20 years, not knowin’ it’s him.  I don’t need you to forgive that, but I need to do it.”  He climbed onto Ralph, his amber champagne coated Missouri Fox Trotter, and looked down at you.  “I’m sorry, okay?”

“You’ll die.”

“Maybe not.  Go up to the Wapiti Indian Reservation and find Charles.  He’ll know what to do, darlin’-”

“-Don’t call me that-”

“-okay?”  Arthur offered a weak smile.  “I will meet you there as soon as I’m done, I promise you.”

“And then what, Arthur?  Then we help the gang get on a boat to New York because it’s been 20 years and you’re obligated to do that, too?  When will it end?”  You wanted to hit him, to curse him for lying to you, for almost dying, for leaving you alone.  You hated this so much.  He was going to his death.  You knew it.  You knew he would never come back to you, even if he said he would.  There was no way they wouldn’t kill him for accusing Micah–they were too blindly loyal–and you’d sit and wait.  The vision would come true.  He wouldn’t let you anywhere near Camp and, frankly, you didn’t care to be.  You didn’t want to fight in that battle because it wasn’t yours.  But you wished he’d see it your way, because his way had an awful ending that you were both all too aware of.  

“Y/N…” he said, his voice quiet.  “I love you.”

“I love you too, but I hate you.”  You wiped your tears.  “You’re killin’ yourself.”

“I know.”  He gave you a solemn nod. 

“Why can’t we just go be happy, Arthur?  Is that so hard?”

“This is all I’ve ever known.” He looked forward, grabbing his hat from his saddle bag and putting it on his head, which was bruised from the beatings he’d already taken.  He was hardly able to sit upright on Ralph, much less able to fight.  

“You’ve known me…”  He started heading towards Camp, unable to hear you.  “Arthur, you’ve known me!” you shrieked, sobbing.  “Oh, God!”  You fell to your knees, your entire body shaking with sobs.  He’d left you.  He didn’t wait to hear you out anymore–you knew he wouldn’t–and now you were on your own.  Nothing to live for, no one to remember you by.  He’d be dead before morning–you were certain of this.  Eventually, you managed to climb into your saddle and start towards Wapiti, but it was only out of fear that the Pinkertons would find you and have you shot or hanged for your entanglement with Milton.  

*****

In the weeks that followed, you fell into a terrible, hollowing depression.  You wouldn’t eat or drink anything that wasn’t forced down your throat, you wouldn’t talk.  Charles was there, of course, but he’d never be your husband and he’d never be able to bring him back.  Eventually, he went and found Arthur’s body, which was apparently at the base of a tree on a ridge that faced the East.  He let you choose a burial spot, which faced the West like Arthur had always wanted.  You didn’t know what to do anymore.  You’d always had some sort of hope for the future–you’d imagine what everything would be like when you guys finally managed to get away–but now that he was gone, there was nothing to imagine.  You quit reading and you definitely didn’t write.  You just sat.  It was a shallow existence, sure, but you did not know how to live without Arthur anymore.  He’d saved you all those years ago, and now he was just gone. 

You wanted to hate him.  The way he left you was shitty and you knew it, but you could not hate him for it because you’d always known that it would be like that.  You knew it would end up like that before he was even sick.  Still, you felt betrayed.  You were supposed to stick together in everything–he was supposed to choose you–and he hadn’t.  You were used to being the second choice, of course, but that decision cost him his life and you both knew it would.  He chose death over what could’ve been happiness with you.  You’d never forgive him for that, even with all of the love you had for him.  

“Did you eat today?” Charles asked, appearing at your side.

“No.”  

“Have some soup; it’ll hydrate you too.”  He handed you a bowl.

“I’m not hungry,” you said, trying to pass it back to him.

“I’m not asking.  Eat it.”  He pushed it back towards you.  “You have to eat something at least once a day.  You’ll starve yourself.”

“Maybe I want to die,” you fired back. 

“You don’t want to die of starvation.  That’s a painful death.”  Charles grabbed a soup bowl of his own and drank from it.  

“Maybe I want a painful death.”

“Eat.  It’s not a request.”  He forced your bowl towards your lips, despite your protests. 

“Fine!  I’ll get it myself!”  You slurped the soup loudly, just to annoy him.  “Better?”

“Yes,”  Charles said, then he stood and left.  He was never one for conversation, but you knew that he was there for you more than anyone else.  Probably more than Arthur had been, thanks to his loyalty to Dutch.  He checked in on you every day, forced you to eat, forced you to get dressed, and told you how horrible every way you’d tried to die would be.  Burns, for example, were far too painful to deal with.  It’d hurt to breathe.  You’d sit in the pain until your heart finally stopped because it was trying too hard to fight the burn.  Gunshots would be slow and agonizing, but also messy.  You’d bleed everywhere as the gunpowder spread around inside your body.  Knives were the same–far too messy and unreliable for convenience.  What would you do if you lived, after all?

You wanted to hate Charles for this, too, but you couldn’t because, like Arthur, he took care of you.  He was one of the only people in your godforsaken life who had shown that you mattered, so even if you were mad that he forced you to live, you were thankful that he cared enough to want to make it happen.  And he understood your pain.  He missed Arthur too.  They were best friends, the pair of them, so it was hard on him, too.  He wouldn’t show it, but when you couldn’t sleep at night, you could hear him moving restlessly, too.  You were in the same boat, in a way, except Charles had never been abandoned by him.  

*****

Years and years later, on your own homestead in Canada, you and Charles lived out a quiet life together.  He’d married a fine young woman from the Reservation and moved up North to get away from the carnage you’d both left behind.  You lived in a house separate from theirs, one small enough for you and another–room for Arthur, if he was still alive–and you were mostly content.  You’d go South a couple of times a year to visit Arthur’s grave–to keep it maintained and such–but you spent most of your time on the homestead.  You learned to work honestly.  You kept to yourself.  You wrote.  

One time, on a visit to Arthur, there was a man with dark hair facing the cross.  He was wearing Arthur’s hat.  You immediately burst into tears at the sight of his hat, which caught his attention, and facing you was none other than John Marston.  “Y/N?”  He asked, stepping towards you.  “Oh, my God!”

He wrapped his arms around you as your knees buckled, keeping you solidly upright.  “John,” you managed, hardly able to speak through sobs.  “How did… how did you…”

“They left me, Y/N, Dutch and them.  I got back to Camp when Arthur did and he… he helped me get out of there.  He was beaten pretty badly, by then, but he didn’t tell me nothin’.  How are you?”

“He helped you get out?”

John nodded.  “Said somethin’ about how he knew it wasn’t over and that he had to finish the job.”

“Did he mention me at all?  Was he going to come back for me?”  You sat on a rock facing the grave and John took a seat next to you.  You sniffled, wiping your face.  John was alive.  He was alive because of Arthur.  

“He kept talking about Wapiti, but he was spent before we got to the top of that mountain.  Gave me his hat, but I think you should have it.”  He took off his hat and offered it to you.  “It’s more yours than mine, anyway.  You knew him better.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled, taking the hat from him.  “Did you see him die?”

“No,” he admitted.  “But I always assumed he did.  I learned from Charles a couple of years back.  I think he’s up North now-”

“He is.  We live on a homestead together.”

“Really?”  John raised his eyebrows, smiling a little.  “Good for you guys.”

“No, not like that.  He has a wife.  They just let me live there.  It’s good, honest work.”  You looked down at the hat in your hands, inhaling deeply.  “No, Arthur is my only love, I fear.”

