#Bastard Reader

[under-the-aspen-tree]

A Moth To You (Chapter 1 - The Realms Delight) Aegon II x (Bastard Velaryon) Reader

Series Summary: After a year travelling abroad, you have been called home to Kingslanding by your mother, Rhaenyra. Turns out your family has grown in your time apart.

Word Count: 2.7k

It was the warmest day you had seen thus far on your travels and the southern sun was beating hard against the foliage that covered you. Your linen dress lay still in hot waves against your body and sweat was already beginning to dampen your skin at barely noon, but the gentle Pentoshi breezes brought scents of sweet berry and cinnamon from the local trade towns that made the morning heat more than bearable.

It was over a year into your travels, and though you had adored the glimmering snowfall of Winterfell and the brilliant greens of Oldtown, Pentos was by far your favourite destination. Perhaps it was because the Free Cities were naturally so far from your reach, or that their customs were much lazier than your own, but you found yourself more than content to sit in these lavish lands for the rest of your days. The concept of laying upon sun-hardened sands, eating soft grapes and sipping sparkling wine filled your heart with yearning but, as always, duties always lay in wake.

"It is too hot a day for you, Princess," the voice awoke you from your pleasant daydreams, but not frustratingly so. Reluctantly, you lifted your heavy eyelids to find a man hunched over you in silks as fine and yellow as the sun above. You cracked a tired smile.

"Illestrio," You cooed, shifting your arms to pull yourself into sitting as he knelt beside you. "What brings you to these gardens?"

Illestrio was the fine son of the Lord kind enough to take you and your grandmother in. Rhaenys wasn't immediately besotted at your yearnings to explore further than Westeros, desiring your tour to be restrained strictly to the lands of your birth, but had eventually come around to the idea. The Pentoshi Lords and Ladies seemed more than happy to take in the blood of the dragon, delighted with the sights of your beasts, but Illestrio's father had a long history of trade with your grandfather, Corlys, and was the first to offer you lodgings.

It was only chance that had brought you so close to his son, not only in age but also in habit. You both shared a love of music, adventure, and fine wines, and he had been more than happy to be your escort through the trading towns of Pentos. He had shown you the most lavish of spices, drinks, and scenery and, in return, you had become his royal armpiece. It was by far the most comfortable of positions you had ever held.

"I was looking for you, Princess," Illestrio flashed a white grin before offering you a hand, making to stand. "Your grandmother has requested your presence in her chambers."

You stilled a groan, bundling your skirts up as you clasped his golden hand, feeling the warmth tingle from his adornment of thick rings. In the few months you had spent in Pentos, you had gained a healthy glow to your usually pale skin, but it was nothing in comparison to the years of relentless Summer that the Pentoshi had endured. "Is there any particular reason she has given for disturbing my morning?" You said cheekily.

"I'm afraid not," He smiled, leading you back towards his father's estate. "Let us hope it does not take long. I was hoping to show you the wonders of the pink lakes this afternoon."

Rhaenys' chambers were close enough to your own that it wasn't ever difficult to wander the maze that was Illestrio's home to find her. It was certainly a lavish estate, built up of polished white stone and marble with grand windows that overlooked their gardens and gold trinkets wherever one looked. You were certain their wealth amassed your own by a long stretch, and Illestrio's father loved to show that in every way he could find. On your first day in his manor, he had presented you with a solid gold box encrusted with rubies containing jewellery so fine the chains trickled through your fingers like water. You had never been one for extreme displays of wealth, but you couldn't deny that you loved the simplicity of your life here. Back home in Westeros, even with your family name and the luxury that came with it, you were looked at with a level of scorn. Your dark hair and eyes earned you the rumour of bastard, along with your brothers, and whispers never failed to reach your ears when walking the corridors of the Red Keep. Here, however, your dragon and single thick lock of silver hair were enough to be treated like more than royalty - more akin to the gods the Valyrians were often compared to. 

When you knocked on your grandmother's door, you knew the news could not be excellent. Usually, when you two met, it was for fruits and sweets in the gardens or a tour of the orchards, never alone in one's chambers. Rhaenys was sat with her back to you, facing out towards the window where she had a view of the stoney mountains in the far distance. Her black hair shone brilliantly in the afternoon sun and her thick silk gown gave her the silhouette of someone much younger than her years. Even despite your time in the Free Cities, and the many gifts of traditional dresses and shoes your hosts had provided, she still chose to dress in your own Westeros customs. 

"Sit," She said, not turning to face you, keeping her eyes locked on the terrain before her. You did so, not failing to notice the trunks that piled up in the corner of the room. You pursed your lips for a moment before walking towards her.

"Grandmother, how are you?" You smiled politely, shaking off the concern for her travelling possessions as you made yourself comfortable in a plush chair opposite her. She did not respond immediately, but her hand slipped from her goblet and towards a small piece of parchment sitting on the table between you both. She pushed it towards you.

"Is everything alright?" You frowned, snatching up the stained paper and drawing your focus to the slanted writing. Your mother's writing.

"I am afraid our time travelling has come to an end, Princess," She said, finally turning her gaze to your own. "Your mother has requested our presence in Kingslanding, and it is perhaps long overdue."

You spluttered at her words, quite unladylike, as you read the words again and again. "But.. we've barely seen it all yet. What reason could she have for sending us home?"

Rhaenys pursed her lips. You knew she was not opposed to returning to Westeros. You remembered the promise you made when she agreed to the trip over a year ago. 'I will do as you wish, and you shall see the world, but once we are done you will resume your duties faithfully.' 

You had agreed of course, thrilled at meeting your wishes of adventure, but you had been putting off the idea of returning for some time now, convincing Rhaenys time and time again to prolong your stay in Pentos for as long as possible. Despite adhering to your wishes, you knew your grandmother missed Driftmark, where you had left your Uncle Vaemond and cousin Baela to defend her home while Corlys fought in the Stepstones.

"Our travels are completed, my child. It is time to resume our duties in Westeros."

You could see in her eyes that she felt for you, but that the decision was made and final. Rhaenys knew you wouldn't object, keen to your word, but that you would mourn for the life you were living in Pentos. 

"How long before we go?" You averted your eyes to the landscape, twisting the satin gold of your necklace.

"We leave at sunrise in the morn. I would suggest you set your affairs in order." You almost missed the gentle wink she sent you, and a wave of melancholy washed over you at the thought of alerting your friend to the sudden change of plans.

______

"Tomorrow?" Illestrio's face was a mask of shock and fury from where he stood at the entrance to your chambers, thick brows drawn together as he regarded you. You had wanted to break the news to him on your afternoon visit to the pink lakes, or perhaps in the shade of the pergola outside over honey wine and lemon cakes. But you had too much to pack and too little time. Your trunks were thrown open beside your bed, filled with your possessions and a few trinkets you had amassed during your tours, most gifts from the man before you.

