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avocad1s · 3 days

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Trial By Combat - 6

Requested By: No one. Original Work

CW: manipulation?

Summary: Arlecchino’s got a secret…

Note: You all asked and I will provide! Here’s part six <3 this chapter is a bit slow but I promise it’s leading up to something great!

Part One —> Part Five

Fontaine, for the most part, had finally begun to go back to normal. Although no trials have been held since the Creators trial, many shops have reopened their doors to the public once more. It’s as if Fontainians want to disregard the event entirely, treating it as a work of fiction like the Prophecy. However, this doesn’t stop The Steambird from posting every single update regarding the Creator, nor does it stop every copy from selling out.

Despite the lack of trials, it hasn’t prevented the Chief Justice from sending criminals to the Fortress of Meropide, and only hours from now, Paimon and Aether would be a part of the group sent there. The two were the only customers dining at Cafe Lutece this afternoon, the owner seemed almost eager to provide the gluttonous amount of food the duo had ordered.

“Oh Paimon is feeling a bunch of nerves right now and it’s just making her more hungry.” She whines while rubbing her stomach. “I’m just hoping that the food in the Fortress is actually tasty.”

Aether lets out a soft chuckle, “it’s a prison Paimon. I doubt that the food will be any good”

Paimon pouts crossing her arms. “Hopefully will be rightfully compensated for our due diligence. Oh! Maybe even something from the Creator themselves!”

The traveler gives her a look, “you shouldn’t think like that Paimon, not when they are currently missing right now.”

The travel guide immediately covers her lips, muttering out a small apology.

“Speaking of the Creator,” Paimon says, “do you really think Childe might know something? I mean, we’ve heard how he’s talked about them before.”

It was true, during their time in Liyue when they had met Childe, he had expressed how heavily he revered the Creator. Not just him, all of the harbingers they’ve met have mentioned the Creator in a positive light. Aether even recalls when the Wanderer told him that the only thing all of the harbingers could agree on was their ultimate respect for them.

“Based off our interactions with the Fatui before, they might have some respect for Their Grace. But we still have no idea why they want the Gnosis, maybe it’s connected to the Creator.”

Paimon nods in agreement. “You’re right. If the gnosis are what connect the Archons to Celestia, then maybe the Creator has something similar?”

“Hopefully if the Fatui got their hands on Their Grace, they haven’t left Fontaine yet. We should still be able to rescue them.” Aether adds.

“Paimon hopes so too! Oh I can only imagine the type of horrors they could be putting them through!”

“Are you talking about Their Grace?!”

A familiar girl with a pink bob holding a camera in her head pops out of a bush quickly approaching the table. It was Charlotte, and she had a large smile on her face.

“Do you two have any nuggets of information about Their Grace? Oh please share it with me, I’ll make it worth your while!”

Paimon and Aether share a look before looking back at the journalist.

“We don’t have any new information on The Creator.” Paimon explained, “we didn’t even know they had returned until Monsieur Neuvillette told us.”

Charlotte makes a look of surprise, “wait seriously? It was such big news! I’m sure everyone in Teyvat wrote the piece I had written.”

Charlotte places her camera on the table taking a seat across from them. “I’m just hoping for Their Grace to have a speedy recovery. I would love to interview them if they let me, it just seems like all of the big names in Fontaine never have the time for an interview. Monsieur Neuvillette and the Duke of Meropide have been on the top of my list for ages now!”

“Oh right, you’re a journalist Charlotte! ” Paimon exclaimed, “do you have an information about the Duke?”

Charlotte ponders for a moment, “not really, just the same regurgitated information I get from people who leave the Fortress. Why do you ask?”

“We actually are going to the Fortress later today.” Aether answers.

Charlotte’s eyes get as big as saucers as she’s jumping in her seat. “You two are going to the Fortress?! Will you two please get some information about the Duke for me?

Noticing the restrained looks on their face, Charlotte quickly adds, “I’ll pay for your meal! Yeah…! Let’s make it a deal, you get information on the Duke for me and this meal of yours is on me!”

Paimon grins, “it’s a deal!”

Charlotte shares Paimon’s enthusiasm as she pulls out a small bag of mora ready to pay for the meal. At that moment, the owner returns with multiple plates and bowls filled with various amounts of entrees and desserts wheeling it to the table.

“H—how much did you order…?”

———

Many journalist stood outside of the Palais Mermonia demanding answers from their Archon who had entered the building earlier that morning. Luckily, gardes stood outside preventing anyone from entering.

Inside of the chief justice’s office was him, the God of Justice, and the Champion Duelist whose hair was damp with sea water.

“I checked the surrounding area,” Clorinde says, “there is no traces of Their Grace anywhere. The only logical conclusion is that the Fatui must’ve done something with them.”

Neuvillette nods. “Thank you for looking Clorinde, your help is appreciated.”

Clorinde nods, “it’s no trouble. We all want Their Grace to be found safe and sound.”

Furina had a worried look on her face as she paces back and forth in the office. “W—what are we supposed to do now? We looked all over Fontaine and they aren’t anywhere.”

“Lady Furina.”

Furina stops pacing, turning her gaze over to Neuvillette who looked calm considering the situation. “I think it’s time to meet with the Kanve, wouldn’t you agree?”

“T—that Knave?” Furina stammers, “ha, why would we meet with her? Don’t we have more important things to worry about?”

Neuvillette clears his throat, “until we find Their Grace, we must operate like normal. If the others find out that we lost Their Grace—“

Furina lets out a breath putting on a confident stance, “yes! Right of course!” She interrupts, “I was thinking the same thing… I will prepare for the two of us to discuss relations with her as soon as possible.”

“Who said that I would be joining you?”

Focalors lets out a short gasp as she quickly approaches his desk, her gloved hands balling into fists. “Y—you expect me to attend the meeting alone! No! You must go with me!”

Neuvillette closes his eyes as he shake her head, “I must focus all my attention on the Creator, we must locate them before the rest of Fontaine and Teyvat begin asking questions. As the Archon, this is something you should be able to handle. Correct?”

Furina tenses slightly but lets out a sigh. “But… wouldn’t attending the meeting be the best thing for Their Grace?”

Neuvillette furrows his brows, “What do you mean?”

Furina’s confident flair was back just as quickly as it dissipated, “Attending the meeting will give us the chance to indirectly interrogate the harbingers before she even knows that we suspect her.”

Noticing the look on the chief justice’s face, Furina lets out a boastful laugh. “Naturally I, the God of Justice, would be the first one to think of this! Worry not Neuvillette, I believe that after this meeting, the truth shall be revealed!”

Clorinde mutters how she needed a towel and Neuvillette lets out a sigh.

“Very well... I will participate in the meeting.”

In between Fontaine’s Lumidouce Harbor and Chenyu Vale, a large ship was anchored the familiar insignia imprinted in the sail. There was a plethora of Fatui agents stationed on the ship that it was overwhelming, it would be impossible to infiltrate the ship without being spotted.

Many of the agents weren’t even aware why there was such an urgency to return to the homeland. Curious glances and whispers spread throughout the ship like wildfire, wondering what could the Knave possibly be doing in the lower deck that no one else was allowed to enter unless they brought news from Fontaine. All of them knew better than to question their harbinger, but she hadn’t been seen since the night before.

“Your Grace.”

Arlecchino’s soft voice cuts through your thoughts. Fontaine was in danger and you were the only one who could help, at least that’s what she believed. It was only a matter of time before the nation was completely wiped off the map, Lady Furina has done nothing but bury her head in the sand.

You glance at her face, despite her sharp features she still had a soft yet powerful air around her. Maybe that’s why the children from the House of the Hearth trust her so much.

“Are you hungry? I have chefs on board, they can prepare anything you desire.” Her hand rested on top of yours, her long nails rubbing against your knuckles in a comforting way.

You were famished. You knew she was capable of, but she was making you feel so welcomed. It felt as if you could trust her, tell her anything and she would understand.

You nod slowly and she smiles.

“I’ll be right back.”

She stands up from her spot next to you leaving the room. Her luscious black and white hair that was pulled into a low ponytail flowed behind her. Arlecchino returned quickly letting out a soft sigh.

“They are preparing a Snezhnayian specialty, the food is quite delicious. I hope it’s to your liking” She commented placing her hand right back on top of yours.

“We will be heading towards Snezhnaya at sunset.” She says. “Although leaving Fontaine wasn’t originally apart of my plan, but considering the circumstances, changes had to be made.”

You furrow your brows. “The circumstances?”

Arlecchino nods. “Your power…or rather, lack there of.”

“I have a colleague, I do not trust nor like him very much but I cannot deny his intelligence, I believe he may be able to figure out the answer… or even Her Majesty may know.”

So there was a colleague within the Fatui who had extreme intelligence that might be able to help you. Maybe he would even know why you were healing so quickly? Or does that tie into your “godly” abilities too?

“Is that why we are leaving so quickly? Because of my supposed amnesia?” You ask.

The Knave shakes her head, “not necessarily. It’s mainly for your safety, you don’t wish to stay in a nation that tried to kill you, right Your Grace?”

You were forced into a corner with that question. Wanting to stay in a nation that almost killed you was bad, but wanting to go to a nation that had the capability to kidnap you wasn’t any better. Yet you had to pick your poison, and in that moment you decided—

“Right.” You reply. “Leaving Fontaine is the smartest option.”

“I knew that you would see it my way,” she praises, “I only want what’s best for you and all of Teyvat.” She gives your hand a squeeze a small smile spreading on her red lips.

A small knock on the door interrupts the moment, Arlecchino looks at the door her gaze becoming icy. “You may enter.”

The door opens and a young lady whose face is obscured by a mask enters and she immediately kneels.

“Y—your Grace… Lady Harbinger.” Her voice was almost breathless, her gaze transfixed on you. “I have news from Fontaine.”

Arlecchino lets out a sigh crossing her legs. “News? What is it?”

“Focalors has agreed to have a political meeting with you. The chief justice Neuvillette will also be attending.”

The Knave doesn’t even try to hide the smirk that spreads on her face, “Very well then. Was there a time mentioned for this meeting?”

“In the next few hours Lady Harbinger. We’ve already got a boat ready to return back to Fontaine’s harbor.”

Arlecchino stands, her gaze becomes soft once more when she looks back at you. “Your Grace, I will return as soon as I can. If you have any needs anyone on the ship will be more than happy to serve you.”

She exchanges a few whispers with the agent before giving you one last smile leaving the bottom deck. The agent looks at you one last time before stuttering out.

“I—I’ll go get your meal immediately Your Grace!” She rushes out of the door leaving you alone once more.

The Fortress of Meropide was more grand than Aether had anticipated. Surrounded by Fontaine’s sea, there was no escape from this prison besides the path they embarked, which was at the rear of the Opera Epiclese.

After heaving their mugshots taken, Aether and Paimon are escorted onto a ship where they meet their tour guide, who is also just another prisoner within the Fortress. The entire tour he was standoffish and dry only giving the required amount of information. If the two asked for more information about credit coupons, secret rules, or about the Creator, he would say they’d have to pay for that.

The prisoner leads the two down the large hallway of the Fortress when multiple gardemeks came around the corner. The traveler immediately takes a stance ready for a fight when a voice eases his worries coming around the corner with the machinery.

“Welcome to the Fortress of Meropide,” the man greets. He had dark clothing and dark hair with a scar under his eye.

“Y—your Grace!” The tour guide quickly says, his standoffish nature immediately disappears. “Lovely weather we’re having!”

The man glances over at the tour guide, “Hm? Oh yes, I guess the weather is nice. If we could see it.”

The prisoner lets out an awkward laugh as the Duke looks back at Paimon and Aether. “I’m Wriothesley, but you can call me Your Grace.”

“You’re the Duke of Meropide?” Paimon asks in a shocked tone. Wriothesley nods.

“So, how was your tour?” He asks, “was everything up to standard?”

Aether glances as the tour guide for a moment before giving Wriothesley a firm nod. “Yep. No complaints here.”

“Wonderful.” Wriothesley smiles, “I think we should be able to reward you with more credit coupons then?”

“T—thank you Your Grace! Thank you!” The tour guide says. He then looks over at the traveler, “and thank you for such kind words! If you ever need anything! Anything at all! Please come find me!”

Once he rushes off, the Duke turns his attention back onto the newcomers.

“So, is it normal for you to greet all newbies in person like this?” Paimon asks.

Wriothesley lets out a soft laugh. “No it’s not. I just heard that you two were friends with Neuvillette so I figured I finish the tour myself.”

“Wait, how do you know that?” Aether questions.

“The Fortress might look like it’s cut off from the rest of the world but word still travels fast. Just like what happened to Their Eminence.”

Paimon glances at the traveler briefly. Wriothesley continues, “Many people in the Fortress were ready to leave just for a chance at seeing the Creator. But since they are still in the hospital recovering, I managed to keep them under control.”

“What else do you know about the Creator?” Aether asks.

“Nothing really.” He responds, “I haven’t had the time to leave the Fortress and go visit them myself. Unless you’re talking about the basic information, there’s books all around the Fortress that can tell you that.”

Wriothesley continues on with the tour, showing the where the so-called cafeteria was, the Pankration Ring, and where they would report to work everyday. He also mentions Sigewinne, the nurse who looks after anyone who gets hurt or sick.

Lastly, he shows them where they’ll be sleeping. As he explains the procedures for their room, Aether gazes falls onto someone walking nearby. An oddly familiar magician.

Lyney stops walking and looks back at him, but once Wriothesley notices, Lyney lets out a soft laugh doing a dramatic bow.

“Well hello there Your Grace! It’s lovely to see you out of your office!”

Wriothesley crosses his arms, “it’s good to see you too, but shouldn’t you be reporting to work?”

The magician gives him a cheeky smile as he stands back up, “of course! That’s where I was heading right now! But these two must be very important to get a personal tour from the Duke himself.”

Wriothesley says nothing in response but Lyney quickly excuses himself, his gaze falling onto Aether once more before walking out of sight.

“Come on,” Wriothesley says, “there’s one last stop I’d like to make.”

———

The three sit at one of the tables in the cafeteria, the chef bringing over three welfare meals. They remove the lids revealing the delectable meals inside causing Paimons mouth to water.

“Oh is this what the food is like in the Fortress?” She rubes her hands together, “Paimon could get used to this!”

“Actually, I managed to pull a few strings to get this meal, after today, you might not get another meal like this.”

The fairy didn’t seem to be paying attention as she keeps shoving more food into her mouth. The traveler rolls his eyes at his companion, looking back at the Duke.

“So you said there was books in the Fortress about the Creator?” Aether asks, his fork pushing around his meal mindlessly.

Wriothesley nods. “There are groups within the Fortress to make people feel more welcome or comfortable. There’s quite a few revolved around Their Eminence. Prayer groups, wanting a stronger relationship, or just normal worship in general, they’re actually pretty popular.”

Paimon swallows the food in her mouth, “How do you feel about them?”

Wriothesley ponders for a second, “I don’t know anyone who has a negative view on Their Eminence, including myself. I would be honored to go up to the surface soon and share a cup of tea with them.”

Aether didn’t say anything in response, but he had a feeling that Wriothesley knew more about the Creator than he let on. He did say word travels fast from the surface, is it possible he already knows the Creator is missing?

“Anyways,” Wriothesley says, “I have other things to attend to, enjoy your time in the Fortress and try not to cause any trouble.”

The Duke gives one last farewell, leaving the table without another word. Aether and Paimon continue eating their welfare meals preparing themselves to adjust to their new situation and figure what exactly Childe may know about the Creator.

———

“You were right.”

In a dark corner of the Fortress, the twins from the House of the Hearth spoke in quiet whispers.

“Paimon and the Traveler, I just saw them.” Lyney explained.

Lynette’s ear lay flat on her head, her tail swaying slightly. “Monsieur Neuvillette must’ve told them and they’re here to investigate.”

“We have to do what Father told us to do.“ Lyney adds, “although playing ignorant to figure what they know won’t hurt either.”

Lynette lets out a sigh. “…and what about Tartaglia?”

Lyney shrugs, “what about him? He’s not here. We have to focus on the Creator. Without Their Grace, the Fatui won’t be able to—“

“I know.” Lynette interrupts. “Let’s just focus on the traveler for now.

“I must say, the timing of this meeting seems almost convient…” Arlecchino narrows her gaze as she brings her teacup up to her lips.

“I’ll just cut straight to the chase. I’m here about my colleague, Childe and of course, Their Grace.”

The table inside of Neuvillette’s office was covered in sweets from Snezhnaya, something the Kanve brought to ease the tensions within the meeting. Yet, it doesn’t seem to be working.

“Childe was declared innocent by you, the Iudex, yet was still given a guilty verdict by the Oratrice…” Arlecchino explains, “and only days after that, you declare that Their Grace is an imposter and almost kill them.”

Furina shifts uncomfortably in her seat, “Y-yes… we are aware of our… transgressions. The Creator is being well looked after and is healing quite quickly.”

Arlecchino perks up, “Oh? They are? So is it possible for me to see them for myself?”

“That won’t be possible at the moment, I apologize.” Neuvillette quickly adds in.

Arlecchino brings a forkful of cake up to her mouth as she lets out a scoff. “An outright refusal? I must say, I am surprised…”

Neuvillette crosses his arms, “this meeting wasn’t called to talk about Their Grace, but rather Mr. Tartaglia, correct?”

“That is correct. Then am I able to enter the Fortress to check on the wellbeing of my colleague?”

“That also won’t be possible.”

Arlecchino sighs, “so I cannot see Their Grace and I cannot see Childe. What exactly will this meeting accomplish?”

“We already have a course of action for Their Grace.” Focalors adds, “but we cannot share it with you or any other nations for now. This meeting was just a… common courtesy”

“And as for Mr. Tartaglia I am investigating matter.” The chief justice adds.

“A common courtesy?” The Knave questions, “everyone in Teyvat is wondering just what exactly will Fontaine do after committing the biggest sin known to man… and all you can say is that it’s confidential? Not to mention the prophecy you refuse to address.”

Furina shoves another bite of cake into her mouth, scooting her chair closer to Neuvillette.

“As long as Their Grace is in our nation, they are under our jurisdiction.” Neuvillette explains.

Arlecchino clicks her tongue. “A disappointing outcome indeed… but I cannot say I am shocked.”

Arlecchino finished her tea, “the Fatui is willing to extend our help if you need it. You all seem to have a lot on your plate at the moment. Maybe it’s best to pass some of the responsibility onto someone else?”

“That won’t be necessary.” Neuvillette states.