John sat for a second, staring at the ground.  “He was a good man.  The last thing he said to me was to check in on you, but I never did.  I went to my family and we ran, but… I wish I had gone to find you.  Maybe I could’ve brought you back to him or somethin’... I don’t know.”  He took a deep breath.  “He loved you, though.  I know that.”

You nodded.  “Not enough to run away with me.”

“No, he was going to.  We’d talked about it the whole time we stayed in Beaver Hollow.  He mentioned it to Sadie, too.  I bet Charles knew he’d planned to.” 

“Why wouldn’t he tell me?”

“Would it have made a difference?”  

You thought on that for a moment.  “I guess not.”  You smiled softly.  “I get the feeling that Charles has kept a lot from me.”

“He’s not very sociable,” John responded with a slight smile.  “I’m glad you’re okay, Y/N.”

“You too, John.  Last I knew of you, you were dead.  Where are you staying now?”

“Little ranch called Beecher’s Hope down in West Elizabeth.  You should come down sometime and visit.  It’s nice.”

“I’m okay,” you said, staring at Arthur’s grave.  “This is the furthest South I come anymore.  I don’t want to see anything else–no more reminders of Arthur, you know?”

“I suppose.”  John took your hand, shaking it, solemnly meeting your gaze.  “I have to get back to my family.”

“I have a couple of people to check in on, so that’s okay.  I keep tabs on some of the people who knew him.”  

John smiled.  “He’d like that.”

“I know.  He’d love the homestead I’m living on.  It’s so open and free…” You sighed.  “I miss him.  I see him everywhere.”

“Me too,” John said.  “Me too.”

*****

Years and years after the death of John Marston and Charles Smith, you found yourself ill with pneumonia.  You’d watched as the world grew up around you–becoming something you couldn’t recognize–and though you’d remained set in your ways, you felt that you lived in an entirely different place.  Your homestead had stayed the same, though, and it was here that you were determined to die.  

Janet, the great-granddaughter of Charles Smith, liked to listen to the stories you told.  She sat at your side and listened as you recounted the time you and Arthur danced under the stars after he’d told you he loved you.  You could see him then, sitting sweetly in the chair opposite Janet’s, and you could smell his musk.  People smelled better in 1966 than they had in 1899.  His hand was by your arm–you could practically feel the warmth coming from it.  His breathing was no longer ragged and weary like it had been in his final month, instead rhythmic and soft.  You smiled.  “He’s here now,” you told Janet.  

 She smiled back, thinking you were crazy, and squeezed your hand as Arthur eased you into a quiet, peaceful death.  You were together again, at last. 

[filmofhybe]

Chapter 9 - the one that dated him?

> pairing : Nishimura Riki x Female Reader

> genre : college student AU! , Pool Lifeguard AU! , smau , fluff

> warnings : SLOW BURN!! , swearing , bad humor jokes , kys jokes (die etc) , kissing , semi verbal bullying (no violence) , reader! injuring herself by accident , missing parent figure

> chapter synopsis : As break has ended, all student are finally back to school once again, which also means some new faces. Including Isabelle.

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comment or reblog to ask be on the series taglist.

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( I also just want to mention that this series is kinda slow burn, so if your not into slow burn or plot lines that can take a bit to develop than this story is probably not your cup of tea. But I do recommend checking out my other works if you want, enjoy!! )

Word count - 462

“oh my gosh intak just pick a shoe? It isn’t a fashion show.” Everyone was standing outside the boys dorm right now, all because Intak can’t pick his shoes because apparently his fit needed to be “sandwiched”.  This would be a understatement right now because the school meeting at the hall would be ten times more important than some stupid shoe.

 

“Gosh I’m done let’s go!” Intak stumbles out of the door before locking it as the group walk towards the hall, chatting about what they should have at the restaurant after the meeting. The hall was crowed with people, with familiar faces all around once again. Lots of people went up to the group for a reunion hug and catching up. Y/n was distracted over Niki’s text, saying he would be waiting for her around the very back corner of the hall with his friends. Maybe I should go check?..

“Guys I’ll be back in a few. Please save me a seat.” y/n informed before stepping away from the group and walking towards the back corner of the hall. As she continues to walk towards the back, she sees a tall boy with black and blonde hair, wearing a loose plaid shirt and baggy stylish jeans. He was in a group, y/n assume it was his other six friends. She quickly walked towards him and tapped on his shoulder, which caused him to turn around.

“Omg hi y/n!” Niki heart was beating so fast, what do you mean this would be their proper first talk in real life? Y/n wearing that white strap top with a beige skirt and white platform but is still shorter than himself made him go feral. “Hi Niki! I’m doing well is nice to finally and actually talk to you.” Y/n chuckled before greeting the others until she saw the new girl. Wait isn’t she-

 “Oh this is Isabelle. One of my childhood friends And Isabelle, this is y/n.” Niki introduced. That’s when your mind clicked. Isabelle. You know who she is, the girl who got with the guy you used to like, all because she was pretty but also because she spread a really disgusting rumor about you, which made everyone dislike you.

 “Well don’t be so rude and greet me?” Her voice made you cringe so badly that you didn’t say much before shaking her hand with a firm grip. You can tell the boys feel the tension between you both. They have never seen you greet someone without a smile.

 "Well, is nice meeting you. I think it is my time to go. I’ll see you soon.” You said as you left, anger was building up inside of you. Because now you have to deal with another problem when you already have ninety-nine.

Niki’s POV:

When y/n left, the tension between everyone thickens. “Ugh how rude is she..” Isabelle said. But no one makes a remark about it. “Well me and Jay are gonna sit down now I’ll see you all later.” Sunghoon said before walking towards y/n group of friends. The others nodded as they follow on another.

“Do they not like me or something?”

“I just think they are tired. Is okay I’ll sit with you..”

“Aww your the best Riki let’s go!”

series taglist : @surefornext @spilled-coffee-cup @haechansgf @txtistheloml@skepvids @syuuji @oshakyao @haechansbbg @en-happiness

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[skellebonez]

Cotton Tails and Borrowed Time: Aftermath and Remix... and Some Stuff Between. Chapter 4

For Now and For Forever.

This can technically take place before the last chapter, but I had to save this for today. Happy Pride ya'll! Also, sorry for the long delay in fic uploads/updates. I was in a car accident and had a concussion/wrist bone contusion and couldn't really write anything for like a month. But I'm ok now!

AO3 Link!

"Tang, wake up," Pigsy said softly. He couldn't believe he was doing this, but... He had made all these plans. He needed to follow through. "I have something for ya."

Tang yawned and stretched, blinking open his eyes. A slow, lazy smile spread across his face at the sight of the silver tray with the dome lid that sat on the bed between them.

"What's all this?" He asked. "And... it's almost lunch? Did you let me sleep in?"

"I, um..." Pigsy faltered, rubbing the back of his neck with a nervous chuckle as he slowly lifted the lid. "I have a surprise for you."

"Strawberries!" Tang exclaimed. Under the tray was delicious treat and fruit juice that Pigsy took extra time to prepare himself. "White chocolate strawberries! How did we not think of that!? This isn't exactly breakfast food, but... I'm not gonna complain!"

"I thought you'd appreciate that," Pigsy said with a fond chuckle. "They're all yours, honey bun. I kinda helped myself to some of the fruit as I made all this already."

"Really?" Tang asked, eyes wide in awe as his leg thumped in excitement under the blanket.