You did not pause from your packing, only granting him a sideways glance as you gathered your life within your hands and put it all in cases. Would these fine dresses ever see their homeland again?

"My mother has demanded it, I have no choice." You said softly, busying yourself. You were afraid that if you stopped for too long, and stared into those doe-like eyes and golden skin, your resolve would shatter. "We always knew the day would come."

"But not so soon," Illestrio protested, stepping forward to take hold of your arm. "I thought we would have much more time together. There are so many places I have yet to show you."

Places you would never get to see. Hot tears suddenly stung your eyes and you had to blink furiously to push them aside as he forced you to look at him. At his thick curly hair that he could never tame, as his pouted lips and slender nose and perfect cheekbones. He shifted his hand to take hold of your cheek as the other ran through your hair, fingers slipping through the silver segment. You noticed he did this a lot, separating the strands from the deep brown and staring at them as though bewitched. He did not look into your eyes, simply regarding the white locks. 

"Stay," He whispered.

You took his hand into your own, thumbing a thick golden ring on his first finger. "I can't."

"You know what your mother wants, Princess." His gentle tone was turning into a pleading and you had to tilt your head down to stare at his chest. "You know what your duty is to her house."

"It is my house too," You reminded him, but you knew what he spoke of.

"Then ignore her. Forget those fat lords in Westeros. Marry me tonight." The suggestion had you looking up in shock, wide-eyed. 

"You cannot be serious."

The steel glint in Illestrio's green eyes answered for him. You had enjoyed your time with him here, of course, and you would be a fool to ignore the stirrings in your chest that came whenever he approached, but you thought you were both aware of where this would end. You made to speak, but he cut you off.

"Would you be happy in the tower of some old man, bearing his children, sitting at his table? The prize possession of an idiot who hasn't a care for you but for your name?

"You would be happy here. Winter does not touch us the way it does Westeros. You would live out your days warm and happy and carefree." He was bargaining now, trying to convince you. You did not need convincing. If you could, you would accept the offer in a heartbeat.

"Illestrio," You shook your head, holding out your palm to caress his cheek. "I have always known I would marry for my house. I am a princess and I have a duty to my houses and the realm to marry for position."

"And what of Saera Targaryen?" Illestrio countered, looking at you with hardened desperation. You baulked at the comparison. "She abandoned her duties and lived out her life in Lys."

"Saera was practically exiled," You reminded him, frowning. "She resorted to the ways of a whore to escape her duties. Do you wish for me to have the same remembrance? The whore of Velaryon?"

"You would not be a whore," Illestrio huffed. "You would be my wife. You would be happy."

You pulled away. The conversation was going nowhere and you could see that now. No amount of reasoning could persuade Illestrio from his stance, and none could move your own. You had always hated the idea of being a political chess piece, but it was who you were born to be.

"I will leave at sun break," You informed him, brushing tears from your eyes as you turned back to your packing. "I would appreciate it if you could see me off."

Illestrio was silent for a moment, but you could feel his eyes like steel daggers boring into your back. "When your husband takes you on your wedding night, remember this. Remember what you could have been while staring into his eyes."

You whipped around, outraged at his words, but he was gone before you could face him. Your lip wobbled, fury turning your cheeks red and hot, but nothing could be done. You let out a single shaky sob as you threw the linen garment you were holding into your trunk before turning to the vase of wine on your table and pouring yourself a goblet-full.

The morning brought light northern breezes through the dockyard, sending spirals of sand whirling beside the waters. With the sun just barely setting the sky alight, you would have quite liked to spend your time wandering through the local towns rather than blinking sleep from your eyes as you waited beside the ship that would carry you home. Rhaenys was having words with Illestrio's father, who looked quite furious to see his son was yet to make a farewell appearance, and the crew was traipsing on and off the boat as they readied it for your leave.

When the time came, Illestrio's father, a large man with a heavy moustache on his upper lip and clothes so expensive and colourful he reminded you often of a court jester, took you into a heavy hug before kissing the back of your hand.

"Thank you for the gift of your presence in my estate, Princess," He smiled. "I hope to see you here again."

You smiled tightly at the words, curtsying lightly as you were forced, yet again, to hold your tears at bay. You would not mourn this man whom you scarcely knew, but you would mourn his home. "Thank you, my Lord, for offering your home to us. This past month has been the happiest I have known."

The man lit up proudly at your words, puffing out his great chest and smoothing the bright blue silks he wore against his body. "You are most kind, Princess."

The ship rocked gently as the waters turned from black to violet silver in the sunrise. Gold sunlight bore heavily as the sky turned a clear and gentle blue, reflecting the heat-stained houses of Pentos as you took sail. Even as the ship took up speed, turning Illestrio's father into a colourful blob and then to nothing in the distance, you could not turn your watering eyes from the city you had grown to love. You didn't want to turn your back on it, towards the fate that awaited you in Kingslanding, for you feared that if you looked away you would soon forget the Pink Lakes and Cinnamon breeze if you did not spend all your willpower on committing the sight of Pentos to memory.

You didn't want to go home. You wanted this, this lifestyle of luxury beside Illestrio, trying to teach him Valyrian and laughing at his strange accent when he failed to pronounce the words. You wanted to stare at his gentle hands as he traced out the letters to his own alphabet, more interested in his hands than the words he was speaking.

Rhaenys joined you as you bore ever further from the lands, dark hair swaying gently from the tower of plaits she had spun it into. You broke free from your contemplations, but continued to stare out towards to silhouette of the city. 

"You will not be forgotten here, Princess." She reminded you. "These people did not know Rhaenyra, but they knew her name."

You did not face her as you pondered her words, turning your head slightly to show you were listening. "From Winterfell to the Free Cities, they all call you the Realms Delight."

[bunnygirllover45]

something something he wants a dog.

[luminni]

I have a feeling Johnny would try and set up Simon with one of his friends

like

“M’ tellin ya mate yer going tae like ‘er,” Johnny teased, bounding a couple steps in front of Simon, turning back to him and rocking back and forth on his heels, hands shoved into his pockets to protect them from the cold. As Price often quipped, the 'scott can't stand still for the life of him.'

“Mhm,” Simon just grumbled in response.

“See mate, That’s the attitude that scares all the girls away.” Johnny commented, hands outstretched and exaggerated.

“Whatever.” Simon huffed, shaking his head. Johnny wasn’t wrong, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d done anything with a girl that wasn’t a quick lay, and even then it had been months, not to mention going out on a proper date. Well, a date was a stretch, you were Johnny’s close friend for a couple years. He had heard of you, but never met you and now Johnny was insisting that he go on a date with you because he was convinced it was going to work well, Simon wasn’t convinced in the slightest.

