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sinceileftyoublog · 7 months ago

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Six Organs of Admittance Interview: More Than a Couple Chairs

Photo by Kami Chasny

BY JORDAN MAINZER

When Ben Chasny dives into something, he usually dives deep. Upon answering the phone in February, when I called him to talk about his new Six Organs of Admittance album Time Is Glass (out today on Drag City), he seemed a bit scattered. Despite mentally preparing himself all day for the interview, he got distracted by a "What are you digging lately?" Bandcamper compilation Drag City asked him to put together to advertise his record release. (A music fan with a voracious appetite, Chasny was rediscovering music he had purchased a couple years prior and forgot about.) Six Organs records often occupy the same dedicated headspace, Chasny setting aside blocks of time to think about nothing else. That is, until Time Is Glass. On his latest, Chasny blurs the lines between his outside-of-music life and the music itself, the album a batch of songs that reflects on the magical minutiae that sprout during a period of needed stasis.

The last time I spoke to Chasny, he and his partner [Elisa Ambrogio of Magik Markers] were still settling in from their move to Humboldt County in Northern California. "When Elisa and I first moved here, we didn't have any friends," Chasny said. "But there's a group of us that live in Humboldt now. A bunch of my friends moved up since the last time I talked to you." That includes fellow Comets on Fire bandmate Ethan Miller and his partner, fellow New Bums musical partner Donovan Quinn, and folk singer Meg Baird and her partner. "Every New Year's Day, if it's not pouring rain, we take a walk on the beach," said Chasny. One such photoshoot on January 1, 2023 yielded the album cover for Time Is Glass: That's Miller and his poodle, along with Baird's Heron Oblivion bandmate Charlie Saufley. This unintentional artistic collective meets up often, whether for coffee or as Winter Band, a rotating cast of area musicians who form to open up for musician friends when they come through town, like Sir Richard Bishop of Sun City Girls. As such, according to Chasny, Time Is Glass is a celebration of community.

Perhaps the supportive strength of his artistic family gave Chasny the willpower to incorporate elements of his daily life into Time Is Glass, something he couldn't avoid. He didn't share with me exactly what in his personal life made it impossible to separate the two, though he mentioned his dog, a difficult-to-train puppy that was a mix of three traditionally stubborn breeds. Said dog inspired "My Familiar", a song that uses occult language to inhabit the mind of his obstinate canine companion. "And we'll burn this whole town / No one says there's good," Chasny sings, alternating between his quintessential hushed delivery and falsetto, his layered vocals atop circular picking exuding a sense of sparseness. Indeed, you wouldn't expect a Six Organs record about home life to sound totally blissful; Time Is Glass is at once gentle and menacing. The devotional "Spinning In A River" portrays the titular carefree act as lightly as the prickle of Chasny's guitar or as doomily as the song's distortion. "Hephaestus" and "Theophany Song" imagine their respective mythological characters as gruff and voyeuristic. "Summer's Last Rays" indeed captures a sense of finality, Chasny's processed guitar and warbling harmonium providing the instantly hazy nostalgia before the fade-out. The album is bookended by songs more straightforwardly hopeful, the opener "The Mission" a dedication to friends falling in love with their new place of residence, the closer "New Year's Song" a twangy ode to dreaming. But it's the moments in between that Chasny was forced to capture on Time Is Glass. And thankfully, what was born out of necessity yielded, for him, new ways to interpret the same old, same old.

Read my conversation with Chasny below, edited for length and clarity. He speaks on domesticity, mythology, playing live, and Arthur Russell.

SILY: You've lived in Humboldt County for a bit. Is Time Is Glass the first Six Organs record in a while you made while situated in one place?

Ben Chasny: I did do a couple records here before. The first one, I was in the process of moving here, so I wasn't really settled. The second was at the beginning of lockdown. This is the first one I felt like was recorded at a home. Everything was settled, I have a schedule. When I was doing the first one, I didn't even have furniture in the house. I had a couple chairs. [laughs]

SILY: Do you think the feeling of being recorded at a home manifests in any specific way on the album?

BC: I started to incorporate daily domestic routines into the record, more often. A lot of the melodies were written while taking the dog for a walk, which I've never done before. There was always stuff to do as I moved in. The times weren't as separate. Before, it was, "Now I'm recording, now I'm doing life stuff." There was a merging of everything here. I would listen to it on my earbuds while taking walks and constantly work on it for six months.

SILY: It definitely has that homeward bound feel in terms of the lyrics and the sound, like you've been somewhere forever. There are a lot of lyrics about the absence of time, and there's a circular nature to the rhythms and the guitars. Does the title of the album refer to this phenomenon?

BC: A little bit. Time does seem, in general, post-lockdowns and COVID, different. The lyrics on the record have a bit more domesticity. It always seems like there was something that had to be done, that would normally keep me from doing music, that I tried to incorporate here. Maybe I'm just getting older, too. I'm getting more sensitive towards time. I'm running out. [laughs]

SILY: Was there anything specific about your domestic life that made you want to include it in your music?

BC: Just that I had to include it in order to do anything. It was no longer separate. The way life ended up working out, I could no longer separate my artistic life from other life. I had to put the artistic aspect into it in order to work. Instead of getting frustrated, I brought [music] more into the house.

SILY: Did working on the record give you a new perspective on domesticity?

BC: I don't know. A little bit. I was just trying to come to terms with basic life things. Let me look at the record, I forgot what songs are on it. [laughs] The song "My Familiar" is about my dog. I got this book called Cunning Folk and Familiar Spirits, which was sort of taken from transcriptions of witch trials from Scotland in the 1500's. A lot of dealing with things like witches' familiars and demon familiars. I found a very strong similarity between that and my dog, which seemed like it was maybe a demon. She's a Husky-German Shepherd-Australian Shepherd mix, so as a puppy, she needed a lot of work. So that became a song. That's a more humorous way everyday life made its way into the music.

[With regard to] the last song, "New Years Song", Elisa and I have a contest on New Year's Eve when we're hanging out where we go in separate rooms and have one hour to write a song. We come out at 11 or 11:30 and play the song for each other. We've done it for a few years now. This was the song I wrote for New Year's Eve going into 2022.

SILY: You talk about God on Time Is Glass and delve a little bit into mythology. Was that something you were thinking about on a day to day basis when writing?

BC: The “Hephaestus” song was just a character. That was a rare song for me in that I was trying to make sounds that particularly evoked a mythological figure. I've made nods to mythology in the past, but the titles were almost an afterthought. This particular song, I was trying to make the sounds of that character in their workshop with the fire and anvils. I was trying to evoke that feeling. That was kind of a new one for me.

SILY: Maybe I'm reading into it too much, but you also seem to talk a bit about your state of mind on "Slip Away".

BC: It's funny you caught onto that, because I wasn't really expecting to bring it up during interviews. I wouldn't say that I came close at times in the past couple years to schizophrenia, but I could see way off in the distance and horizon what that would be like. I...was trying to write about that. At the same time, the lyrics that have to do with two minds and the splitting of the mind are also somewhat of a reference to the idea of a celestial twin or Valentinian gnosis, how you have a celestial counterpart. That idea [is behind the concept of] someone's guardian angel.

SILY: On a couple songs, you sing to someone or something else. "The Mission" you've mentioned is for a friend and their new partner. What about on "Spinning in a River"?

BC: Maybe it was more of a general idea. It wasn't so much to a person as to a general concept of Amory.

SILY: What were all the instruments used on the record?

BC: I had some guitar, I was singing, and there's some harmonium on it, which I did a lot of processing on, lowering it octaves. I've got some really basic Korg synths. Electronic-wise, there's a program called Reactor I like to use a lot. I do it a little bit more subtly than electronic artists. I use it more for background.

SILY: I picked up the harmonium on "Summer's Last Rays"! I feel like you never truly know when you're hearing a harmonium unless it's in the album credits. Sometimes, that sound is just effects.

BC: There are two different harmoniums. When the bass comes in, that's also a harmonium, but I knocked it down a couple octaves and put it through some phaser. It has a grinding bass tone to it. This is actually one of the few Six Organs records with bass guitar on it. Unless it's an electric record with a band, there's never really been bass guitar. I was really inspired by Naomi Yang's bass playing in Galaxie 500 and how it's more melodic. I told her that, too.

SILY: On "Theophany Song", are you playing piano?

BC: Yeah, that's at my friend's house. I just wanted to play a little melody.

SILY: Was this your first time using JJ Golden for mastering?

BC: I've worked with JJ before. He did Ascent and a few others. I particularly wanted to work with him this time because I had just gotten that Masayuki Takayanagi box set on Black Editions and saw he had done that. I have the original CDs, and I thought he did such an amazing job that I wanted to work with him again.

SILY: Is that common for you, that you think of people to work with and you dig a record they just worked on and it clicks for you?

BC: That's the first time I had just heard something and thought, "Oh, I gotta work with this person." I usually have a few mastering engineers I work with and think, "What would be good for them?" or, "What does this sound like?" I usually like to send the more rock-oriented stuff to JJ, but I was just feeling it this time.

SILY: Have you played these songs live?

BC: The instrumental "Pilar" I have been playing since 2019. That's the oldest song on the record. I did do one show last September where I played a couple of these songs live. I have some ideas on how to work it out. It will be a solo acoustic show, but I [hope] to make some new sounds so it's not so straightforward. One thing about this record is I tried to write songs in the same tuning. On previous records, I used a lot of tunings, and it was a real pain to try to play the songs live. I did write this record with the idea that most of these songs would be able to be done live.

SILY: What have you been listening to, watching, or reading lately?

BC: I just got the Emily Robb-Bill Nace split LP. I just saw her live a couple nights ago. The latest one on Freedom To Spend from Danielle Boutet, which is awesome. Freedom To Spend is a go-to label for me. Also, this split with Karen Constance and Dylan Nyoukis.

I've been reading Buddhist Bubblegum by Matt Marble, about Arthur Russell and the systems he developed, which I knew nothing about. His compositional systems have almost a Fluxus influence. The subtitle is Esotericism in the Creative Process of Arthur Russell, so it's also about his Buddhism as well. When I first heard about the book, I didn't know if I needed to get it, but I heard an interview with Matt about the detailed systems Arthur Russell came up with. It gives me a whole new level of appreciation for him. It's so good.

SILY: Did you listen to Picture of Bunny Rabbit?

BC: It's so good, especially the title track. It seems like when he has us plugged into some kind of effects or delay, he's switching the different sounds on it, but it makes the instrument go in so many different areas. To me, the title track is worth the price of the entire record, even though the whole thing is good.

SILY: What else is next for you? Are you constantly writing?

BC: This is gonna be a very busy year release-wise. I have a couple more things coming out. It's hard to write stuff because I always think it'll take so long for it to come out. I'm halfway working on something, but I have no idea when it will come out.

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hihomeghere · 9 months ago

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Fakin' it | Arthur Morgan/Reader

Word Count : 3k Summary : After a botched robbery, Arthur and you take refuge in a hotel, hiding from the O'Driscolls outside your door. When they do decide to search for you two, how will you throw them off your track? Warnings/Tags : Enemies to lovers <3, unprotected piv sex, guns, cursing, reader has female gentailia, fingering, one bed, fake marriage

Of course the job that went bad had to be with Arthur. Why Dutch had put you two together was beyond you. Everyone around the gang knew that it was volatile anytime you two were together. But, you were cunning, quick minded in a pinch. Arthur was strong, easily able to take down a man twice his size, not that someone of that caliber came along often. To put it simply, you were the brains, he was the brawn. As much as you hated to admit, you made a good team on jobs. This time however, a simple robbery had turned into dozens of O’driscolls around every corner. You two had barely made it into a hotel unscathed.

“One room.” Arthur said, setting down some coins on the table top as you watched the door. Your hand resting against your gun in your dress pocket.

“Name?” The man asked with a smile.

“Callahan.” Arthur said looking back at you. “Mr. and Mrs. Callahan.” He said, turning back to the clerk. You heard footsteps outside of the hotel, you turned quickly grabbing Arthur’s arm.

“Sweetheart.” You cooed, internally cringing as you called him by that name. You looked at him with wide eyes, “Come on.” You said with a nervous smile.