"Really," Pigsy said with a nod. "Except this one."

With a chuckle he reached out, snatching one of the smaller ones and popping it into his mouth. The fake offended "THIEF" Tang whisper shouted was worth it, as was the chuckle they shared and the delicious sweet-tartness of the treat he had made up for his... boyfriend?

Boyfriend didn't feel right any more. Not strong enough for the bond they shared. That was at least half the reason he decided to do this. It felt like it was time to take the next step. They had to.

Tang ate happily, listening to Pigsy explain that the shop was closed for the day and that he planned a special day for just the two of them.

"You're hiding something," Tang said plainly as he licked the strawberry juice off his mouth fur.

"Am I that obvious?" Pigsy asked with a chuckle. He might have been more flustered or upset that Tang caught on if he hadn't gotten so used to the scholar picking up on things so quickly (and if he didn't find it both endearing and less anxiety inducing to know he was noticing things). "Got any guesses?"

"Nope," Tang said with a chuckle. "Something tells me this would be better if it was a surprise. Let's see what you have in store for me today."

Pigsy breathed a quiet sigh of relief, settling onto the bed beside Tang. His love for the bunny demon was overwhelming at that moment, banishing... MOST of his remaining fears and doubts. Not all of them. But enough to make him feel that, maybe, today was going to be perfect after all. At least... he hoped it would be.

It took almost no time for the two of them to get ready, Pigsy having informed Tang it would be dressed for an outdoor day.

He looked... so handsome to Pigsy. It wasn't every day that Tang wore something shorter than his usual longer top, opting for a similar outfit that had something he could tuck into his pants instead, but the few times Pigsy saw him in this outfit he couldn't help but find it made him look amazing.

"If you're gonna stare," Tang said with a smirk. "You should probably take a picture."

"S-shush," Pigsy eventually stammered out, averting his gaze with a flush. "And uh... bend down a bit? No peaking."

Tang looked at him with a raised brow, a bemused smile on his face as he did so. The smile faltered for a moment as Pigsy pulled a piece of cloth out of his pocket before slowly, carefully, blindfolding the rabbit.

"Is this really necessary?" Tang asked, the first bit of uncertainty Pigsy has heard from him that morning. But he didn't stop the chef, patiently waiting for him to finish.

"No, but it's part of the surprise. Remember, no peaking!" Pigsy said as he tightened the blindfold. "And hold on."

"Hold on to wh-AH!"

Pigsy closed his eyes, holding onto Tang's hands as the feeling of the magic surrounding them almost pulled him down into the shadows. Then thrust them upwards, more gently than he had expected actually. When he opened them again, they were no longer in the bedroom.

"Hmnn... sounds like... were on Mount Huaguo," Tang said after a small gasp with wide smile. "On the beach! But the smell gave that away first."

"Knew having Macaque teleport us wouldn't stop you from figuring that much out," Pigsy said with a chuckle. "I owe him for that... Keep that blindfold on though. We're still heading a bit farther."

Tang huffed in amusement but didn't protest, allowing Pigsy to guide him along the  slightly rocky path. Though, to be fair, Tang didn't need nearly as much help as he used to. His new rabbit paws made traversing the outdoors second nature to the bunny demon, the fur protecting him from any sharper corners he may inadvertently step on. His ears twitched and swiveled, as much as they could in their lop state, no doubt picking up all the sounds of the wildlife around them.

After a few minutes of walking, Pigsy said, "We're here. You can look now."

Tang pulled off the blindfold, blinking at the sight before him. A picnic blanket was laid out on the ground, laden with all of Tang's favorite foods. All of Tang's NEW favorite foods, he should clarify. They were very particular about making sure they knew exactly what foods his new hybrid rabbit stomach could handle.

"Red Son and Sandy helped me set this up before they left," Pigsy explained, rubbing the back of his neck. "I saw them leaving on the other path once they spotted us. I wanted today to be perfect for you."

Tang turned to him, eyes soft. He cupped Pigsy's cheek, bending down to meet his other cheek in a gentle kiss. "Every day with you is perfect, PIgsy. You didn't have to do all this."

Pigsy's cheeks flushed as he ducked his head, embarrassed but pleased. Tang always knew exactly what to say to set his heart at ease.

"I know but...you deserve the world, Tang," he said. "And I want to give it to you."

Tang smiled, bumping their noses together.

"You've already given me everything I could ever want."

Pigsy's heart swelled, almost feeling as if it might just explode with love for the demon in his arms. Today was turning out even better than he'd imagined.

They settled in to enjoy the picnic, chatting and laughing as the sun slowly rose and began it's descent towards the other side of the horizon. They talked about everything and nothing at all, almost feeling like they had too much time to catch up on and not enough time to talk about because they'd been inseparable this past year. A comfortable silence fell between them in time, the only sounds the chirping of crickets and the rustle of leaves in the breeze.

Tang eventually leaned back on his hands, gazing out at the scenic view.

"I'd forgotten how beautiful it is up here. We haven't had a chance to come in so long." He sighed, shoulders drooping. "Things have been so busy lately. Feels like we haven't had a moment to ourselves in... ages! I missed this."

"Missed what?" Pigsy asked at the sudden interjection.

"Us just... taking things slow," Tang answered with a chuckle. "After everything with Lady Bone Demon and then my transformation and then my rehabilitation and all the Monkie Kid stuff MK has to deal with? It's been a while since we just had a full day to each other properly. It's been almost three months since the last proper date we had."

Pigsy had been so busy planning this and dealing with the aftermath of the latest world ending disaster that actually wasn't that he hadn't noticed.

"Aw, Tang, I'm... I'm sorry."

"Don't be!" Tang countered with a laugh. "Things happen sometimes. I don't expect our lives to be a whirlwind romance every week. But today? More then eclipses the last 3 months entirely."

Pigsy scooted closer, wrapping an arm around Tang's shoulders.

"I know what you mean. I miss this too—just the two of us, no responsibilities, no deadlines to worry about. We've been neglecting ourselves."

"Mmm," Tang hummed in agreement, nestling into Pigsy's side. "Promise we won't leave it so long before our next date, ok?"

"Never," Pigsy vowed, pressing a kiss to Tang's temple. "You're stuck with me, Tang."

"Good," Tang said with a chuckle.

"But, uh, don't make yourself too comfy," Pigsy said with a shrug to dislodge the bunny from his side. He stood, walking over to a nearby bush. "We're not done yet."

"You mean there's MORE?" Tang asked in surprise. "We’ve already had breakfast in bed, strawberries, a blindfolded walk to lunch. What else do you have planned?"

"Oh, you'll see," Pigsy said with a slightly nervous chuckle. He tried not to notice the weight in his pocket as he pulled out two hiking backpacks. "We've still got a long walk to our next destination though."

"A romantic hike through the woods of Mount Huaguo dooooes sound nice," Tang admitted with a smile.

~

A hike was putting it mildly. Pigsy wished that Sun Wukong had warned them that it would be as intense as it was, but... well, perhaps he was to blame. This WAS a mountain.

But despite his misgivings about the difficulty of the terrain, he wouldn't change it for the world. Not when he could see Tang having so much fun.

He wasn't sure when the last time he saw the bunny demon looking so care free and natural was. He ran across logs, jumped over rocks on the rivers they crossed, chased at least one butterfly. By all accounts he was having the time of his life.