“She’s real nice though- so put away the tough guy act big man- girls don’t like that.” Simon couldn’t believe he was getting dating advice from his sergeant, so he just doubled down and kept scowling but Johnny kept pressing. “I'm telling you she's a real sweet girl, kinda lass who would try tae make a crying baby laugh on the tube or go and feed some mangy stray dog, perfect for a prickly bastard like yerself.”

“Okay okay, Jesus. ’s not like ’m going to scare ‘er off on purpose.” Simon relented 

“You better not, gettin' laid might do ya' some good man, calm yer ass down a wee bit” Johnny chuckled

Simon would have yelled at him for that comment but his friend cut him off, “‘Kay we’re ‘ere,” Johnny chirped, “Gaz and his girl should be inside already and she’ll be ‘ere soon,” Johnny said, pushing his Lt. through the pub door.

Johnny had invited Kyle and his girlfriend for a kind of double date situation because he thought having another girl there would help you feel more comfortable, something Simon couldn’t argue with. Why Johnny’s single ass would be attending was a mystery.

and he's been playing both sides

“Ya like serious guys right?” Johnny had asked you out of the blue, a week or so prior while hanging out at your flat.

“Uh yeah sure? I mean I guess so, more than immature assholes like you.” You had joked back across the small kitchen.

“Well,” He had began, unphased by your teasing, “There’s this guy I work with-”

“Don’t even.” you cut him off

“Wha'?!” he whined

“Don’t try and set me up with one of your military bros,” you warned, “I’m not interested.”

“Jus' 'cause yer last dates 'ave been busts doesnae mean you shouldn't keep tryin’,” He pleaded, catching the sponge you threw at him, “He’s a real good guy, kinda intimidating but you’d like him, promise!”

You glared at him before going back and forth, Johnny was really trying to sell this guy, and he wasn’t wrong, your last three dates had been nothing short of disasters. So, after lots of pleading -and a couple tasteful photos from them at the gym- you agreed. So as you walked closer and closer to the pub, your nerves were buzzing. Just gotta get past his tough exterior is all, Johnny’s words of advice rang through your head. Thankfully he had invited another one of his friends there along with his girlfriend, you would have been hyperventilating if it was just going to be you and some guys. As you reached for the door, you could only hope Johnny was right about this guy.

So, who would be surprised when it actually works out, when Simon actually falls in love with you and your sweet smile at first site. When you find his corny and sometimes morbid jokes genuinely funny, having to cough around your drink to prevent spitting it out.

Johnny's just happy Simon might finally chill out, and he won't have to listen to you complain about failed dates every other week.

[yeyinde]

trying to seduce or rile up Price only for it utterly backfire on you has got to be one of my favourite things ever. especially if it's framed like a reluctant aggressor situation that flips on its head. because while he might not have wanted to do this at first, once he starts, there's absolutely no stopping him until he's satisfied.

which just ends up with you on your knees, barely able to keep yourself up as he folds himself over you, furry chest glued to your spine, forearm shoved under your neck, fingers gripping your shoulder to keep you locked in place as he sets out to make you regret ever trying to tempt him by viciously pounding his pent up aggression into your poor, abused pussy. gives you his full weight as a punishment, too; not stopping until all the air is squeezed out of your sore, burning lungs.

and all the while he rubs his bearded jaw over your sweat-slicked, tear stained cheek, and growls into your ear about how spoiled, needy little things don't get to cry now. not when he's just giving you exactly what you asked for.

so say thank you, sir and stop whining about it already 🙄

[ghouljams]

What's the opposite of a secret baby trope? Aggressively telling the man about the pregnancy?

You bursting into the farmhouse on the 141 ranch and having to stop yourself from swinging on one John Mactavish, opting instead to shove five positive pregnancy tests under his nose and ask him what the hell he's going to do about this? Only to be met with a marriage license he'd signed months ago?

[imsofreakingtired]

reasons why sevika is a little shit

would deliver the most scathing roast to someone and sit back and watch their reaction with this fuckass smirk on her face ⬆️

would not hesitate to fight a child

would not hesitate to fight multiple children

would not hesitate to taunt a child

has taunted a child

she goes stabby stab sometimes

called a man "weak" in front of all his people

would download all her movies illegally ("i aint paying for that shit")

has committed 1st degree murder

walks around running a crime ring

has a machete for an arm which i am pretty sure is technically illegal even tho it is her arm

will throw things when angy

chronic loser of fights with aforementioned children

would smoke in specifically no smoking areas

multiple accounts of tax fraud

is way too hot

⬆️ like too hot.

and she probably knows it

probably unable to talk about her feelings

will steal your drink even if you were already drinking it

on that note, will probably also steal your food

Would Refuse To Elaborate™️

if she likes you, she will not flirt like a normal person she will glare at you for an hour from across the room

would sulk for days if you didnt give her enough attention but also would never tell you she wanted it in the first place

would walk through the house in her boots

would leave her stuff literally everywhere

has smuggled illegal drugs into the upper city

"why negotiate when you can beat the living shit out of them instead."

wears a crop top and low rise pants and a choker to feel cunty

CROP TOP LOW RISE PANTS AND A CHOKER.

she knows what she does to the girls (and doesnt care)

[nmakii]

inspired by @kaislvves’s bastard post… ps: i acc love dior sauvage its my scent for when i go to school but its so strong HAHAHAHA

kaiser’s cologne has an overwhelming scent. not just in a way that two sprays could fill the entire bastard münchen cafeteria in his scent, but also in a way that lasts. his scent lasts on for a week before it finally wears off.

what’s his scent? dior sauvage, the scent of liars. kaiser likes the overwhelming presence of its’ scent; it’s as powerful as he is.

he loves to spray his cologne all over your closet and clothes, making sure that whatever you wear, and whatever perfume you try to wear to overpower it, you end up on the other side smelling of him.

it’s adorable how you spray on your 70 euro hermès perfume, checking out your outfit in the full-body mirror in your bedroom, before you’re coughing and choking on his overwhelming scent.

“mikka!” you shout out. “stop spraying your perfume on my clothes, it’s so strong!” you frown. his attention is finally raised away from his phone when he finally looks up to you, small circle-framed glasses starting to slide down his nose before he pushes it up with his middle finger.

“why should i? i like doing it.” he simply states. that’s just how he was; how he was raised— if he wants something, he must do everything to take it. likewise, if he wants to keep something, he has to make sure no one else steals it.

and with a job that forces him to almost always be out of country, he can’t help but worry about his rose. what if another piece of trash tries to flirt with you while you’re vulnerable? the overwhelming, almost sickly scent of citrus and pepper would be enough to tell them to back off; you’re already taken by another man.