“We’re newlyweds, a bit excited if you can’t tell.” He chuckled, turning back to the clerk, his arm wrapping around your waist.

“Of course.” The clerk said with a knowing smile, you wanted to barf as Arthur squeezed your waist. “Up the stairs to the left.” He said, handing Arthur a key.

“Much appreciated.” Arthur said his hand on the small of your back as you two climbed the stairs. As soon as you turned the corner you nearly ran to the door, Arthur slid the key in the lock and turned it, ushering you inside. As soon as the door was closed behind you, he was locking it just as fast.

Once you got in the room you moved away from Arthur’s side, letting out a sigh as you looked around the room. One bed, of course, you two were acting as a couple.

“Mr. and Mrs. Callahan, really?” You asked, raising an eyebrow as you turned to look at Arthur.

“Less eyes on us if we’re a couple, not cause I wanna play house with you.” He said with a grunt, barely raising his head to look at you. He walked over to the bed, moving to take his boots off.

“Less eyes.” You scoffed, looking around the room, walking over to the window. You pulled the blinds back, peeking out to the streets below.

“The hell you think you're doing?” Arthur hissed, his hand wrapping around your wrist.

“Looking.” You said glaring up at him. “Is that a crime?”

“Do you want to give away our position?” He growled, his eyes dark.

“I think it’s pretty damn clear we’re in one of these shops, now we have to wait it out until they’re gone.” You said pulling away your arm from his grasp. He let out a deep breath, his jaw clenched as he looked away from you.

“How many are out there?” He asked, holding his hat as he ran a hand through his hair.

“I don’t know, maybe a dozen?” You said crossing your arms.

“Dutch said to keep a low profile,” He muttered to himself, “We can’t go out there guns blazing.” He said, setting his hat down on the bedside table.

“That’s obvious.” You said, shaking your head. He scoffed, looking up at you.

“Are you trying to piss me off, or is that just one of your special talents?” Arthur said glaring at you.

“Oh I have lots of talents.” You say, stepping closer a scowl on your face.

“If only one of them was keeping your mouth shut.” He growled.

“God, what is your problem?” You huff looking away from him.

“My problem?” He scoffs getting up from the bed. “You’re my problem." He said, his chest almost touching yours as you looked up at him.

“Feelings mutual.” You huff, glaring up at him. He clenched his jaw, shaking his head as you walked away from him.

“We’re gonna have to wait it out.” He said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“The hell are we gonna do?” You asked throwing your hands up.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m gonna take advantage of this bed.” He said laying back down on the bed, placing his hat over his face. You bit your cheek looking at him as he crossed his legs. He did have a point, the bed looked a whole lot softer than your cot back at camp. You mulled it over for a second before sitting down on the edge of the bed. You unlaced your boots, laying back on the bed. Your eyes quickly drew heavy, the adrenaline of the chase finally wearing off.

The sun was setting when you woke up, the light slowly disappearing behind the horizon. The room was quiet except for Arthur’s breathing. You sat up in bed, looking over at him. His hat had fallen off his face when he rolled over sometime during his sleep. He looked so peaceful when he slept, it was like seeing a completely different side of him. It’s at this moment you really appreciate how beautiful Arthur truly is. The bridge of his nose is high, broken one too many times. His plump lips parted slightly, like two petals. His sandy brown hair falling over his forehead.

You wanted to reach out and move it out of his face, but thought better of it. You didn’t want to disturb him and it wasn’t often that you saw him without a furrowed brow.

Just as you were laying back down you heard heavy footsteps up the stairs. By your guess, four, maybe five men. You sit up quietly, feeling your heart pound against your rib cage. Arthur sprang up in bed as soon as they kicked open the first door. They must have turned right when they went up the stairs. The yell of shock sounded farther down the hall. He turned to you, his eyes wide. He reached for his gun belt on the floor but you stopped him. Your brain was running through all the situations. Four or five men, sure you and Arthur could take them, but that’s not exactly a low profile.

Against your better judgment you picked the solution with the least amount of bloodshed. You swung your leg over Arthur’s waist.

“The hell are you doing-“ Arthur hissed before you covered his mouth with your hand. Your fingers started working on the buttons of your blouse as you rolled your hips forward. Arthur looked up at you with a wide eyed expression, his bright eyes frantically moving between his gun belt on the floor and the door. His stubble lightly scratched your palm as you held your hand over his mouth, his plump lips almost kissing your palm.

You forced a high pitched moan as you moved your hips faster on the bed, the bedframe hitting the wall. Creating the illusion you two were having sex.

The gears slowly started to turn in Arthur’s mind, his hands gripping your hips as he propelled you faster. The bedframe was now rocking against the wall, as you pulled your arms out of your blouse, leaving your chest bare. Your nipples hardened from the cold air as goosebumps sprung up on your skin. Arthur’s eyes were closed as he turned his head, forcing a low groan. Although you knew his groans were fake, the way his body reacted to your touch was more than real. You kept up with your moans, trying to put on a good enough show.

The door was soon forced open, as two O’Driscolls entered the room with their guns raised. You scream, Arthur is quick to pull your chest down to his. You were pressed tight against him, his warm hands keeping you flush against him, all of him. His work shirt rubs against your nipples in such a fucking delicious way, it doesn’t help tbe adrenaline coursing through your veins. You can’t see anything, your head buried into Arthur’s neck, his stubble now rubbing against your cheek.

“Get the hell out of here!” Arthur yells, hidden by your upper half.

One of them clears their throat before exiting the room, closing the door behind them. You hold your breath waiting for their footsteps to retreat down the hallway. You let out a sigh of relief as they meet back up with the other men, walking down the stairs.

Hesitantly Arthur moves his hands off your back, you sit up covering your breasts with your arms. Arthur, however, was staring up towards the ceiling. His jaw clenched as he avoided looking at you.

You moved off of his waist, grabbing your blouse before slipping your arms through the sleeves. You buttoned it up, swallowing thickly as Arthur cleared his throat.

“Now uh-“ Arthur said letting out a sigh, “I want you to know that I didn’t see nothin’.” The bed whines slightly as he stands up.

“I know you felt something.” You said, shaking your head as you blush from head to toe.

“Now-“ Arthur sighed, running a hand through his hair as you turned to face him, his eyes flicking around the room before settling at your feet as he held up his hand. “We can just pretend this never happened, it was a matter of life and death.”

“I understand that.” You looked at him, fully looked at him. His gaze was low, his chest rising and falling quickly, his cheeks flushed. God, he looks wrecked.

Your eyes trailed over his body as he stood there, his hand on his hip as he popped his knee out. Your eyes moved down further, almost popping out of your head as you see how painfully hard he is pressed against his pants.

“Are you-“ The words fall out of your mouth before you can think to stop them.

“Jesus.” Arthur sighed looking down, his hand rubbing his eyebrows.

“You are.” A nervous chuckle leaves your mouth as your eyes trailed up and down his body. You felt heat begin to spread between your thighs as he met your eyes. Your heart is still pounding against your rib cage from the encounter with the O’Driscolls.

“I’m-“ He started throwing his hands up, “I’m sorry, alright but you can’t expect me- I’m only a man.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

“Nothing to be ashamed-“ He cut you off, shaking his head, “There is plenty to be ashamed of, I shouldn’t be getting so… so worked up over you.” He said motioning to you. You couldn’t help that you were also getting worked up, you subtly rubbed your thighs together. Trying to get any friction where you needed it most. Heat bloomed in your stomach as the tension in the room only got worse. He furrowed his brows, studying you.

“Wait,” He chuckled, shaking his head, “You feel it too.” He said, crossing his arms.

You scoffed, looking off to the side. “You wish.” You said, hating the slight tremor in your voice. Arthur strode across the room, stopping in front of you. He reached towards you, tilting your chin so you would have to look at him.

“Tell me you don’t want this.” He said softly, his other arm encircling your waist pulling you flush against him. You stayed silent, looking up into his blue eyes. Slowly a smirk worked its way onto his face, “That’s what I thought.” He chuckled, cupping your cheek. He leaned forward brushing his nose against yours. Giving you the option to pull away if you wanted, his eyes softening as he looked into yours. You took the plunge, capturing his lips against your own as you threaded your fingers through his hair.

A groan rumbled through his chest as his hand tightened around your waist. You felt dizzy as his lips moved against yours, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip. You opened your mouth allowing his access as he pressed into you deeper. He rubbed himself against you, his hips pressed against your lower belly.

You pulled away, breathing hard as you looked up at him. His face was flushed, his mouth parted slightly as his chest rose and fell rapidly. You unbuttoned your blouse for the second time, just as feverishly as the first time, but now for a completely different reason. Arthur followed your lead, pushing his own suspenders down, his skillful fingers unbuttoning his own shirt. His eyes returned to your body as he ripped his shirt off of his shoulders, settling onto your breasts. He stared down at you, an almost predatory expression on his face. He closed the distance between you, his hand wrapping around your waist as the other kneaded your breast. You let out a soft gasp, which quickly turned to a moan as he ran his thumb over your perk nipple.

“Arthur.” He stared down at you, his eyes darkening as he watched you shiver against him. He flipped you around, his hand pressing you down onto the bed. His other hand flipped your skirts up, before pulling down your underclothes. He let out a soft groan as his eyes connected with your almost dripping pussy.

“This all for me?” He cooed, swiping his finger through your folds. You gasped, nodding as your hands gripped the quilt.

“Yes.” You breathed, “Yes all for you.”

“Good girl.” You could hear the smirk in his voice as he sunk a finger into your heat. You gasped as he slowly started pumping his finger inside of you. He leaned over you, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “Yeah you like that don’t you?” He said nibbling on your earlobe. Your breath hitched in your throat as he added another finger, scissoring them inside your walls.

“Fuck Arthur.” You melwed, pressing your forehead against the slightly scratchy quilt underneath you. “I need you.” You huffed, your walls clenching around his fingers.

“I’m gettin’ there.” He chuckled, pulling his finger out of you, you sighed at the loss. You could hear the rustling of clothing behind you, the distinctive metal on metal as you pulled off his belt. His warm calloused hands ran up your backside, gently spreading you before the head of his cock met your entrance.

Jesus Christ he was big.

He spit into his palm, pulling away as he spread his spit over the head of his cock.

“What the hell is taking so long?” You asked impatiently, turning your head to look at him. His eyes met yours, a wicked grin on his face as he forcefully shoved his cock through your folds. It was like all the air had been knocked out of your lungs as you were propelled forward onto the bed. His hands pulled your hips back and speared you onto his dick.

“Arthur!” You yelped, your fingers gripping the quilt as he thrust his pelvis flush to yours.

“Christ woman.” He groaned, laying his forehead against your bare back. You moan as he pulls his hips back before thrusting back into you. “You sound even better when you ain’t faking it.” You can feel the chuckle rumble through his chest more than you can hear it as he speaks.

“Arthur, Jesus." You pant, almost drooling over the way his cock hits that spot inside you over and over again.

“Mmm.” He moans, tight lipped as he tilts his head back. You push back against him, meeting every one of his thrusts “Yeah, atta girl.” His praise only spurred you on, your thighs shaking as you pushed your ass against his pelvis. “You close?” He whispered, his warm hand moving down your thigh between your legs. His thumb circling your clit was enough to send you over the edge. You were grateful your upper half was supported by the plush bed as your legs gave out under you. A high pitched moan worked its way out of your chest as you all but collapsed on the bed. Your walls fluttered around him, milking his cock.

“Shit.” He panted his breath fanning on your back as his forearms caged you in, his hips stuttering as he released his seed inside you. He groaned, resting his forehead against your back as he collapsed on you. His sweaty chest sticking against your back. He pulled out of you, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He whispered.

“S’okay.” You said breathing hard, his cum seeping down your thighs. He kissed down your spine, his hand lovingly squeezing your hips.

He grabbed a towel from the dresser, cleaning your thighs off.

“Who would have thought you’d known about aftercare.” You chuckle softly, your heart rate slowly coming back to normal.

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me sweetheart.” He huffs, a small smirk on his face as he tucked himself back into his pants. He reached down, pulling your bloomers back up over your hips.