It took them hours to get to where they were. But that was the point. A day to hike and take in everything. They were in no rush, they could stop for a snack or a drink at any time. They could stop so Tang could pull out one of his notebooks and draw any of the wildlife they saw, pick a flower and press it to take home.

They talked and walked in mutual silence in equal measure. It felt... amazing.

Pigsy felt amazing.

He felt more amazing when they reached their destination just 15 minutes before sundown, running a little later than he expected but also still making it there in time. Sun Wukong really did know all the best spots on the mountain. On this side you couldn't see the city at all, and with the wind blowing in their direction the sky was clear before them. They could see the island beneath them and the vast sea laid out around them, so high that they couldn't even see the beach anymore.

And as Tang helped him lay out a blanket on the side of a hill, as well as their much more modest dinner from Pigsy's hiking bag, he started to feel nervous.

The day was almost gone, he thought to himself as they ate their fruit and sandwiches. As Tang once again leaned against him, both reclined on the hill as they watched the sun slowly setting.

Tang smiled, relaxed and care free, and together they watched it finally dip below the horizon and bathe the sky in vivid oranges and reds. A deep contentment settled in Pigsy's chest, holding Tang close as the stars began to emerge in the darkening sky. They had all the time in the world, and for now, that was enough.

Pigsy watched Tang as he took in the breeze, letting it flow through his fur. Watched as the last rays of the setting sun shove off his brown fur, giving him an almost amber glow. Watched as the other closed his eyes and started to grind his teeth in contentment.

It was almost time.

He could do this. He could last just a bit longer.

It was after the first few starts started to look down at them that Tang next spoke.

"What's wrong, Pigsy?" Tang asked suddenly.

"What?" PIgsy asked, staring at the other. "Wh-what makes you think something's wrong?"

"Pigsy, I'm not stupid," Tang said softly, but also bluntly. "I can tell something has been on your mind all day. What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Pigsy said quickly. Too quickly. "That-that's kinda the problem... Everything always goes wrong! Eventually! When is something going to snap, a demon going to attack, MK call us to say the shop is on fire!?"

"The shop isn't going to be on fire-"

"You don't know!" PIgsy said, taking a deep breath. "Sorry... sorry, I just... my nerves are getting to me because there's something I've been meaning to ask you..."

"What-"

"What do you think of MK?" Pigsy asked quickly, rushing the question out before he lost his nerve. "Like, how do you see him?"

"Huh?" Tang asked, looking at him in confusion. "Pigsy, you know how I feel about MK."

"I know, but... but I wanna hear it again!"

This was stupid... this was stupid, he was stupid and Tang probably hated him for asking such a stupid question and-

"He's practically my son too," Tang said softly. "I wasn't posturing or making things up or using him to make myself feel cooler when I told Spider Queen I was a father figure to him. That's how I felt."

Pigsy felt like he's been hit in the chest with a sledgehammer, but not in a bad way, somehow. His stomach almost filled with butterflies, his head felt light at the words of the other.

He couldn't psych himself out now.

"OK... OK, ok, uh..." Pigsy cleared his throat, heart pounding. It was now or never. "Tang, there's something else I've been meaning to ask you."

Tang glanced up at him, brows furrowing slightly in concern. "What is it?"

"I know it hasn't been easy, with your transformation and all the changes in our lives recently," Pigsy began, choosing his words carefully. "But you and MK are the best things that have ever happened to me. You've made me happier than I ever thought I could be, and I don't want to imagine my life without you in it."

He took a deep breath, steeling his nerves as he pulled the small box out of his pocket and opened it and climbed to one knee.

"Tang, will you marry me?"

~

Pigsy peered into the glass case, eyeing a simple silver band inlaid with tiny rubies that matched Tang's favorite color. At least, he hoped they did. They were the same color at his outfit that he wore everyday... His heart raced. Was it too much? Was it not enough?

Mei nudged his arm, smirking at him. "It's perfect. He's gonna to love it!"

"Do you think it's too much?" Pigsy asked, hands fidgeting with the credit card they held. "Too little? This ain't gonna scare him off, is it?"

"I don't think there IS a way for you to scare him off, " Mei said with a shrug. "Not with this, anyway. If anything, he's going to be even clingier."

"And you're sure MK doesn't... you know, have any reason to object to this?" Pigsy continued. "Maybe I should ask him if he's ready for this kind of change."

"I think he was ready the day he called Tang 'hop pop', Piggy."

Pigsy took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. Mei was right. He knew in his heart that Tang and MK were his family, and they deserved to make this official. MK deserved to have his two dads, like he had been hinting at for ages... if you could call calling both of them his dads hinting.

"OK... Excuse me, sir?" He called out, clearing his throat when his voice cracked a little under the nerves of the moment. "How much is this one?

~

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then Tang surged forward, throwing his arms around Pigsy in an ecstatic embrace (nearly knocking the box out of his grasp before he set it aside).

"Yes, yes of course I'll marry you!" he exclaimed, voice muffled where his face was pressed into Pigsy's chest.

Pigsy's heart soared, and he spun Tang around with a shout of joy, hugging him close. When he finally puled back, it was to find Tang's face streaming with tears as he continued to smile wide. Pigsy brushed them away with his thumbs, cupping Tang's face in his hands.

"I love you so much," he whispered, gazing deep into Tang's eyes. "You and MK are my world, and I want to spend the rest of my life proving that to you."

"You already have," Tang assured him, smile soft and radiant as the sunrise. "The moment you kissed me back when I confessed. I love you too, Pigsy, with all my heart."

Pigsy kissed him then, slow and sweet, pouring all the love and devotion in his soul into that one perfect moment. He and Tang were going to be together, forever, and this was only the beginning of a new journey for the two of them.

Pigsy drew back reluctantly, aware they still to breathe. But he kept one hand encased in Tang's unwilling to let him go completely.

"We should head back," he said with a sigh. "MK will be wondering where we've gotten to. I'm pretty sure we're going to be home later than I told him."

Tang nodded, though he looked just as loath to end their moment.

"You're right. And we have so much to plan!" His whole face lit up again at the thought. "A wedding to organize! We need flowers, food, a venue, oh my gosh we have so much! We're going to need a lot of help!"

"I think we can figure that all out together," Pigsy said with the easiest smile he had mustered all day.

Tang's smile brightened, if that was even possible, soft and radiant as the starlight above them.

"That's all I've ever wanted."

"Then it's decided," Pigsy said as he squeezed his hands, blinking back a fresh swell of tears. "From now on, we face every challenge together. Just like we always have. But, you know, more official!"

"Together," Tang echoed firmly. He stood on his toes to steal one last lingering kiss. "Now, let's go tell our son the good news!"

Pigsy's heart swelled with joy at the words our son. He had a full official family at long last. Hand in hand, they made their way back through the fading sunset, ready to embark on a new chapter of their lives.

Together.

[tydhl]

Th’ell ya’ doing here, lady? (Monty x reader)

Chapter 2. Who th’ell are ya’, lady?

Summary

Oh no!

It looks like you’re not a registered character in the Plex’s system, how unfortunate.

Good thing Montgomery Gator here realized you aren’t human! He will be in charge of escorting you back to the daycare.

Warnings: Mild swearing.

Headcanons used:

Monty is glad to be a rockstar but is jealous of Feedy being fan favorite.

Monty is very gentle with children.

“It’s past closing hours, lady, what th’ell ‘ya doing here?”