The Knave stands from her seat, brushing her bangs out of the way, revealing her red X eyes. “I think it’s safe to say this meeting is concluded, I have to return back to Snezhnaya immediately.”

Furina raises a brow, “returing so soon? W—why such a rush to leave?”

It falls silent in the room for a few seconds.

“Her Majesty cares very dearly about the Creator, I am expected to report any and all news directly to her.” Arlecchino explains, her back facing the two.

“Snezhnaya as a whole cares deeply about Their Grace, and once they heal completely we will welcome them with open arms… not a trial.”

Focalors looks down at her lap as Arlecchino leaves the office returning to her ship anchored near the border of Fontaine and Liyue. A sinister smile spread on her lips while Neuvillette and Furina sit in the office in silence, a sour taste lingering in their mouth even with the baked goods in front of them.

Note: Good luck to all my Arlecchino wanters! I got her and her sig weapon so I give all my luck to you <3

Tagging: @bittersweetorpheus @esthelily @tempestlart @angelofdarkness2 @mmeatt @dxprived4-starboys @Itm-acct @honey-lemonz @ymechi @nervouseaglelover @livelaughlovekuni @vianitry @vvyeislazzy @kbar1013 @ichiraku-verse @chaoticfivesworld @mabvo @noahrandom @haunts-gh0st @pix-stuff @riiriin @emmbny @shiki-jin @ra404 @leekingsman @ash1 @mahi-does-some-art @bitchyfanfics-posts @emilymikado @sarah22447 @swagbucksjester @nex-crowley @iruiji @cloise @scalyalpaca @game-savvy @dreamlessnight @myluckymoon @luxie963 @spffldlbrnf @missnella-nova

I know it’s been a while so if you want to be removed let me know!!

#genshin cult au #sagau #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau x reader #self aware genshin

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thebroccolination · 2 days

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“IF NO ONE ACCEPTS YOU, YOU HAVE ME”

Lately I’ve seen the narrative around Krist shifting from “he’s homophobic” to “he was homophobic, but he got better :)” so!

Let’s go back to a moment in 2017 during a ceremony where Krist and Singto accepted an award from the Thai branch of the gay magazine Attitude (now defunct). That’s the magazine that published this photoshoot:

[Attitude, 2018, promoting SOTUS S] (they also did one in 2016 for SOTUS)

Krist said that a friend of his once came out to his parents, and the parents wouldn’t accept him, so Krist told his friend, “It’s okay. If no one accepts you, you have me, and I accept you for who you are.”

So, yes, Krist was hotheaded when people kept harassing him about his sexuality, but can anyone truly blame him? No one looks at all the times he answered politely. Just the one time he broke. [EDIT: I just spoke with someone who was there when the infamous IG story was posted, and they said: “Krist's tone and demeanour when he emphatically said "no" was like, y'know, still friendly. It's like when friends tease you relentlessly and you say ‘no’ more forcefully to get them to stop?” And that actually was my first impression of it back in 2020—a joke that landed badly. And it lines up with his first apology: that he felt badly because his answer was taken out of context.]

There are people today who film these guys at the urinal. Who treat them like property because of money and time spent on them. Who hire trucks to drive around their company building making demands. And it’s 2024. GMMTV has legal teams on this stuff now. But you and I can’t imagine what kind of invasiveness Krist and Singto went through in 2016 as one of the first pairs in the BL industry to gain overnight fame and rabid, unprecedented focus from millions. Of course he snapped. It’s widely known that fans and reporters target Krist over Singto to get information even today because Singto never gives anyone the satisfaction of a reaction, but Krist is a people-pleaser and truly struggles with saying no to people. He’s always been the emotional one, the one who overthinks, the one desperate to make people happy. And when fans wanted to force KristSingto to publicly say that they were secretly dating, fans thought they could get Krist to break first, and they were right. (Personally, I always thought the Instagram story was an exaggerated joke that was a barely veiled “drop it.” EDIT: I’m glad at least one person who was there at the time can corroborate this.)

Then interfans came along, marked him as an easy target, and maliciously miscast him as a bigot to wave after wave of new interfans who never bothered to research further after a random person on the internet told them he’s a homophobe.

Krist asked his parents for their blessing to audition for SOTUS when he was still a teenager. He was afraid of what they’d think, but because his parents are lovely people, they supported him. And they still do. Krist’s father has a running joke that he’ll let Krist marry Singto if Singto brings a durian for the dowry.

I never included Singto in my clarification thread because I knew how quickly people would dismiss anything with Singto as conniving, tricksy fanservice. But you really don’t know anything about Krist until you see him with people he considers his safe spaces. That includes people like Mike. Like Gawin. Godji. Oat. These people who love him because he’s earned it.

I know I talk about this a lot. But I won’t ignore it when people try to twist his character, especially with I see them making assumptions about the premise of Ex-Morning. All I believe is that he was angry and afraid and overwhelmed. Then he reacted, apologized, and learned how to handle the fame and the invasiveness better.

Please stop trying to claw marrow out of a past mirage.

#krist perawat #i’m just gonna post this now before ex-morning promo and kristsingto activities really get going #leave my son alone thank you

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sneaky-eel · 3 days

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Desmond, bartender in 2000s-2010s New York would absolutely binge shitty reality tv and adore eavesdropping on patrons when he can't get his drama fix. He's the RPG tavern owner who you ask if he has heard any rumors and his eyes light up because now he can info dump all the shit he hears. This follows him to the past, where now he has to actively seek out this entertainment.

He abuses his enhanced senses to sit on roofs and listen in with a hand to his mouth like, "oh my god. They were roommates." He is both the best informant and the worst because, while he is a master at getting information, the details he focuses on are useless to the Order.

"Yeah so this guy will be here at this time at this place, whatever. But! More importantly this guy has been having an affair with his wife's sister AND her brother and-"

"Please, Desmond, I am begging you just tell me the information for the mission."

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In Altair's time, Malik was originally Desmond's go to but after being chased out one to many times for "loitering and disturbing the peace of the bureau" (i.e. Malik's peace) Desmond switches to the Rafiq in Damascus since he "at least appreciates me." Eventually Malik would begrudgingly miss his presents and send a request for him to come back because Desmond is the only one he can rant at about Altair.

Altair does not know what the hell Desmond is talking about half the time, but now he does know the baker has three sons that his wife never knew of and one of the sons has shown up at the baker's home.

He normally will just let Desmond keep talking cause he likes his voice.

---------

In Ezio's time he is best friends with Claudia and her girls love him. He'll drop in and gossip with them about their patrons or even warn them about some of them. "Be careful I heard that he has some craziness going on between the legs." or the girls will ask questions about Ezio.

"I heard he is a beast in bed, is that true?"

"Well you didn't hear it from me, buuuut~"

He is 100% going off of hazy animus memories, but all the courtesans totally think he has either A.) slept with Ezio or B.) is actively sleeping with Ezio

With Claudia he talks about the goings on in Tiber Island and what Ezio is up to. Ezio doesn't know how the hell his sister knows everything he is doing or why he gets a message from her forbidding him from doing something he hasn't even gotten to do yet and Desmond just stands off to the side sweating.

---------

Connor is gonna go gray early with how often Desmond just disappears from the Homestead because he seems hellbent on not staying still as it gets "to boring there". Desmond will normally pop up in the strangest of places. Either Connor will find him, head tilted like a dog as he listens in on a group or Desmond will just hunt Connor down himself. "Heard you were in the area."

At time he loves it because Desmond always has a ready flow of information and he is very good at sowing discontent with it, making for good distractions. On the other hand he can do without the open commentary or rampant attention he gives any interaction Connor has with his father.

"It's so much more interesting when it's not me"

*Connor and Haytham both glare at him*

#assassin's creed #desmond miles #ezio auditore #altair ibn la'ahad #connor kenway #ratonhnhaké:ton #written post #Desmond loves when things get trashy #claudia gets annoyed if Ezio sends Desmond on a long mission #now who is she going to talk to?!#The older assassin's learn just to let Desmond talk #cause eventually it will circle back to the mission and he gives good info #Altair tries his damndest to find out things Desmond might not know so he can contribute to their talks #He just doesn't know what makes good gossip #Desmond talking to Connor about Haytham: “Well if you ask me-”#Connor: “I really didn't”

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bored-trans-lesbian · 3 days

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Kipperlily just kinda sucks now.

Spoilers for Fantasy High Junior Year, as of episode 16.

I, personally, have not been on the *hate kipperlily* train. I've been looking forward to her pretty much since we met her, a passive-aggressively busybody, a mean girl Riz. Is she evil? Is she just nasty? Will she eventually team up with the bad kids? Ect. And I'd like to say that now I just kinda don't care anymore, she's just... She's not fun to speculate about anymore. I have some info I think people aren't considering, so please read, and I'm also not complaining about the *writing* or Brennan's choices. This is a perfectly logical reveal, doesn't contrast anything, and I'm still excited to see the season unfold. But in terms of kipperlily lore I'm good, she's not potential anymore, she's just kinda shitty. Sorry she's a rage rez now, hope she gets better but kinda fuck her in general now.

Let me be clear, for all those *wildly* speculating about her motivations or making her into something she's not: she is just plain, jealous, full stop, when it comes to tragedy. She is not attuned to larger magical events, she does not have a point, she is fucking *wrong.* Why is she wrong? Consider the main thing she's upset about; that Riz has an adventure advantage because his dad was eaten by Kalvaxis, so he's motivated to adventure more than a normal person.

Let me remind 'yall real quick Riz *did not know* this had happened. Riz, thought his dad was just as relatively 'normal' as kipperlily's. He found out his dad was an agent *halfway through the year* and died in the service, and found out it was *Kalvaxis* that killed him, let me fucking remind you, in the finale from the dragon himself. Kipperlily, has known this for most of freshman year and hated Riz for it. This means she dug up *extremely traumatic* information on a fellow student and proceeded to project her insecurities on him, seeing him as having an advantage in life, while that kid *did not know* any of this and thought his dad, I don't know, died in a car crash or something.

She's wrong from the jump. She digs into people's personal shit for her own *satisfaction*, makes sweeping assumptions about people she doesn't even bother to talk to, and rails against the system for not being fair and rewarding her for *not* experiencing a tragedy. Love Brennan, love this story, fuck kipperlily. She is *not* a sympathetic suffering queen she has toxic insecurities and of all people *Jawbone* has been ineffective at clocking and addressing this problem. I'm all for people who need help getting it but it doesn't make her any less of a creep.

#dimension 20 #fantasy high #dnd #fantasy high junior year #riz gukgak #pok gukgak #kipperlilly copperkettle

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hannie-dul-set · 1 day

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STAR STUDDED BAGGAGE [3].

SYNOPSIS. the saying “never meet your idols” exists for a reason. you just didn’t expect the reason to be because said idols would end up declaring that you’re their alleged lover from a past life (past lives, rather). now you have three big celebrities vying for your attention, and it’s not as dreamlike as you imagined it to be.

PAIRINGS. choi yeonjun, choi soobin, choi beomgyu x female! reader. GENRES. reincarnation! au, celebrity! au (soloist! yeonjun, actor! soobin, rock band member! beomgyu), slight college! au, slight historical! au, rom-com, angst, reverse harem woohoo. WARNINGS. swearing, talks about stalking, talks about death, data privacy violations, so much emotional whiplash yummy, a very long conversation, google dependent historical information. WORD COUNT. 6.3k.

NOTE. this chapter finally made its way out hell 😭😭😭 per usual, please let me know your thoughts on the chapter! a single comment on ao3 inspired me to finish this, so ur feedback really means a lot! enjoy<3

MASTERLIST | NEXT >

CHAPTER 3 — can we go back to being parasocial?

IF SOMEONE HEARS YOUR SUMMARY OF THE EVENTS THAT UNFOLDED WITHIN THE PAST FEW DAYS, they may accuse you of lying. Delusional, even. You’d think the same had you not been the center of it all— yet the proof is in your pockets. Your phone. In the album Choi Yeonjun failed to sign, stuffed inside your bag at the last minute before you left your apartment earlier.

The summary. Right. Yes.

“Can they stop sharing that video of Yeonjun excessively flirting with a fan?! I’m going to kill myself if I see it one more time.”

You were lucky enough to nab a fansign slot. But instead of getting Choi Yeonjun’s signature, you ended up getting a kiss of a hand instead, along with a scrawl of numbers on your album that you’re far too terrified to try to dial.

“Hey, send me our photo with Soobin the other day,” nudges Huening from beside you. “I’m gonna print it out and put it in a locket and use it as a family heirloom.”

You bumped into one of your favorite actors, Choi Soobin, in the middle of a late night convenience store run with your friends to fuel your group all nighter, stained his shirt with your ice cream, and got a photo with him in the process.

“By the way, have you called the business card yet? What are you gonna do with your broken phone screen?”

And Choi Beomgyu may or may not have professed his undying love for you, asked for your hand in marriage, and started crying in front of you in less than ten fucking minutes.

“She’s zoned out.”

The problem is, you can’t even bask in the delightful absurdity of it all because one common thread from all those three separate instances has been keeping you up for nights. It’s clawing at your brain, lingering in the back of your mind like an incessant stalker— which, mind you, is not a pleasant feeling when the very causes of such disturbance were once the bringers of joy and all things good in your otherwise meaningless life as a cog in the capitalist machinery that is society.

“Hello? Are you awake?”

Said problem being the fact that you’re pretty sure they all called you by your name at one point.

How the fuck do they know your name?

“I deleted Twitter. I Airdropped it to you. No, I have not called it yet. Now please let me think in peace.”

Crazy. This is all too crazy. In the first place, what are the odds that you bump into three celebrities within one week’s time? Is this some sort of prank, or something? Are those three filming a hidden camera show together? No, no. That couldn’t be because there’s no fucking way a company is sane enough to stage a risky hidden camera prank during a fansign knowing full well how obsessive and insane fans can get. You’re lucky your face wasn’t caught in any of the videos circulating online— video of you and Choi Yeonjun, mostly him, acting out a fucking sageuk. You’re lucky you haven’t been doxxed yet.

“Finish your sandwich,” Taehyun clicks his tongue, nudging your food closer to you, and you sigh heavily. Maybe you’re just wrong, you think, taking a bite from the bread. Maybe this is just a misunderstanding. Maybe you’re just overthinking.

You eat your lunch and steal some wet wipes from Gaeul in between. Right. It’s not like you’re ever gonna bump into them again. You live in, as cliche as it sounds, two different worlds after all. You’re just gonna watch their dramas, listen to their music, enjoy their performances, and that’s it that’s it that’s it.

“Prof Jang sent a message. Class is canceled.”

But still—

“Woohoo! Let’s go to the new dessert shop that opened downtown.”

Choi Beomgyu’s voice saying I love you, Choi Soobin’s cologne wafting in the air you were breathing in, and Choi Yeonjun’s lips pressed against your skin.

How can a sane person just forget about all of that?!

“Why do you look like you’re fantasizing about perverted shit?” Woohyun slaps you in the face with a reality check. This is fucking stupid.

“I’m not fantasizing,” you grunt, because they were events that actually fucking happened— they weren’t birthed from your brain’s insanity. “Anyway, dessert? Where is it?” You ignore your burning face, hoping that your friends decide to ignore it too, but Gaeul has her eyes narrowed at you. Crap. She didn’t recognize that it’s you in the videos right? Holy fucking hell, you’d rather die.

“Aren’t you gonna answer that?”

Oh. Well. That’s— that’s something. A good something because she hasn’t suspected you yet, moitioning instead to your cracked phone that has been buzzing under your notice because you’ve been thinking way too fucking much.

You check the caller ID, but it’s an unknown number, and it doesn’t match the business card you got from your run in with the alleged Choi Beomgyu. “Hello?” you answer, and a voice you don’t recognize says your name and asks if it’s you. “Yes, this is her. Who’s this?”

Another item added to the weird as fuck things that happened to your this week. You excuse yourself from your friends, and with knitted brows, you listen to the stranger at the other end of the line. “You met Choi Soobin the other day at a 7-Eleven in Gangnam, right?” The fuck? Did someone see you that day? Is this a stalker? “This is his manager. Lee Byeongho. I would like to speak with you regarding a certain matter.”

Now, hold the fucking phone.

“Is everything alright?”

You respond to Huening’s concern with a stiff smile before turning away from them. “Did I do something wrong?” you fuss into the call. “I didn’t post any of the photos from that day. I never talked about it online either, and I’m pretty sure my friends haven’t either. Wait. Wait a minute. How did you get my number?”

“Yes, it was difficult to obtain knowing only your first name and university.” That doesn’t answer your question. That just gave you more questions. “But, no. You aren’t in trouble. Actually...I called because you’re the only one who can help us— help Soobin— get out of trouble.”

Your face scrunches up.

“I’m at your campus right now. Parking lot. Do you mind meeting me for a moment?”

Just what did you get yourself into?

“You haven’t finished your food. Where are you going?”

“Somewhere,” you reply, quickly snatching your half-eaten sandwich from the table as your friends follow your swift movements with matching looks of confusion. “I’ll be right back. It’s nothing, don’t worry.” However, you are quite worried. You’re pretty sure Lee Manager, or whatever, is committing some data privacy crimes against you, but the one thing you want at the moment is answers. Your brain is about to explode from all the fucking questions and confusion. There’s a sliver of hope that meeting up with this sketchy guy can answer a few of them. You’d take that chance to air out your head.

There’s a black van in the parking lot. It’s the first thing you noticed because one of its doors are open, and there’s a familiar looking guy waiting just in front of the exposed seats.

He notices you approaching. “It’s nice to finally meet you,” he says. What’s with men you’re meeting for the first time treating you with familiarity? You’re going to rip your hair out and throw yourself into moving traffic.

“Sure, but can you get to the point?” you stiffly say. “I’m a little busy. I still have classes in a bit.”

“Of course, I’m sorry. This whole situation must’ve come off as a shock to you.” Great, now you’re feeling bad. Soobin’s manager (allegedly) looks like he’s been through a whole lot as well. “Anyway. You are a fan of Choi Soobin, correct?”

“Well,” you blink. “Yes.”

“How about the dramas Kang Jaehee has written and directed?” he follows up. “Are you a fan of those as well?”

Your brows furrow. “I guess?” Peach Tree. That Summer. Mogi. Those are the titles that come right at the top of your head. “What does that have to do anything with me?” Manager Lee spares you a look of pity. You feel like this meet-up is just set out to making you even more fucking confused.

“I sincerely apologize. I didn’t want to drag you into this either, but I’m afraid you’re the only option I have,” says Manager Lee despondently. “Since...since you are a fan of Soobin, and I assume that means you also care about his career, so—”

He pauses. Like he’s practicing the next set of words he’s about to say inside his head.