“Oh yeah?” You chuckled, grabbing your blouse as he grabbed his shirt off the floor.

“Yeah, Mrs. Callahan.” He smirked walking towards you, buttoning his shirt as he stood in front of you. You rolled your eyes, buttoning your blouse. He wrapped his hand around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

“You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it.” He said, his hand trailing down your jaw.

“Alright, fine. Mr. Callahan.” You huffed, a blush covering your cheeks as you rested your hands against his broad chest.

“Next time,” He tightened his grip on your hips, his lips against your ear, “You’re riding me.”

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sa2-astral · 7 months ago

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do you ever think. like. haha what if ashe met lightspeed n wordsmith ^-^ maybe. s3. ^-^ haha what then. (the answer to ‘what then’ is I will explode as 3 of my favs meet HFBFJNSJSNSJ)

I think they’d get along :D they should meet yeah ^-^

maybe bookworm too idk

#astral chatting #jrwi #jrwi prime defenders #ashe winters #lightspeed jrwi #jrwi lightspeed #wordsmith jrwi #jrwi wordsmith #arthur wordsmith cunning #bookworm jrwi #jrwi bookworm #arthur bookworm cunning #theres so many tags for them that are all used so little it’s the same amount :sob: not just one popular one for me to use hsbchsbsjhdj

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aeralux · 4 months ago

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"Hard To Resist" - Cregan Stark

Summary: Betrothed to the one and only Cregan Stark. Your first meeting with him luckily goes better than expected.

Content warning: smut, oral (f! receiving)

-- aera xx

As a proper Lady of the North, your fate had long been determined before you learned to walk. Your father and brothers had found the perfect match for you, another northerner. “A proper man,” as they described him. Big, burly, and rough. Those were the only descriptive words you knew of him, not nearly enough to draw a picture of your betrothed.

Alas, the day to meet your future Lord husband has arrived. You were doing everything in your power to calm your nerves. Like playing with your wolves, Wane and Cusp, even resorting to having a strong drink. Nothing seemed to work. For a moment, you were contemplating escape and riding off into the distance with your wolves.

Your daydream was interrupted by your eldest brother knocking on your door. The loud sound startled you.

“Yes?" You asked, fearing that your soon-to-be husband had arrived. “Open up, dearest,” your brother answered with his usual affectionate nickname for you. Being almost 20 years your elder, he had become a second father figure to you than a brother.

"Come in, Arthur,” you answered, sadness evident in your voice. "My dearest sister, this should be a joyful day. Not a sad one," he tried cheering you up but to no avail.

How was one supposed to be happy when being married off to a stranger? "Easy for you to say. You got to choose who you married. And you knew your wife beforehand," you complained to your brother, getting pissed off. "I refuse to be treated as a broodmare and be sent off to some hairy northerner," already on the verge of tears, fuming. "My dear sister, it is your responsibility to strengthen the bond between our families, and you are fully aware of this."

You scowl, looking down at your feet. "I am well aware of my responsibilities and duties. It seems like that is all I was born for. To marry some Lord that I have never met, all for the greater good." Your tantrum was cut off by the sound of marching hooves.

The Starks have arrived. You looked at your brother with big eyes, feeling vulnerable and scared. "It will be alright, sister. You are beautiful, bright and cunning. He will take good care of you," he caressed your arms, trying to soothe your nerves. "Now let us go. Father and Albert are probably outside already, greeting our guests. And your soon-to-be husband," Arthur smirked at you, but his words only made you feel more uneasy.

You began walking downstairs, Arthur protectively placing a hand around your shoulders. As you reached the front door, you took a deep breath. "I'm ready," you said as you looked at your older brother. "Excellent!" he said before the guards pushed the massive entrance doors to reveal your eventual Lord husband.

Your breath caught in your throat upon seeing him. He was indeed big, burly, and rough but also wildly handsome. Cregan Stark looked every part of the "King of the North" title. Tall, muscular, and rugged. A true warrior. He studied you as he took in his first sight of you. Cregan had a stern look on his face, and as you met his grey eyes, you felt a shiver run down your spine. You walked over to him and curtsied. "Hello, Lord Stark. I am Lady (y/n). My family and I welcome you to our lands."

Cregan nodded his head respectfully. “Thank you, my lady.” He then stepped forward and took your hand in a firm, but not uncomfortably tight, grip. He raised your knuckles to his lips and planted a light kiss on them. “You look lovely,” he said before looking up to meet your gaze. You couldn’t help but blush, hearing soft words from such a brute man. Cregan smirked faintly, as he observed your cheeks tint with a light shade of pink. He found it amusing, how he could make you blush with a simple statement like that.

Cregan greeted your parents and brothers, giving each a strong handshake. “Arthur good to see you again,” Lord Stark said to your brother, giving him a tight smile that your brother returned.

“If the Lords find it fit, I would like to speak to my Lady in private,” boomed Cregan’s deep voice, gesturing to your father and two older brothers. Your father and brothers looked at each other before nodding in agreement. You didn’t say anything in return and led him to your castle's library. The library was modest, with big windows yet little light due to your House being far up in the North. At least you would feel at home in Winterfell, you thought.

“Here,” you walked into the library, waiting for him to follow suit. Cregan followed you as you walked to the library. He couldn't deny that his eyes were glued to your backside as you walked ahead, his gaze slowly running over the curves of your hips. Once you reached the library, you gestured for him to step inside, and he closed the doors behind him. You were alone now. Just the two of you, in the quiet, empty, library. Cregan glanced around the large room for a moment, before his grey eyes settled on you once again. He then smirked faintly and leaned back against one of the bookshelves, crossing his arms over his muscular chest as he regarded you. “Now I believe we should get to know one another, don’t you think?” He said, his voice coming out in a low tone.

“Oh? Yes, yes, of course,” you were a bit surprised by his boldness, but it made you smile nonetheless. Cregan chuckled, finding your slight smile rather adorable. He pushed away from the bookshelf and began to slowly close the distance between the two of you.

“Now, I want you to be entirely truthful with me, my lady.” He said as he stopped just in front of you. He was much taller, towering over you. “Tell me, what do you think of me, at this very moment?” Cregan’s gaze wandered over your face, studying every feature. The way your hair fell, the contour of your nose, the shape of your lips, the length of your eyelashes. He couldn’t help but think you looked absolutely beautiful. The boldness of his question took you back. “Well… seeing as I do not know much about your personality. At this very moment, I would say that you are handsome. My brother was right when he said that you are the very picture of a Northern man. And I must say that I am rather pleased with whom my brother decided to betroth me to,” you look down blushing, not wanting to see his reaction to the last part.

A smirk tugged on the corners of Cregan’s lips as your cheeks flushed pink once again, and you kept looking down. He found it amusing how he was able to make you blush so easily, and he took a step even closer, barely leaving any space between the two of you.

“Quite pleased, you say?” He repeated, his voice coming out in a low, teasing tone. “Now tell me, do you say that simply to flatter me, or are you being entirely truthful, my lady?”

“I do not care for lying my Lord, I will always speak the truth,” you smiled at him, finally daring to look him in the eyes.

Cregan chuckled lowly, enjoying the sound of your voice saying the words “my Lord”. “I like that about you. I can’t stand liars.”

He then raised a hand and gently lifted your chin with his index finger, forcing you to look up and meet his eyes once more. His thumb gently stroked over your lower lip. “And you certainly wouldn’t lie about thinking that I’m handsome, now would you?”

Your breath got caught in your throat when he gently touched your lip. Goosebumps rise on your skin. “No, of course not,” you muttered quietly. Cregan chuckled. “I know you wouldn’t, my lady.” He leaned in slightly, the distance between the two of you even smaller now. His face was only mere inches from yours now. He kept your chin raised with his thumb, slowly running the digit over the smooth skin. “You’re honest. I like that.” Another low chuckle came from him, as he slowly leaned even closer, his breath now warm and hot against your skin.

You tried to keep your composure but having him so close was making you slowly lose your self-control. “Arthur didn’t mention anything about me?” You asked upon hearing his words. Didn’t your brother mention what kind of a woman you were?

Cregan shook his head. “He didn’t.” He ran his fingers through strands of your hair before continuing. “He simply told me you were a good fit for a Lord. That you would be a proper Lady of Winterfell. That you could hold your own in the North... and make a good mother one day.”

A smirk tugged on his lips once again as he continued to twist your hair around his fingers. “What he failed to mention, however, is how gorgeous you truly are.”

I chuckled. “Well, I guess it would be unforeseen of my brother to call his own younger sister gorgeous.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Cregan laughed faintly, enjoying the sound of your laugh.

He stepped even closer, and gently pushed you backwards to press you up against one of the bookshelves. He gently ran his hands down the sides of your arms, running his calloused fingertips over your smooth skin. “He also neglected to mention how I would have to keep you away from all other men in the North…”

“You think I can’t hold my own?” You asked in a teasing tone, tilting your head.

Cregan chuckled, the low sound making your stomach flip. He found your attitude entertaining, the little smirk on your lips, the way you tilted your head. He took a moment to study your face with his gaze; the long, delicate eyelashes that framed your eyes, the way your lips curved into that little smirk. “Oh, I’m sure you can.” He said, his smirk widening. “But I don’t want other men to even think about how utterly ravishing you are.”

“I don’t see how that would matter, as you would be the only one doing the ravishing, no?” You smirked, joking ofcourse. But Cregan didn’t seem to take it as lightly.

His smirk grew wider at your reply. He liked this slightly bratty, sassy side of yours. It was a nice change, as most women he interacted with tended to swoon in his presence. He took another step forward, completely closing the space between the two of you and trapping you between his body and the bookshelf. He leaned in, his face barely a centimeter away from yours as he whispered in a low, silky tone. “Careful with those words, my lady. They might tempt me to do more.”

“And as much as I would love nothing more. That will be saved for later.” You said in a sultry tone, control slipping from your grasp. Resting a hand softly on his strong and sturdy chest.

Cregan’s smirk turned into a small, amused smile at your reply. He knew you were right; it would hardly be proper to do anything too inappropriate in this library. He then looked down at your hand, resting on his chest as you spoke. He gently picked it up and interlaced it with his, bringing it up to his mouth to plant a light kiss on your knuckles. “I suppose you’re right…” he said, his lips gently brushing over your skin, “As much as I would very much love to.”

You blushed and yet again looked down. His words make your stomach flip, pleasure shooting right to your core.

“Although I did have a question for you, my Lord. Will my two wolves be able to make permanent residence in your castle? I have grown far too attached.”

A small, amused smile tugged on Cregan’s lips at your question. He was a tad surprised that you’d even ask him that; he’d assumed you would’ve brought them with you anyway.

“Of course, you can bring them. I expected you would bring them along. After all, how is Lady of Winterfell supposed to get along without her dire-wolves?” He said with a slight chuckle.

All you could do in response was smile shyly. His demeanor so different when with you.

Cregan smirked faintly, finding your shy smile endearing. He also found it a bit peculiar, that a northern woman would be shy. In his experience, northern girls usually were quite forward, even brash, whereas it seemed he was making you nervous. He kept his hand firmly grasping yours, gently squeezing it as he spoke, his eyes locking with yours. “I have a question for you, too, my lady.” He took a step forward, closing the already small space between the two of you even further. He now had you completely pressed up against the bookshelf as he spoke in a low, deep tone. “You said you were ‘quite pleased’ with me, after taking me in… but I want to know. Are you truly content, with the idea of marrying me?”

You found his question odd, considering men usually didn’t care much for a woman’s opinion on the betrothal. But you answered nonetheless.

“Yes. I am. Why would I not? I trust who my brother and father picked for me.”

Cregan smirked faintly as you answered, his lips still over your knuckles. He liked the way your soft skin felt underneath them, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss more of you.

He looked back up at your face, and gently brought his free hand up to your chin, lifting it slightly so you were looking directly into his eyes.

“Just ‘yes’? No other answer?” He teased with a slight smile, his thumb gently caressing your jawline.

His touch sent shivers down your spine, cursing yourself for feeling so weak from a man’s simple touch.

“What would you like me to say then?” You asked breathlessly, mind starting to go blank.