—————

You stared up at the much larger animatronic, optics widened in terror. If your voice box was operational, you’d probably be screaming by now. You felt your CPU buzz loudly inside your chestplate, frantically calculating an escape route while you stood frozen. The gator was massive, being a good few feet taller than you, and looked like he could easily bench press a car if he wanted to.

You shakily brought your hands up and in a placating gesture and shook your head, trying to signal that you meant no harm. You glanced behind the gator, trying to judge the distance you’d have to run if you could slip past him. This only seemed to aggravate the already aggressive animatronic.

Monty felt his security module continuously ping his processor on the steps he needed to take now that he has located a trespasser to ‘keep Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizza Plex a safe place for all families to enjoy.’ He blinked at her rapid movements, becoming irritated if not confused on what you were trying to convey other than a frantic gesture.

He internally pinged Vanessa about the situation, needing a human employee to process any human infringement. 

Bringing his attention back to the shorter animatronic, he spoke up. “You stay here, an officer is going ta come talk to ya’ on how you’ll be processed fer trespassing on private property.” He said, pulling back a bit as he kept his harsh gaze on you, the response automatic and robotic as ever.

You winced at it’s scowl aimed towards you. At the mention of an officer getting involved in the situation, you began to panic. It hasn’t even asked who you we’re! 

He stared at you for a moment longer before he noticed that you weren’t quite…well, human.

“…What in the—?” 

He jerked his head back to get a better look before quickly running a full body scan. When his system revealed to him that he was, in-fact, talking to another animatronic, he didn’t quite know what to do.

Why weren’t you in his database? Surely they would’ve added the ID of a new member to the plex when they issued you. …Or maybe not, heck, this corporation isn’t known for being the nicest to their… assets. 

The gator stared at you for another tense moment before stepping back, letting go of the recharge station. A flicker of embarrassment was present in his face but was quickly masked by a scowl.

“Who th’ell are ya, lady?” He asked, crossing his arms as he stared you down. “I ain’t ever seen ya ‘round here before.”

You began to sign frantically, using your digits to convey what an answer to what was asked of you.

‘I’m the Daycare Attendant’s helper! Sorry if I intruded, I didn’t mean to wander so far or know that it would cause any problems.’ You looked up at the gator animatronic apologetically, after you gave him your name, equally embarrassed as you held your hands close to your chest.

Monty felt his scowl soften a bit when he realized you couldn’t speak. His optics quickly caught on to your ASL, already having been downloaded in his programming as a part of the ‘PCA’ part of his purpose during events. He decided not to comment on your lack of speech.

“You from the Daycare, huh? You don’t look as creepy as those clowns, heard management’s gonna to do something ‘bout their faceplates soon.” He replied, tilting his head to the side as he grimaced at the thought of the Daycare Attendant’s appearance. 

Whoever designed their likeness sure didn’t know what they were doing, those bots look creepy as hell. They did them so dirty. He quickly linked a quick picture of you and your name into a file for later. 

“Didn’t even have ya in my system. I’m guessing you’re new then.” He added, letting out a hiss of pressured air past his nostrils in a pretend huff.

That made sense. The human staff you’ve interacted with didn’t seem particularly interested in any of the bots. To leave out coding your addition to the animatronic staff does seem like something the would do, even intentionally.

“Moon’s allowed to come out of the Daycare during his rounds, he must be near Roxy Raceway by now. Sun, on the other hand, his programming won’t let the bot set foot outta the place, heck, I don’t think he can even think about doing so.” The gator mused, feeling himself relax slowly while he pinged Vanessa once again, this time to take back his request.

“I don’t know nothing ‘bout you though, if ya can or can’t.” He said, his scrutinizing gaze remaining fixed on you as he waited for a reply.

You blinked once, twice. Adverting your gaze, knowing full well that your programming doesn’t exactly specify whether or not you’re allowed to leave the daycare. You do, however, have a high clearance than Sun, being that you can leave without your joints locking up as soon as you crossed the Daycare doors.

You shrugged, deciding to change the topic.

‘You’re pretty intimidating, all the animatronics here as tall as you?’ Okay, maybe not the best way to divert the subject, but an attempt nonetheless.

The gator snorted at your words. If there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s being intimidating. He brought a hand up to tilt his glasses down his snout and gave the shorter animatronic a grin. “Most of us, yeah, we’re pretty tall, modeled after th’ same endo.” He said, sliding his purple shades back up his snout.

‘Well, I may not be tall, but I am softer than most animatronics here. They gave me a complete silicone casing and memory foam pads on my hands.’ You signed, bringing your hands up for demonstration. ‘You can see for yourself.’ 

Monty’s smile faltered at your trusting gesture, looking down at her extended hand with a surprised expression. His jaw clicked shut as he processed your offer. You was offering to let him touch you. Him? Slowly, the bulky animatronic brought his clawed hand up to gently rest it in yours. Despite his reputation for being a destructive individual, the gator animatronic can be gentle. He’s gentle with the children, he’s never hurt one. She was true to her word, her servos were, in-fact, soft, silicone coating her palms.

A slow thumping noise was heard behind the gator and he quickly pulled away, an embarrassed expression painting his mostly static face. His tail had been wagging, and he mentally cursed the the programmer that had decided to add that involuntary reaction into his software. He looked away and crossed his arms, scowling once again.

You quirked a brow in amusement at his abrupt motion, effectively putting some distance between the both of you. 

“Yeah, well, ya should probably head back to the daycare if ya aren’t on patrol, it’s dangerous out here.” He grumbled.

You agreed, it was probably best for you to return to the daycare. However, you’d like to catch the gator’s name before you left, he was the first person outside your daycare duties that you’ve meet, after all.

‘Right, of course, but, before I leave, may I get your name?’ You signed, waiting patiently for his reply.

He glanced back at you, narrowing his eyes. Did you really not know who he was? Did you not know who the band was? Wait…then that means you don’t know who Freddy is, or about his reputation, which also means that you can’t compare him to Freddy like everyone else. The opportunity just walked right into his very hands, an opportunity he’s not going to miss.

Monty turned to face you, brining a clawed digit to tilt his bright, purple shades down and winked at you. “Name’s Montgomery, Montgomery Gator, but ya can call me Monty, doll-face.” He said, knowing this is his shot on making a memorable introduction with his southern charm.

You felt your fans kick up a notch at the pet name, but payed no other mind to it.

“I’m the band’s bassist, you could say I’m a fan favorite, got my own golf course an’ all.” The gator drawled rather arrogantly, brining his hands to his hips as he grinned toothily.

“You should come by some time, I’ll show ya how ta play, it’s on the house.” Monty offered smoothly, looking down at you through the violet hue of his signature shades.

You smiled at his offer, perhaps you should make going out of the daycare part of your routine. It would be a nice change. 

‘That would be nice.’ 

His grin widened.

As you turned on your heel, you hesitated. You really didn’t want to get lost again, and Monty did seem like a person who knew the place well. Turning back towards him, you signed.

“Nah, don’t worry about it, I know this place like th’ strings on my bass.” He said, brushing you off as he brushed one of his hands over his mohawk in a causal manner. “I can help you out, easy, wouldn’t want you to run into any other members of the band and throw yourself into a locker or something.” Monty teased, a loud bark of laughter escaping him before as he walked past you, already making his way to the Daycare.

He also didn’t want you running into Freddy, but the gator would never admit that. If you met him, he’s certain she’d realize how much of a mess the Gator actually is plus how much better the bear was compared to him. You’d forget all about Montgomery Gator. He can’t let that happen, he won’t let that happen. Shoving the dark thought back into the depths of his processor, he focused on the situation at hand.