“—do you mind meeting up with him to convince him to take the lead role for Kang Jaehee’s upcoming drama?”

But nothing could’ve prepared you for that.

What.

What the fuck?

“Mr Manager. Sir,” you start, appalled beyond comprehension. “I’d appreciate it if you start making a bit more sense.”

“Trust me, I can’t believe I’m doing this either.”

You’re speechless. Your mouth is hanging open with no words coming out because, again, what the fuck? Manager Lee looks just as defeated as you, as if he weren’t the one who had just presented that ridiculous proposal. You are, quite frankly, at a discernible loss.

Manager Lee lets out a sigh and digs a hand into his pocket. “I’m afraid this is all the time I have today. But please contact me once you’ve made a decision.” Another business card acquired. This is just dandy. “I am really hoping for your cooperation, miss. I’m sure you’re aware of Soobin’s inactivity lately, and my intention of approaching you today is simply in order to help my star’s career. Please consider the favor positively, and we will compensate you as much as my authority can allow.”

With that, you’re left with another laminated piece of paper in your hands. Gosh. This is a headache. When you get back to your friends, they notice the distress you’re in, further justifying a visit to the new dessert store, and seeing how your soul has completely left your body, you’re dragged along with them with ease.

“Hey, pick one. My treat,” says Woohyun. You let out a grunt and point at a random pastry on display. Next thing you know, you’re seated in between Huening and Gaeul at the store you don’t even know the name of.

Huening is force feeding you an eclair. “Eat.” Your scowl disappears when you allow the eclair entry into your mouth. “Seriously, what’s going on with you? Who did you meet earlier?”

Seeing as you show absolutely no intentions of telling them, they refuse to question you about it further. Good on them, because there’s no way in hell you’re spilling your predicament. Not until you find out exactly what kind of situation you’re in, at the very least. The two business cards feel like they’re weighing your pockets down, a constant reminder of their existence along with the scrawl Yeonjun left behind.

“I know exactly how to make you feel better.”

The declaration comes from Gaeul, who slides her phone over to you, and when you look down to see what exactly her miracle medicine is to make you feel less manic, you hack out a cough upon seeing Choi Yeonjun’s face on her phone screen. “The hell is wrong with you?” asks Taehyun from across, giving you some water to push down the eclair lodged in your throat. “I know you like him, but even that is an overreaction.”

Jesus, you’re close to losing it. When you’ve avoided choking to death, Gaeul puts an airpod into your ear, and you hear Yeonjun reading out some comments. “Choi Yeonjun, you look really happy lately, did something good happen? someone asked,” he says while having snacks of his own. “First of all, why are you calling me Choi Yeonjun? It’s like you’re putting a wall between us. I don’t like it.”

Gaeul makes a noise of some sort and had you not been subjected to this week’s insanities, you might have reacted the same way too. Instead, you simply listen to his live in caution, feigning disinterest as you watch him nibble on some pretzels and churros through the screen, continuing to answer the slew of questions in the comments.

“Anyway, you’re right! Something good did happen.” Yeonjun hums while picking out a pretzel from the paper bag, rustling noise and a lively tune filling the audio for a moment— a short moment, right before he continues speaking. “That’s because I finally met the love of my life.”

Taehyun has to give you his water again.

“Oh? Oho, what’s with the exclamation points?” he laughs. “Did I meet them the other day? Hmm...that’s a secret. You’re curious? You think it might be you? Well, let’s see. Should I describe her?”

“God, he’s so fucking messy,” says Gaeul from beside you. “This is why I like him. How many calls is he getting for his manager and company this time?”

“What’s going on? Why is she so startled?”

“Yeonjun’s talking about his apparent soulmate, I don’t know. Wanna listen?”

“Didn’t he get in trouble for doing the same thing last time too?”

Now, you’re not one to give a shit about his love life, and you like to stay out of that side of celebrity gossip as much as you can, but Choi Yeonjun himself is droning on about the love of his life right now. You can’t not hear about it even if you want to. However, as much as you want to let things come into one ear and out through the other, you can’t. Because— wait. Wait. His description is eerily familiar. His description is making you double take and second guess what you’re fucking hearing.

“Sounds a lot like you,” Taehyun remarks without much thought, right after Choi Yeonjun says that the girl he likes has a bit of an attitude, but he likes that about her.

Huening lets out a snort. “Yeah, that’s definitely you. Why don’t you go in a wedding dress the next time you attend a fansign? Who knows, you might have a shot.”

You snap them a dirty look. Fuck. This is making your head spin. For the second time, Choi Yeonjun’s tendency of putting himself into headlines and the trending searches for doing something insane is giving you nothing but stress.

“I did give her my number, but she hasn’t messaged me yet, so I’m quite hurt.”

Number. Hold on a fucking second.

“The comments are going crazy.”

You grab your bag from underneath you, dropping it down to your lap.

“Hey, if you’re watching this, pl—eeeeease contact me. Kim Noona thinks I have a phone addiction now because I’ve been dying waiting for your call.”

You quickly get up from your seat.

“Yo, where are you going this time?”

“I need a minute,” you announce, eyes scanning the store for a quiet place alone while hugging your bag to your chest. There’s nowhere. Looks like you have to get out.

“Damn, we were just joking. As if you have a chance with a celebrity like him.”

Huening’s joke is ignored and you quickly leave outside the doors, making a sharp turn around the corner, slipping through the passersby downtown until you find an empty alley. Your heart is racing. Your heart is racing like crazy and you may be reaching right now. You may be acting crazy, but what Choi Beomgyu said during the interview with Yeong-Il the other day is echoing in your mind, and— in conjunction with everything else that had happened— you’re starting to think that maybe he wasn’t joking.

Your cracked phone screen greets you when you take it out of your pocket. On your other hand is the first business card you got this week.

“Who’s this?”

“Hello. Good day.” You tell them your name, the events that led up to you receiving this number, with the hope that maybe you’re finally on to something. “I’d like to talk about the compensation for my broken phone.”

Whatever that something is, you’re gonna get to the bottom of it.

It’s already beyond closing time at Kwiyeomdongmoim Cafe (a mouthful, you know), yet your pink apron is still neatly tied around your waist as you pace back and forth, to and fro, in circles inside the breakroom. The time is half-past nine in the evening. You should’ve clocked out thirty minutes ago, but you’re still waiting.

The knock on the door signified the end of your wait. You turn to see your boss’s head popping in through the half-open crack.

“Three guys are waiting for you,” informs Seokmin. “They all seem handsome. Are they your suitors?”

When you ditched your friends at the still unnamed dessert store the other day, you did it to make a few calls. Three, to be exact. Today is the culmination of those calls, which is why you’ve been erratically nervous the entire freaking day. Choi Soobin, Choi Beomyu, and Choi Yeonjun’s managers all answered respectively when you called all the sketchy numbers you got and made some negotiations (apparently, the mess on your album is Yeonjun’s number, but he got his phone confiscated after that livestream).

“As if,” you say, walking up to the door leading back into the cafe. Suitors, more like stalkers. Fans stalking their idols is common, but the other way around is a pretty fresh idea. “Anyway, thanks, Kyeom. Thank you for letting me use the store for a while.” Because this is the only private place you can think of outside of your own home— and there’s no way in hell you’re letting them in there when you don’t even know how they managed to get hold of your personal information.

“We’re closed anyway.” Seokmin smiles and makes way for you to pass by. “Go ahead and do your thing. Do you want me to stay inside or keep watch?”

“You can stay inside, it’s alright.”

He nods. “Call me when you’re done. Scream if you need backup. I can handle all of them.”

You laugh and thank him once more, a pat on his arm before you decide to peek out the door first as a precautionary measure. From your spot, you can see three thoroughly covered men in windbreakers, caps, and masks sitting on three separate tables in the store. The blinds have already been rolled down, so you can’t see anything outside, but there doesn’t appear to be any cameras around, so you take it as a safe sign to finally leave your hiding spot.

The moment you do, the break room door creaks, and all three pairs of eyes immediately fall on you.

They stand up. They call out your name in unison.

Holy shit.

And when they do, they all look at each other with a sudden flash of hostility in the air.

Um. Well. How are you supposed to do this? “H—hello,” you manage to squeak out, prompting their attention once more. Soobin takes off his cap and removes his mask, the other two following suit, and oh my god. Oh my god. You suck in a deep breath. Today, you are not a fan. You are an interrogator. This is not a fansign. This is an interrogation.

“I— uh, I asked your managers if I can meet you all to—today for a specific reason.” Wow. Good job. Your hands are shaking and you can’t look up from the floor or else you’d start losing your mind. “But—but, before that— would...would you like some drinks…?”

Interrogation paused. You need to get your shit together first.

“Please enjoy.”

With the help of your boss (because your hands wouldn’t stop shaking and you dropped the first one you made), you managed to whip up four iced teas and settle all three of them into one table at the very back of the store. You send a stiff smile at Seokmin after he placed all the drinks on the table.

God, you owe him so much— especially when he’s being unreasonably glared at by the three men sitting with you right now. Choi Beomgyu to your left, Choi Soobin to your right, Choi Yeonjun directly across from you and holy fuck, you have yet to look at them properly yet for your own safety. They haven’t been talking to each other either, simply sitting and waiting for you to speak. You’re pretty sure they know each other though, at least by name, being in the same industry and all.

To say that the tension in the air is suffocation would be an understatement. How...how do you start this? The fuck should you say first?

“You know, I was really happy when Kim Noona told me you called.”

Apparently you don’t have to start it. Choi Yeonjun does it for you.

“But why are these two crashing our date?”

And that’s when things also start to get messy.

“Date?” Choi Soobin interjects. He sounds offended. Why does he sound offended. “What are you talking about?”

Choi Yeonjun doesn’t get a chance to make his case. Because Choi Beomgyu from your left suddenly snatches one of your hands from the table, prompting you to look at one of them for the first time tonight, and your eyes fly wide open. “I’d...like to apologize for the other day. I was just overtaken by my emotions. I hope you weren’t too freaked out.”

You are quite freaked out because holy shit, this is too much maybe. Not maybe. Yes. This is too much. Too. Much.“Hey, why are you holding her hand?!” you hear Choi Soobin exclaim from your other side. Choi Beomgyu’s soft expression suddenly disappears into a glare and a sneer the moment he shifts his gaze.

“You’re holding her hand too!”

“Why can’t I?!”

“Hey, this isn’t fair! One of you switch with me—”

Dizzy. You’re feeling dizzy. Your head is spinning and you’re suffocating from the heat emanating from your very face. Whatever they’re arguing about isn’t even reaching your ears anymore. You’re getting lightheaded and your sweaty hands start slipping out from the two’s weirdly tender hold on your hands because your body is physically breaking down.

“Shut up! Oh my god, my head—”

Your vision actually starts spinning for a second so you quickly bring the bottom of your palms to your temples, elbows on the table to balance yourself, only to be wobbled and shaken because the three suddenly jolted off their seats in panic.

“Are you okay?!”

“I’m fine, just please—for the love of god— sit down and shut up.”

They sit down and shut up. You massage your temples in silence. You remove your hands from your face and, after sucking in a deep breath and releasing it thereafter, feel your heartbeat settling into a normal rate. As normal as it can get in this situation.

“Whew. Okay. I think I’m ready. Let’s get down to business.” Finally, you’re the one steering the conversation. You give each of them a once over as quickly as possible because now you know that prolonged eye contact will only hurt you. You settle with looking at the gaps between each of them. That’s fine. You’re fine. “Choi Soobin, Choi Yeonjun, Choi Beomgyu.”

It’s like three bulbs just lit up in succession. Your brain is starting to hurt.

“A—as I was saying, you three are some of South Korea’s biggest celebrities and although I am, in fact, a big fan of all three of you—” Why is Choi Soobin growing pink. Why the fuck is he blushing. “—that— that does not make me fail to recognize the amount of weird shit that’s been happening lately, and I think I need answers.”

They are still sitting down and shutting up. They listen to instructions well, at the very least.

“First, how the fuck did all three of you know my name without any prior introduction. Second—”

The words get clamped in your throat. It’s lodged in there very tightly because you make the mistake of looking one of them in the eye, only to notice that all three of them are looking at you with the same expression. An expression you can only describe as longing.

And your face starts burning.

“Se— second, why…why do you all keep looking at me like I’m an ex you want to get back together with…?”

Maybe you asked the wrong question.

Because for some reason they all look sad now. Really sad. Really fucking sad and it’s making your stomach clench and nerves all numb and funky because making three big celebrities all sad simultaneously is a bragging right at one end of the spectrum, and a national crime at the other.

It’s Choi Soobin who cracks the silence. “I…I had a feeling when I saw you again for the first time at the store.” Again? “Do you not remember me?”

Your face furrows. “No…? Did we ever meet before you became an actor?”

Hurt. The look of sadness has now spiraled into hurt and one might think you just stabbed and twisted a knife into his fucking gut. “How—how about me?” Your attention turns to Choi Yeonjun who isn’t looking any better. It’s like his entire world view was just proven to be wrong and why does it feel like you’re the one to blame.

What else can you do but shake your head in denial? Now he looks like he’d just been told he’s adopted!

“You’re…you’re joking,” he tries to laugh it off, but it only comes off as strained and shaky, then, in one fell swoop— desperate. “R—right…?”

“Great!”

Before you start feeling even shittier, Choi Beomgyu finally decides to join in.

“And here I thought her forgetting about me was the worst case scenario.” His tone is bitter. There’s a snap in his words. “I didn’t think there’d be other bastards in the same situation as me. God fucking damn it.”

There’s a moment of silence. You watch as realization hits the other while you’re still left in the dark. Choi Yeonjun juts his seat closer. Choi Soobin tries to reach a hesitant arm to your direction, but you’re tugged to the other side by Choi Beomgyu, who’s suddenly a little too, too close.

“Hey.”

Your hands are clamped together.

“I meant it when I said I love you. I do. I have loved you four hundred years ago and I still love you now, and if whatever god or deity decides to make you meet you for the third time, I’ll still love you then.”

Beomgyu’s holding both of them in between his in a firm grip.

“Second life is about you. Blue Spring is about you. You’re the person I’ve been waiting for from the beginning of this life until the last.”

Now, if this situation wasn’t crazy, your heart would be skipping a beat right now.

But it is crazy. This is fucking insane. And you look around to see that there’s a weird look of sympathy and understanding in the other Choi’s eyes, clearly not recognizing the visceral insanity of this situation, which fills you with a swallowing lump of existential dread. You pry your hands out of Beomgyu’s grasp (you swear you can hear glass breaking), and slowly turn to Choi Yeonjun and say, with a very hesitant, very cautious, “Y...you too…?”

The look on his face says it all. And then you swivel over to Choi Soobin.

“And you?”

“I’ve lo—”

“No!” you snap. “Don’t finish that sentence. Please. Oh my god.”

You see Seokmin popping his head out from the corner, mouthing an are you okay? and you shakily bring up a weak thumbs up. “Well, isn’t this interesting,” you hear Choi Yeonjun say, which feels like a slap in the face because what exactly is interesting about this. “Here I thought I was special.”

“Get off your high horse,” retorts Choi Soobin, a sneer in his voice. You double take. Choi Soobin is supposed to be sweet and gentle and kind. Who is this man? “Whatever kind of past you had with her doesn’t mean anything. I met her first. I met her at the end of King Danjong’s rule.”

“Ha!” Choi Yeonjun starts. “We got married under King Taejong. I’ve loved her before any of you did.”

Now, what the fuck?

Choi Soobin’s face pales and he chokes over his words. “M—married?”

There’s a smug grin on Choi Yeonjun’s face. He leans back against the chair with his arms crossed in victory. “You heard that correctly. Married. Pack up your bags. Unless you want me to tell you everything we did on our we—”

“Shut up, shut up, I don’t want to hear it!”

Marriage. King Danjong. King Taejong. Second life. The gears are churning inside your head. You don’t like the direction where the gears are pointing.

“What about you?”

Choi Yeonjun raises the question and the attention is now on Choi Beomgyu. He’s been quiet. The other two wait for him to say his piece— a feigned air of disdain and arrogance but there’s an unconcealable undertone of nervousness underneath it all. Your iced teas have been left untouched. Choi Beomgyu simply scoffs and presses his crossed arms against his chest.

“I have no reason to tell you any of that. This is between me and her.”

And at your mention, you receive the undivided attention of three pairs of eyes once more. Your heart rattles. God fucking damn it. Listen, you’re an avid consumer of the entertainment industry. You’ve watched a good amount of dramas and have read a good amount of manhwas to surmise a conclusion with the bits and pieces of stray information being tossed back and forth between the three. And it’s all ridiculous. But you have nothing else to work with unless they come spilling their guts themselves.

“So,” you clear your throat. “Are you three, like…a couple…hundred years old…?”

They all look offended.

“No!”

Well, maybe you’re wrong about that part. But after a very long, convoluted discussion, the “facts” (if you can even call it that), are finally laid down on your feet.

They say you’ve all met before. Separately, in three separate lifetimes, with this one allegedly being your fourth unless there were lives in between that they can’t remember. One thing for certain is that the three of them remember the life they had while loving you— and they loved you very much apparently because those feelings and memories got carried over even after they got reborn into the present day.

The problem is, you don’t have the same symptoms. You don’t remember anything about your past lives. Hell, you can’t even remember anything in this life before you hit two years old.

You slump in your seat. The table rattles. They get up from their chairs and come circling around you in concern.

“Are— are you okay, do you need to lie down? You could rest in my van for a while and—”

You swat Choi Yeonjun’s hand away before it could land on your shoulder. You’ve now got your hands on your face in stress, and peeking through you see Choi Soobin on your right, crouching down and looking up at you with furrowed brows and big, sad eyes. On your left is Choi Beomgyu, half-seated on the chair. You let out a very long, very anguished and muffled groan. This is too much. “If— if what you guys are saying is true,” you say. “What does it matter?”

There’s a tense pause in the air.

“What do you mean…?”

You spring up from your seat and turn around, Choi Yeonjun in front of you.

“I mean what does it all matter? King Sejeong, Joseon era, or whatever— I don’t care about all of that. We’re in the twenty-first century right now. I’m neither your lover nor your wife. I’m just a fan of your dramas and music and performances and that's it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. You don’t really want to see their faces right now. You let a huff of air slip past your lips, turning back around to collect the untouched glasses of drinks on the table.

“Thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to meet me and explain. I hope it’s all settled. Thanks for clearing everything up today. You can now all leave.”