“yeah; well, i don’t like it. it always lingers for too long.” you explain. and to kaiser, your explanation is moronic. “…that’s the point of a cologne; to linger.” he bluntly states. you roll your eyes at his smart-assed response, and scoff, “ugh— duh, but it stays on for days!”

kaiser only shrugs. “good. everyone knows you’re taken.” he’s quite adamant to telling the media what fragrance he uses. it’s odd, but he always encourages his interviewers to smell him in at least one point of the interview, giving him the chance to comment on his fragrance. it’s become a bit of a meme in his fandom that he wants to get sponsored by dior. but, no.

this isn’t about money.

it’s about everyone knowing his scent.

like a wolf marking his territory, kaiser leaves his scent on what he owns. and what he owns is you; your heart. it’s not enough that you love him with your heart as much as he cherishes you— he needs others to feel him spiritually when you’re nearby.

“this is stupid, mikka. none of my perfumes linger anymore cause of your dumb sauvage.” you scoff. and, kaiser stands up from his place in the bedroom, moving behind you. his overwhelming height makes for an awkward position when he rests his arms on your shoulders, and his jaw on your forehead. he stares at the reflection in the mirror, admiring of his and your beauty. the glint in his eyes is dangerous— as dangerous as the cheshire grin he proudly displays before he completely destroys an opponent in a match.

“would you want different kind of physical marking then?” he asks. his fingers delicately ghosting to touch the ticklish parts of your neck.

“…no.” you roll your eyes. kaiser sneers.

“then, you’ll have to stick with the cologne.”

[heartlittledesires]

He's so cocky after getting all them plushies so I snap the pic immediately and the resemblance

[kenjakusbraincum]

can you pls write something about reader being sick and like not the cough and cold kind of sick- like really really sick, and sukuna realising how much he doesn't want to lose her to this sickness and how if she dies, he'll be alone again..🥺

You have NO idea how much I love this idea!!! I did go a bit overboard with it cause I love suffering though 👍 Still, this was SO much fun to write and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Vows

Sukuna x Reader

Word count: 4.5k

Tags/warnings: gn! reader, true form! sukuna, master/pet dynamic, fluff but most importantly ANGST, mentions of weight loss, mentions of violence, implied nsfw, reader dies in the end :( (sorry)

It's not the first time Sukuna has been made aware of your mortality. He recalls many instances when he's been reminded that you are human. Finite. The first time he wrapped his hand around your throat and squeezed with calculation while you were laying under him, and you looked up at him in fear for your life. Your little hand couldn't even wrap around his wrist, much less provide resistance. Or when he'd pull your hair a little too roughly, and hear a crack in your delicate spine. When you'd get sick, and humbly refuse his healing. So little as a tummy ache had you writhing on your bed.

You are so weak, so small, clinging to life like there was anything for you in it, beyond Sukuna. By all means he hates all of these things. So what witchery is this, and why does he care about you so much? Why does he keep you for years, and why does your company bring him comfort he hasn't ever known in his lifetime?

Still, as much as he cares, he doesn't notice when it starts. He's trained you to tolerate pain, after all. It's no wonder you hesitate to tell him. Little things like tummyaches and colds occur to you all the time anyways, and you never complain. Sure, you've grown closer to Sukuna, but he was still your master, and the rules he instilled in you from the start were always fresh in your mind, not to be crossed. Bothering him with everything that feels off always seemed inappropriate.

And Sukuna is just like that. If you're not screaming or crying, he won't know you're in pain. But he notices that you're acting off. And how he reacts really doesn't help your case, or encourage you to speak up about your condition. ''I don't have all day. What is wrong with you?'', he sneers when he catches you pacing too far behind him.

So you just sleep longer and preserve energy for when you are with him. You don't skip around as much anymore, or spend time doing your hobbies. Food doesn't taste so great anymore. You have a cough that gives you sleepless nights because it just won't calm down. And the time you owe Sukuna starts to feel like an obligation. You start to dread it. Dread slipping up, dread annoying him or failing to satisfy him. Dread being disposable.

When things start getting worse, it's hard to hide it even from him. He was taking you from behind one night, and you were grateful he couldn't see the look on your face. You thought you could do it. Sukuna was always demanding, but he would never force you to do anything. If only you told him before you felt yourself struggling for air, and your chest closing in on itself in tightness. You reached one hand back, frantically grabbing his wrist.

''Feathers, feathers!'', words came out as gasps, and you slumped forward when he let you go. You were panicked and crying by then, this kind of discomfort being foreign even to you, even after weeks of pain behind you. He hovered next to you with a puzzled look on his face. He wasn't even being that rough.

''What's wrong? Tell me.'', he said, and reached his hand to feel the warmth of your tears streaming down your face. He swiped your cheek gently. He didn't seem mad at all. Why didn't you say anything from the start?

''I just feel so sick.'', you muster up in between sobs, and shut your eyes. You were too embarrassed to even look at him.

''I see.''. His hand leaves your face, and he traces it from your neck down your spine. The pain subsided slowly, allowing you to relax and find comfort in his arms.

But the effects of his healing were short lived. Just a week later the feeling of fatigue creeps back into your life. Manageable, but lingering. And the cough persists. And it gets on Sukuna's nerves too. He's been quite patient with you, but his patience was reaching it's limit.

You're sitting by his throne as you often do, and as hard as you try to hold the cough in, you just can't help it. His hand finds the back of your neck and squeezes, turning you to him. And he looks at you with all four, terrifying eyes. ''Can you shut up?''

''I'm sorry, I'm trying -'', you stutter, but just end up coughing more. He doesn't wait for you to stop.

''Get out of here.'', and pushes you away. You stumble down the pile of bones and fall, landing on your hands and knees. You don't remember him being this cruel to you in a long time. You look back at him with teary eyes, and he looks back like the merciless monster he is. The villagers awaiting him moved to make space for your fall, taking note of the tense situation.

That day, Sukuna sends word that he doesn't want to see you until you get better. You're forbidden from going outside again, in fear that that is making your 'cold' worse. It's a lonely week in your room, until Sukuna starts to crave you again. It didn't take him a while, counting the couple days he spent convincing himself he doesn't miss you. He does. So when he sends word for you again, and the servants come back to him saying you're still not feeling well... he's worried. So worried he comes to see it for himself.

Sukuna rarely comes to your room. It's the only space you have for yourself, and he doesn't want to take that away from you. Your room is modest. You have a bed, a carpet, and a couple shelves to house the books he's gifted you. There's a desk where you can eat and read, and a doorway to the garden. There's an empty glass of water and a napkin next to your bed. You're still sleeping, but the door shutting behind him wakes you up, so he doesn't get to enjoy observing you in your natural habitat for long.