“‘Sides, Moon can cover for me, he does owe me one.” The gator added as he looked back at her from over his shoulder with a grin.

“Get over here, short stack.” He called, gesturing for her to follow him.

You quickly followed after him, running to catch up to the larger animatronic. Falling into step beside him, you glanced up at the gator. His color scheme was a lot different to Sun and Moon’s, his attire as well. While the Daycare attendant sported s circus themed outfit, the glamrock wore a much more eighties-esque type aesthetic, reminiscent of the 80’s rockstar, David Bowie.

He glanced down at you and you adverted your gaze quickly, embarrassed to have been staring. Deciding that the floor was much more interesting, you kept your eyes glued to the tiles. The gator chuckled, much to your chagrin. Monty was used to the attention, either good or bad, having eyes on him wasn’t a new feeling, rather just as normal as recharging for him.

As you two passed the band’s green rooms, you perked, pointing at the show rooms as you turned your head to look up at the gator. 

Using your other hand to sign at him simply, you asked. ‘Your friends?’

“Hm? Oh, yeah, that’s where th’ band and I have our showrooms.” Monty replied, keeping his optics trained on you for any other signs. 

His tail slowly swept back and forth behind him, another indicator of his better mood. The gator’s eyes landed on Freddy’s room, and he fought back the urge to bare his teeth, instead, smiling down at the little lady.

“Maybe I can show ya ‘round some time, give ya a tour and all that jazz.” Monty added, glancing at his room’s door. 

The bulky animatronic grimaced a bit, optics quickly switching to his room’s visual feed. He’d have to get a S.T.A.F.F. bot to clean up the mess he made after his temper tantrum earlier in the day. He returned his gaze back to the shorter animatronic as they neared the Daycare entrance. 

“If you’re lucky, I might even take a picture with ya.” The reptilian animatronic said with a grin. “You’ll be a certified Montgomery Gator fan!” 

You clapped your hands excitedly, relying more on your body language and actions to get your mood across. That would be nice, wouldn’t it? 

When your eyes landed on the Daycare’s doors, you balked. You didn’t want to end your conversation with Monty just yet, you’d just gotten to know him. 

‘Will is see you again?’

The animatronic gator blinked down at the you, surprise evident on his face as his optics widened. You wanted to see him again? Him, Montgomery Gator? Suck on that Fazbear!

With a toothy grin, he brought his hand to your forehead, flicking your faceplate, making you lurch back with a surprised expression. “Sure ya will, doll.” 

Stepping back, he looked past the netted wall that separated the daycare from the gift shop area. “Say hi to Sun for me, alright?” Monty said, returning his focus to you.

You rubbed at your forehead, watching him with narrowed eyes. This made Monty grin wider as he continued.

“And don’t let me catch you wandering where you shouldn’t, just ping me if you need someone to—” he gave her a mischievous grin, “‘assist a new bot with directions’.”

He quickly found your data signature in the Plex’s network and shot you a quick message, just a simple ‘hey’. “You can use th’ network to message me after hours or during your break, usually only security guards use it, but it’s pretty nifty for us bots to stay in touch.” 

You jerked a bit at the message popping up in your visual feed before grinning, giving him a thumbs up. 

”I’ll see you—“

The daycare doors opened suddenly, cutting the animatronic gator off. You both turned to look at what had interrupted your little conversation.

“Sunshine! I’m so glad you’re back, I got worried when I couldn’t find you anywhere! Moon went out to look for you and—…” the sun-themed animatronic tilted his faceplate when he noticed the band’s bassist standing next to you. 

His milky white optics seemed to darken, though perhaps that was just the lighting. “Oh! You brought the gator…with you.”

[tadpolesonalgae]

god you were not kidding about the last scene of ch. 16 with mor being angsty..... 😭😭😭 my heart is shattered.. i can see why mor could be upset at her and maybe mor is also not thinking too straight bc of how eris is involved and az having a near death experience but 😭😭 telling someone that attempted to kill themselves not too long ago that they're just not meant to be the first choice for anyone.... 😬 mor.. my fav sapphic girlie..... please tell me it was a lapse in judgement and ur gonna reconcile with reader... i was lowkey rooting for the friendship between u two 😔😔

but genuinely i wonder what caused this pivotal change in mor???? bc in previous chapters she's been really empathetic about reader and even with the unrequited love situation between reader and az, she was trying to make az understand reader's perspective of being heartbroken?? so mor suddenly using that as a way to hurt reader (by mentioning the whole never being the first choice thing) feels??? like maybe im underestimating just how much mor is affected/hurt by reader going to eris and/or how az almost died thru reader's actions (even if she didn't mean to get him shot by the arrow obviously)???

plus reader is feyre's SISTER.... it's not like feyre's gonna be delighted to hear that her best friend just told her sister she's never gonna be the first choice 😭 i have so many questions for mor... maybe bc i don't want to believe she'd be that cruel to someone in that way but damnnn

anyways that was such an intense (but not in a bad way!) chapter and im so excited for what's to come 💯

‘and az having a near death experience but 😭😭’

I completely forgot this would be a factor too 🫢🫣

‘mor.. my fav sapphic girlie..... please tell me it was a lapse in judgement and ur gonna reconcile with reader... i was lowkey rooting for the friendship between u two 😔😔’

Oooh would you like to see a reconciliation between the two of them or for it to spiral into a Rhys/Nesta kind of relationship? I can’t really imagine reader ever getting that angry at someone she wasn’t close to though—Mor would have to say something really awful to get reader to fight back 👀

‘but genuinely i wonder what caused this pivotal change in mor????’

To be fair, it genuinely might be a case of us just having different perceptions of the characters? I’m thinking Mor will be feeling betrayed, and that since so much has happened (like Az nearly dying, reader nearly dying, stuff going on in the background, Azriel being busy with Court work, the general stress of having a baby around 🫢) everyone’s emotions are high and maybe have been for a while, so reader’s own breakdown perhaps hit something in Mor, too? Also I think it’ll be a question on whether Mor continues to feel so resentful toward reader since emotions can surge up for a while and it might take a bit for them to calm to make a more logical(?) decision?

‘plus reader is feyre's SISTER....’

I’m still kind of theorising about who will side with who on this? Because between the born-fae characters I feel they’d understand one another more, but then the sisters will probably side with reader so what will happen between Feyre and Rhys, or Nesta and Cassian? Will they just agree it’s a difference of opinion or will it actually cause an argument? I don’t know, just some fun things I’m enjoying thinking about :) 🧡💛

‘anyways that was such an intense (but not in a bad way!) chapter and im so excited for what's to come 💯’

Thank you so much!! I’m glad you enjoyed it! I actually started writing Chapter 17 last night—there are some parts I might edit down to make shorter but it’s been started! 🧡💛

[sophiethewitch1]

chapter 3 spoilers PLEASE

imma go FERAL 😩😫👹😈🫨💓😵💗😖😳💕

(also not to rush u or anything but when do u think itll come out?)

It's like,,,, basically done I've just gotta sew all the scenes together. A little shorter than the others because it's not really character centred and not really interesting to me. Next chapter is gonna be longer again, since we get fun things like trauma recovery and Bruce and maybe a Dick feature. It's definitely coming out on the 29th after the strike ends and chapter 4 will probably be soon after that. I've got a surprisingly good thing going at the moment, who would've thought that being in constant pain would make you tired all the time. Not me for sure lmfao.