It’s Choi Yeonjun who races after you when you make your firm and quick strides to the counter. He cuts off your path. “I—I don’t understand,” he chokes out. You make the mistake of meeting his gaze and see the threat of tears glazing his eyes. “What—what do you mean?”

Admittedly, that hurled a giant pang against your ribcage, knocking the air out of your chest, but you move forward. You brush past him, setting the glasses back on the counter, and— after a moment’s pause— you turn around, a heavy weight on your shoulders. It’s like gravity is trying to suck you deep into the mantle. “What I’m trying to say is we should all just get over what happened all those hundreds of years ago and live our lives in the present. I mean, I don’t know any of you. Don’t you think it’s unhealthy to keep clinging onto the past, especially when you guys are nothing but strangers to me in this life?”

Dead silence. You don’t dare look at any of them in the face. You try and retreat to the break room as quickly as you can, hands fumbling to untie your apron along the way, but you stumble over your steps, screeching to a halt the moment you hear someone say—

“Do you think it’s that easy?”

You could hear your heart in your eardrums.

It takes all the strength in your body for you to look back, to see the pained expression on Choi Beomgyu’s face standing the farthest away from you out of the three. “Do you think I put my name out there so that it’d be easier for you to find me, wrote all those songs about you in the hopes that I could see you again if you’re someone I can just easily forget?”

Your throat tightens. It’s like you’re swallowing a boulder.

“If you wanted me to forget about you, you shouldn’t have died right in front of me then. You shouldn’t have told me you loved me right before you went cold in my arms if you wanted me to fucking forget.”

Oh.

Oh, god.

Choi Yeonjun and Choi Soobin don’t look any better. It hits you that you might have been more than a little bit unfair.

“I’m sorry.”

You don’t know your history. You don’t know what the fuck happened between you and them throughout those years that made them feel so strongly about you. But it must be harder for those who remember than for those who forgot.

It’s not like they chose to live in the present with half of their souls stuck in the past, either. You’ve been acting awfully unfair.

“I was being insensitive. I’m so sorry,” you exhale. Your knees feel like they’re about to buckle. Your head is spinning in circles. “But to be honest, this is all still very overwhelming, and I’m having a hard time comprehending and making sense of everything. It doesn’t feel real.” You try to take a step closer, but your legs give in. Choi Yeonjun quickly rushes to balance you back on your feet.

“Don’t push yourself,” he says, softly. You can’t look at him. God, these guys really know how to bring your guilt all the way home.

“Thanks, um, anyway—” You breathe in. Shit, you can’t believe you’re considering this. “Again, I really can’t and won’t be able to understand the magnitude of your— well, uh— feelings, since I really don’t remember anything. But how about…I spend some time with each of you individually, and maybe…maybe it can help in jogging back my memories?”

The atmosphere shifts. Ah. This feels like a fucking trap.

“You— you mean it?”

To be honest, you’d much rather just not deal with any of this, just stay at home and continue living your life with these three men as persons you only know behind the screen. But those looks in their eyes— hopeful and melancholic— make you feel your organs are being rearranged every five seconds, and you’d feel bad leaving them with the pain of this conversation especially after they poured out their hearts to you.

You can’t deny the joy and escape they’ve given you for the past couple of years you’ve spent as their fan. Maybe entertaining this unreality is the least you can do.

“I mean, well,” you start, clearing your throat. “Choi Beomgyu, you still need to pay for my phone. Choi Soobin, your manager wanted me to talk to you about something, and Choi Yeonjun—”

You look at the guy who still has one arm pressed against your back, two hands in a firm grip on your shoulders. He’s looking at you and batting his eyes expectantly. You let out a sigh and set yourself loose.

“I need to discuss something with you soon, too.” As in, please stop vaguely mentioning me in your live streams because I fear I might find an angry mob in front of my house. “I think I have all your contact information anyway.”

There aren’t any more reactions coming from them. This seems like the best possible solution for all of you. You sigh again. This has been an emotionally draining evening. You can’t wait to get some fucking rest.

“I’ll be in touch with you or your managers soon. For now, let’s call it a day.”

STAR STUDDED BAGGAGE. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

#tomorrow x together x reader #txt x reader #choi yeonjun x reader #choi soobin x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #txt scenarios #tomorrow x together scenarios #txt x you #tomorror x together x you #soobin x reader #yeonjun x reader #beomgyu x reader #txt fanfic #choi soobin x you #choi beomgyu x you #choi yeonjun x you

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fanfictionalraven · 2 days

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Dream Warriors Chapter 4

Title: Dream Warriors Chapter 4

Summary: Sam and the reader discuss her dreams. Dean and the reader make some progress on the case and their relationship.

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, other original characters

Word Count: 3,700

Warnings: Mentions of miscarriage, angst

Read Chapter 3 here.

You and Sam both continue to stare at your perfectly healed hands. All traces of the burns were now gone. You look up at Sam, tears stinging your eyes.

“You saw that, right?? I’m not going crazy. You saw that too,” you practically beg. He nods his head slowly, trying to process what he’d just witnessed.

“What’s going on, Y/N?” He asks. You shake your head quickly, looking back at your hands.

“I wish I knew,” you mumble. You flex your hands slowly, wiggling your fingers as well. “I’ve been having these dreams. We thought it was just stress from the miscarriage and due date but now…”

“Dreams?” Sam asks, watching you closely. You look up at him and nod.

“It’s all so normal. No monsters. Our families are alive. Dean and I are very clearly in love but I married someone else who’s been cheating on me. You finished school and you’re getting married to Jessica,” you tell him. He frowns a little more and nods. “When I’m there, when I’m in the dreams, all of this is just a dream. A dream I hardly pay attention to. And it all feels real, holding my daughter feels real.”

“The burns?” He asks, cutting his eyes to your hands.

“I went to get a pie from the oven in a rush and forgot potholders,” you explain. He nods again then shrugs his shoulders.

“Okay, ugh…normally, I’d agree that it’s just your subconscious but…” He trails off and you nod. “What are you thinking? A spell? A djinn maybe?” He asks as he makes his way back to his laptop. You frown, pulling your knees into your chest.

“I don’t know what to think, Sam,” you tell him. He nods and starts to type on his computer. You sit in silence for a moment before looking around. “Where’s Dean?”

“Went to talk to the sheriff again,” he says, picking up John’s journal. You roll your eyes, throwing the blankets off of yourself.

“The sheriff isn’t going to talk to him. Why didn’t he wake me?” You ask as you move to your bag. You open it to find that Dean had taken your fed clothes last night and put them away neatly.

“He wanted to let you sleep as much as possible. You really scared him last night,” he says. You stop what you’re doing and look at him, confused. “When you heard that baby crying?”

“That was Ella,” you say. He raises an eyebrow in question and you sigh, looking back into your bag. “My daughter. I mean – the baby in my dreams.” Sam frowns as he watches you.

“Y/N, she isn’t real,” he reminds you. Rolling your eyes, you rise to your feet, clothes in hand.

“I told you, Sam. When I’m in the dreams, she’s the realest thing in the world. I’d give my life for her in a heartbeat,” you tell him. He nods slightly.

“Well try not to do that. Minor injuries may heal but dying?” He asks. You frown and nod, turning for the bathroom. “Want me to call Dean?”

“I’m not gonna tell him,” you inform Sam before closing the door behind you. You hear his chair scrape the floor before he approaches the door.

“What do you mean you aren’t telling him?” He asks. Sighing, you begin to change clothes.

“He’s already worried about me enough. I’m not giving him more reason to,” you call through the door to him.

“Y/N, something is hurting you in your dreams. That’s not something you should hide from him,” he says. You finish buttoning up your shirt and pull the door open again.

“Please. We can figure this out. Me and you,” you plead with him. He shakes his head slightly, conflicted.

“Nothing good ever comes from any of us keeping secrets, Y/N. You tell us that all the time,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. You reach out and place your hands on his arms gently.

“Sam, I’m begging you. Just…one day. Let’s see what we can find in one day and if we don’t get anything or if things get worse tonight, then I’ll tell him,” you say. You bite your lip, waiting for his response. A car door closes from just outside the room and your pleading look turns to panic. “Sam, please.”

“Okay. Fine. One day,” he relents, turning back towards his table in the corner. You let out a sigh as the door to the room opens and Dean steps in. He’s got three cups of coffee and a white bag in his hands. He smiles widely when he sees you.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty finally woke up,” he teases, setting the breakfast he’d picked up down on the table. Sam takes one of the coffees and looks into the bag.

“Find anything out?” He asks, pulling a glazed donut from the bag. Dean picks up the other two cups and starts towards you.

“Well, they finally got an ID on one of the victims. Monica Lester. Married. From a town about an hour east of here,” he informs you both. He holds one of the cups out to you and you smile a little, taking it. You thank him and he winks at you before sitting on the edge of the bed. “Sheriff Anderson has so graciously agreed to let me do the notification.”

“I’ll go with you,” you tell him before taking a drink from the coffee. He frowns at you and shakes his head.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. The man just lost the woman he loved and their unborn baby, Y/N,” he says. You sigh and nod, walking over to the table.

“And if anyone can understand at least part of that, it’s us,” you tell him as you reach into the bag yourself.

“Yea, just part of it, sure,” Dean mumbles, rising to his feet. You look at him quickly.

“What?” You ask. He smiles a little and shakes his head, walking over as well.

“Sammy, you good to stay back and keep digging?” He asks. Sam glances between the two of you before nodding.

“Yea, I’m fine,” he says. You give him a pointed look and he nods his head once. “I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

The two of you load into the front seat of the Impala and begin the hour-long drive to the first victim’s house. The ride is quiet, neither of you saying much at all. The invisible wall between you, that you had just started to believe could be torn down, now seemed to be reinforced and even bigger somehow. Dean parks the car on the curb in front of the house and the two of you look over at it.

“You sure about this?” Dean asks. You look over at him.

“Oh, now you’re talking to me again?” You ask. He stares at you for a moment, seemingly stunned. “Yes, I’m sure. Come on.” Pushing the door open a bit too violently, you climb out of the car and slam the door. Dean gets out quickly and rushes around.

“I don’t know why you’re mad at me, but you don’t have to take it out on the car,” he says, fixing his tie. You stop in your tracks halfway across the yard. Dean gets only a few steps ahead of you before stopping and looking back.

“I just wish you’d talk to me,” you tell him. He shakes his head, taking a step towards you.

“Talk to you? Y/N, I try to talk to you all the time. You shut me down,” he huffs, exasperation clear on his face. You stare at him before walking to the front door quickly. “See??”

“We’re on a job, Dean,” you insist, reaching for the doorbell. He grabs your hand before you can make contact with the button, holding on to you tight.

“Y/N,” he pleads. You pull your hand away from his and press the button, hearing the bell ring inside. Footsteps quickly approach the door and Dean straightens up, reaching into his coat pocket as you do the same. The door opens and a man, around the same age as you and Dean, looks between you.

“Chris Lester?” Dean asks. The man nods, panic quickly spreading across his face. “We’re with the FBI. Agents Wayne and Prince. Could we speak with you?”

“Oh God,” he prays, voice trembling. You reach out and place a comforting hand on his arm.

“We should sit down,” you tell him. He nods his head slightly before turning to lead the way. You two follow and Dean pushes the door closed, glancing around the house. Mr. Lester leads the two of you into what seems to be the living room of the house. He sits on the edge of an arm chair as you and Dean take seats on the couch. The man leans forward and wrings his hands nervously.

“Is this about Monica?” He asks. You glance at Dean and he sighs, looking down at his own hands.

“Mr. Lester, we’re sorry to have to inform you but…your wife’s body was found three days ago about an hour from here,” Dean tells him.

Chris’ face falls slowly as each word is processed. You can see the moment his heart breaks in his eyes. He slumps forward with a wail and Dean quickly reaches out, catching him. You allow Mr. Lester a few minutes with his grief before Dean speaks to him again.

“I know it’s hard but we need you to answer a few questions so we can catch whoever did this.” Chris nods and slowly moves himself back into the chair. Dean sits back on the couch and straightens his jacket.

“Can we get you anything?” You ask. Chris shakes his head and wipes at his cheeks.

“No. You, ummm, you have questions?” He asks, voice still thick with tears. You nod and look at Dean.

“Do you know of anyone who would want to hurt your wife?” He questions. Chris shakes his head, looking at his hands.

“No one. Monica is…” He stops and swallows back more tears. “She was an amazing woman. Everyone loved her. What happened?” You frown and shake your head.

“We’ll spare you the details for now but it doesn’t appear that she suffered,” you tell him. He nods slightly, running his hands over his face.

“Why would someone do this?” He asks, starting to lose it again. Dean reaches out, placing a comforting hand on Chris’ shoulder.

“It’s not going to make sense. No matter what we find out. Believe me. I know how you feel,” he tells him. Chris looks up at him and you bite your lip, looking down at your hands. “About three months ago, my girlfriend went to the store. Broad daylight in a crowded parking lot, a man stabbed her. She was six months pregnant. I lost them both that day.” You look at Dean quickly, fighting back tears. Chris shakes his head slightly. Before you can say anything, the sound of little feet running causes you all to sit up straight.

“Daddy.” A little girl, about four or five, runs into the room. “Who are you?” She asks, looking between you and Dean. Chris wipes at his eyes before forcing a smile.

“They’re friends,” he tells her. You put on your best smile before rising and walking over to her.

“My name’s Y/N. What’s yours?” You ask, kneeling down in front of her. She smiles back at you widely.

“Claire,” she says. Your smile widens a little.

“I have a friend named Claire,” you tell her. “Could you show me your room?” She nods quickly and takes your hand, pulling on it. She leads you up the stairs and into an adorably decorated princess bedroom where she immediately runs over to her dollhouse.

You take a seat at a little tea table in the corner where you spend the next several minutes being introduced to a number of dolls. This is immediately followed by a Barbie fashion show, Claire showing off all of her outfits. While you smile and laugh at the young girl, you can’t help but think back to what Dean had said. I lost them both that day. It felt like the final nail in the coffin that now held your relationship.

After a few minutes, a gentle knock at the door draws your attention. It opens and Chris steps into the room, a sad smile on his face. He tells you that Dean is outside and you say goodbye to Claire before going downstairs. Stepping out onto the porch, you find Dean in the yard on his phone, presumably with Sam.

“Yea, sounds good. We’ll see you later,” he says before hanging up. He drops his phone back into his coat pocket. “He’s got the names of the other two victims. They’re from the same town the opposite direction so he’s gonna go see their families.” You nod slightly and cross your arms, looking down. “Y/N…”

“I’m not dead, you know,” you cut him off. He scoffs a laugh causing you to look up.

“Yea, I know. Do you?” He asks. You stare at him, stunned. “I tried talking to you in the car and you were practically catatonic. You’re mourning. I get that. I am too. But I’m not the one doing the pushing.” You shake your head slightly.

“I’m not…”

“You are! You flinch away from my touch. You barely speak to me. I want to hold you again. I want to kiss you again. I want to make love to you again. And if you aren’t ready for that yet, that’s fine. I get that. But…tell me what I need to do to fix this,” he pleads. You shake your head again, fighting back a sob, and move to walk past him. He reaches out, catching your elbow. “Y/N, talk to me!” You spin to face him, jerking your arm from his grasp.

“Get mad!!” You snap at him, shoving at his chest. He stumbles a step back. “You never got mad!!”

“I’m mad as hell. If you’d seen what I did to that demon when I found him…” He trails off and you wipe at your eyes quickly.

“Not at the demon, Dean!! Get mad at me!! Blame me!! It was my fault!!” You scream at him through your sobs. He stares at you, wide eyed, and shakes his head. “It was. I was her mother and I should have protected her better.”

“Sweetheart, I could never blame you for that. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me,” he says, reaching out for you.

“No, you’re not!! You weren’t even there!!” You insist as he gently takes your arms in his hands.

“Exactly. If I hadn’t been out on a hunt, if I had been home with you, I could have stopped him and we’d have our baby right now,” he says. You shake your head as you stare at him, bewildered.

“That’s ridiculous. We agreed you’d continue to hunt,” you tell him. He nods slightly, slowly pulling you closer to him.

“What’s even more ridiculous is you thinking I could or should blame you. From the day you found out you were pregnant, you were in full mom-mode. And it was the greatest thing I’d ever seen. You stopped hunting, stopped drinking, stopped eating junk. You were already an amazing mom and she wasn’t even here yet,” he says, his voice soft and calming. His arms hesitantly and slowly wrap around your waist, pulling you into his chest. Your firsts clench at the lapels of his jacket, as though you’re clinging on for dear life. “Let me fix it,” he pleads. A sob breaks through as you bury your face in his chest. Dean’s chin comes to rest on top of your head as he holds you close, rubbing circles into your back.

The two of you stand in that same spot, clinging on to one another, for what feels like forever. Your sobs eventually begin to subside and Dean’s arms loosen enough for you to look up at him. His lips brush your forehead and you feel yourself smile.

“Sam’s out for a little while. What do you say we go back to the room and talk some more?” He asks, looking down at you. You nod, wiping at your cheek.

“I like the sound of that,” you tell him. He smiles a little and leaves one arm around your waist as he pulls you to the waiting Impala. He opens the door for you and you slide in all the way to the middle.

After closing the door, Dean goes around and slips into the driver’s seat. He looks at you and smiles widely as you wrap your arms around his, laying your head on his shoulder. His hands come to rest on your knee, his thumb rubbing back and forth slowly as he sets out for the motel again.

The ride back is quiet again but a different, comfortable silence. You stay tucked into Dean’s side, holding on tight to his arm as he drives. Occasionally, he turns and places a kiss on top of your head. Each time, you respond with a kiss to his shoulder. For the first time in a long time, things actually begin to feel right again.

Back at the motel, you take a seat on the edge of the bed you’re sharing and watch as he makes his way around the room. He removes his suit jacket and lays it across the back of a chair before starting to loosen his tie. You smile as you watch the muscles in his shoulders through the tight dress shirt he’s wearing. You’re on your feet before you have a chance to second guess yourself. Slowly, you wrap your arms around him from behind. He tenses up for only a split second before relaxing in your arms. Standing on your toes, you press a kiss against his shoulder blade.

“I love you,” you whisper into the fabric of his shirt. His fingers ghost over your arms before he turns to face you. You pull your arms in between the two of you now, your hands resting on his firm chest. He caresses your cheek with the back of his fingers before quickly closing the distance between you. Your lips move together in unison as he grips at your hips, pulling you impossibly closer.