Cregan chuckled lowly as he gently tugged you even closer. You were now pressed against him, his broad, muscular chest completely enclosing you. “Perhaps I’d like you to give me a different response. Maybe tell me…”

He began to slowly and carefully lower his lips to your jawline, planting gentle kisses along it before moving to your ear and whispering.

“How much you want me…”

Hearing his provocative words, you threw all caution out the window. “What if I just… showed you,” you replied as you gently placed your hand from his chest onto his cheek, pulling him closer. Planting a soft kiss on his lips.

Cregan’s eyes darkened as you planted a delicate kiss on his lips. He couldn’t help the feeling of desire that began to ignite within him. He was taken by surprise at your bold move. He would have assumed you were shy, but here you were, taking the initiative. Cregan quickly got over the momentary shock and decided to match your boldness. He deepened the kiss, tilting his head to the side to get a better angle. He then wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you flush against his large form, completely pressing you against the bookshelf.

You let out a quiet mewl, feeling his strong hands around you. His rough touches turning you on. He chuckled at the sound of your mewl and quickly decided he wanted to hear more of them. His hands slowly traveled down over your hips and to your thighs, which he grabbed a hold of firmly and lifted you, easily manhandling you to pin you against the bookshelf. He kept his body pressed flush against yours and continued to hungrily kiss you, his hands still holding your thighs.

You let out a breathy gasp, your hands immediately going to rest on his shoulders as he lifted you.

Cregan smirked faintly at the sound of your gasp, the sound making his lust for you grow, he let his hands slowly slide up your thighs to your ass, grabbing a firm hold of it.

You continued to make quiet sounds of pleasure, the desire to have him only growing in you.

Cregan found himself growing more and more addicted to the small noises you continued to make. He found them adorable, and it only encouraged him to kiss you even more passionately. He pushed his body even closer to yours, as close as he possibly could, and began to kiss down your neck and collarbone.

Your mouth fell open as he did that and you couldn’t help but moan his name.

“Cregan,” you whimpered.

Hearing you moan his name for the first time almost made him grow feral. He loved the way it sounded, the way it rolled off your tongue. He continued to slowly drag his lips down your neck, nibbling on the sensitive skin.

“Again.” He breathed out against your skin, his grip on your thighs and ass tightening. “Say my name again.”

You started to feel dizzy the way he was sucking purple marks onto your neck. Letting out a gasp.

“Cregan…please” You whined and begged him, not even knowing for what. Your mind was already foggy with arousal.

Cregan smirked faintly at the way you moaned his name, the way you begged him. He knew exactly what you were craving, even if you did not, and placed another kiss on your neck, letting his tongue slowly drag against your skin before pulling back slightly to look into your eyes.

"Please, what, my Lady?" He asked in a low, teasing tone, his hands digging into your flesh.

Your breath stuttered as you felt him drag his tongue across your neck, hips involuntarily bucking against his.

Cregan let out a low growl as he felt your hips buck against him. He was barely able to remain in control of himself, resisting the urge to completely rip your clothes off and take you right there in the library.

He placed a final kiss on your neck before speaking, his words coming out in a low, rumbling growl. “You are going to be the death of me, aren’t you, little wolf?”

You whined pathetically, hoping that no one could hear the inappropriate scene that was going on.

He took ahold of your hips and started moving them against his. You pulled him into a rough and passionate kiss, giving his hair an experimental tug. To your surprise, Cregan seemed to enjoy it, letting out a low growl.

He quickly moved you to a nearby sofa, laying you down. He was almost desperate in his moves, needing to take you as soon as possible.

He opened his eyes again, looking down at you with darkened eyes. He was no longer trying to hold back, no longer trying to rein in his desire for you. He needed you, and he was going to have you, right there in the library if that’s what it took.

“I need you, little wolf.”

"Is it that hard to resist me?" You giggled. Your teasing only egging him on.

Cregan huffed at your words, his eyes narrowing slightly. He could tell you were enjoying taunting him. He could see the smirk on your face.

“It’s very difficult.” He admitted, his tone was low and strained as if it was taking all his willpower not to just fuck you until you could no longer walk.

“I don’t like to be patient.” He added with a slight growl, his hands moving up your dress skirts, bunching them around your waist before sitting down on his knees in front of you. Letting his hands caress your now exposed thighs.

You covered your mouth to stop the whines from spilling out your lips. His light touches kept traveling upwards, getting closer and closer to your cunt. You couldn't help but shiver in arousal and anticipation, needing his mouth on your heat already.

Cregan started placing light kisses near your chemise, looking up at you for permission. When you nodded your head, Cregan pulled them down forcefully.

"Soaked already, my Lady?" He questioned and smirked, cockiness in his voice.

You didn't even get a chance to respond before you felt his mouth on folds. Licking at your wetness like a man starved. All he got in response from you were loud whines. He began to suck on your clit, doing everything in his power to draw more moans from you. Pressing kisses on your slit and opening, flicking his tongue over your pussy over and over again, swirling his tongue over your sensitive bud, your thighs began shaking.

"Ohh, Gods, Cregan!" You moaned like a whore, his tongue bringing you closer to your release.

At that, Cregan began to move his tongue quicker, adding two fingers into your pussy, working you open.

"Ahh!" You couldn't help but moan loudly at that, his big fingers stretching you open deliciously. You began to move your hips against his fingers and face, trying to get your dripping cunt even closer to him.

"Mm, just like that, ride my fingers," Cregan mumbled against your cunt, the vibrations almost sending you over the edge.

He curled his fingers expertly against your soft spot, starting to go faster.

All he wanted right now was your sweet release to coat his lips. After all, there is no nectar sweeter than your wife's cunt. At least that's what Cregan thought.

When you arched your back and let out a loud moan, he knew he hit the right spot.

"Faster! Please let me cum!"

Cregan was surprised by your bold words but couldn't deny that they turned him on even more. Knowing that you were desperate for him.

Cregan began pumping his fingers into you even faster, his erection already painfully pressing into his breeches. He will deal will that later, right now he was focusing on getting his Lady to come all over his face.

With a pointed tongue, he began to quickly flick your clit. Your legs trembling around his face, he couldn't help but smirk. It felt like he was splitting you open with his fingers, the pain of the stretch only adding to your pleasure, whines, and moans spilling from your mouth.

"Ohh, I'm... I'm so close, make me cum, please" You begged your soon-to-be husband, clamping your thighs around him.

He hummed against your cunt, and his movements became sloppy, his own arousal making him feel dizzy.

As he felt your cunt begin to pulse around his fingers, he knew you were close. Cregan gave a final few sucks to your pearl, and that is what threw you off the edge.

You came with a loud moan, your legs shaking and hips bucking against his face.

Cregan kept thrusting his fingers in you, working you through your release. When he pulled away from your cunt you saw how his face glistened with your juices and his spit. The sight so erotic and lewd.

You still felt the aftershocks of your orgasm, your body shivering.

"Your cunt tastes divine, my Lady. I can't wait to enjoy this every single night." Cregan said with a smirk, placing wet kisses on your thigh to calm you down.

You gave him a lazy smile and leaned down to kiss him, tasting your release on his tongue.

"Hey! You might want to save some for the wedding night!" Came your brother's voice from the other side of the door.

Author's note: This was quite literally my first smut so if it feels rushed, weird etc., it is probably because of that. Although I did enjoy writing it. Any feedback would be appreciated. THANK YOUU MWAHH!!!

#house of the dragon #house targaryen #house stark #cregan stark smut #cregan stark #hotd imagine #cregan x you #cregan fanfiction #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon smut #hotd smut #house of the dragon x you #hotd x reader #cregan smut #cregan x y/n #cregan x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd cregan

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larluce · 2 months ago

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Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU

I'll be putting the tag list at the end now ❤️

LINKS TO THE OTHER PARTS OF THIS AU HERE: PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5 , PART 6 , PART 7 , PART 8 , PART 9 , PART 10 , PART 11 , PART 12 , PART 13 , PART 14 , PART 15 , PART 16 , PART 17 , PART 18 , PART 19 , PART 20 , PART 21 , PART 22 , PART 23 , PART 24 , PART 25 , PART 26 , PART 27 (You're here) , PART 28

Merlin: (thinking, reciting Gaius words) Deny, be submissive, be respectful. Deny, be submissive, be respectful (enters the throne room and bows) Did you call for me, Sire?

Uther: (siting on his throne, pulls out the neckerchief and asks very serious) Do you recognise this.

Merlin: (thinking) Straight to the point then... (pretends to analyse the item and then says) No, I don't believe so, Sire.

Uther: Are you sure?

Merlin: Pretty sure. I've never seen it in my life.

Uther: (puts the clothing back in his pocket) This clothing is part of a serious investigation, so I wanted to make sure.

Merlin: A investigation, Sire?

Uther: Early in the morning this clothing was found deep in the woods with dry blood stains. There were some blood stains on the ground nearby too.

Merlin: Oh... Well, good luck with your investigation then, Sire. 😅 (smiles nervous, thinking) Deny, be submissive, be respectful. Deny, be submissive, be respectful.

Uther: And more recently the bodies of Aulfric and Sophia Tirmawr were found.

Merlin: (confused) What? 😨

Uther: They are sending the corpses to Gaius to analyse them as we speak.

Merlin: (between worried and confused, to himself) But... that's not possible. (thinking) Or is it?

Uther: And why would that not be possible? 🤨

Merlin: (thinking) Shit! (says, trying to stay calm) Because I saw them leave Camelot with Arthur, Sire. They should've been away long ago. Why would someone kill them? Are you… Are you sure it’s them, Sire? (thinking) Deny, be submissive, be respectful. Deny, be submissive, be respectful.

Uther: (thinking) I never said they were killed (says) They could've died in the way. Who knows? Robbers, landslides, wild beasts. There are many hidden dangers on a road trip.

Merlin: Exactly! Maybe even the raiders that sacked their home?

Uther: (laughs dryly) Incredible… you dare to lie to the King right in front of his face. You don't fear the consequences at all.

Merlin: Why would I fear that, Sire? (thinking) Deny, be submissive, be respectful. Deny, be submissive, be respectful.

Uther: Do not insult my intelligence, I'm not Arthur. If you had told me that the garment was yours but you didn't know how it'd got there, I would've believed you. That would've confirmed what Gaius told me about you. That you are a boy without guile and malice, because that is what an honest and pure-hearted person would have said. They would've told the truth even though that would've put them under suspicion because they would trust in their own innocence. But you did the opposite, you denied that this was yours, which shows that you are not only cunning but also calculating. I do not blame you for lying, any wise person would avoid having any connection with murder case's evidence. The thing is that only a person who is aware that a murder occurred would do so, because if Sophia and her father had really left as you say then you wouldn't have seen the need to lie.

Merlin: (thinking, between nervous an impressed)I always wondered how he managed to almost erradicate the entire magic user community, the dragons and almost all the dragonlords. Now I know, he's very fucking smart! Okay, Merlin, just stick to the plan. Deny, be submissive, be respectful. Deny, be submissive, be respectful.(says) Or maybe the neckerchief really is not mine, Sire.

Uther: (enraged, he hits the throne and stands up) Stop lying to your King! Stop thinking you're so clever and disrespecting me! (pulls out the neckerchief and walks to Merlin) I know for a fact that this neckerchief is yours. It’s the only thing I knew for sure before you entered this room. And before you spout any more lies from that vile and poisonous tongue of yours, I can also prove it. (stops infront of Merlin) The first thing I did upon receiving this neckerchief was to research this fabric. This color is something only royalty uses, but there are many royal families in Albion, so each royal family has a different embroidery pattern so they can differentiate their belongings from other royals, and this fabric! (raises the cloth in a fist) was made especially for the Pendragon royal family. This is something only I or my son could wear. It goes without saying that this does not belong to me or Arthur. And before you come up with another pathetic excuse to defend yourself, I'll tell you that each batch that the fabrics are dyed with is not only expensive, but limited. Only a certain amount of purple dye is made each year so only a few yards of fabric are dyed. That's why the yards of fabric my son and I received are all recorded. (takes out log book and opens it) In the last year I received 4 meters of fabric, Arthur 2 meters, of which he used to make a tunic and... guess what he did with the leftover? A neckerchief (closes book and puts it back in his pocket)

Merlin: ...