It's not the first time doors opening and closing woke you up. But you know this time is different. The servants are always quickly shuffling around the room, cleaning up and moving around. Uraume clanks with plates. There is no noise now, other than your strained breathing and a cough brewing in the back of your throat. Besides, the aura that Sukuna brings with him everywhere he goes is recognizable. Especially to you. Heavy.

You turn around, and meet the gaze of his four eyes. ''Master...'', you struggle to sit up, and even a little action like that has spots forming in your vision. Then a coughing fit hits you. You pick up the napkin and put it to your mouth.

Sukuna sees your whole body strain with the effort of coughing. And when you call him master, even your voice sounds different. He knows your morning voice. He missed hearing it, but this... this is not it. You sit with your head hung low, staring at the napkin between your hands. There's a fresh splatter of blood on it. But Sukuna scares you more than the progression of your illness.

''Are you mad at me?'', you ask timidly, meeting his gaze.

''I'm concerned.", he says and sits next to you. You curl up to make space for him. "Two weeks is a long time for a frail human like you to be sick.", he looks at you, scanning your form up and down.

"I rested and drank every tea Uraume told me to!", your defense mechanism kicks in, and you start babbling.

Sukuna dismisses you with a hand and a pained facial expression. "I know.", he says. His brows are furrowed now, and he's looking at the ground, lost in thought.

You feel guilty for annoying him again. You feel guilty for the whole thing, getting sick, draining the energy it takes him to heal you, robbing him of the time with you that he deserves. Owns. He is very generous with the way he treats you, having all that in mind.

You tug on his sleeve. "I'm sorry, Master... You deserve better.", and you're sobbing again. Sukuna gives you a pathetic look, but smiles as he pulls you into his embrace.

"Silly pet. I can survive a couple weeks without your assistance.", he says, rubbing your shoulder.

You run your fingers against the back of his hand mindlessly, not knowing how to respond. Caressing his knuckles, bones, veins... feeling his nails and their sharp tips against your sensitive skin. When you bring his palm up to your lips, your kiss stains it red with blood.

-

You still sleep with Sukuna sometimes. Less frequently, only on days when you feel well enough, and those are rare. You've lost weight by now, sickness making itself visible on your body. You're sitting on his lap and clinging to your robes, scared that he won't like you as much, that you won't live up to his standards. But Sukuna's demeanor about your illness has changed, as he seemed to sense something unusual about it. He flips you over so gently, like you're made of glass, and peppers kisses from your neck downwards, slowly undressing you as much as you allow him. When he takes you, he's so careful. Constantly checking you're comfortable and enjoying yourself. You feel so loved and relaxed, and pleasure comes so easy when you're in this state. It's not the first time Sukuna is this caring with you in bed, but this time is different. This time you can't help but feel like he's saying goodbye.

He holds you afterwards, tracing his fingers over the ridges of your spine and your shoulders. You were always little in his grasp, but now that he feels your protruding bones under his fingertips, you seem all the more vulnerable.

"Will you kill me?", you ask, breaking the silence.

Sukuna frowns. "Nonsense. Why would I do that?"

There's a gulp in your throat. "It won't be long before I can't even do this. I won't be of any use to you then...", you say.

"Stop.", he says sternly. "There's a lot more to you than what you provide me with in bed."

You smile to yourself, but there's still a hole in your chest. Your statement is still true, and you aren't comforted. But this is Sukuna, and you know that he's offered you quite a lot even with that little bit of reassurance. To your surprise, he speaks again.

"Don't upset yourself. It's been a long time since killing you crossed my mind.", he says. "Save the energy for something else."

You nod and thank him. Just moments later, you're asleep. Quicker than ever before, he notes. You usually love it when he lets you cuddle and talk to him. You would force your eyes open when you were sleepy, just to enjoy it longer.

He feels guilty. He's your master, he's responsible for your well being. Yet nothing he does seems to help you long term. Healing you is temporary and he knows that without accessing the source, it will never work. If he could, he would find what was making you sick and rip it out of you with his bare hands, crush it with the force of his palm. He would have to look deeper, open you, and for once, he thinks he can't open a human being. He thinks of you trashing, screaming, and worst of all, looking into his eyes. Just the thought of you like that makes his chest feel like a gaping cavity. Worst of all, he's sure you would let him. He's sure you would forgive him for spilling your blood, and find comfort in his arms again. If you survived, that is. What has he done to you? And to himself?

Now, your head rests on his chest, and you're snoring lightly. For once, a repetitive noise like that doesn't annoy him. For once, he wishes he could listen to it every night. One day, that noise will be the only thing audibly confirming you're still alive.

-

Months pass and you're only getting worse. You barely leave your room now, too weak to even do so. You eat little, and it's showing in your sunken cheeks and eyes. You feel yourself withering away, loosing color, drying like a dying flower. Sukuna is in grief. He struggles to look at you, and visiting you falls heavy on him every time. He always finds himself thinking afterwards. Regretting that he let himself get this attached, wishing that he could simply forget you. But it doesn't work that way.

He goes to see you, after avoiding you for a week. He's Sukuna, he doesn't have any shame. You're sleeping, like you usually are when he comes to visit you. Your snoring is laboured, and it sounds painful. This time, the doors and the silence don't wake you up. He watches you, curled up under a stack of blankets, rising and falling with your struggles to breathe. How foolish he was, to think forgetting you would be as easy as avoiding you for days. How evil he was, trying to forget you while you are still alive under his wing, still his responsibility. Still his.

He sits next to you and leans over you, fingertips ghosting over your face. The snoring stops and you flutter your eyes open, turning in bed and feeling his body next to yours. You smirk at him, eyes adjusting to the light, and smile when you recognize him. ''Master.'', your arms wrap around his neck as you welcome him, your voice dry, but lively as you beckon him closer. ''I missed you.''.

He comes down to plant a kiss to your forehead. ''I missed you too, darling.''. Oh, the things that escape his mouth when he's alone with you. He cups your face, enjoying how much healthier you look with a smile on your face. ''Feeling any better?'', he rubs your cheek, lingering closely above your face.

You nod, but both of you know you only feel better because you saw him. Still, the little surge of happiness that brings you gives you more energy than you've had the whole week. You wiggle to the edge of the bed, making space and inviting him to join you. Sukuna lies down, hooking one arm underneath your neck and pulling you flush against him.

You wrap your arm around him and lean your head against his shoulder. He's still as big as you remember him, unfaltering in the face of your illness. It's comforting. ''You didn't visit in a while. Were you busy?'', you ask, stroking his back. ''How were your days?''

''Monotone.'', he says. ''The villagers bring remedies for you every day, and wish for you to get well.'' It's no wonder. So many times, Sukuna found himself hesitating to kill just because you were sitting on his knee, dressed in something too pretty to be splattered with blood. In the local villages, word spread that you have ''domesticated'' Sukuna. As if such a thing was possible. Or was it?