************************************************************************

Later in the afternoon, you’re lying on top of Dean, your arms crossed over his bare chest as you watch him. He smiles at you sleepily and you can’t help but laugh.

“Wear you out?” You ask. He shakes his head, his hands running over your exposed back slowly.

“Nah, I’m good,” he says. You smile as you watch him for a moment. He reaches up and pushes your hair behind your ear gently.

“I’m sorry I pushed you away,” you apologize. He smiles a little and shakes his head.

“We’re gonna be okay, Sweetheart,” he assures you. You nod slightly before stretching up and catching his lips with yours once more. He smiles in the kiss and threads his fingers into your hair.

The door opens suddenly and you pull away from Dean with squeak as Sam comes into the room.

“Hey – come on, guys!!” He says, turning his back quickly. Dean smirks at you as you scramble to pull the sheet across your chest. “I asked if you wanted a separate room for a reason.”

“Calm down, Sammy. What ya got?” Dean asks, pushing himself up in the bed. Sam glances over his shoulder slowly to make sure you’re covered before turning to face the two of you again.

“I’ve got a pretty solid lead on the Manananggal,” he says, handing Dean a brochure. You look over his shoulder at it and frown.

“That’s just a Lamaze class, Sam,” you tell him. Dean nods slightly, opening the pamphlet.

“Yea, Y/N and I were looking into some,” he says. Sam nods quickly.

“Exactly. What better place for a monster to find pregnant women than a class for pregnant women? I checked and all the victims attended this class at least once,” he says. Dean hands the pamphlet back to him then leans over the side of the bed, picking his previously discarded jeans up.

“Worth a shot. You coming?” He asks, looking at you as he pulls them back on. You bite your lip before shaking your head.

“I don’t think that would be a good place for me right now,” you tell him. Relief washes over him before he rises from the bed and rushes to the bathroom. You watch him go before looking at Sam. “Did you find anything?” You ask him quietly. He shakes his head, frowning.

“Nothing yet,�� he tells you. You frown as well and nod, looking down at your hands. The memories of the burns come back to you. “If you go to sleep, just be careful, okay?”

“Yea,” you say, nodding slightly. Dean comes back out of the bathroom a few minutes later, fully dressed in his usual plaid and jacket combo. He smiles at you before giving you a quick kiss.

“We’ll be back. Get some rest,” he says. You smile your best and nod.

“Just be careful,” you tell him. He kisses you one more time before following Sam out the door and to the car. You fall back onto the mattress with a heavy sigh and run your hands over your face before pulling the blankets up around yourself. Your hands slips down to your stomach and you feel the scar. You know it’s real. The pain and grief. The love you have for Dean. It’s all real.

“This is real,” you repeat to yourself over and over, a steady mantra as you drift off to sleep in the late evening.

“This is real,” you mumble as your eyes open to the darkness of the very early morning. Your hand still on your stomach, you feel the smooth skin before sitting up and looking around Dean’s bedroom. “This is real,” you tell yourself, looking at the bandages on your hands.

***

Forever Tags: @roseblue373

Jensen Tags: @lostin-jensenseyes

Dream Warriors: @aylacavebear @winharry @djs8891 @suckitands33 @rickgrimeswifeu @deans-spinster-witch @jackles010378 @foxyjwls007 @cutiesarah @urinternetmom @justrealizedimmascifygurl @kr804573 @thej2report @just-levyy @snowayumi @alisyacsa

#fanfic #fanfiction #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #reader insert #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean x reader #supernatural fanfiction #dream warriors

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jerzwriter · 3 days

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The amount of issues that could be avoided if people had the decency and maturity to speak to each other like civilized human beings instead of resorting to the more commonly used methods here, like anon hate, vagueing, and passive-aggressive posts that are clearly targeting a person or group.

In the three years I have been on this hellsite, I have witnessed how these "methods" turn minor issues into outright, unnecessary wars.

Here is some information for those who are unaware:

Anon hate is douchey and wrong. If you send it, you're a douche and wrong. Period. If you can't understand that, please stop reading because you are already beyond help.

Unless someone has notifications set for you, there is an excellent chance that your intended target will not even see your vague/passive-aggressive rants.

Then, when said vague/passive-aggressive rant goes unanswered and ignored, the person or mob behind it festers, simmers, and becomes more outraged.

Bruh. They probably never even saw it, and if they did, they may not known it was directed at them. Now, the problem is 10 times bigger and, best of all, the original problem was never even addressed, much less solved!

Here's another tip:

Don't always assume the worst about someone!

Especially when you never bothered to communicate with them. You're making blind assumptions when you have little or no facts. Trust me, unless you're a mind reader, you don't know. You're not that smart, babes. Trust me. I'm not, either. TALK like grownups. It's much easier than all the bullshit that arises because of the above.

Now, you may be saying, "Hey, yeah, but aren't you vagueing/targeting right now, too?"

I'm sure some will take it that way. Since they likely won't reach out to me directly, they'll take their skewed logic as gospel and insist that they know my motivation. They'll also insist it's regarding "this" fandom event or whatever our drama du jour is.

Well, absolutely no one knows my motivation except me. So I'll make it clear. This is not geared toward any specific event, past or present, but an amalgamation of everything I've seen and experienced in the past three years. My motivation is two-fold. 1) I'm letting off steam, but, more importantly, 2) it is my sincere hope that people will see this, think about how they act and interact with others, and try to be better people.

I'm sure the fandom mind readers will dismiss what I just said and assign motivation to me. Have at it. I don't care.

No one knows my motivation except me, and no one knows my desired end goal, either. My desired end goal Is that everyone, myself included, will reflect more on how they behave and treat other people. I assure you, doing this will save others, the fandom, and, more importantly, it will save yourself a whole hell of a lot of unnecessary distress.

It's not that hard. Be better.

#rambling #fandom discourse #choices fandom #playchoices #i'm sure this is other fandoms too #it's not that hard to be decent people #it's really really not

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petalruesimblr · 2 days

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Blüdhaven Police Department

Download Link: Sim File Share |

Description:

Welcome to the Blüdhaven Police Department, where safety and security are our top priorities. Our dedicated team of officers work tirelessly to uphold the law and protect the citizens of our tight-knit community. From patrolling the quiet streets to responding swiftly to emergencies, we're here to serve and protect. With a modest facility and limited staff, you can trust us to keep our town safe for all who call it home.

Details:

Price: 90,594 Lot Size: 30X20 Lot Type: No Visitors Allowed Minimum Required Game Version: 1.42 Store Content: None CC Used: Click me Packs Needed: The Sims 3, World Adventures, Ambitions (Trees, Arch), Pets, Generations, Late Night (Elevator, Floor Tiles)

Hi everyone! I was just about to share one of my old custom rabbit hole builds but when I took another look, I realized it contains around 200 CC's which may not be suitable for gameplay for some players. So, I went ahead and rebuilt it on a smaller lot with fewer CC's.

This was only for the police department and I'm dreading the day I have to check my custom hospital lot because I totally remembered I had a morgue with dead bodies in it.🤭

Click on the ’Keep Reading’ below for more information and pictures on this lot.

For this lot, I've reduced the number of CC to 30! Now that I'm slowly introducing CC to my lots, I've decided to create a new WCIF Navigation page to make each post neater and to help others check CC more easily for every lot, as well as crediting the amazing TS3 creators.

To respect the terms of use (TOU) of all creators, I won't include the custom contents (CCs) in my download file. Instead, I will always provide their direct links so that you all have the option to download them separately. I have followed this practice since the beginning as a creator and will continue to do so in the future.

📣 Please note that I've offered alternative links for the rabbit hole doors/rugs because I have an older version of the game so I'm currently using an older version of the rabbit hole as well. I've placed the rabbit hole room on the first floor and used a door for a "Chief/Boss showroom" but you can remove the objects if you plan to use a rug instead.

I updated my details above, particularly the 'Minimum Required Game Version' because it seems that some may not understand that this lot can still be played with new versions/patches. :)

This lot has been play-tested, including the RH door, which works fine. The décor inside the room won't affect it so you can keep it as is. As for the rug, it fits inside the room but you may need to remove the objects inside to ensure there are no obstacles when Sims enter it. Let me know if you experience any problems on your end!

#petalruesimblr #community lot #the sims 3 #the sims 3 police department #lots #ts3 #sims 3 #sims 3 lots #ts3 police department #ts3 simblr #ts3 simmer #ts3 download #ts3 screenshots #ts3 community #sims 3 download #sims 3 screenshots

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skyloftian-nutcase · 3 days

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Hemisi hugged herself worriedly as her parents approached her. Ganondorf wasn't entirely sure what was bothering his daughter - things had been tense since the attack, but he had just ensured peace by swearing fealty to Rauru. This was supposed to be a moment of reprieve, a time for his family to not worry as he prepared for the future.

"Honey, what's wrong?" Nabooru asked before he could.

"I haven't found Link," Hemisi said, her voice anxious. "I've been looking everywhere for him. The guards won't really tell me much."

Ganondorf fel this ire rise. The guards likely were trying to protect Link, but they had no right to refuse information to the princess of the Gerudo. Such a slight would not be ignored. Not to mention he too wanted to know where the boy was.

"Leave this to me," he said crisply, walking away.

It didn't take much time (or threatening glares) to get what he needed. Link, apparently, was on a place called Thunderhead Island, one of the Zonai lands in the sky.

"Thunderhead Island?" Nabooru repeated after Ganondorf reported back. "We'd need a construct to get us up there, right?"

"Yeah," Hemisi answered. "Link's told me about the islands lots of times. Not many are allowed on them - it's usually just the royal family and the Sheikah."

"They'll allow me," Ganondorf rumbled, crossing his arms. "I am a king."

"Yes, but that island is also fairly volatile," Nabooru argued. "I'm better with lightning magic. I should go."

Personally, Ganondorf was far more inclined to go retrieve the boy himself, but he didn't contest the matter. Nabooru seemed rather set on the issue, and some things weren't worth arguing with her. As much as he admired her determination, he also knew she would fight him for so long that Hemisi would probably just sneak off to do the deed herself, and neither parent wanted that. The girl's abilities with lightning were formidable, but she would likely cause trouble if she went alone.

"Very well," he conceded. "We'll be waiting down here."

Nodding, Nabooru grabbed a cloak and headed towards the nearest construct. At activated at her approach, acknowledging in a mechanically musical chime, "May I help you?"

"I need to get to Thunderhead Island," Nabooru said.

The construct's reply was quick as ever. "That place is restricted."

"I am the queen of the Gerudo," Nabooru replied. "I have special access."

The construct paused a moment, processing, before noting, "I will need authorization for you to go there."

"This is an emergency," Nabooru argued. "You can speak to King Rauru about it afterwards if you please, I don't care, but one of my family is up there and I need to find him."

Although the construct was programmed to gate keep, she also knew giving a sense of urgency or danger would override its usual algorithm. Predictably, the construct questioned, "Is someone in danger?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "That's what I'm trying to find out."

The Zonai machine was silent for a moment before giving an admission. "This line of logic is acceptable. I will transport you to Thunderhead Island and report the matter to King Rauru."

"You do that," she sighed. It didn't really matter of Rauru knew. Nabooru wasn't exactly keen on causing a stir within hours of Ganondorf swearing his loyalty, especially given their history, but something Hemisi's anxiety and Link's very obvious disappearance was definitely concerning. Considering the ceremony that had just happened and the celebration that had followed, Link should have been one of the first people they saw.

The construct extended its hand in front of a stone circle, and the familiar green hue of Zonai technology activated, glowing in the circle's center. Nabooru stepped forward, letting it transport her, closing her eyes as her world shifted. The air grew much colder, even more frigid than she was expecting, and she suddenly felt a little short of breath. Goddess, she'd thought the Highlands were chilly. Why was the air so much stranger here? She was shocked into opening her eyes as her cloak was immediately bombarded by a wave of rain, thunder rumbling all around her. A circular fountain of water was in front of her, surrounded by stone architecture. She walked forward, off the platform on the ground that had received her. She needed to set to work soon, already feeling a little lightheaded.

A few steps ahead it became apparent that this island wasn't just an island, but an entire chain of them. Nabooru glanced around hesitantly, looking for some kind of Zonai device to help transport her from place to place, and found none. What was Link doing here? Where was he?

Nabooru looked between pillars, on and under benches, until she'd thoroughly searched the island she was on and the few she could see. But a flash of blonde caught her attention just as she was starting to wonder if Ganondorf had been wrong, and she squinted against the rainfall to see a teenager sitting on the ground, knees tucked into his chest, wearing the attire of the palace guards combined with a headdress and Gerudo earrings gifted to him by his betrothed.

Clamping her jaw shut against the tremors that tried to make her teeth chatter, Nabooru wrapped herself more tightly in her cloak, she found a set of stairs that at least connected to this little island, moving quickly down them. Link, for whatever reason, chose to sit outside a small building, ignoring a construct nearby that was tending to a tree. The boy was soaked to the bone, red skin paint that usually adorned his exposed arm having long been washed away from his tan complexion. His red eyes were dull, hidden under platinum blonde plaits plastered to his forehead. The sparkling splendor of the Gerudo headband and earrings was dulled considerably, and his top knot was half undone in the rain.

"Link," Nabooru called a little loudly so she could be heard. "What are you doing out here?"

Link didn't seem to react all that much, or at least it wasn't apparent in this awful weather. But she heard him mutter, "You're not supposed to be here."

"Nor should you be here," Nabooru accused mildly, walking towards him. She paused short of reaching him, seeing him clam up even more. "News of our arrival has been known for at least a week. Yet on the day that Ganondorf creates peace between the Gerudo and Hyrule, you hide from us? Hemisi's been looking for you."

"Ganondorf attacked Hyrule." Link's words were sharp, dark. He was clearly still upset about the molduga assault.

Nabooru sighed. This really wasn't the place to be having this discussion - she was freezing and dizzy, and if he got any more soaked the boy would practically be a Zora. "Yes. He did. You know him, sweetheart. He likes to test his boundaries before he concedes to them. But he's conceded."

Link tucked his chin to his chest, looking away.

"Honey, the fight is over," Nabooru pressed on, stepping closer to him. "And for the first time, the Gerudo now have an alliance with Hyrule. We're a part of it - this would mean you and Hemisi don't have to hide your relationship from the public eye anymore, that there is nothing to hide anymore. This is a joyous occasion, not a reason to be moping in the rain. Come down with me so you can be with your family, love."

She finally cleared the distance between them, crouching down and putting a hand on his shoulder. Link glared moodily at the lands below, eye lashes dripping with moisture. Quietly, almost to himself, he said, "Ganondorf never concedes."

"Well, he did," Nabooru emphasized slowly. Link had not been included in the discussion of their attack on Hyrule, had been completely blindsided as Ganondorf had suggested he and Hemisi play and explore near the mines that day so they wouldn't be involved. Nabooru knew that as a member of the Sheikah tribe he would likely take it harder than most Hyrulians, but she hadn't expected quite the grudge he seemed to be holding. "Come on, love. You're freezing."

Lightning struck a small spire at the top of the building they were sitting near, making Nabooru straighten up and prepare for another strike. Thunder clapped so loudly it made her chest vibrate. Link sighed, slowly pushing to his feet. He must have been sitting for some time, swaying a little unsteadily, and Nabooru put a hand on his shoulder, pulling him inside the structure. Constructs were indoors, stoking a fire, and she approached one. "Can you take us back to the Royal Plateau?"

The little machine beeped in the affirmative, guiding them to a hover platform that sent them back to the originating island. Nabooru's hands were on Link's shoulders the entire time, feeling them tremble under her, and she pulled him close so they could share her cloak. His skin was ice cold, making her inhale sharply a little when he brushed against her exposed arms and abdomen. A headache was brewing in her forehead, and she was certainly ready to leave this dreary place.

When the pair teleported back, Ganondorf and Hemisi were there waiting for them.

"Link!" Hemisi exclaimed, rushing forward and dragging him into a hug. "You idiot, why are you soaking wet?! Where've you been?!"

"Hon, can you spare your robe?" Nabooru asked, still holding the boy to her.

Her husband complied without question, pulling off his dark outer robe and holding it out. The parents exchanged Link, one set of arms to the other, and the boy was wrapped up and held against Ganondorf quickly. He didn't argue, he didn't protest, he didn't speak as Hemisi bombarded him with questions. The king and queen exchanged a look, and the family moved towards their provided quarters in the palace.

Eventually, Link started to speak softly to his betrothed, seeming less agitated with her, and soon the two were both cuddling under Ganondorf's large garment. Nabooru moved to fetch servants so they could get him fresh clothes and some warm food, and Hemisi moved quickly to the task as well, saying she was going to grab towels.

That left Ganondorf and Link.

"So were you up there sulking the entire time since the assault?" Ganondorf finally said, getting to the point as he knelt down to the boy's eye level.

"No." Link's reply wasn't quite snappish, but it was certainly sharp, though not nearly as sharp as his eyes. Ganondorf smiled at the fire in them, the anger and force of will that refused to bow down to anything. "Just for your arrival."

"If you thought we wouldn't find you, you clearly don't know us as well as you should," Ganondorf noted with mild humor, pulling the robe over the boy's head to dry his hair. He carefully removed the pins and tie holding the top knot, tucking them into a pouch on his belt. Link didn't protest, though his gaze did drift to the floor, softening, showing the wound he'd been bearing in his heart. Ganondorf felt... more than a little exasperated, but he'd known the boy would be upset. Still... "Hold whatever grudge you wish against me, child, but do not share your ire with Hemisi. She didn't know about the attack. I suggested you two be near the mines that day for a reason."

Link sighed heavily, closing his eyes.

"The fighting is over," Ganondorf emphasized, putting weight in his voice to end this pointless adolescent moping. Then he smiled. "And now the world can know your place in our family."

The boy glanced up, hope shimmering in crimson orbs, tempered by an intelligence he often hid behind innocence and silence. "Why did you do it?"

"Why did I attack?"

"No. Why did you give up?"

"I don't give up," Ganondorf retorted a little irritatedly, pausing his ministrations.

"I know," Link immediately acknowledge firmly. "So why? You don't acknowledge defeat."

"Oh, Link," Ganondorf hummed with gentle amusement, proud of the boy's insight. He was going to make a good prince. But it would make the next months a little difficult if the king wasn't careful. "A strong warrior refuses to give up, but a wise one knows when he is defeated. I am both. It's pointless to fight a force you cannot win against."

Link still looked skeptical, confused. Ganondorf added, "How else could we build peace for you and Hemisi?"