Also, here's a sneak peek for chapter 3! Also, it's a Jason sneak peek too because that other anon asked and I'm lazy two birds with one stone!! MAJOR SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 3!!!

He says your name, you think. Wait no, it’s a nickname, one you haven’t heard in years. You could barely remember your mother calling you that as she tucked you in, as she told you she loved you over the phone, as she disappeared from the world entirely.

You hadn’t let anyone call you that since.

How does he know that name?

“-hurt? Hey, hey. Listen to me, are you hurt anywhere?” his voice is deep and warbled through the red metal mask, his eyes peering down at you through his domino. You just stare at him, eyes wide, barely breathing.

You need to know how he knows. Unconsciously, your hand reaches up to him, and he takes it his own firm grip. His hand is warm through the leather, grounding, keeping you from drifting off into panic and fear. Into your worst nightmares come to life.

Because this was real. It didn’t matter that it was impossible, it was real.

You stare at this stranger’s gloved hand like it holds the answers to the universe. It might, in the end. It really just might.

“She seems fine. Uninjured, if a bit shocked. Doesn’t seem to have a concussion. Hardly responding anyway,” Red Hood speaks, but not to you. An earbud, you think. Superheroes used wiretaps and things like that all the time, right?

If you could even consider Red Hood a superhero. Everybody knew he had his own gang. Of course, even as your very life is being saved, it’s by a morally gray hero who runs around with crowbars and guns. Ah, you’re crying again.

You told yourself along time ago that you wouldn’t let yourself cry anymore. And you’d managed it, mostly. You think you’ll give yourself a pass for today, just a little one. You hold this stranger’s hand, and you cry.

You just cry.

[hollyhomburg]

If you were to write something with forced caregiving how dark would it be. Just wondering because for me it’s probably already a trope or concept that might be triggering a certain points or like my brain is just having that sort of day. I do enjoy what you write both the shorter and longer things. Want don’t want to come across as like appreciative of those things I enjoy but also like not expecting someone to cater to my wants. How you discussed how there are parts of BILY that don’t appeal to everyone and how I can relate. Like for me I sort of skimmed over the chapters that mc’s time with the mafia and her ex because they just made me too anxious to read and like based on the teasers I would choose if I was gonna wait a bit so situations get more resolved so I can have resolutions to things that might have bothered me otherwise.

not sure what this has become but sort of a love for your story and how like I go about reading it and despite it being different from how others might like I can still enjoy it and adore it.

A mouse

i think the farthest that i'd go in forced caretaking is like some spanking and maybe some cbt and gentle push towards more sexual stuff under the guize of "you have needs and i'm here to fulfil them" it's alright if you won't enjoy things like that! its a ways off if i'm going to write anything like that. i don't have any stories in the works or plans for it it's just a trope that i enjoy and would like to see more of- which is how 90% of the fics that i like to write start so! yeah!

[abybweisse]

Is there anything to hold back undertaker from using more than one corpse in a bizarre doll's creation?

Because i saw the debates for this new chapter and the possibility of kelvin being the currently unknown BD, and while i think he kind of could be, i don't think he is phisically capable of being a useful servant.also he seemed kind of on the shorter side.but if i'm not misremembering, the guy that deliverd the news to RCiel was sort of tall?so i thought maybe he is a chimera of kelvin and joker.or joker's body with kelvins cinematic records?but i personally think Layla/Al was shown for that purpose and covers the mental aspects of a corpse running on two peoples cinematic records(if thats the actual deal with her of course, and it wasn't a mental condition she had always had)so the remaining servant covers the body horror aspect and physical limitations...but honestly could be both, a phiycall and mental combination

Bizarre doll experiments

Ok, so there are a lot of things to go over here. I'm going to number them.

1. Can Undertaker use more than one corpse in a bizarre doll? I suppose he probably can, if, say... the main body was missing limbs, organs, etc that could be harvested from another corpse. This could even go as far as what Angela Blanc does in s1 to Vincent and Rachel. But only if the body parts don't reject each other. Since Yana-san is sticking to the idea of blood groups (ignoring Rh factor), compatibility matters in the Kuroverse. If Polaris were Joker, for example, he could have arms and hands from another body. However, I believe that Polaris is not Joker.

2. There are readers who think Kelvin might be a bizarre doll. There are so many reasons why this would make no sense. Not only does his body type not match any of the lords of the stars, but neither does his personality/cinematic records -- ok, actually I'm gonna backtrack on that part a bit later in this post. The goals that make up the "episodes" for these bizarre dolls don't match anything that Baron Kelvin would care about... except perhaps one.... Though he doesn't see himself as a butler or other servant, so he definitely wouldn't say the things that Polaris says.

3. What if Polaris is a combo of Kelvin and Joker? Makes even less sense than Kelvin being a Bizarre Doll by himself. Joker would need arms/hands, but they definitely don't look like Kelvin's, either. And neither one of them speaks like Polaris or self-refers as a butler like Polaris does. Also, what about loyalty to real Ciel and about not wanting to lose his master again? That's why I think Polaris is someone who was already loyal to the Phantomhive family, like a former butler.

4. What is Layla/Al's situation? There seem to be two major possibilities here, and I'm not sure which one I ascribe to... or should ascribe to. I do think Layla might be Baron Heathfield's dead daughter, which would explain how Undertaker got hold of this particular body when he did and why he decided to make an advanced bizarre doll from her; Heathfield might have paid for it in some way, like it was part of their original agreement when Heathfield's manor became a blood collection facility.

But Al? Either Al was already there before Layla died... or Al was added in an experiment by Undertaker. Since I think this is two parts to a mind -- two personalities -- and not a matter of mind and soul or two souls, I lean towards the idea she already had a split personality. I don't think Layla/Al currently has a soul. I think the reason the Collie kids are boys dressed as girls is specifically to match their "aptitude" to a person who dresses as a girl but has a split personality that's half girlish and half masculine. In ch204, the staff ladies even talk about matching not just their bodies to the stars but also their souls. They seem to be trying to make Oliver and the other Collies act as if they have split personalities; maybe this could potentially cause a rift in one of their souls... making that one the best candidate for Layla/Al. This sounds a bit cracky, I know, but it's the best-fitting scenario I can think of at the moment.

Even crackier: We don't know Baron Kelvin's first name, do we? I sure hope it's not Al. He'd enjoy having part of his mind (some episodes, perhaps) in the body of a pretty "doll" like Layla, wouldn't he? I mean, it's kind of what he wanted to begin with:

So, if Layla/Al turns out to be a mind experiment... and if Kelvin is in any way incorporated into a lord of the stars, then this could be how.... 🤯 I can definitely imagine him making wounded veterans oink and squeal like pigs. I can also imagine him wanting to be beautiful... but not really caring which bow Layla wears in her hair; like, such decisions might get tiresome for him, ya know? The biggest aspect in favor of Al being part of Baron Kelvin's mind? Undertaker would likely get a kick out of fulfilling Kelvin's wishes in such a freakish manner.

However, there are things about Al's behavior that don't quite match what we know of Kelvin's personality. 🤷🏻‍♀️ I hope we get a break-away chapter or scene showing Othello in his lab and examining Layla/Al's brain. That might be the best way to get answers on her situation, since it seems unlikely our earl is ever going to meet her and get an explanation about her from Undertaker.