Uther: So what do you have to say for yourself now?

Merlin: (thinking) Deny, be submissive, be respectful. Deny, be submissive, be respectful. (says in the calmest voice he can) I don't know what you want me to say, Sire. It seems like you already decided I'm guilty.

Uther: (drops the neckerchief and lifts his sword at Merlin, threatening) Where are Aulfric and Sophia?

Merlin: (thinking) Deny, be submissive, be respectful! Deny, be submissive, be respectful! (says) Didn't you just say you found the bodies, Sire?

Uther: (raises his voice) Don't play dumb with me! You knew they weren't found! Where did you hide them?!

Merlin: I didn't kill them!

Uther: One more lie and I'll cut your throat! At first I thought you were just some peasant after some coins, but your ambition was way bigger, wasn't it?

Merlin: (thinking) Deny, be submissive, be respectful! Deny, be submissive, be respectful!

Uther: And, since Lady Sophia was getting in the way of your plans, you got rid of her! An innocent, lovely lady-

Merlin: Oh, please! She was anything but innocent.

Uther: (can't believe the audacity) What?

Merlin: (thinking) Fuck! Deny, be... how was it? (says) I mean, how do you know she was innocent, Sire? You are SO suspicious of me, and yet didn't bother to corroborate Aulfric's story was true at all! "We are from Tirmawr and our home was sacked by raiders, boo", really? Anybody could enter the castle claiming they're nobels like that! But sure, lets invite these outsiders we've never seen in our lifes. What do we have to be afraid of? It's not like we are someone important like royalty and recieve assesinations attemps on a daily basis! (composes himself)... Sire.

Uther: (lets out a small laugh of triumph) So that's the excuse you gave Arthur! That they were impostors that were trying to kill him, so that he would cover for you.

Merlin: No! I'm just saying they could've been-

Uther: If Sophia really wanted to kill the Prince of Camelot she would've waited til they were alone at their honeymoon. Yet she ran away, because YOU humiliated her! And do you really want me to believe Arthur wouldn't be able to defend himself of a defenseless young lady and an old man? Arthur, a trained knight!.

Merlin: (thinking, trying very hard no to explode) Submissive and respectful. Stay submissive and repectful (says, gritting his teeth) I'm just saying first impressions aren't always the right ones and it's not wise to understimate people even if they look harmless, Your Majesty.

Uther: Oh, I'm definitely not going to understimate you. (sheaths his sword) I heard what I needed to hear. You're days here in Camelot are over. You are going to go back to your stinky little village with nothing but what you're wearing and never return!

Merlin: (shouts, alarmed) What?! You can't do that! You can't separate me from Arthur!

Uther: (shouts back) I'm the king, so yes I can! And if you dare to cross the border you'll be executed immediately. I'm never letting you near my son again!

Merlin: (his face contorts with disbelief, anguish and anger, thinking) Deny-submi-respec-FUCK IT, FUCK IT ALL! (suddenly, he laughs and laughs and laughs, saying) You are so, SO funny!

Uther: (surprised at his reaction, but says very serious) I don't recall saying anything funny.

Merlin: (Stops laughing) Sorry, let me correct myself. You are SO SCARED it's funny.

Uther: ...What?

Merlin: You say you are so certain I killed Aulfric and Sophia, but instead of just arresting and execute me for murder, you had to lock up Arthur in the dungeons for what? To make this stupid test and then threaten to do stuff you can't actually do, because you know Arthur wouldn't allow it! The truth is, Uther Pendragon, you can't do ANYTHING to me. You can't HURT me.

Uther: (slaps Merlin, furious)

Meanwhile, with Arthur in the dungeons.

Arthur: (trying to force the door open) Come on. Come on!

Sir Innprudence: (from the celd beside) It's useless, Sire. We tried.

Sir Ewan: (from the celd in the other side) No, we didn't!

Sir Innprudence: Right, we didn't, because that's wrong.

Arthur: What are you doing here?

Sir Ewan: You sent us here, Sire.

Sir Innprudence: And it's being a nightmare! I miss my family and friends. I'm starting to forget their faces! 😭

Arthur: You've just been here for a day. 😒

Sir Innprudence: But you've been here for less than an hour and you're trying to escape, sire.

Sir Ewan: (scolds) Innprudence! 😠 (to Arthur) I'm sure that's not what you were really doing, Sire.😅

Arthur: No, that's exactly what I'm doing. My father is planning to do something to Merlin, I don't know what, but if he had to imprisoned me here to do it, it mustn't be good. I have to get out, now!

Sir Innprudence: Well, I have a little spoon here, Sire. Maybe we could use it to make a hole in the wall-

Arthur: That would take years!

Sir Ewan: I managed to make a stick with a little hook to try to grab the keys, but the guards that have them are too far.

Arthur: So it's pointless.

Sir Ewan: ...yeah.

Arthur: (exasperated, to the ceiling) Can't I have a useful knight for once? Just once!

Sir Ewan: I'm sorry, Sire.

Sir Innprudence: There isn't really much we can do. The King's will is above anyone else's.

Arthur: (to himself, whispering) The King... (calls out one of the guards) Hey, you! Come here! Your future King is talking to you!

Guard: (comes) Do you need something, Sire?

Arthur: I demand to be release this instant.

Guard: That's not possible, Sire. The King-

Arthur: Your King now.

Guard: ...Excuse me, Sire?

Arthur: My father won't be King forever. And, once he passes, I'll be your King. A King who will remember this very day when he was imprisoned against his will. And guess who is going to be the first to receive my rage?

Guard: ...

Arthur: However, if you help me out now. Rage will be replaced by gratitude that will come in the form of lands, money... or even status. More than enough for you and your family.

Guard: (tempted, but scared) Sire... please. I can't disobey the King. It's treason.

Arthur: What are you talking about? You didn't disobey the King. I got a hold of you and you fighted hard, but I'm a very skilled knight, so I managed to knock you out and that's when a took your keys and escaped.

Guard: ...

Arthur: So? The keys?

Guard: (pulling out the key, still doubtful) But... if the King finds out...

Arthur: (smiles, reassuring) He won't find out. I'll make it believable. (extends his hand) The keys.

Guard: (extends the hand with the keys)

Arthur: (pulls his arm instead and hits his head with the iron bars)

Guard: (falls to the floor, unconscious)

Arthur: I told I'd make it believable. (takes the keys and opens the cell) Thank you. (leaves running)

Sir Innprudence: Wait! Sire!

Sir Ewan: You forgot about us! Sire!

Sir Innprudence: ...

Sir Ewan:...

Sir Innprudence: Hey, I think your stick might work now. He left the keys there.

Back at the throne room.

Merlin: (brings a hand to his cheek, eyes wide in shock and offended)

Uther: (with barely contained fury and hatred) Until you finally showed your real face, scum. Who do you think you are to speak to me like that? You are nothing but a serving boy!

Merlin: I'm much more than that.

Uther: (red with fury) How dare you? (shouts) You are speaking to your King!

Merlin: (shouts back) You are NOT my King! Arthur is. And he will be a better and more worthy king that you ever were.

Uther: (about to slap him again)

Merlin: (stops Uther's hand by holding his wrist midway) I don't think so.

Uther: (even more red with fury) You! Little- (brings a hand to his chest suddenly in pain)

Merlin: (all his boldness gone) Sire?

Uther: (twitches and falls to the ground)

Merlin: (in panic) Sire! (kneels and starts checking him frantic, but there is no response and thinks) Oh, Gods! OH GODS! I killed him. I killed the King! No, no, no, no, no! This wasn't supposed to happen so soon! What have I done?! Am I mad? Why did I say all those things? I think I believed he was Uther's ghost for a second. Well, he is a ghost now... NO! He can't be dead! Arthur will be devasted! He can't be dead! Please, please, please, wake up!

Arthur: (opens the door with force and enters, frantic and worried) Merlin! (stares in shock at the scene before him)

Merlin: (looks up in panic and tears of desperation and guilt run down his eyes) Arthur, I-I don't what happened-I didn't-I didn't mean to. He was...and then I...I'm so sorry!

Arthur: (walks to Merlin in silence)

Merlin: (in more panic) I swear on my mother's life I didn't think this would happen. Arthur, please, belie-

Arthur: (kneels and hugs Merlin)

Merlin: ...

Arthur: (pulls away just enough so he looks at Merlin in the eye) Are you alright? He didn't do anything to you?

Merlin: (confused) Uhm... not really.

Arthur: (cups Merlin's face with one hand and hardens his features) He hit you.

Merlin: (getting out of his stupor) It's nothing. But, Arthur, your father! (points at Uther, alarmed)

Arthur: (gives Uther a glance in silence. Then stands up, pulling Merlin with him and calls out) Guards!

Guards: (enter)

Arthur: The King fainted. Bring the Court Physician inmediatly.

Guards: (worried) Yes, Sire (leave quickly)

Merlin: (thinking, a strange feeling in his guts) How... how is that the guards seemed more worried than Arthur himself?

...

Let's remeber this happened before the events of "To kill a King" and "La Morte d'Arthur", so no, Uther didn't die. But how did Merlin get away with insulting and almost killing the King? What did Arthur do? You can make your guesses in the comments ☺️

Tagging @aceauthorcatqueen , @fallenxjas , @smileytrinity ,@lucifertookmyshoe , @an-entity-i-think , @thecornerofbelu , @griffonskies , @odinjm , @cinnabon-sweetroll-tiramisu , @thelady-mary , @bennedict , @nightninjaboy , @st8-of-grace , @star-rie , @error-username-not-available , @dogberryrowan , @jamieweasley13 , @tansyuduri , @tercais , @robynnemrys , @evadne01 , @serasvictoria02 , @hairdryerducks , @hopeaha , @curiously-lazy , @ harriettesthings , @andrealux16 , @wacko-weirdo , @greatdonutenemy , @yougottobekittenme , @anxiousosaurus , @kinkforwings , @someweirdassnamee , @impracticalantlers , @miyriu , @hobipabo , @whitemaskcd

#bbc merlin #merlin bbc #merlin #merthur #merlin prompt #merlin fanfic #merlin fic #merlin and arthur #arthur and merlin #merthur fic #merthur fanfiction #merthur fanfic #merthur prompt #Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU

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lina-lovebug · 11 months ago

Text

New Years Kiss

Orm Marius x fem! reader

Orm Marius couldn't admit he liked you.

As the son of King Orvax, he was prideful, cunning, malicious and stubborn. He always knew he'd have to fight for his throne, and because of that reality, he's spiteful.

But he's also Atlannas' son. He never spent much time thinking of how they both cared to the brink of it hurting them, or how his love was displayed in actions whilst hers was in encouraging her son to do better with his newfound freedom. In looks, he is his mothers son, but his pride held onto him steadfast.

"(Y/N) is coming."

"(Y/N)?"

Arthur mused, "oh now someone's paying attention."

Orm said nothing but rolled his eyes. His elder brother, Arthur, had a habit of teasing him. Sure, he had grown used to it and had his own retorts, but it had only gotten worse since Arthur figured out that Orm has a crush.

On a human.

"She's hosting, so you better not fuck this up."

Orm sneered, "what are you talking about?"

"New Years Kiss, little bro!" He went to mess up his hair, but Orm dodged him, "when the clock strikes midnight, humans have a tradition of sharing a kiss," Mera explained to him whilst feeding Jr..

"I don't know why you're telling me this because I have no intentions of courting her-"

"When you sound like that, you don't," Arthur cut in, his voice loud even from the kitchen.

Orm is Atlantean, (Y/N) is human.

Logically, it would never work out.

So why even try?

But even as Orm would remind himself of such a glaring difference, the thought would vanish the moment he saw her. He had seen hundreds of Atlantean women in his time, even mermaids, but somehow they were dull in his eyes compared to her. She wasn't just different because she's human, but she genuinely cared about everyone around her. He first claimed she was strange for giving her food to the homeless, or how she was odd for asking the barista how her day was.

Because it's a pure act of innocence that he hadn't seen in a long time.