''Oh?'', you smile. ''I didn't think they would notice my absence.''. You always were supposed to be Sukuna's accessory and nothing more. Remedies and good wishes make it sound like you're more important than just a pet. So it really is that obvious...

''They did.'', he says, and lowers his head, brushing his nose against your face. ''Some took that as an opportunity to gift me new pets.''

You blink at him, a bit taken aback by his honesty. You keep smiling anyways. ''Did you take any?'', you ask, and he sees nothing but genuine curiosity in your eyes. The truth is, you've had a lot of time to think about your place in Sukuna's mansion. You knew, especially in sickness, that you were never entitled to exclusivity with him. You knew that at some point you would have to be replaced, just by the virtue of being a mortal. A human, who would age and become ugly, wrinkled and useless. You were just unlucky enough to meet this fate sooner than you should've.

Sukuna sighs, the weight of the conversation shifting to him. ''Not to bed, no.'', he says.

You're quiet while you think of what to say. You still have a habit of picking words when you're with Sukuna, but the times when he would punish you for improper formulation are far behind you. "Why not?", you settle. You hope the implication is there, that you wouldn't be so mad even if he did.

Why not? Because he thinks it might break him. Because the image of someone else in your place, under him, feels unnatural and wrong. He thinks the guilt might eat him alive. For once in centuries, someone else's needs come before Sukuna's. He is gone, so far gone. You've raised his standards, and he's not sure anyone he takes now will be able to live up to them. Besides, training a new pet to fit your mold would take years, and even then... He couldn't train someone to love him. Not like you do.

''I wouldn't want you to hold back because of me.'', you say, and he realizes he's been quiet for too long. Years ago, if you dared to imply that Sukuna would do such a thing as hold back because of you, that he cared, you would've been minced meat ready for dinner. Now, he looks down at you tenderly when you say it. Well, a tender look from Sukuna is a docile one. You've gotten used to the way that Sukuna communicates love. Subtly, innocuously.

''Worry about getting well, pet.'', he shuts down the conversation, and moves away from you, sitting back on the bed. ''Any wishes? Food? Activities?'', he asks, and feels your forehead with the back of his hand.

Food? No, but... ''I'd like you to stay, please.'', you say, and take his hand with the two of yours, feeling it up with your thumbs.

Sukuna resists the urge to roll his eyes, knowing the thought of annoying him would upset you greatly. ''That's a given. Anything else?''

You pretend to think, then just babble your favorite food. Sukuna takes your order to Uraume. But when he comes back, you're already asleep again. He waits by your side, but you don't wake, so eventually he leaves. By the evening, the plate of your favorite food remains untouched.

-

You can't leave the bed on your own anymore. Sukuna carries you outside when you're feeling good enough. You barely have the strength to latch onto him securely. Still, it's hard to slip out of the grasp of his four arms. He says you've gotten pale. You lay in his lap and bask in the sun, while he tells you about his day or reads a book out loud for you to enjoy. You wish you could talk to him more, but your voice leaves you as days of endless coughing wreck your throat. No herbs and teas ease your condition anymore. You wait for your final day.

And Sukuna doesn't know when he's given up on the idea that you might get better. But he starts spending whole days with you, leaving your side only to sleep in his bed. He tends to almost all your needs personally. You think that if you asked him to get on his knees for you, he would. He is not familiar with this ache that brews in his chest when he looks to his side and doesn't see you there. It feels violating. To be as powerful as he is, and yet completely helpless in the face of the sickness that drains you in front of his very eyes.

He plays with your thinning hair one morning, and you look at him from his lap, as adoringly as always. ''Isn't it funny?.'', you say, and he snaps out of his thoughts to look at you. ''I always imagined dying by your hand.'', you kiss his hand again, planting your dry, blue lips against his knuckles. ''Who would have thought?''.

You, you little human. You made him feel like a fool, like a coward. You made him feel powerless. Who could ever get away unscathed with making Sukuna feel like this? The thought of killing you now, even out of mercy, fills him with horror. He thinks he couldn't live carrying the burden of your death on his back. It's already hard for him as is.

When he's not with you, he withers away in his room, waiting. And when the servants finally come, and tell him you're at your last strengths, he feels as tense as he feels relieved. The servants shake in fear of his reaction, and he simply dismisses them. In a thousand years of his existence, he doesn't remember having to prepare to enter a room. His hand trembles as he brings it up to push the door open. He dreads what awaits him inside.

He expected blood, hysteria, chaos, yet there's none of it when he walks in. Just the pained noises of your breathing. A servant, your favorite, sits by your side and wipes sweat off your forehead. She talks to you in a comforting tone and pats your head gently. When he walks in the room, she lowers her head and moves to leave. It's only a second, but he sees the sad look on your face. ''Stay.'', he orders, and the servant bows and thanks him.

You move your attention to him, raising your hand to greet him weakly. He picks it up and bends down to kiss it. There's tears in your eyes as he settles into a seat next to you, and you open your mouth in an attempt to say something.

''Easy now.'', he shushes you, and helps you into his lap. You lean back, looking at him through a blur. His features appear even more doubled through the tears, and you still find his beauty mesmerizing. Your master. Your own little god and protector. Although he regrets it, you've never claimed the title of his spouse. Yet, he still stuck by your side, until parted by death. In sickness and in health.

He wipes your tears, and the mouth he conjures onto his hand kisses your forehead. One set of his hands caresses your face, the other massages the tension out of your bony shoulders. Sukuna knows how important it is for you to pass in peace. He doesn't want to curse you, or have despair turn you into a curse. "Relax now.", his voice is so soothing, as if lulling you to sleep. "It won't be long". You weep. What did an ordinary human like you do to deserve this honor? To be comforted on their death bed by a god. To be guided to death by him.

"Master.", you sob. "I'm so scared..."

Delicate touch against your skin. Sharp nails grazing your cheek ever so slightly, just barely enough to make their presence known. "Have no fear.", Sukuna looms over you like a snowdrop. "Where you go now, pain won't follow.". You speak to him a little longer. Tell him all the things you always wanted to tell him, but were scared of the consequences. Dangerous words, ones that were rarely associated with Sukuna. Love. And Sukuna is attentive, so human. Your blinking slows and you find comfort in his voice, as he returns every loving word back to you. Your pained breathing follows, and your eyelids are so heavy. But the sight of him is so hypnotizing, you wish you never had to look away. "You are so brave, my little dove. Go now, be free.". You were too good for this wretched palace anyways. The sight of him is etched in your memory as you close your eyes. "It was a pleasure to have you by my side.", you listen, feeling control over your body slip through your fingers. When you can't move, or feel his touch, you still hear his calm voice. "When you're ready, come back to me. I'll be waiting for your return.". Then everything is quiet, for you and for him. The servants cries are muffled by the sheets, where she has her head pressed by your side.