His words seemed to catch the boy off guard. For a moment, Ganondorf really wondered if Link didn't actually think they cared, despite having spent over a year being welcomed into the family. For a moment, the king wondered if the boy really was that dull, or somehow he and his wife hadn't done something right. And then Link bit his lip, shivering, and hugged himself, clearly trying to contain emotion and not quite succeeding.

Ganondorf sighed, letting the boy be vulnerable for a moment. He pulled him close, and Link sank into the embrace, curled in against his chest.

Link would be a good prince. Ganondorf knew this. He just needed to hone the boy a little more, reassure him and teach him, let him enjoy his time with Hemisi. A war was brewing soon. It was best to enjoy this time while he could.

#tears of the kingdom #totk #hero of shadow #ganondorf #nabooru #hemisi #writing #idk lovelies #this scene popped in my head and I couldn't get rid of it and couldn't go to bed until I'd written it so #Link knows Gan very well #he knows he doesn't just “give up” from a challenge #but he does not in the slightest fathom exactly how far Gan will go #so he just trusts his word #I always thought it was so weird that the order of Zelda's memories show a Gerudo assault first and THEN Gan's like “Let's be friends :D”#Like I figured he'd swear his fealty first and THEN try to attack and THEN realize he needed to get a secret stone #like I get it from Gan's perspective but from RAURU'S it seems a VERY dumb move to just let Gan wander your palace after that???#Like dude #Rauru #you're kind of an idiot #ESPECIALLY since ZELDA knew this guy was trouble #and he's already attacked your kingdom!!!#like #RAURU #king rauru #why man #you're an idiot #like I don't mind his character but #what the heck #dumb move #even Link thinks so lol

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purgemarchlockdown · 24 hours

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Yoh know, I was planning on doing this at the end of the week. Just to really make sure the month long break was month long and to confirm I really did want to return, but damn the state of the tag in the last month or two is so sad and I have a hunch as to why.

So, hi again Milgramblr! I’m Nott! I’m an enjoyer of analysis and a believer that it’s a collaborative experience where people with various opinions and come together and discuss topics!

“Nott why are you saying this, statistically speaking, we already knew this about you?” Oh cause I experienced harrasement and outright got lied to multiple times lol.

I’m just saying it because I might as well, it’s pretty obvious something happened. I don’t like saying names publically, especially when I don’t plan on ever talking about this afterwards unless they engage which…well their blocked so I hope not. But I’m using this as a jumping off point for the actual topic of discussion.

Again, part of my enjoyment of analysis comes from collaboration, and as much as I love sending giant walls of texts to friends I enjoy seeing discussion from people I don’t know too well or maybe even not at all.

I think it’s important to create spaces in which analysis without fear of being executed in the middle of town square. It’s good to have more people working togehter in good faith to enjoy something, obviously, and the only real way of doing so is to…let people’s analysis be shared and discussed.

So! I’m turning my return post into a CALL FOR ANALYSIS YEAH! I HAVE BEEN GONE FOR A MONTH! TELL ME YOUR COOL OPINIONS EITHER HERE OR IN MY ASKBOX! I am holding my paws out like furry Oliver Twist going “Please, may I please have more analysis.” The intermission is the perfect time to discuss the information we have been provided!

On stuff I’ve been mulling over: I’ve been doing my usual narrative analysis and uh…attempting to write the monster theory analysis and then Not. Plus some other fun stuff you might see soon from me! Hope you enjoy what I got thought up!

#milgram #YEAH FUCKERS YOU THOUGHT YOU COULD KILL NE #HA #HAHAHAHA

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moeitsu · 3 days

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The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Summary: Arthur and Hosea share meaningful conversation after a night of advertising some moonshine. Meanwhile Kate finds herself involved in a dubious mission with John and the boys. She patches up Arthur as the day ends with an air of unspoken desire. Ao3 Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters TW: Brief mention of suicide, body image issues, eating disorder. Period typical racism. Tag List: @photo1030 @ariacherie @thatweirdcatlady **please let me know if you would like to be tagged in future chapters!

AN: Another long one, ~8k words. The end had me giggling and kicking my feet. I hope you enjoy! Comments and criticism are always welcome :) Story Tags: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character, Widowed, Original Character, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby Arthur Morgan, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Ch 11 - And Felt The Pulse Beat Fast

Kate and I met this strange young bastard, Beau, and his forbidden love Penelope. Poor kids are just lookin’ for freedom but they’re stuck in some old family feud they ain’t even a part of. We delivered some letters for them, Kate insisted on it. I gave her grief about it at first, but she was determined to go out of her way for these kids. Woman’s got a heart of gold.

Somehow, I ended up marching as a suffragette, the looks of loathing on the face of the locals amused me. I don’t know much about good causes, but I enjoyed my little experience riding alongside them. Kate showed me there’s more than one path, she chose to do the right thing and we still managed to gather some useful information.

She makes my head dizzy sometimes, this woman. Came right out and asked to kiss me again! I choked up bad. She’s always speaking her mind, like she ain’t afraid of nothing. I love that about her. I wanted to kiss her, but I knew I couldn’t. I just can not do that to her. She’s been through too much already, and she deserves a good man.

And I don’t deserve that kinda happiness.

Arthur woke the next morning with a heavy weight on his chest, the remnants of a sleepless night etched into the lines of his weary face. Kate's tender words echoed in his mind like a haunting melody, refusing to fade with the dawn. No one had spoken to him with such honesty and vulnerability in ages, and Arthur couldn't shake the memory of disappointment flickering in Kate's eyes when he couldn't reciprocate her feelings. As much as his heart longed to kiss and hold her again.

As he lay there, Arthur's thoughts drifted back to Mary, the woman he once loved. He recalled the night he proposed to her, the anticipation heavy in the air, only to be met with the sting of rejection. Mary wanted him to leave behind his life of danger, to embrace a quieter existence with her, far from the chaos of the gang. Arthur understood her desire for simplicity, but he couldn't abandon the gang; the family that needed him. He pleaded with Mary to join him, but she refused, unwilling to sever ties with her own family, especially her younger brother.

Now, years later, Arthur felt he had strayed too far down a path of darkness to ever deserve happiness again. The memory of Mary's rejection lingered as a painful reminder of his inability to change, to be the man she needed. He believed himself beyond redemption, resigned to a life devoid of the joy he once craved.

To his surprise, Kate appeared unfazed by Arthur's refusal the previous night. She greeted him in the morning with her usual warmth, as if their conversation had not left a lingering tension between them. They shared breakfast together, engaging in easy conversation that helped ease some of the weight on Arthur's shoulders. Kate mentioned that she had already discussed their findings with Hosea, who wanted to meet with Arthur later that evening regarding a potential job at the Braithwaite estate.

Her calm demeanor brought Arthur a sense of comfort amid his inner turmoil. As they finished their meal, Kate gracefully excused herself to resume her tasks with the other girls. She promised to join him for dinner as usual, maintaining their routine without skipping a beat. Arthur watched her go about her duties with a mixture of admiration and gratitude. Despite his fears of pushing her away, Kate seemed to understand. And didn’t think ill of him for it.

As the day unfolded, Arthur found himself immersed in a job orchestrated by Uncle—an opportunity to stage a simple yet lucrative payroll robbery. He teamed up with Charles and together they executed the heist with precision. The stagecoach robbery went off without a hitch, yielding a substantial sum that brought a brief sense of satisfaction to Arthur, feeling like a proper thief he was raised to be.

As the sun began its descent, Arthur sought out Hosea near the hidden stash of stolen moonshine. He detailed his failed attempt to sell back the stolen moonshine to the Braithwaites. Hosea recounted how they had approached the Braithwaite matriarch with an offer, only to be met with a cold rejection. The old woman haughtily declared that they deserved no reward for returning what she considered rightfully hers. Instead, in a spiteful act of retribution, she offered a meager ten dollars to distribute the moonshine for free at Mr. Gray's saloon.

Arthur was puzzled by the Braithwaite's response. Hosea clarified that it was a calculated move—a means of exacting revenge on the Grays and the town drunks. By turning the intoxicated patrons into even greater fools for the night, the Braithwaites hoped to incite chaos and leave Sheriff Gray to deal with the ensuing fallout.

Amidst the chaos of the moonshine-fueled night at Mr. Gray's saloon, Arthur assumed his familiar role as "Fenton," a persona he had adopted in previous schemes alongside Hosea. The act required him to play the part of Hosea’s younger idiot brother, who also happened to be mute. His only job was keeping glasses filled without uttering a single word. Though Arthur despised the charade, he couldn't suppress a chuckle at the absurdity of their antics—the lengths they would go to for a successful heist.

Draped in the guise of Fenton, Arthur navigated the rowdy patrons, handing out moonshine liberally as the atmosphere inside the saloon grew increasingly raucous. The scene was a stark reminder of earlier days, when he and Hosea were younger and life seemed simpler, despite the risks they took.

As the night wore on, the situation escalated when Sheriff Gray himself appeared, prompting Hosea and Arthur to spring into action. Shots rang out, echoing through the old saloon as lawmen pursued them. With practiced ease, they slipped through the back door, disappearing into the shadows and swiftly making their way to the waiting wagon. In the chaos that ensued, Arthur expertly handled their pursuers while Hosea skillfully guided the reins.

A small shootout erupted as the Grays chased them through the winding back roads and fields leading out of Rhodes. Arthur remained focused, taking down their adversaries while Hosea expertly navigated the terrain. The tension was palpable, the thrill of the night's escapade mingling with the danger of their flight.

Approaching the train tracks, Arthur spotted a train. With precise timing, they crossed just as the locomotive barreled through, cutting off their pursuers. The lawmen were left stranded on the other side, unable to follow.

Once they were safely beyond reach, away from the danger that had pursued them, laughter erupted between Arthur and Hosea. It was a release of pent-up tension, the adrenaline-fueled joy of a successful escape mingling with the shared camaraderie of outlaws.

“Remind me to never take up a career in…what was it? Bartending,” Arthur chuckled, glancing back at the remaining clinking bottles they were unable to distribute.

“I didn’t know they’d throw so much of a fuss over booze, this town is odd,” Hosea answered, shaking his head as he cracked the reins of the wagon.

Arthur furrowed his brow, considering the surplus moonshine. “What should we do with all the shine we still have left?”

Hosea’s expression turned grim. “That miserable Braithewaite woman wants us to burn the Grays' tobacco fields with it, I was hoping you and Sean could handle that tomorrow night.”

“Damn, ain’t that makin’ a bit too much noise? I thought we were tryin’ to lay low in all this. These fellas may be drunks and racists, but they ain’t afraid to kill, you saw them back there,” Arthur expressed his concern.

Hosea sighed, revealing a hint of hesitation. “Dutch thinks there's money in this somewhere. His plan is to get them all riled up on each other and use that as an opportunity to slip in and rob ‘em.”

Arthur fell silent, contemplating the dangerous path they were treading by getting involved in a longstanding blood feud. “Things could get real ugly, Hosea. Do you really think one of these families is sitting on a pile of money?”

“Can’t say. But the cash box is getting full again, Arthur. We’ve been doing well on making money. With just a bit more cash, we’ll be out of here,” Hosea replied, injecting a note of hope into the conversation. Sensing Arthur's unease, he changed the subject. “Kate told me about your adventures yesterday. How are things going between you two?”

As their wagon rattled down the road, illuminated by the soft glow of the full moon, Arthur felt a sense of comfort settle over him. He glanced over at Hosea, his trusted father figure, and knew that he could confide in him about anything. The old man had a way of understanding Arthur's thoughts and feelings without needing them spelled out.

Arthur shifted uneasily in his seat, rubbing his palms together nervously, the words weighing heavily on his mind. It wouldn't escape Hosea's notice that Arthur was quite sweet on Kate. After all, it had been Hosea's idea to pair them up for the day, hoping to give Arthur a chance to spend time with her away from the group.

“I kissed her the other night, when she was singin’ a lullaby for Jack,” Arthur began, the words spilling out into the night air like a secret long kept.“She… she wanted to kiss me again today and, I really wanted to, but I had to let her down easy,” He glanced over at Hosea, seeking some semblance of understanding in the old man's eyes.

Hosea raised an eyebrow in surprise, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “You kissed her and ditched her? I thought I raised you better, son,” he teased, his tone light but laced with curiosity.

Arthur chuckled, though there was a tinge of self-deprecation in his amusement. “I know, I’m dumber than a bag of rocks.”

Hosea patted Arthur's shoulder reassuringly, his touch grounding. “You may be good at playing an idiot like Fenton,” he remarked, referencing their recent job, “but you’re a smart boy. What harm could come if you just let it happen and see where it takes you?”

With a heavy sigh, Arthur leaned back in the seat, his gaze drifting up to the blinking stars above, memories of Kate’s confession flooding his thoughts. “I just don’t wanna hurt her. And… I don’t wanna feel that kinda hurt again.”

Nodding in understanding, Hosea's expression softened with a paternal concern for the young cowboy. “I’m not gonna live forever, son. I’d just like to see you be happy with someone before I go.”

“I was happy once. I had a woman who loved me, and she left me because I couldn’t change for her.” Arthur admitted, his voice giving away the deep sorrow he still harbored about his young love.

“Mary was a good woman, I did like her. You were both so young and naive, still navigating your own lives,” Hosea mused, his voice carrying the weight of hindsight. His gaze softened with memories. “But I don’t think she was the right one for you. She couldn’t tame that wild heart of yours.”

Arthur listened, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, the wagon jostling over uneven terrain. “Sometimes, I feel like I can’t even tame it myself,” he confessed, his tone tinged with resignation.

Hosea's eyes twinkled with a knowing glint. “That's why you need someone strong enough to stand in the ring with you,” he remarked, his voice brimming with wisdom, “and face down the beast with a heart just as wild.”

Arthur nodded slowly, the words sinking in like stones dropped into a still pond. He mulled over Hosea's advice, feeling the weight of his own heart's desires. The night enveloped them in a cocoon of shared understanding, the stars above bearing witness to their quiet contemplation.

Arthur’s confession hung heavy in the air, his words weighed down by the burden of his past. “Once she knows what I’ve done, I don’t think she can forgive me for it,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, like a man confessing his sins.

Hosea let out a light scoff, his eyes bright with a hint of amusement. “Son, your bounty has been posted in almost every town in the west,” he remarked wryly. “She knows we’re outlaws, I think she’s probably aware you’ve killed some folk.”

Shaking his head slowly, Arthur gathered his thoughts, his gaze fixed on the horizon ahead. “No, no it ain’t that,” he muttered, his words heavy with hesitation. Taking a deep breath, he continued, “Kate told me ‘bout her family, how they all passed from accidents or disease. She even had to bury her own daughter. I just…” His voice trailed off, grappling with the weight of his own truth. “I just don’t know how to tell her about my own. About my son, Isaac. Or Eliza.”

Hosea leaned back against the wagon’s seat, his expression thoughtful. “What’s stopping you from telling her? That’s something you two have in common,” he pointed out gently.

“Because I–I can’t tell her I’m the reason they’re dead,” Arthur confessed, his voice thick with emotion. “Family means so much to her, she’d never forgive me for throwing it away.”

The old man regarded Arthur with a mixture of sympathy and understanding. “Son, if you’re so worried about her turning the other cheek on you, I think you need to tell her the truth,” Hosea advised, his tone earnest. “She’s going to find out eventually, and you know she’s a smart woman. She understands what you are and still chooses to be by your side. And I’d be surprised if she draws the line at something that happened in the past. You're too hard on yourself, Arthur. What happened to Eliza and Isaac was terrible, but it was not your fault.”

Arthur rarely spoke about his son, Isaac, even with Hosea, his closest confidant. The weight of their deaths bore heavily on his heart, like an anchor dragging him into the depths of guilt and regret. Isaac's passing had transformed Arthur into a different man, one hardened by grief and the burden of responsibility.

Hosea had witnessed the change in Arthur firsthand. Before the tragedy that befell Eliza and Isaac, Arthur was more carefree, with a spark of youthful innocence in his eyes. But as time wore on, a darkness crept into his demeanor, a shadow that never quite lifted. He carried their deaths like a scar, a permanent mark etched upon his soul.

In moments of vulnerability, Arthur would let slip glimpses of his sorrow, revealing the cracks in his stoic facade. He blamed himself for their deaths, convinced that if he had been a better man, a different man, things might have turned out differently. It was a burden he carried alone, tucked away behind layers of bravado and hardened resolve.

Hosea understood the depth of Arthur's pain, but he also recognized the resilience that lay beneath. Arthur's reluctance to share his grief spoke volumes about the depth of his sorrow. It was a wound that time could not heal, a wound that had shaped the man Arthur had become.

As the wagon turned down the familiar winding road that led to their camp, the night's chorus surrounded them with the faint hum of a crackling fire and the warm glow as it cast dancing shadows across the clearing.

Arthur broke the moment of silence, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "I should’ve been there for them, Pa," he confessed, his eyes fixed on the dark silhouette of the trees passing by.

Hosea sighed, the years etched into the lines of his face. "Yes, son, but life has a way of throwing us off course, even when we try our best," he replied, his voice carrying the weight of wisdom earned through hardship. "This world can be cruel, as you well know."

"I can’t be a bad man and expect good things like Kate to happen to me. It just don’t work that way," Arthur continued, his words laced with self-doubt.

Hosea placed a reassuring hand on Arthur's shoulder, his touch a welcome comfort. "Kate sees something good in you, son," his tone was gentle yet firm. "Maybe it's time you started seeing it too."

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Kate scrubbed diligently, the soap creating frothy suds as she ran the bar along the stretched cotton over the washboard. She sat on a small stool in the shade beneath a sprawling tree, her trousers dotted with darkened spots from the splashing water. The air was heavy with heat, but the coolness of the water in the small washtub offered a brief respite. With each steady motion, her fingers became slightly more pruned from the repeated immersion.

Beside her, Mary-Beth was busy ringing out the soapy cloth and dipping it into a clean bucket, the rhythmic process mirroring Kate's own. The girls found solace in their shared task, engaged in easy conversation to while away the chore.

“So,” Kate began, a mischievous glint in her eye, “I saw you talking to Kieran the other day. Want to spill the beans on what’s really going on there?” She nudged Mary-Beth playfully with her knee.

The young girl looked down, a faint blush tinting her cheeks as she tried to hide her face from Kate's teasing gaze. “He was just curious about the book I was reading, that’s all,” she admitted bashfully, her voice carrying a hint of embarrassment.

Kate knew Mary-Beth's romantic tendencies well. From the moment they met, it was clear that she had a penchant for love affairs and romantic tales—her nose buried in romance novels and dreams of penning her own someday.