And its what drew him in even further.

Despite his claims, Orm still found himself picking off any piece of lint or fur on his clothing and made sure he smelt just like that candle she loved so much.

And a dash of that cologne that Arthur wears.

"Oh, he just keeps growing! Jr, I thought we talked about this. You need to stay cute forever," (Y/N) loved seeing Jr.. Her face lit up in joy anytime she saw the little prince, and Orm felt a pang of jealousy.

Then realized.

He's jealous of a toddler.

"Help yourself! The potato skins are almost done," You had done the most to avoid Orms intense gaze but with those eyes? It was nearly impossible.

"Orm, how was your Christmas?" You asked, a tad bit nervous as he came inside and took his shoes off. He was always respectful of your home.

"Arthur gave me a fish."

"Did you name it?"

He looked at you for a moment, ". . .his name is Triton."

His deadpan voice with that line made you smile, and you brought out a small box from your back.

"What's this?" He asked carefully, watching it in your hand.

"Well since I couldn't make it for Christmas, I thought you could have it today," you explained, a small feeling bubbling in your stomach. You saw it and immediately thought of him, but never saw Orm wear jewelry a day in his life.

"It's for me?" He felt his heart skip a beat as he took it carefully and unwrapped it. It was a small box and went it opened up, his pupils dilated at the gift inside.

"I know how it feels to not be able to go home," you explained as he pulled it out of the box, admiring it, "so I thought you'd like something that reminds you of it."

It's a ring with carefully carved ocean waves along the side. You could relate to Orm in that way - being exiled. Well, it wasn't exactly exile, but it was always one way or the highway with your parents.

Choosing your own happiness came with a cost.

"And it's stainless steel, so it won't tarnish in the water," I added nervously.

"It's beautiful," he finally spoke up, slipping it on his right hand. He met your gaze with a nervous smile, "you didn't have to-"

"(Y/N), I think the potato skins are burning!"

"Fuck!" You shouted, running to the kitchen. Orm admired the ring for a bit longer, enjoying the warmth it brought it him before joining the others.

The evening was quite eventful, to say the least.

Arthur ate half of the food all whilst sharing pictures of Jr., and then Mera had started to feel ill. You apologized if something was overcooked or undercooked, but Mera insisted she had been feeling off all day.

Leaving you and Orm.

Alone.

He sat on the couch like a stuff board, suddenly hyperaware of his own breathing and kept glancing at you across the couch.

"I-"

"What-"

You chuckled, "sorry. You first."

Orm said softly, "it is nothing of importance. Please."

"Want to see the fireworks? It's almost midnight," Orm hadn't heard much of them before being banished to the surface. Only that they were loud and he refused to go outside.

But for you?

He'd say yes.

Since it was cold outside, you grabbed a blanket from the couch and wrapped it around you before slipping on shark slippers.

"I'm sorry if this has been a rough New Years Eve. I'm usually a better cook than tonight," you apologized, "I've just been feeling weird lately."

"Is it a human sickness?" Orm questioned, still keeping a small distance from you, for fear his heart might burst from his chest.

You blushed lightly, taking a small step closer to him, "something like that."

"Well. . .I hope you feel better."

Dense as always.

You took the initiative to step closer to him, your hands keeping themselves on the railing of your porch. The wood creaked lightly, and Orm wanted nothing more than to hold your hands.

"Humans get cold easily, correct?" He knew this but wanted to sound dumber for this.

"Yeah, why?" You asked, looking up at him.

He said nothing else but gathered your hands in his, cupping them together. You faced him but looked down, completely sure your face was scarlet.

"Guess I should have worn gloves," you muttered.

"I like it better this way," Orm confessed, meeting your gaze in your own shock.

It's now or never, he thought.

"I hated your kind," what a fucking way to start, "and what you did to the ocean. I wanted to blame all of you, for surely no one was innocent. . .but I have never seen something so pure in their efforts. You are shameless with your kindness, and it used to befuddle me. Why would anyone do things without expectations? Nothing to return back?"

"Orm," you breathed out. Surely he wasn't going to say it? Surely the fucking Prince of Atlantis didn't fall for a land dweller?

"You're incredible," He confessed, a small smile teasing at his lips, "You're the best of your people, and. . .and I. . ." He felt like words couldn't describe what he felt.

So he led with action, and kissed you.

His lips were nothing like you'd imagined. They were soft, and supple against your own, which you were lucky enough to remember your strawberry chapstick today. You leaned further into the kiss, and one hand came up to cradle your cheek. He wanted to continue on, memorize your lips against his - the very euphoria it brought him.

But a loud bang separated you both.

The fireworks started, bright reds, greens, blues - all lighting up the sky. You leaned your head against his chest with a laugh, "that scared the shit out of me."

His arms wrapped around your frame, ensuring your warmth as the colors in the sky danced in his eyes.

"I was your New Years kiss," He said absent-mindedly, and you looked up at him.

"Did Arthur tell you to plan this?"

He chuckled, "oh no. He may be older but he's not that smart."

"You're so mean," you playfully smacked his chest.

"But never to you," He planted a loving kiss on your forehead, silently thanking his brother for having Mera fake her illness so that he could do this.

I'm a fucking dumbass. I wrote this but passed out at 1am 🤦‍♀️

#orm marius x reader #orm marius imagine #aquaman x reader #aquaman imagine #the lost kingdom #aquaman the lost kingdom

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goodmorgan · 3 months ago

Text

Perfect Strangers

Chapter 8: A Reward to Forfeit

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

Series Summary: When a stranger appears at your homestead to steal from you, you set out to help him instead. What follows is a reckless relationship with potentially dangerous outcomes.

Previous Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7)

Chapter Summary: Arthur returns after your learned an unexpected truth.

Word Count: 3.6K

Tags: 18+. MDNI. NSFW. Smut, Porn With Plot, Mutual Pining, Angst, Infidelity, Oral Sex (m! and f! receiving), 69, Caring and Protective Arthur Morgan, Mentions of Domestic Violence and Death

Taglist: @how-the-heck-would-i-know @pinkiec6-rubi @spiritcatcherxo @slumberr67 @nervousmumbling @themoonalienhere2000 @cwbylikeyou @mieriella @chxxrliie @lunawolfclaw @tinaaaa5747 (i can't seem to tag everyone, i'm so sorry)

AO3 Link

The moon is incandescent tonight. Blazing like you've never seen it, not even in the plains of New Hanover. It's warm and inviting and leaves no place in the dark. You put out the only lamp in your room to witness its magnificent beauty, its powerful shadow coming through the swaying curtains.

The breeze is inviting and the night is refreshing, a salve after the hot day that just passed. As you stand by the window, you remove your housecoat and let it fall to the floor, the coolness hitting your warm skin. The feeling is magical, addictive, and you immediately remove your nightgown, a chill running through your most delicate parts. For a moment you bathe, fully naked, on what the moon and the breeze offer you, the perfect respite after such a heavy day. You focus on the physical sensations that envelop you if only to forget the emotional ones.

After some time, you feel the ache in your legs from the movements of the day. You sit on the edge of the bed closest to the window, close enough to still feel the draft. The moonlight still shines on your skin. All you have to do now is wait. The house is finally quiet. Your lover will be here soon.

And so will the outlaw.

It didn't take you by surprise to learn of his dealings with the law. Mysterious and effusive, always scuttling away from your house and from your bed to head to same place not too distant, but never clear enough of where it is. Doubts kept lingering on your mind about his abrupt comings and goings, his dirty bloody clothes, his bruised calloused hands, his smell of gunpowder and danger. But those doubts were never enough to overpower your senses, drunk on kisses and touches you had never conceived, blinded by lust and exhilaration only he could give. The cunning outlaw, desperately clinging to you for release and passion, headed east to escape from the law, only to find himself ensnared by you.

But how can someone so passionate and caring be so dangerous? How can someone so elusive be the refuge you’ve been hiding in?

The wanted poster would seem like the ultimate betrayal to anyone else. A secret so vile no relationship could survive, not even a secretive one. Your heart should be screaming to evade the scoundrel. But no man could deliver his soul to a stranger, to you, and be ruthlessly devious. Of that you were sure of.

Your plan for now was to wait for his arrival. In the nude, as promised. Bare, as you've been to each other since you've met. Besides, who are you to contest a hidden secret? Just a few hours ago, you kissed your husband with his spend still in your mouth.

You’ve made sure the door is locked this time and you've placed the key on the vanity, making sure no one manages to enter. As you put it down, you realized you might just be locking yourself in a room with one of the most dangerous criminals in the country. Full lunacy under a full moon.

You barely hear him until his hands reach your window, climbing gracefully despite the strain. His boots are dirty and dust disperses when he lands on his feet. He’s physique takes up a large part of the window, towered only by the draped curtains. His face is barely lit as he faces you, replacing the moon’s glow with his own. He smiles fully as he sees your naked body, a man thankful to get what he asked for.

And then you realize he’s not the dangerous outlaw on the poster. He’s your Arthur. Nothing more.

“You sure know how to make a fella feel welcomed, missy." He kneels by you, his face becoming clear in the moonlight, his smile widening as he meets yours. "Prettiest thing I've seen in Saint Denis."

You stare at each other for a few seconds, wondering which one is about to start your usual greeting of a fervent long kiss. But Arthur surprises you, and instead, he places a soft kiss on your cheek, his lips warm on your cooled skin. His eyes are as kind as you remember them, and his demeanor is as soft as his embrace. Whoever drew the wanted poster didn't love him like you do.

But you can't take it anymore. "Arthur, would you ever…" His brow flexes in patience. "… hurt me?"

Arthur's pause is short. "Now why in the hell you asking that, sweetheart?" You must look serious enough that he continues. "Darling, that's the last thing I would do in this world." His hands rest on your hips perfectly, urging you to believe him. "Why are you asking such a thing?"

"There's bad men out there, Arthur." You brush the fabric on his shoulder, afraid of opening a door you can't close. "I've… seen things."

"What did you see, darling?"

"There was a woman on the street today. She got robbed right in broad daylight." You hesitate for a moment before you're brave enough to say it. "They said the man was a fugitive. An outlaw."

Arthur's breath is heavy but you're unsure if it's the word that bothers him. "I'm sorry you had to see that, sweetheart. That must have been scary." His thumbs brush the side of your leg in comfort.

"Yeah. Well, they caught him. Thank heavens."

"That's good." He kisses your temple and lingers before the question pops into his mind. "Why are you asking if I would hurt you, darling?"

"Well." You don't want to tell him you saw his face at the police station under any circumstance. "I know men can…" You try not to stumble too much. "Hurt women… a lot worse." Arthur's eyes are wide as he stares at you. "Some who-"

"Has someone hurt you?" he almost whispers.

"No," you interject, dispelling the thought from his mind. It never really happened with you, although you've heard plenty of horror stories from the women in your life. It was never physical, anyway. Your husband always managed to harm you with his words and deeds, never with his hands. Sometimes you wonder if it would hurt less that way. "I just… Seeing that man. I got scared, I guess."

As you look into his eyes, in the clutch of his hands, you're no longer scared that Arthur's really the beast they hung on the wall at the station. Instead, you're scared that they'll hang Arthur on the gallows, you're feet on the ground as they lower him and your only proof of love into damnation.

The idea is so hurtful, you feel tears forming in your eyes, your heart shrinking in its place. You bury your face in his shoulder, quick enough so he won't see the sorrow on your face. He catches your body in his arms, quick to steady you on him, his feet adjusting to hold the full weight of your naked body.

"It's ok, sweetheart, I've got you." You feel one of his hands patting the back of your head, and he holds you like he always does, as if in possession of life's preciousness, something of his own. "No need to be scared now." You try hard to contain the sobs in your chest, but it's too late as they're pushed against his own. "It's ok, missy." He holds you tighter as if trying to swaddle your worries away. "It's ok, darling."

You don't cry for too long but it's enough to dampen the shirt underneath you. You feel warm as he envelops you in his touch. You somehow rest fully on one of his knees as he holds you up from the floor, scared of dropping you. His breath is steady as he waits patiently for your distress to subside. A new kiss on your temple is enough to lift your head from his clutch, and the light of his eyes returns to illuminate the darkness in you, as gentle as ever.