5. If we have one star lord with split or combined mentality, do we also get one that's a physical split/combination? Not necessarily, though it's definitely been touched on by what Angela does not just to Vincent and Rachel's bodies but also to Victoria and Albert's bodies in s1.

I originally started answering parts of this ask before ch203 and ch204, but it sat in draft so long that now I can add this: We don't need to combine bodies of our earl's former adversaries (like Joker or Kelvin) when we can combine the star lords with body parts from orphans. Honestly, if/when our earl finds this out, he'll be way more disgusted by Undertaker using innocent children as parts (like the circus doc essentially did) than if Joker and/or Kelvin got recycled into some monstrosity. Either way, he'd see fit to have all the star lords destroyed, but there's more emotional damage to him for destroying bodies that are partly made of innocent children. I don't think he'd feel quite as bad having some Kelvin/Joker abomination stomped or ripped apart.

So... now I say: Yes, there is a physical combination in the works for the star lords, and it might have already begun. Probably for each of them, to some extent. Not with Joker or Kelvin (or Madam Red, etc.) but with these kids from the orphanage.

We still don't know what F. O. L. stands for. Could be as basic as "Full of Life". I still think it might be as simple as "For Our Lords".

[littlenighttales]

If you’ve been here for a minute, you know the drill. Spoilers for chapter 4 of The Sounds of Nightmares, writing my thoughts as I listen to it for the first time (+ some extra edits in the parenthesis for extra thoughts on it after a few extra listens.)

So

Here we go. E4. Go. Go listen to this before reading this.

The Sounds of Nightmares

Two of a Kind

Yeah… so this one gets a bit philosophical at the beginning. Going on about duality and whatnot. Also have I mentioned how the main theme for this series absolutely slaps? Because it’s very good.

So Noone’s outside a reunion, but she can’t go in. It’s a bunch of happy kids outside playing and laughing. Otto gets Noone cake from it though (:

Apparently the room has a two way mirror, so they can look out but not in. Creepy. Otto spills the beans on the creepy disappearance. I’ll go ahead and mention I’m glad I don’t have to rewrite my happy ending story.

Obviously Noone starts freaking out about just straight up getting yeeted into what I’d dare compare to hell on Earth. She thought before they were just nightmares. But… nope.

Noone hates being alone, Otto reassures her a bit. He’s not seeming like a bad guy here lately. Just… having a bit of selfish-selfless motives. Doing sort of bad things for someone himself, but more for someone he knows. Does that make sense?

Wherever Noone was, there were happy kids! Carnival. LN3 teasers? But this is Little Nightmares, so I’m fully expecting the poop/fan collision within seconds.

The kids start talking more like teenagers, a bit weird. Suspecting we’ll see the “I don’t want to grow up” bit from Noone again. A kid named Rusty takes Noone for a ride- Ferris wheel. Also sky boats.

Rusty and his friends aren’t fans of being there. They’re basically slaves. Figures the bad news would come. Happy time lasted longer than expected.

Rebellion is planned. Noone gets assigned to lookout.

What the frick. Rusty sounding like he’s plotting his own death.

They stop talking about the “nightmare” to talk about going to the Nowhere. He opens up a little bit about CiCi. Noone figures out why Otto has been working with her like this. Finds out about his motives. She’s uncomfortable. But. He. Keeps. Pushing.

Noone mentions that the people of this world have distorted faces. Carnival guests a lot like the Maw guests. Definitely near or at the Carnival of LN3, I think

Magic show made Noone forget she’s a lookout. Mentions it’s like she’s under a spell. Ferryman is back?

Nope. It’s the carnival owner? He’s got no eyes. And a dummy made of a kid(?), maybe an adult? Noone says it looks like a smaller man. It sounds like it could be a Chuckie moment.

Noone tries so hard to warn the other kids.

And that dummy is definitely a possessed one. Dang, Chuckie moment.

Noone has a panic attack, some serious PTSD, sounds like ):

Someone hug the poor kid. Get that child a fluffy goat kid to hug!

Otto mentions the Ferryman by that name rather than Candleman. He’s all the more determined to go to the Nowhere. I know this is the same length as the other episodes, but it feels so much shorter!! Argh! It’s gonna be a long wait for next week! (Hey, future me here! Yeah, so I wrote this on the spot the day it was released, and yeah… still a long wait as of Saturday lol)

Good episode, but E3 is still the best so far imo.

We’ll probably see Noone get reverse-raptured (for lack of a better term) again next episode, maybe Otto finds his way to follow her.

[dutifullyshamelessearthquake]

Chapter one of the Distance Between Us - I 🥺🥺🥺

it’s SO GOOD??? omg my word Cyno had my heart in actual pieces on the floor!! I was truly sucked in to because when ‘Nari’ first answered the phone call I was like -woah WOAH????!! But that transition was BRILLIANT and oh my word just- Cyno curled up and sobbing 😭 poor baby!!!!!!! I can’t!! And how disorienting too to have gone from midly unwell to FULL ON sick.

other details I’m obsessed with- I LOVE how Cyno is determined to keep up appearances even in this context. The juxtaposition of him internally *desperately* needing Tighnari while outwardly trying to keep it together had me in a choke hold. It was awesome too seeing how he interacted with Kaveh while sick!! And KAVEH!!! omg you nailed writing him!! The panic the dramatics the chaos (the window kaveh ??? please??🤣) But also steadfast and would do anything for his friends. Love him. Love him always. also! Cyno being shorter than nari as seen through pants 😭😭😭😭😭 my FAVORITE

also also- idk if this was intentional but, the comment about the restraints he imagined when he first woke up, I really love that detail cuz my mind was like “oh he’s remembering his past life in the Canon AU and in his delirium for just a fraction of a second he was in another life” very very cool!! Like a little Easter egg

I am so excited for chapter 2 tho I’m MANIFESTING Tighnari gets summoned and Cyno can get the hugs and care he deserves!!! I have a feeling he may not be out of the woods yet and I’m SO ready!!!!

Criminally amazing work as always idk how you keep doing it every time 😭😭

AHH THANK YOU!! SO MUCH!!

I tore poor Cyno to shreds in this one, I feel like he deserves a formal apology 😭

YES! It felt so strange writing that, because you just know Tighnari would never answer the phone that harshly if it was Cyno calling him! Especially in the night! I was reminding myself "this isn't nari, this isn't nari, this isn't nari" as I wrote it, up to the point where Cyno realised his mistake.

ARGH AND CYNO!! Writing him just fighting to keep everything together when he's very much falling apart broke my heart. He was having such a bad time here, if it wasn't for Kaveh, he wouldn't have fought for appearances at all. (Not saying Kaveh's presence was a bad thing... If it wasn't for Kaveh, Cyno would likely still be on the bathroom floor) AND KAVEH! Help, he was so much fun to write! A little dramatic, definitely chaotic, but so warm hearted, I love him to bits. A true best boy!

I absolutely love the lil' headcanon that Nari is just a tinyy bit taller than Cyno. Like the difference is so small you probably wouldn't even notice it with shoes and all, and Cyno being more muscular than Tighnari. But it's there and I love it!

YES YES!! Honestly I did not even consider it that way, but I LOVE that take?? The idea that this au is kind of like a different life, maybe a next life, after their canon lives! Makes my heart melt because of course they're together in every life 🥺 I'm absolutely gonna have this in the back of my head forever now, I seriously love that!

I'm very excited to continue the fic as well, things are only going to get worse before they get better. Cyno deserves many hugs, because he's in for a bad time!

Thank you so much again!!