The hallways, silent except for the busy tapping of feet. Outside, the wind blows petals off of blooming flowers, leaving them bare and stranded. Autumn is here to carry you away.

Servants hold their breath when Sukuna walks by. One wrong look at him and the walls would be painted red. Just like before. Before you. And it's not long before Sukuna looks like a monster again - red eyes and a permanent frown etched on his face. Villagers bring bouquets, and lay them to the right of his throne, where you used to sit. He stares them all down, and only for a moment thinks that maybe, humans are not the scum he thought they were. But then he remembers, they only mourn you because you held him back from his destructive tendencies. Scum.

And he kills again. The first is a villager from afar, where news of your passing hasn't reached. Ripped to shreds for mentioning you. The women who screamed, their blood soaks the carpets and seeps through the wooden floor, dripping down to the cellars. He feels like himself again, unhinged, unbeatable.

Until the day is over, and he goes back to his empty room. His cold, empty bed, and the old habit of reaching for you in his sleep, only to grab nothing instead. And the crocheted figures of the two of you on his nightstand, watching him as he struggles to sleep alone. He can't bear it. So he leaves, and doesn't come back for days, weeks, months.

Smoke clouds the skies on the horizon once again, after years and years of peace and clarity. As far as the eye stretches, the world will know of Sukuna's wrath. But as thrilling as it feels to conquer again, when the village is burned and ash covers the grass on the ground, the thought of you still lingers. Your devastated eyes the first time he's killed before you. The first time he's felt guilty about his monstrous nature. When he comes back, no one's warm embrace awaits him. No one's there to brighten up his day. No amount of blood shed and villages burned replace the emptiness you left behind in his heart.

The grief settles, and sits heavy in Sukuna's chest, as he assumes position in his lonely throne again, and gazes at the row of people waiting to beg, talk, offer... bore him. Another eternity of boredom. An eternity of picking through thousands of humans, in vain hopes of finding you again. In vain hopes of recognizing you, even if it's lifetimes from now, when the last memory of your face has already faded from his mind. When generations change, and the thought of a monster like Sukuna being capable of tenderness vanishes. When the fire in his chest, ignited by love, is already a memory so distant, that recalling it feels surreal.

Maybe he will forget you by then. Maybe times will harden him again, and the idea of a pet becoming his lover will make him laugh. But for now, the thought of finding you in a crowd, taking you in his arms and never letting go, is his comfort and safe place. For now, he will wait for you. As long as it takes, like a stone, unyielding against the passing of time.

[gothghostiie]

cw: glory hole, handjob, Oral (reader giving), deepthroat, spouse!reader, gn!reader

The boys have been.. frisky. on edge. and Price noticed. they're pent up, not able to go home, very little to no privacy due to missions and just a lot to do frankly. the tension grows and Price knows he has to do something. so he calls his spouse.

nobody even notices when you come on base. the boys don't realise, of course john helps you sneak in. it's not really hard to sneak past the three of them, they're so up in their heads these days. john sounded desperate on the phone. He was genuinely worried about them, and what kinda spouse would you be if you refused to help your husband? so now you're there, sitting in his lap in his office while he explains what he wants you to do, caressing you all over and placing gentle kisses on your skin.

"you don't have to, by any means love. but if you want to.." he trails off, his eyes wandering over your face, nothing but love for you in his eyes. "I'd set it up, they won't even know it's you. 'less you want them to, that is." he gives your ass a squeeze, making you chuckle. he watches you closely as you think, before giving him a nod.

"okay. I'll do it." he smiles brightly, pressing a kiss to your lips.

"you're so good to me." he hums. "get comfy in here, I'll organise everything." he sits you on the small couch that he's fucked you on countless times by now before heading out. the boys wonder what the hell he's doing, why on earth he's clearing out the supply closet by his office - and more importantly why the fuck he's drilling into the door with that hole saw.

"he's finally gone mad." soap mutters as they watch him from afar, no matter how much they have to do, theyll always have time to question what the hell the old man is doing. Price glances over at them and chuckles, shaking his head as he smoothes the edges and tapes them over with duct tape.

"go get washed up you muppets. can smell you from here." he orders, if theyre gonna be using you they better be clean. "now!" the three men huff but decide to humor him, going to the communal showers. all three of them are tense and pent up, balls looking full and heavy. price almost wishes he could watch them, but he pushes the thought down. instead starts lining the closet with some pillows and blankets; puts a few more because the ones that come on the bunks aren't very soft. he puts a few bottles of water, some towels too, and a plushie he got on his last mission, that he meant to give to you once he got back home. no time like the present.

ge gets back to you, giving you some spare sweatpants and a shirt so you dont get yours dirty, doting all over you to make sure you're fully okay. even carries you to the closet and sets you down inside, kissing your head. "safeword?"

"red. orange if I need a break." he smiles lovingly and caresses your face.

"good. i love you."

"I love you, john." with that he gently closes the door and locks it. you have a spare key to get yourself out, but he doesn't need his boys to try and open the door. once he makes sure you're settled, he radioes them. he knows one of them always has their walkie talkie or in ear on them.

"Muppets. Get your arses over here, now. don't keep us waiting." the boys look puzzled. us? they know they have to go find out. so they go, finding price with his arms crossed next to the closet. they look at him like he's crazy.

"Cap, what's going on?" Kyle asks, price smirks.

"Lads, I've noticed youve been.. pent up, recently. i get it, i truly do. you lot are young and still full of energy, eh?" he teases, the boys frown in confusion. "anyway.. got a little something for ya. to help you relax." he knocks on the door - the boys freeze as they see your mouth through the small hole. its just big enough for each of them to get their cock through while keeping you hidden. Price chuckles, sticking his fingers through the hole, demonstrating as you suckle his thick fingers. "go ahead. don't be shy now." they hesitate, before Soap steps forward.

"is that..?"

"a glory hole, yes." Soap gulps softly. he's seen this happen in porn but this? he looks at price who gives him another nod before unzipping his jeans, already rocking a semi. he blushes slightly as the others snicker, scowling as he slowly shoves his cock through the hole. he waits impatiently, heart racing - before he feels your hands wrap around his cock, stroking him. he gasps, hips already trembling as he has to grip the door handle for supoort, it only gets worse when you wrap your lips around his thick tip. he grunts, leaning his forehead against the door. it doesn't take him long when you start bobbing your head, taking him all the way into your mouth, tongue running along his veins, suckling just enough for it to feel almost a little painful - just like he likes it. curses like a sailor when he cums, even louder when you swallow around his cock, only then letting him pull out once you do. he pants, trying to get himself dressed as he stumbles back.