No outlaw looking at you, no. Just a love that will outlast.

Arthur keeps holding you tight and before you know it he places you down on the bed, the softness of the bed linen cool against your skin, your head heavy against the pillows, finally serene, as you watch him undress his shirt, his boots, his belt, his trousers. He joins you on the bed, his hands reaching for yours so he places small kisses on them. He makes sure you're calm and attentive before he even says a word.

"Wanna know why I came to see you? All the way out here?" He tightens his fingers around yours, your arms bending as he inches closer. "You're the only one who's ever taken care of me like you have." A peck on the cheek softly before he exhales, his face in full view. "Sweetheart, I'd protect you if it's the last thing I do in this world. Cause you're the first one I've met that makes me feel like I might belong in it."

You're frozen in place as he bears himself to you, his face as serious as you've seen it. You're dumbstruck by his words, suddenly floating as he sits next to you, his strong arm rubbing your shoulder, his hands still holding yours. You let your head fall on his chest, curling yourself around his nakedness, begging him to hold you like only he can. Before you know it, you're in his arms again, your ear pressing against his heartbeat and his echoes of paradise.

"I'll always be here for you, darling. You're safe with me."

You're not sure how long you both stare at each other before your eyes close. The world seizes to exist, the notion of lawlessness expires. Only the heavens prevail and the comfort of his arms. His breath a virtuous lullaby.

As soon as you open your eyes, you know it was a nightmare that awoke you. You can't remember what it was about, but it was unpleasant enough to make you want to end it. You're surprised you haven't jolted awake, and you can tell it's because Arthur is still holding you, barely moved since you caved into sleep. He's in a heavy stupor, or he would've noticed your small head tilt as you look toward the window.

The great big moon is gone and an orange hue is closing in on the sky, far enough that you know you don't need to send Arthur away. Not just yet. You turn to see his face instead, his eyelashes long over his cheeks, his tan browning the skin beneath them. His breath lands on your face faintly, you can feel it rustle some of your hair. His lips are plump and primed just to taste. You hope he forgives you as yours land on them, finding it impossible not to indulge. You've seen him wake many times now, but every time is just as dazzling as the man who stares back at you.

"You ok, darling?" His words are groggy as his eyes, blinking to better look at you. He tightens his hold of you as he shifts in position, barely disturbed by the fact he spent hours holding a grown woman in his arms. "You feel better, missy?"

You nod your head as you find it necessary to continue to kiss him, trying to get him back to the land of the living. Once he's more awake, he starts to kiss back, and soon enough his tongue leads into ecstasy that makes you completely alive too. As alive and safe as you've ever been.

Arthur is not an educated man, of that you know. He's been puzzled by some of the books beside your bed, or with a topic of conversation that is a little more erudite. You don't mind it at all, as you feel he in no way lacks more important qualities, like emotional maturity and life experience. He often knows how you feel before you even do so yourself. But his candor has always been genuine and abundant, never being able to conceal his true intent. You know every word he said to you last night was truthful and sincere, not taken from a flimsy novel or a yesterday's paper. You know his words were heartfelt and spoken with legitimacy. Arthur is a man of his word, even if not of the law.

You're safe in his arms, of that you are sure of, and as you kiss him back deeper and deeper, you know your loyalty lies with him, even more so than before. Your hands hold steady on his shoulder blades as he places you gently on the bed again, his tongue distracting enough that you barely feel it. The brush of the tip of his cock against your thigh suggests maybe he's keen on dragging this on, much like you are.

Arthur continues his way downwards, first down your neck, then to your breasts, taking a moment to savor each one, his tongue hot on each nipple. He leaves a trail down your stomach before he starts fondling the hairs on your mount, his hands reaching for the side of your thighs to hold you in place as he readjusts. The way he clenches you means his impatient. He looks over at you before he can dive into you, just as the daylight dives into the night outside your window.

Many mornings have come and gone where he has lavished you like this, your eyes barely opened before he delights you awake. His acts are those of a man thankful to have a woman he can ravish like this, thankful to have a woman who will undoubtedly return the favor when she's allowed. But that's not why he does it. He does it because, above all else, he enjoys it. It thrills him that he can do it, thankful he gets to do something for another person besides beating them or robbing them. You're his escape from this world, and by his own words, you're the only one that keeps him anchored to it: *"You're the first one I've met that makes me feel like I might belong in it." *

All thoughts vanish when his tongue joins his lips on your bud, the sensation making you so elated that you close your eyes at once. His work is thorough and dominant, now that he knows you're well awake. He charges quite forcefully, hungry to see you squirm under his grip, your legs struggling under his hands. You take a deep breath before you open your eyes and you see him, kneeling as he lavishes your sex, his muscular back beginning to sweat. Underneath his torso, you catch a glimpse of his cock, half hard from either his slumber or his appetite. You reach for it with your hand, determined to get his attention.

Arthur stops his ministrations to look back at you, your hand slowly working his length. His chin is shiny from your slick and his spit. "You sure?"

"Please," you beg.

Arthur knows what you want and acquiesces. He's gentleman enough to readjust himself on the bed, his tip now closer so you can taste him fully. You both tilt to the side, facing each other, your head landing on his thigh before his own lands on yours. He's still looking at you as your tongue reaches his tip, moaning as you satisfy your urge to lick his drip, not averting his eyes until after you close your lips around it.

His arousal often leads him to surrender to his urges and he becomes impatient to get you to wriggle under his touch again. His tongue lavishes your bud with swift but effective strokes, getting quicker with each pass. His free hand joins his efforts and you feel a finger at your entrance, inching closer to the spot on your wall he knows how to find so well. Soon enough another finger joins in, and you feel edging closer to the end. His mouth is relentless on you, but you try hard to keep your mouth busy, as full as you can, his hardness at peak as you work his base with your hand. You feel yourself drooling with pleasure and it becomes hard to determine which of the muffled moans are yours and which are his. You're starting to take him deeper when Arthur speeds up the pace even more.

You try to keep him in your mouth as much as possible, even when it becomes impossible to move him in and out. When you're close, you take him out with a noisy pop that's stifled by a loud moan from you, your hand clutching to his back to anchor your descent. Arthur's stamina doesn't wane and in just a few seconds he brings you to the place of wild and livid bliss, his tongue still licking as your hips rock back and forth as you ride the heavens once again. You tighten your fingers around his muscles, your fingernails digging deeper into him, unaware you're leaving a deep mark. Once your whimpering is steadier and lower, he removes his fingers from inside you to rub your ass, kneading on the flesh to help you quell your movements.

Arthur really knows how to make you dizzy, exhausted. A mastermind at making you succumb to pleasure. It takes you some time before you can open your eyes again, only to find yourself looking at the carved ceiling of your bedroom. It could use some painting. You turn your face to see Arthur watching you, slumped down on one elbow, his hand working his cock, trying to finish off what you started. His pace is hurried. It won't take him long. He moves to sit more comfortably and closer to you, his tip towering from your viewpoint. He decides to take his free hand over to your face, brushing off a few strands of wet hair covering it. He takes one good look at you unveiled before his breath hitches, his eyes close and his hand moves erratically, his tip then erupting into a hot white streak, which then covers his hand, his stomach. Dark spots form on your fancy bed sheets.

You move toward him before his breath steadies and he opens his eyes to watch you lick his spend off the back of his hand, his fingers, his tip still dripping. He places his hands around your arms as you lower down to lick what landed on his mound, his stomach, his chest. He makes sure to keep watching the deliberate movements of the tip of your tongue, which makes him want to burst all over again. Your tongue doesn't stop until it reaches his neck, his sweat is sweet after the bitterness of his spend. You try to drink most of him before he pushes your chin upwards, kissing you as passionately as he does when either one of you finishes, as if you haven't had enough of a reward yet. You both catch a trace of yourself on each other, exchanging the perfect symphony.

Arthur likes to kiss, and luckily he's great at it. So much so that this is almost as thrilling as what came before. As he continues, his back comes to rest against the headboard, welcoming you onto his lap, your legs a perfect fit with his.

It's only when his eyes start to sparkle with the sunlight of a new day that you notice that it's best to stop, making sure he can still leave before anyone catches him. It's even more urgent now that no one should catch him, now that you know he's a wanted man with a price on his head, a reward you damn well want to forfeit.

The outlaw subsides the work of his tongue when you pull your head back, your fingers brushing the flex of his arms to tell him to stop. "It's best you should go."

He turns slightly to catch the sky out of the window. "I guess it is."

Despite that, you both continue to kiss, more hurriedly but just as deeply. Your hips rock slightly forward against him, the need in your lower abdomen blooming again. Arthur's barely recovered but it's clear he wishes for more too.

You take a deep breath as you wrap your arms around him, a soft moan escaping your throat when you can't get any closer to him. It's here, on his lap, where you belong. The comfort of his body beneath yours is the safest place on earth somehow, and somehow, you yearn for more. More of him, more of this. More of the outlaw grinding beneath your thighs, growing stiffer by the minute his tongue spends inside your mouth. It's here, in his lap, where you want to be, bound by lust and evasion of the law. After all, being an adulterer is a crime too. You best enjoy this before either one of you is caught.

None of you show signs of stopping, although dragging this on is anything but wise. The risks of you or Arthur getting caught increase with every brush of your lips. But it occurs to you, that you don't just want him not to go. No. You want him to take you with him.

To take you back to your cottage in New Hanover, where your affair blossomed, where Arthur used to have you just like this, sometimes harder, sometimes softer. Where perhaps you can resume where you left off, where it's less likely that someone can catch you. Either the law or the spouse.

The wanted man halts his movements as you break from his embrace to deliver your most unlawful plea yet.

"Take me back, Arthur. Take me back with you."

---

A/N: I am so sorry for taking so long for an update. Unfortunately life got in the way. But please know I intend to finish this fic, whenever that may be.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan smut #goodmorgan #perfect strangers fic

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lunarflux · 4 days ago

Text

x: Thomas Shelby found his match in an information bookie who has eluded the grasp of the Peaky Blinders long enough to crumble their power over Birmingham. But at last, he found you. The ghost he'd been chasing was finally in front of him, but you were trickier than he expected. Dangerous, cunning - and a bit too much like himself. To buy your loyalty, he would have to sell his in equal measure. Loyalty for loyalty - blood for blood - how much were either of you willing to spill before the game changed entirely?

a/n: the slow burn is slow burning

part 10: the inevitable crash

word count: 3,048

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

The street was quieter than usual, the night cold and empty except for the occasional passerby. You made your way down the alley toward the Garrison, a slow, deliberate pace, your thoughts more on the events of the past days than the path ahead. The weight of the decision you made—though correct in your mind—Tommy’s amusement at your actions, the tension in the air between the two of you. It was a lot to carry, but it wasn't the first time you’ve found yourself with something weighing you down.

Just as you reached the corner, you heard footsteps behind you, quick, deliberate, the sound of boots on cobblestones. You instinctively reached for your knife—the concept that it could be Arthur or John trying to scare you crossed your mind. But when you turned, the figure that stepped out of the shadows was one you knew all too well.

Bingham.

The one who used to buy information from you. A man who’d never been above using others for his own gain, his reputation dark enough to send a ripple of unease through anyone who dealt with him. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. The familiar scar across his cheek caught the moonlight.

“You’re walking alone at this hour, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “Not a smart move, considering who’s still looking for your services.”

You stood firm, swallowing the minute flinch on your brow. “I’m not in that business anymore, Bingham.”

He stepped forward, eyes gleaming with a knowing, calculated glint. “You think I don’t know that?” He laughed softly, but there was something dangerous in it, something that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m not asking for your services, darling. I’m offering you a way back in. You’ve got a talent for finding things out. I remember what you're worth. I doubt the great Thomas Shelby and the Peaky Blinders really know.”

You met his gaze without hesitation. “I've kept my connections, Alfred. I've extended my kindness to the Blinders for a modest fee. I don't think anything else will be necessary.”