“That’s all?” Kate teased, a playful glint in her eye. “I see you watching him groom those horses every day. Somebody's got eyes for the O’Driscoll boy,” she added, splashing a bit of water in jest.

Mary-Beth retaliated with a laugh, “He ain’t an O’Driscoll!” Her grin gave away any attempt at concealing her feelings. She glanced over towards the horses, and Kate followed her gaze to where Kieran Duffy was tending to the animals. “He’s been talkin’ to me a lot recently. I just think he’s sweet.”

Kate's eyes lingered on the scene, noticing Lenny and Javier saddling their horses nearby, while John caught her gaze as he approached them.

Just as Kate was about to respond, John called out to her, “Kate! You busy right now?”

She looked up, eyes squinting as the sun glowed behind his frame. She gestured with open palms towards the wash bin. “You need somethin’?” she asked.

John tipped his hat to Mary-Beth, who waved politely in return. “We’re heading out to the Braithwaite manor to check out some horses. Thought you might wanna come,” he explained, nodding back to where Lenny and Javier were waiting.

Kate chuckled, her tone lighthearted. “You plan on stealing them or something?”

John crossed his arms casually, “well, you know,” he trailed, “if the opportunity presents itself.” Not bothering to hide their dubious intentions. Kate has to remind herself sometimes that she is running with outlaws. For them, a job doesn't mean checking out the goods, it means stealing goods.

He cleared his throat and explained the situation seriously, “some fella from the Gray family told us he’d pay to have their horses stolen. Also mentioned they go for $1000 a piece.”

Kate raised a brow of suspicion, “and you believe him?”

John only shrugged, “it's worth looking into.”

She waved him off with a touch of concern, “I don’t want no trouble John, I’m sure you boys will manage fine without me.”

John persisted, his voice reassuring. “It won’t be no trouble at all. We’ll be in and out, they won’t even know we’re there,” he said, adding an enticing detail, “word is they got some pretty nice gypsy horses. Real purebreds too.”

Kate found herself caught in the web of temptation. Stealing horses was not something she relished, but the promise of seeing such a purebred up close was alluring. If they pulled it off successfully, she knew the money would help the gang alot. She figured it wouldn't be so bad to help them in one little heist.

As if Mary-Beth could sense her conflicting ideas, she interrupted the silence, "I can finish up here, Kate. You should go. They'll have a better chance of pulling it off with you." She winked knowingly, seeming to support Kate's unspoken decision.

She made up her mind, fixing John with a pointed look. "No trouble," she repeated firmly, more as a command than a question.

"No trouble," John assured her with a nod of understanding.

Kate wiped her damp arms across her shirt, bidding Mary-Beth farewell and promising to catch up with her later. As she approached her midnight mare, the horse whinnied in recognition, sensing the upcoming adventure. Javier and Lenny greeted her from their saddles, both looking ready for action.

Javier tipped his hat with a charming smile. "Nice of you to join us, cariño," he said, his tone warm and inviting.

Kate swiftly mounted her horse, adjusting herself in the saddle. "You boys better hope this goes smoothly," she remarked with a playful smirk, her eyes scanning the group with a hint of caution.

Lenny rode his stallion closer to Kate's, "I gotta say, having you with us doubles our luck, don't you think?" he replied, his tone light-hearted but with an underlying sense of confidence.

She smiled fondly. Together the four of them took off down the lush green path and onto the dirt road. Kate was glad for the invitation, it made her feel good that the gang trusted her enough to include her in such tasks, that they were confident in her ability to work alongside them. She felt a new sense of trust among them, and camaraderie. She felt like she was becoming a real member, and not just some lone traveler like she had been nearly a month ago.

The journey to the Braithwaite manor was uneventful, the cool breeze of the afternoon air was refreshing against their skin as they rode. As they arrived at the manor from the south side, away from the prying gaze of the property guards. The grand estate loomed before them, a testament to the family's wealth and power. They dismounted their horses in a secluded spot, ensuring they wouldn't draw too much attention.

Kate's mind wandered briefly, wondering if Penelope would be out in her gazebo enjoying the afternoon sun.

John's voice interrupted her thoughts, his tone matter-of-fact as he laid out the plan. "Let's keep this nice and easy. No need to rush. We're here on behalf of a buyer, looking to make a significant investment," he explained as they followed him toward the barn.

Outside the stable doors, a worker paused in his tasks, eyeing them with suspicion. "Can I help you fellas?" he asked, his tone wary.

"I hope so," John replied amiably, trying to appear non-threatening. "Heard you got some horses?"

"We always got horses," the man responded gruffly.

"Fine horses, I mean," John clarified.

The worker's expression soured, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at the group. "I don't know whatchu’ talkin' 'bout, friend. Why don't you take that hoyden wench, yer greaser buddy, and his darkie friend and get off the property ‘fore I blow your face off," he retorted, spitting at their feet.

Kate raised her eyebrows in surprise at the man's unabashed racism and arrogance toward strangers. Suddenly understanding Tilly’s hesitation about being so far south. Javier quickly raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Whoa, take it easy there, amigo," he interjected, trying to diffuse the tension.

John remained unfazed by the man's hostility. "Come on now, partner. We're just looking to do some business. Inquire about a purchase," he persisted.

The worker let out an annoyed sigh. "Fine, follow me, Scarface," he grumbled, the insults never ceasing.

The ranch hand, ever welcoming, led them into the barn, his voice a steady stream of information about the horses—names, breeds, and abilities. She noticed they were not the purebreds John had heard rumors about. Still beautiful, strong horses nonetheless.

Kate observed John and Javier exchanging a look as they walked deeper into the dimly lit space. When the man paused to pet a horse, John subtly motioned to Javier, who deftly moved behind the unsuspecting worker.

Meanwhile, Lenny smoothly interjected with feigned interest. "Wow, look at the balls on that one," he chuckled, pointing in another direction. The ranch hand followed his gaze, oblivious to the danger lurking behind him.

With his back turned, Javier seized the opportunity, drawing his pistol from his belt. "Greaser, huh?" he muttered bitterly before striking the bottom of the iron against the man's head, knocking him out instantly. John and Javier wasted no time, swiftly moving the unconscious body to a hidden spot while Lenny began unlocking the stable gates.

Kate stood in stunned silence for a moment, her voice barely audible as she tried to suppress her surprise. "What happened to nice and easy?" she muttered.

Her comment elicited a chuckle from Lenny, who had already mounted one of the horses. "Can't get any easier than this. Let’s try to get 'em out of here without drawing too much attention," he replied casually.

Despite her swirling thoughts and unease, Kate pushed her concerns aside and mounted one of the horses. Following the three bandits out of the barn, she joined them as they sped off through the sprawling property, the rush of adrenaline mixing with a sense of trepidation.

The thundering hooves of their stolen horses echoed through the property. Behind them, shouts and the pounding of boots indicated that their presence had been discovered. Several ranch hands emerged from the buildings, brandishing rifles and shouting warnings.

John, Kate, Javier, and Lenny spurred their horses into a full gallop, kicking up dust and dirt as they raced across the open fields. The pursuing ranch hands fired off a few rounds in their direction, but the distance and the speed of their mounts made accurate shooting difficult.

As they reached the fence at the edge of the property, they leapt over the barrier. The group plunged into a dense thicket of trees, the branches clawing at their faces and clothes. The sounds of pursuit faded behind them as the guards were forced to slow down and eventually give up the chase. They whistled loudly, and soon their own horses caught up and began to follow in tow.

Javier led the way as they made their way through the landscape to find the supposed buyers at Clemens Cove.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

The encounter with the buyers proved to be an intriguing yet unsettling experience. They were met by a pair of brothers who seemed to operate in uncanny harmony, sometimes speaking in unison and shrouding their business with secrecy. Details about their clientele and operations were kept hidden, with only a vague promise that one of them would be available for future dealings, if they wished to become business partners.

During the negotiation, one of the brothers made a direct offer to purchase Kate’s prized black Hungarian outright, offering her a substantial sum. However, Kate politely declined without hesitation. Her bond with the mare ran deep, and no amount of money could sway her decision to part with her cherished companion.

The brothers’ offer of 50 cents on the dollar for the stolen horses was not quite what John had anticipated, but it still amounted to a respectable deal given the circumstances.

After concluding their business at Clemens Cove, the posse set off back towards the rolling plains. The sun had dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm and serene glow over the lush green hills. Their horses trotted steadily along the trail as the landscape unfolded around them, painted in hues of amber and gold, as they made their way back to camp.

"Hoyden wench…" Kate echoed with a chuckle, mimicking the ranch hand's harsh drawl. "I've been called a lot of things, but that sure is a first."

Javier, riding alongside her, piped up from the saddle, his expression puzzled. "What the hell does that mean, anyway?"

Lenny let out an exasperated sigh. " 'Wench' was a term used by slavers for black women. And 'hoyden' means she's too much of a 'tomboy’,'' he explained.

"Well, I can understand the 'tomboy' part, but she's not even—"

"Doesn't matter, amigo," John interjected, his tone matter-of-fact. "If ya skin ain't as white as a baby's bottom, it's all the same to them."

Kate nodded in agreement, her thoughts drifting back to the locals she had observed while running letters with Arthur. Witnessing their prejudice up close and personal was a stark reminder of the challenges faced by Lenny and Tilly in this region. As a woman of Italian descent, her skin carried a honey-brown hue, bronzed by the Lemoyne sun. Even this slight difference posed a threat to the narrow-minded locals, a reality that churned her stomach with discomfort.

"I'm ‘bout ready to get the hell out of dodge," Lenny added, his voice tinged with exasperation. "Speakin’ of racist hillbillies, Javier and I are heading out to Shady Belle. Got a tip there's some raiders sittin’ on guns and ammo. You guys want in?" He turned to John and Kate with a casual invitation.

Kate shook her head, "thanks Lenny, but I think I'll pass this time."

John chimed in with a polite refusal. "As much as I love killing racists, I gotta get back to Abigail for dinner."

Javier and Lenny exchanged nods of understanding. "No worries, compadres," Javier replied. "We'll catch up with you later."

As they bid farewell, Kate and John veered onto the familiar dirt path that led back to Clemens Point.

The gentle melody of song birds and the steady pounding of hooves on the dry soil filled the atmosphere. Before they could approach the camp, John's voice broke the peaceful ambiance.

"Hey, I know I sound stupid for saying this, but thank you for being a friend to Abigail. All of this has been really hard on her," he explained, his tone earnest and reflective. He glanced ahead, his thoughts drifting to his woman back at camp. "I know it may not look like it, but I'm trying—I'm working on being the kind of father she wants me to be and the husband she needs."

Kate gave him a sympathetic look, her eyes softening. “You don't sound stupid, John. This life ain’t easy for nobody, especially when there's a child in the mix.” She was slightly surprised to hear him open up to her.

John sighed, his expression heavy with regret. “Still, I know you and I ain’t all that close, but, I did somethin’ pretty bad. I worry she might never forgive me for it.”

With a sideways glance, Kate nodded reluctantly. “Yeahhh, Abigail already told me ‘bout all that.”

“Shit, she did?” John's eyes widened in surprise.

She couldn't help but chuckle, a hint of mischief in her voice. “Oh yeah, she’s told me everything John.” Abigail didn't babble to Kate just for the sake of gossip; she understood that Abigail needed someone to confide in, someone to listen and truly hear her. She needed to feel seen, heard, and understood. Especially in times like these.

“Well goddamn, now I feel like a proper dumbass.”

“She still loves you, John, and your boy does too. But love doesn’t come for free—it takes a lot of effort. Keep pushin’ to be a better man, she sees your effort. I promise you.” Kate's words were gentle yet firm,

"Thanks, Kate. Say, you’ve been ridin’ with us for a while now. You think you’re stickin’ ‘round for the long haul?” John asked, his tone curious.

Kate shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. “I can’t say for certain. But for now, that’s the plan. Never thought I’d be workin’ with outlaws, but I guess it’s sometimes kinda fun,” she replied, hinting at their recent endeavor. Though petty horse theft was one thing, running from the law for murder was another.

“I noticed you and Arthur get along pretty well. He the reason you're stayin’ put?” John probed further. No doubt trying to get a grasp on his brother's affairs.

“Arthur’s a bit of a mystery to me. But we’re just friends, is all,” Kate answered, her tone casual yet guarded. She knew things between her and Arthur were only just beginning, but it was still undoubtedly complicated. The fact that some of the members had taken notice of their relationship sparked a tinge of worry.

“You’re a tough woman to read sometimes,” he smirked, the scar on his cheek crinkled slightly. “Well, whatever the case. Take care of yourself, ya hear?” He expressed a genuine smile as he rode ahead back into camp.

Kate followed behind, the aroma of Pearson’s signature stew filling her lungs with its savory fragrance. She left Lorena to graze peacefully among her own four-legged companions and headed toward the chuck wagon, eager to enjoy a well-earned meal after a day filled with adventure. The camp was alive with the usual sounds—crackling fire, distant chatter, and the occasional whinny of horses—creating a familiar and comforting backdrop to the evening.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

As Arthur returned to camp under the blanket of stars, the world seemed silent except for the faint rustle of night creatures and the distant crackle of a dying fire. He dismounted his mare with practiced quiet, the shadows of night his ally in avoiding unwanted company.

Exhaustion weighed heavily on him, his frustration palpable in the tight set of his jaw and the weariness etched in his movements. Tonight, he had no patience for idle chatter or bullshit from the guys. Especially the ones awake at this hour.

Burning the tobacco fields with Sean had proven to be no easy task. Though never any job orchestrated by Dutch ever was. It was nights like these where Arthur questioned when all the shooting and robbing would end. What the point of it all was.

Behind his tent, the open end of the wagon served as a makeshift wall. Arthur rummaged through crates, finding what he needed—a needle, thread, alcohol, and cloth. Wincing as he prodded the bullet graze just under his armpit.

“I’m gettin’ too old for this shit” he mumbled to himself.

Getting shot had never been part of Arthur's plan on any job. He prided himself on his quick draw and accuracy, always aiming to fire first and hit his mark before danger could strike him. But shooting under cover of night, navigating through a blazing tobacco field while avoiding being burned alive—such challenges could make even the finest gunslinger stumble.

The guards had descended upon them as soon as the smoke rose, but Sean had urged them to press on, insisting they keep pouring the moonshine without hesitation. Arthur couldn't help but worry that the young Irishman's ambition might one day lead him into an early grave.

Surprisingly, the only injury Arthur had sustained was a bullet graze, still needing a few stitches but nothing life-threatening. Meanwhile, Sean had returned unscathed, already regaling their escapade around the campfire with a bottle in hand.

Under the cool night air, Arthur peeled off his sweat-dampened shirt, the chill of the air contrasting sharply with the warmth of his body. The lantern's dim glow cast shadows, highlighting the glistening of sweat on his chest and stomach.

He dipped the cloth into the alcohol, its sharp scent biting into his senses. As he attempted to clean the wound tucked under his arm, frustration crept in. The injury was beyond his line of sight, a challenge exacerbated by his own size.

Placing one arm against the side of the wagon for support, Arthur tried again, unaware of Kate's quiet approach behind him amidst the backdrop of the night's stillness.

“Need some help there, big guy?” Kate's voice was endearing, soft, almost motherly. The tone made Arthur's knees weak and his face grow warm.

Startled, Arthur nearly leapt out of his skin, quickly lowering his arm and stepping back, almost out of the lamplight. The nickname, though used innocently, stirred something akin to shame in his belly.

"What're you doin' up?" Arthur asked, attempting to appear unbothered.

Kate shrugged, her demeanor relaxed. "Couldn’t sleep. I was brushing Lorena when I saw you come in. Figured I’d say hi," she explained. "You want some help with that?" She gestured to where small trickles of blood traced down his side, her eyes lingering slowly over his bare torso.

If it weren’t for the cover of night, Kate would have seen the deep blush that crept up to his ears. "I think I’ll be alright," Arthur managed, his mouth suddenly dry.

Kate took a step closer, her gaze shifting to his shirt hanging from the side of the wagon, a round, deep red stain contrasting against its usual pale blue.

"Well, it sure don't look alright," she noted, her eyes returning to his side. "Tough spot to reach too."

Arthur's breath quickened. "I’m fine, don’t worry 'bout me," he replied, a hint of nervousness creeping into his tone.

Kate only brushed him off with a playful wave of her arm, “oh quit it! You stitched me up before, let me return the favor.” Before Arthur could react she placed a gentle hand on his bicep, “here, turn around.” She said quietly.

He complied, turning his back to her. His body froze when her fingers returned with the wet alcohol cloth. Barely noticing the sting, as her hands alone felt like fire against his cold skin. Her warmth is intoxicating.

A moment's silence embraced them, and Arthur prayed she couldn’t hear the beat of his heart as it raced in his chest.

Her words startled him from his thoughts, “see, ain’t so bad,” her tone soft like she was comforting a child. “Why’d ya hesitate?” A hint of curiosity and concern filled her voice from behind him.

Arthur lowered his head slightly, “I um, well I know I ain’t much to look at.” He mumbled.

Kate continued to clean his wound tenderly, “what do you mean by that?”

He let out a deep sigh, there was no point in being dishonest with her, “I…I just don’t like folk seein’ me without a shirt. I ain’t what I used to be. I’m gettin’ old, gettin’ heavy too.” His hand subconsciously rubbed over his belly.

Arthur's weight was his biggest insecurity, a constant reminder of his struggles and the pain he carried. Years had passed since Eliza and Isaac's deaths, but part of him had withered away back then. The guilt had gnawed at him, devouring his spirit day by day. He sought solace in alcohol, drowning himself in the numbness it offered. His relationship with food became a twisted dance of indulgence and deprivation.

Some days, he ate to fill the emptiness inside, seeking comfort in the fleeting sensation of fullness. Other days, food seemed an enemy, a symbol of his lack of control. He despised his belly, the way it was soft and curved, a stark contrast to the man he once knew in the mirror. His size served as a relentless reminder of his deepest failure, haunting him with each glance.

Each morning he woke, Arthur grappled with the weight of existence. The world, in its merciless ways, kept him breathing, a living monument to his own remorse. He often wondered if the world would be better off without him, a sentiment that lingered like a dark cloud over his soul.

Kate sensed Arthur's tension, the silent turmoil that echoed beneath the pads of her fingers as she tended to his wound. She felt the subtle movement of his muscles, synchronized with the rise and fall of his breath. "You're a strong man, Arthur. Age and scars don't make you any less handsome," she reassured him with genuine honesty, her voice a soothing balm.

With practiced ease, Kate finished cleaning his wound and reached for the needle and thread. She gently maneuvered his arm to rest on the side of the wagon, adjusting her position for a better angle to begin stitching. Arthur's nerves betrayed him, his hand clenching into a tight fist at his side as he tried to compose himself. His head felt dizzy, as if he had been holding his breath all this time.

"I reckon you're just sayin' that to be kind," Arthur finally admitted, his self-doubt palpable in the air.

Kate chuckled softly, the sound carrying warmth and sincerity. "I've met my fair share of ugly bastards in my lifetime, but believe me, you are certainly not one of them," she assured him, her voice like a gentle flame against his skin. Her words were a rare gift, stirring something deep within him that he had long kept hidden. Arthur closed his eyes briefly, letting her words sink in.

"You're a very handsome cowboy, wrinkles, scars, size and all. I think you're a lovely man," Kate affirmed, her words carrying a sincerity that tugged at Arthur's heart. "Besides, I know I'm not the picturesque woman myself. I'm no stranger to the cruel effects of time and livin' rough. Today, I was even called a ‘hoyden wench’ by some bona fide racist ranch hand," she added with a light laugh, as if brushing off the insult.

Kate had a way of making Arthur feel like they had known each other for a lifetime. Since the day she opened up to him about her life, she had been unapologetically honest with him. It was as if she already knew she could trust him with her personal tragedies.

Hosea's words echoed in Arthur's mind, a comforting reminder of the wisdom his old father figure imparted. Hosea simply wanted happiness for him—not wealth in money, but richness in love. He wanted Arthur to find purpose and meaning in life, to share that journey with another soul.

As Kate's needle deftly worked the thread through his skin, Arthur felt a warmth bloom in his chest. Kate's words eased a heavy burden, if only momentarily.

He shrugged his shoulders slightly, summoning the courage to speak. “Well, I’ll say this. There ain’t nothin’ wrong with a lady who can hold her own,” he began, his voice laced with sincerity. “You’ve got a strength and beauty that’s hard to come by. I think it’s pretty admirable.”

Kate giggled softly, the sound sending a warm flutter through Arthur’s chest. “Thanks, Arthur. First time I’ve heard that in a while,” she replied, her eyes meeting his.

Arthur marveled at how he had summoned the courage to kiss her the other night, feeling as if he could barely face her now. Yet, if she leaned in to kiss him at this moment, he knew he would succumb to his desire, despite what he had told her before. She lit a fire in him.

“S’true. You’re the prettiest girl in the whole damn holler,” Arthur said, unable to hide the light chortle that escaped him.

Kate leaned closer, her breath tickling his neck as she whispered, “You have quite a sweet side, Arthur. I adore that about you,” her hand lightly squeezing his arm.

His heart swelled, and Arthur knew this was the moment. He needed to tell her, despite the nerves that threatened to overpower him. Hosea may have been right; she had stayed by his side despite everything. But as he searched for the words, unsure of how to broach the subject, his nerves got the better of him once again. There was never an easy way to say it. Just the memories of them alone felt like acid in his throat.

Kate took a step back, placing her tools down on the back of the wagon. “I reckon I’m about done stitching this. Try to stay out of the crossfire next time, yeah?” She teased, holding up his bloody shirt with a knowing look as she handed it back to him.

Arthur felt a pang of regret. “Wasn’t my intention to get shot,” he admitted, his voice tinged with frustration. He slipped the shirt over his shoulders, tugging the sleeves down his arms.

“Nobody intends to get shot,” Kate mused, taking a step back to give him space.

Turning to face her, Arthur was struck by the sight of her eyes, a sadness that mirrored his own that evening under the moonlit sky when they kissed. His heart throbbed at the sight. Since the day he met her at Emerald Ranch, she had a welcoming presence that drew him in, along with a deep sorrow that resonated with his own. It was as if she knew him before she even met him.

He looked down, running a hand over the back of his neck. “I appreciate your help, darlin’,” he murmured. Then, letting out a deep breath, he added, “though, I really don’t deserve it.”

Kate brushed off his self-doubt. “Don’t fuss over it, Arthur. I’m here whenever you need a hand,” she assured him. “I think you should get some rest though; from Sean’s stories, it sounds like it’s been a long day.”

Arthur nodded silently, watching as Kate bid him farewell and faded back into the night. His heart silently begged, please don’t go. But she was gone, leaving him alone with his thoughts under the blanket of stars.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate lay beneath the star-studded sky, her eyes fixed on the milky purple and white swirl above, like celestial clouds in motion. Her heart echoed the rhythm of hooves against her ribs. Thoughts of Arthur filled her mind, his presence vivid in her thoughts.

The image of his body lingered before her, along with the stories he shared about himself. A longing surged within her to reveal how beautiful she found him, to explore him with kisses and her wandering hands.

Patience wavered as a persistent ache in her belly reminded her of the closeness she craved. Intimate moments with Arthur kindled her core, igniting a blaze of desire. Each quiet, vulnerable encounter with him deepened their connection. Funny how his true colors always showed when he was alone with her.

Kate smiled to herself, feeling a rush of desire she hadn't known for what felt like a century. As good as she was on her own. She felt like life had finally granted her an anecdote to her lonely heart.

---

AN: Phew, its out there. I know that was pretty dialogue heavy, so I hope I didn't bore you guys. Next chapter is going to be a long one, and may take me awhile. But it will be worth it, I promise!

As always, thanks for all the love!

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miloformula123fan · 1 day

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Could you do fic for James Vowles with wife reader? With her being in the Williams garage, she witnessed Alex and Danny incident at the Japan GP and was so worried about them that she ended up going to James at the pitwall for his comfort. He decided to hug her while calming her down and going to both of the drivers to make sure they're okay. Just something fluff and little angst. Add something if you want to. Thanks!! :)))

what is it with me only getting these fics out like 2-3 weeks after the race, anyway, it's again so short but my mental health is suffering right now, so, and im happy with it the length it is.

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

and if you want to be added to my taglist let me know :)

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“Come on Logan, show ‘em why you deserved to be in the car last weekend.”

Logan nodded as he pulled his helmet on and gave a thumbs up and a fist bump to Y/N. It was her first weekend at the grand prix, as she preferred to stay at home, and let James call her to give her an update. But James had been pleading with her to come ‘just once’ and after the disaster weekend they’d had in Australia, she had braved the timezone and flown out for Japan.

She sat down on the folding chairs with the rest of the pit crew, while PR managers and assistants and anyone who liked James, which was 90% of the garage, was trying to persuade her to sit on a more comfortable chair. She shook her head smiling, insisting she was fine as long as she wasn’t in the way, on the folding chair, with the pit crew.

James shook his head fondly, gazing at his wife as she chatted to Alex’s race engineer, before he slung his headset on and walked out to the pit wall.

Unfortunately the joy in the Williams garage lasted all of about 1 corner. A cheer erupted as they all got through turn 1 okay, but it was yelled too soon.

“As they make their way through AND OFF INTO THE WALL, off into the wall goes the 2 cars, and a big crash into the tire barrier,”

“Yeah, that’s going to be an immediate safety car, a heavy impact for Ricciardo and Albon…”

“Red flag, red flag.”

Y/N could see the anger as the mechanics grew angry, yelling stuff, but it all felt muffled underwater, as the camera cut to a replay of the crash. She sat there, staring as she watched Daniel and Alex’s cars clobber the barriers again.

So much for good luck this weekend. She watched as Daniel hopped out of the car, and she saw that Alex was having a little trouble due to the tyres almost balanced perfectly on his halo.

She heard the other cars filtering into the pits and as the pit crews dash around the cars Y/N escape through the garage and up to the pit wall, where she spotted James chatting to some of the other mechanics. She quickly crossed the pit lane and hopped up to the pitwall.

“Hey darling, what are you doing here?”

Y/N didn’t know what to say to that. What was she doing here? She looked at her husband trying to convey all of her current thoughts through her eyes. Thankfully he seemed to get the message and embraced her in a hug.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry, they’re both fine, they’re both okay. The red flag is because the barrier is destroyed and they’ll be here before the end of the red flag, okay? I’m sorry darling, that must have been terrifying to see that crash, especially when you have no information. How about you stay here, I think Alex and Daniel will come from there,” he pointed somewhere, Y/N wasn’t paying attention properly “so they’ll walk past here and you can see that they’re completely safe and sound.”

Y/N nodded at that, and snuggled in further to her husband’s embrace as he asked about tyres for Logan’s restart and discussed new strategy, keeping an eye out for the 2 drivers.

come walking down the pit lane. She careful extracted herself from James’ embrace, he nodded as he saw the 2 drivers arriving.

Y/N ran over and embraced them both in a hug, ignoring the commentators comments of ‘mom’ and ‘awwww’ and she pulled them in close and started rambling

“Oh my god, are you okay, that was a big crash, are you sure you don’t need to go to the medical centre, wait, hang on, what’s the test, uuhhhh, how many fingers am i holding up?”

“2, Y/N, relax, we’re okay.” Daniel put a hand on her shoulder

“Y/N breathe okay, I know that was a big crash and that I think was your first big crash while being here, so I’d imagine it's a little scary, but it’s okay. We’re both okay, Daniel and I in one piece.” Alex pulled her into a hug, before releasing her.

Y/N didn’t trust her voice, just nodding and furiously wiping away at the tears falling down her face.

“C’mon, I’ll get you back to James and then by the time the red flag is over, I’ll be back from media and we can watch the race together, okay?”

Y/N nodded again, smiling more than she was as Alex led her back to James.

“Keep her safe until I get back, yeah boss?”

“Oh come on Alex, you don’t trust me with my own wife?”

---

taglist: @leosxrealm, @tallrock35, @wolf-knights, @janeholt3, @pear-1206

#f1 x reader #miloformula123fan #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #james vowles x reader #james vowles #james vowles fanfic #james vowles fic #james vowles x female reader #james vowles x you #james vowles x y/n

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glutengoblin · 2 days

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Too Sweet (Part 2) - Sebastian Sallow X Reader

A/N: Apologies for the delay! As a Ravenclaw dealing with finals, I spent waaaaay too long in the library this past week. Here's part 2!

This story is inspired by "Too Sweet" by Hozier, which I have been playing on repeat for days at this point.

Also, if you'd like to be friends, please reach out! I would love to get to know you!

Summary: Sebastian has a problem, and that problem is his best friend. She is simply too sweet for him, and can't get her out of his head. Will he do something about his feelings, or choose to continue to keep them a secret? (She/Her Pronouns, House Neutral)

Word Count: 1.7 K

Ominis stared at his friend with surprise, trying to determine if he was actually meant to be taken seriously. Sebastian laughed at his expression- despite the fact that his stomach felt more queasy than it ever had, he settled on his decision.

“I mean, with graduation coming up, it's now or never, correct?” With that, Sebastian downed the last of his butterbeer in one fell swoop and stood up. Thankfully, years of downing fire whiskey after quidditch games had steeled him against the effects of alcohol, so for the most part, he was stable.

He turned around and surveyed the party, which had grown exponentially in rowdiness. Poppy was toppled over with laughter at something Garreth had said, with Natty by right by her side. Imelda actually stood on a table, chanting the Holyhead Harpies main cheer (apparently, she had just been accepted to the team that day). Even Amit appeared drunk, as he tried to explain the merits of astrology to Everett, who looked surprisingly okay with the topic of conversation.

When his eyes finally fell on Y/N, he grew a bit hot under the collar. She was sitting on a table, swinging her legs back and forth in her gleeful way. What Sebastian didn’t like was the cause of that glee, which was Andrew Larson, clearly telling that most fascinating joke. He was leaned ever so close to her, in a way that was awfully suggestive- and Sebastian hated it.

Sebastian stalked over, trying to flash his most charming smile, even though his anger was beginning to seep through. Truly, he didn’t adore the idea of Y/N being with some other than him.

As he approached, Y/N flashed him the most glorious smile. “Sebastian! I was hoping you’d come join. Andrew was just telling me about a new quidditch move he’s developing. I think its a brilliant idea.”

Andrew turned to look at Sebastian, his smile falling a bit as he examined his impression. “Y/N, I’m not sure its exactly information I want a Slytherin, of all people, to be privy too.” Andrew let out a chuckle, clearly trying to play it off as a joke.

Sebastian’s smile faded to a scowl, as he took a step closer, evidently sizing Andrew up. “And what exactly is wrong with being a Slytherin?” He quirked his head to the side, giving his best lost puppy expression, fanning ignorance to the fact that he knew exactly what Andrew had met.

Y/N threw a worried look between them, scooting off the table. “Hey, guys I don’t think that-” Andrew cut her off by giving her a hand, and giving Sebastian a scowl that rivaled his own.

“Perhaps I should clarify my statement Sallow. Its not so much that you’re Slytherin, as it is the fact that you’re you-” Sebastian gritted his teeth, clearly gearing up for the altercation that as about to ensue.

“Then what about me specifically-”

“I just think you’re an untrustworthy person. I mean, constantly up in the middle of the night, the way you’ve acted since your sister left- even she seems to think that you’re not worth associating with anymore-” Though Sebastian wasn’t proud of his next move, he was even less proud of what occurred after.

Sebastian lunged, socking Andrew with a fist straight to the eye. Stumbling back, Andrew drew his wand and threw a cast that Sebastian took straight to the chest, causing him to go flying back against the tables.

A hushed silence fell over the room as every onlooker watch the bar fight unfold in front of them. Sebastian lunged and Andrew, tackling him to ground as Andrew cried out. They rolled around on the floor, trying land more hits until Y/N finally drew her wand.

In an instant, the two men were floating in mid air, tethered in what Sebastian knew to be ancient magic. As soon as the shock from being lifted wore off, he took note of her expression. Y/N looked pissed- more than he had ever seen her.

Crossing her arms across her chest, she shot them both icy glares, before finally speaking. “ENOUGH! You two need to promise to stop acting like petulant children, and then I’ll put you down.” Evidently, both of them knew what was good for them as they nodded sheepishly. Lowering them both to the ground, Y/N then approached Sebastian. “You- Come with me.” Grabbing his upper arm, she lead him out onto the streets of Hogsmeade and to the nearest floo flame, muttering all the while.

Thankfully for his sake, she waited until they had arrived at her room of requirement before she lost her mind at him. “What the hell were you thinking Sebastian! Punching Larson? You’re already on thin ice with Weasley about the time you got in a brawl with Garreth after potions, what made you think it was a good idea to try a repeat!” Sebastian scowled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well, I wouldn’t have punched the git if he hadn’t said those things about Anne. I mean come on Y/N, you heard what he said.” Y/N turned away, rummaging through one of her potions stations as she muttered to herself. Eventually, she returned with a cloth and deep blue potion, which she gently dabbed onto the wound on his forehead.

“I know Sebastian- Andrew was completely out of line. But still, violence is never the answer to your problems.” Sebastian snorted at that.

“That’s rich coming from you of all people. The girl who has probably killed more goblins than most aurors.” He retorted, gaining him a slap on the arm that made him yelp. She gave him a glare worth of rivaling Professor Sharp’s.

“You know what I mean Sebastian. I don’t know what I would do if you got expelled, and given your last insurrection you’re closer than ever to achieving that goal.” Sebastian let out a chuckle, pushing her hand away from his forehead.

“Has anyone ever told you that you worry too much?” That statement only earned him a shake of her head and scowl. Honestly, he found it weirdly attractive when she angry- it was so unlike her normal sweet expression.

Y/N let out a sigh of relief as his wound finally began to close up. Sebastian could have sworn that he imagined the next words out of her mouth, because that would be a more reasonable, logical explanation. However, he most certainly didn’t.

“Only about you…”

“What do you mean by that?” Their faces were rather close at this point, likely from her trying to ensure that his wound was properly tended to. Sebastian, however, let himself hope for a second that it was because she longed to close the distance as much as he did.

She let out another sigh, as she searched his eyes for the answer he was hoping to hear. “I suppose you could say… I care about you more than I really do for anyone else.” Sebastian eyebrows shot up at her admittance - could it possibly be that she returned his feelings? While still not sure, he had promised Ominis that he would finally do something about his pesky crush. Now seemed as good of a time as any.

“I-I… I care for you more than I do anyone else too… in a romantic sense-” Sebastian admitted, his hand traveling up to her cheek as he waited in quiet an anticipation. “Sorry if that was too rushed, or not romantic enough. I just don’t really know how else to say it.”

Her voice quivered a bit as the full weight of his words hit her, cause a wild blush to travel over her cheeks. “Really? You-You have feelings for me?”

“Really. Would it be alright if I-” Sebastian’s request was cut off as her lips crashed into his. Gone was the girl who had been so delicate with his injured self mere seconds ago. Instead, she was replaced with a someone that seemed to want this as desperately as him, as her hands found purchase in his hair, pulling him further into her.

Sebastian could swear his heart was exploding in his chest. The fact that after everything that had transpired, everything since 5th year, that she still wanted him- he was astounded. It was right then and there that he thanked Salazar for this chance, and swore that he would try his absolute best not to mess this up.

Her lips against his tasted sweet in a way he couldn’t quite describe- not sickening, but rather addicting. He knew right then he was screwed- falling even harder for her instantly became inevitable.

Deciding to jump head first into the intoxication, he placed his hands on her hips and pulled her ever closer, pressing her smaller frame against his. She responded with a whimper that drove him absolutely mad, as he resounded to make her make that noise again.

Much to Sebastian’s dismay, they eventually had to pull apart for air. Staring at each other in shock, he gently brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, examining her eyes for any sign of regret. He was thankful to find none. After so long of just being friends, they had entered uncharted territory. The night felt new in an odd way, the excitement in the air was palpable.

Eventually Sebastian couldn’t bare it any longer, and grasped her hand in his. Running his thumb over her knuckles, he shot her a small smile. “Would it be too forward to ask you on a date at this point?”

Y/N let out a small chuckle, shooting him a sheepish smile. “Not at all, quite honestly I’ve been waiting two years for you to ask.” Sebastian’s cheeks flushed, as he quietly damned himself for not taking action much, much sooner. She broke his contemplative silence, urging her to look back up at her. “When did you want to-”

Sebastian squeezed her hand a bit tighter, considering for a moment. “Well, how about tomorrow? Preferably after 10 though, you know how I feel about my sleep.”

“That sounds fine. But don’t worry, eventually I’ll fix you. You’ll become a morning person if its the last thing I do before we graduate.”

Sebastian’s smile was wider than the whole sky as he leaned in, pressing another kiss against her lips.

“You keep telling yourself that.”

#sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow fluff #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader fluff

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