Bingham tilted his head, stepping closer. His voice quieted, but the threat was all too real, seeping through each word. “Don’t make me remind you what happened the last time you tried to play both sides, sweetheart. You’re a smart woman. Don’t let the Peaky Blinders loyalty cloud your judgment. It’s only a matter of time before they stop keeping you safe and start seeing you as a liability.”

Before you can respond, a sudden, sharp voice erupted from behind you.

“Come now, y/n. I started drinking without you.”

Tommy placed his hand on the back of your neck, his silhouette cutting through the dim light, standing with a calm, controlled presence that you knew so well. His eyes flickered down to you, then back to Bingham. There was no hesitation in his movement, no uncertainty. He was here, and his presence kept the unwelcome guest from getting any closer.

Bingham didn’t flinch, though the subtle tension in his jaw betrayed his irritation. “The Thomas Shelby,” he sneered. “Of all the people to come out and... Save the day. Surprised you didn't send one of your errand boys to fetch her. Didn't think she was worth a rope from the big man.”

Tommy stepped forward, guiding you with him, not bothering with any pretense of diplomacy. He looked down at the ground. His voice was cold, clipped. “You're standing on Blinders property.” He motioned with his hand. "All of this, those buildings. This pub. The rubble beneath your feet. And this woman—" His grip on your neck tightened. "—she's Blinders property as well."

Bingham’s eyes scanned Tommy's face, but he found no trace of humor. There was no doubt in his mind about the power Tommy wielded, especially with the way he stood tall, unwavering. There was a threat in Tommy’s voice that left no room for negotiation, and he knew it.

“I suppose this is where I bid you farewell, y/n,” Bingham muttered, though his bravado was quickly fading. “In time, we will see each other again. I'll make sure of it.”

Tommy didn’t react to the veiled threat. He just raised an eyebrow, his gaze unwavering. “Come around here without an invitation again, and your body will be beneath this rubble. And then you'll be my property, too.”

Bingham chuckled at Tommy's threat, but, with a final glance at you, he stepped back into the shadows, disappearing as quickly as he appeared. The tension lingered in the air long after he was gone.

Tommy stood there for a moment, his eyes still locked on the spot where Bingham vanished, his jaw tense. He took a slow breath, finally turning to face you.

“Are you alright?” he asked, the concern in his voice softer than usual, though his gaze remains sharp. His hand remained on your neck though his grip eased until it was a gentle hold.

You nodded. “You shouldn't have gotten involved.”

Tommy’s eyes narrowed briefly, a hint of something unreadable in them. “I don't know what that fucking was, but I meant what I said.” He paused, looking at you with a touch of seriousness in his eyes. “The Blinders don't take kindly to strangers on our property. Touching our things. And that includes you.”

You placed your hand on his wrist and eased it down. "I'm not your fucking property, Tommy. Don't think I didn't catch that."

"You're a Blinder now, are you not?"

You could tell there was more he wanted to say, but he didn’t. Instead, he gave you a quick, assessing glance before heading for the door of the Garrison.

“Let’s get inside,” he said. “It’s too cold out here for games. Even yours.”

You followed him, the weight of Bingham's warning still hanging in the air, but now you were sure of one thing: Tommy Shelby wouldn’t let anyone take what’s his. Not without a fight. And part of knowing that meant accepting that—even though you would fight to the death to deny it—he believed you were his, too.

Tommy pulled a chair for you and set up behind the bar. He didn't speak. You watched quietly as he popped open a fresh bottle of whiskey. He pulled two glasses, but as he was about to pour yours, you held up your hand.

"Gin tonight."

The confusion quickly washed over his face. He pulled a bottle of gin from below the counter and filled your cup with a couple of inches. He placed the bottle down with a thud and toasted to the air. An odd silence that you'd never experienced with him before drifted over the bar.

He'd look at you occasionally as you sipped your drink, and you returned the glance. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, but you knew something was brewing in his mind. Whatever he was thinking about, it was heavy. And though you didn't know the depth of it, you could tell he was carrying it alone.

"So, are you thinking about your big white wedding?" you asked quietly in an attempt to steer the conversation away from Bingham, letting the gin roll over your tongue. "A man who drinks in silence in a woman's company always has something like that on his mind."

Tommy didn't often look shocked, but when he did, it brought a smile to your face, knowing that you read him properly. This time, it wasn't the case.

"No," he whispered. "No white wedding. She wore purple."

For once, you hated that you were right. Though he said so little, the sadness beneath seeped into your skin. The news about his wife's death came to you via a drunk Blinder who sat beside you in a pub. Though, the information alone did not carry the weight of Tommy's loss, his melancholy tone said everything you needed to know. The aftermath of your business never returned the following day.

The gin rested against your lip long enough for the burn to turn into nothing. You couldn't leave the conversation this way, but you didn't know how far to push before he'd back down.

"What was her name?" you asked.

Tommy's eyes connected with yours. It was the only proper way to say her name, the only proper way to tell this story. And though the depth of this story had seemingly died with time, it never got any easier.

"Grace. Grace Shelby."

You lowered your gaze, the name of Tommy's ghost imprinting itself deep into your memory. "Do I need to ask if you loved her?"

"No, perhaps not."

You looked around the Garrison, motioning to the air with your glass. "And what did she think about all this? About you."

Tommy tilted his whiskey all the way back then swiftly poured himself another. "She loved me."

"That wasn't my question." You sat up straight and tapped the counter. "I asked what she thought about you."

Tommy stared at you as he processed what you were asking him. It wasn't a kind question. Or maybe, it was. You were being gentle with him, and that wasn't something he was used to. And if someone had tried, he probably didn't notice.

Grace had, until the end, hoped—expected—things would go right. And so he tried if only for her and her memory. He mourned. He wept—in private, but he still did nevertheless.

And now, here you were. Asking if he really knew what Grace wanted. He should have been insulted except your question didn't imply he was wrong. He knew what Grace thought about all of this. And damn if he didn't try.

"Can I ask you something else?"

"I don't think my permission would stop you regardless," he sighed.

"The way you were before her," you started, your voice low and soft, "are you that man again?"

Tommy's jaw tightened. Now, your questions were teetering on things he didn't know how to answer. He eyed you with caution as you raised your hand and rested it on the top button of his shirt.

"When a woman falls in love with a broken man—" You twisted your fingers, and the button came undone. "She finds you with your shirt open. Cold. Exposed. But you don't know any different because that's how it's always been. And then it happens—" Quietly, you refastened it. "—and suddenly you're warm and safe. She buttons you up and reminds you to take care of yourself."

You smiled softly, a kind contrast to his cold stare.

"And when that story comes to a close—" You tugged on his collar with a brief but strong pull, and the button came clean off. It clattered to the bar. You picked it up and held it in between your eyes and his. "—Either you're cold again or you're not."

Tommy took the button from your fingers and held it in his hand. Such a fragile token, he thought. If he played along with your line of thinking, he could throw it in the river and never be warm again. Or he could hold onto it and put himself together once more. He might never know which choice was the right one.

"Look, Tommy. I won't besmirch Grace's name by saying this, so I'll put it plainly." You reached your hand forward and rested it a few inches in front of his. "There are loves in our life that are meant to make us want more."

The faint image of a face formed in Tommy's mind. Grace's smile, the softness of her eyes. He saw it so clearly, greeting him again just as she had in his dreams for so long.

"There are those that make us want less."

Grace's smile turned blurry like a thick fog from the river drifted over, unkind and unwilling to let the light shine through

"There are those who wish us to be more than we are because they alone saw the potential, and those who wish us to be more than we're capable of."

Heavier and heavier, the fog took over her image.

"And then there is a love, only one love, that takes you as you are. As you were. As you ever will be. Because they take all of the shit, the broken pieces, the parts of us that are shattered beyond belief—and damn, they fucking love you anyway."

Until she was gone. Replaced by the sweet dew of vapors, overtaking the memories he held onto so dearly. Your words didn't force him to forget. Many tried and failed. No, you made him see it all differently, lifting the veil that love so crudely pulled over his eyes.

Tommy came out from behind the bar and stood before you, still turning the button between his fingers. His expression hadn't changed since you started speaking, a sign that he was processing all you had to say. If you were wrong, he might've stopped you. If you were right, then he wouldn't admit it.

What was it—that pull you felt? He felt it, too. The softness in Tommy's eyes tugged at you. The need, the desperation for comfort that he would never willingly seek—it was calling you, and you didn't understand why. Until now, he was your reflection, separated by the half-inch of glass in the mirror, but now the two images would coincide and pray they wouldn't shatter the other.

You expected him to flinch when you reached for his cheek, but instead, he accepted it. And you swore, just for a second, his eyes softened further as the warmth met his skin. He leaned into your palm with the briefest movement that could've easily been mistaken for a twitch. Before you could process what was happening, he mirrored you, his hand on your face, pulling you towards him until his temple rested against your cheek.

"You may call me a ghost, but ghosts only travel to those who call them." you whispered in his ear. "Maybe it's time you hang up, and just live."

The room felt like it was closing in around the two of you, the air crackling with the weight of unsaid words and the weight of every shared glance. Tommy was so close, so close you could feel his heartbeat pounding in sync with yours. The pull of him—this was what you expected, wanted even. You wanted the walls to come crashing down until he spilled out before you. The indestructible face of Tommy Shelby melted away for you at last.

Tommy pulled back and his eyes flickered to your lips for just a split second, the raw hunger in his gaze finally bubbling to the surface. He leaned in just enough that you could feel his breath ghosting over your lips, your noses brushing as he exhaled. You could taste the desperation, the cold loneliness on his breath.

That taste rolled over your tongue, and the second realization washed over you in an unfamiliar warmth. You hadn't just broken him down. You were reciprocating. The mirror of your hesitation, a fire ignited from two matches burning into char until plumes of smoke poured out into the sky. Both your pieces on the board were at a standstill, locked in a face off that could only end in the two of you being taken out of the game entirely.

His hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair, pulling you just a little closer—closer than you'd had ever been. His lips hovered above yours, his gaze never breaking from your eyes.

As the space between you disappeared, the door to the Garrison slammed open.

“Tommy?” Arthur’s voice cut through the thick tension like a dagger.

Tommy stiffened, his eyes still locked on yours, but there was a flash of annoyance, a flash of something—something dangerous and almost angry—that passed over his face. He didn’t want to break this. He didn’t want to stop, but reality was harsh. Arthur’s sudden entrance slammed you both back into it.

Your breath faltered, and in that split second, when everything had been on the verge of shattering, you felt something cold rush over you. A rush of self-preservation, an instinctive retreat. Without a word, you pulled back from Tommy’s grip, your heart racing in your chest.

The heat lingered, still hanging heavy in the air, but it suddenly felt distant. You didn’t know how to explain it, how to admit how close you had come to meeting him down in the place where you forced him to stay—and you hated yourself for it. You couldn't let him see even though you'd both emerged from the same pool.

“Arthur,” you said, your voice colder than you'd intended, a mask sliding back over your emotions. “You’ve got a damn good timing.”

Tommy, still standing where you left him, didn’t speak. His jaw clenched, a muscle twitching in his cheek. He didn’t want to show how much he wanted to follow you, how much he wanted to pull you back into the moment that had slipped through his fingers. But he kept it in check. He had to.

Arthur looked from Tommy to you, his eyes narrowing. He saw the shift in the air, the way you were both too quiet, too controlled, like something had just cracked wide open and was now trying to fix itself. He could feel it in the room—the heat, the power play, the way you had both come so close to something irreversible.

But no one knew who had the upper hand.

Arthur cleared his throat awkwardly, but there was something in his eyes—a protective concern—for both of you. You wouldn't give him the chance to ask. Not now.

“Goodnight,” you snapped, turning on your heel and heading toward the door.

He nodded once, a silent acknowledgment. Then, almost as an afterthought, you glanced back, your movements deliberate.

"For the next deal, I’ll stay hidden. That’s what you expect, right?" Your words were laced with the same sharpness as before, but this time, there was something else behind them. It was the understanding that however this would play out, whichever of you was the first to slip further than intended—that one mistake could break you both.

The moment was broken, and so was your composure.

#thomas shelby #tommy shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x y/n #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x you #thomas shelby x y/n #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinder fanfic #lunarflux #a game of ghosts lunarflux

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