Price chuckles. "you okay lad?" he pats soaps shoulder, then ruffles the sweaty mohawk, the man can only stare at the door in awe.

then kyle steps forward. he's a bit unsure still, even after seeing johnny get his soul sucked out, but he's definitely not letting that opportunity get to waste. getting his cock out and giving it a few strokes as he walks up to the door, shyly pushing a bit more than his tip through the hole, you chuckles softly. he feels his face heat up but holds still, hand still wrapped around the base of his cock and pumping the back a bit, unintentionally squeezing when you run your tongue over his tip. swollen lips wrap around the head of his cock, sucking gently and using your tongue, essentially making out with it. the moan that escapes his lips is anything but manly, eyes shut tight as he bites his lip to hold more back. "christ- feels fucking incredible.." he hisses, you smile around his cock, it makes him chuckle. he pushes in a tiny bit more, you double your effort when you taste the precum on your tongue; soon enough followed by his actual cum. he groans, riding out his orgasm until he's spent, letting you milk him for all he's worth. pulls back with a semi, some cum still dribbling from it as he smiles in satisfaction.

price rubs his back gently, whispering a word of praise to him that almost makes him wanna use the glory hole again right away.

but ghost is already in front of the door, eying the hole quietly for a good minute before he speaks up. "put your mouth to the hole. and open wide." he orders in a quiet tone, not wanting to scare you away. you swallow the water in your mouth and do as you're told, wishing you could see his pretty face right now. simon unzips his pants, his cock hard and heavy in his hand as he pushes through the hole and into your mouth, until his pelvis meets the door. he groans, knowing hes deep in your throat, the soft gagging confirming it. "hold still f'me, yea?" he mutters, before finally moving his hips, thrusting at a slow pace for now. he moans softly, the sound full of relief and pleasure, it's rare to see him like this. his hips soon speed up, making the door rattle slightly by the force of his muscular hips slamming against it, in and out of your poor throat. you gag softly, gasping for breath but not pulling back, you know how badly he needs this - and you really want to keep hearing those sweet moans, even if it's not for much longer. he holds out the longest, hold still when he finally releases in your throat. his eyelids flutter, eyes rolling back, making prices semi twitch slightly. only when you pull back to gasp for air he pulls away too, stepping away and dressing up.

its quiet between the four for a moment before kyle finally speaks up. "Cap?"

price looks at him, making a soft "hm?" sound.

"who the hell is in there?'

[just-some-user-hunny]

The Cannibal bonded with a bastard targaryen reader ...

This is heavily inspired by @mangled-parasite writings on their yandere hotd stuff. I wanted to go more in depth about the relationship a bastard princess reader would have with the cannibal, because the dynamics could be so diverse and interesting. The cannibal is a really interesting dragon to me as well, he's not been tames nor shows any interest in it, so I always wonder what he'd be like with a rider!

(fem! Bastard princess reader X the cannibal)

. If you are bonded to him, he would be ruthlessly protective over you. He can feel every flicker of distress and discomfort from you, and he bares his teeth like a guard dog at whoever draws too close. Once he had decided that you were his, and he was yours, his fury when it comes to protecting you rivals hellfire. You will never have to feel fear again, nothing can even dream of touching you- lest they want to experience the nightmarish wrath of the Cannibal. It matters little to him if this threat is human, or dragon. In fact he almost welcomes it. He loves the rush of destroying whatever threatens you, the pride that fills him when he charres their remains and feasts upon them In front you- because look princess. Look how mighty he is, look how well he can fight and protect you. After his gory feast, he'll lower himself close to your little form for his praise- purring till your blood fizzles as he enjoys your pets and attention.

. Cannibal has never been a tame or passive dragon, but around you, he'll make an effort to behave. He'll stave away his urges to salivate when he captures glimpses of the smaller dragons, if it makes you happy. He'll heed your voice, your words, if only to amuse you and keep you content. However, he still has a temper- and although he may not engulf everything with wildfire, he will surely growl and roar to make people bend their knee in your presence. His bond to you is tightly knitted, so he can pick up those who are irking you or upsetting you. He shares your hatred for your father, often bearing his frightening jagged teeth at the pale man who can only endure the monstrosity of his daughter's dragon. It'll take only your word to engulf him in burning emerald flames, so for once, your father will hold his tongue.

. He is not an obedient dog, more like a feral alley cat who's taken a warming to you. There's not a force in heaven or hell that can convince him to confide anywhere near the dragon pits, not to mention his monstrous size cannot even imagine squeezing itself into that little ditch. He'll take to sleeping upon the beach, preferably away from vhager, if he wants to remain close to you. However he is known to fly off and disappear for days on end, returning when you least expect it. He is a wild dragon at heart.

. He may not melt into a big passive puppy, but he will surely let you know he likes the attention you give him. He'll croon with his snarling scarred grin, his eyes glinting as you speak to him and stay close. The attitude he has around you is stark like night and day- with others he glares ferociously and mean, but with you, he's bound by your heels.

When you approach him upon the sand of the tide, he'll lower his head to gaze upon you. he'll feel content as he looks you over, appearing docile and calm in your presence.

Your family find it terrifyingly odd whenever you approach him with so much casualty, and he simply looks at you so fondly. The dragon who has devoured oh so many wannabe dragon tamers is now treating you like a precious little treasure, and it's both awe-inspiring, and frightening. His striking emerald green eyes focus on you as you speak sweetly and softly to him, his purrs can be heard from the dragonstone gates.

. The cannibal is an ancient dragon with many years of experience, so to him, you are little more than a child in his eyes. His child.

If anything, he is more of a loving father to you than Daemon could ever be.

It's puzzling to him, at first. He has never possessed a single maternal bone in his body, having no objection to devouring unhatched eggs and even young hatched dragons to satiate his hunger- but perhaps he sees a part of him in you. That wildness to stray, the desperation to free yourself from the thorns of the targarians that dig deep into you. You may be a little gentle weepy thing, but the fact still stands. You want to be free. He can grant that.

As you claim him as a child, he'll watch you grow. Watch your face and hands become weary from the anxiety and ache of constantly being caged. You'll gradually become more and more beautiful, dripping in gems and jewellery and ornate gowns, but the sadness in your eyes hasn't changed since you were a tearful little child. He sees what they are doing- trying to keep you satiated with material desires, but he understands you deep down that nothing of that matters. You want to be anywhere else but here...

. He is an old dragon, and has a temper to him. His hunger for flesh and fire has not made him weary, and although he is scarred and withered, he is still towering in all his obsideon scaled glory. Emerald flames engulfing the sky as you ride upon his back, soaring above the clouds as pride and glory consumes him. He always despises the idea of being 'claimed' and ridden like some show pony, but he finds himself enjoying the company of his little human experiencing the rush of gliding through the heavens. He can feel your thundering heart, the flutter of butterflies in your stomach as he dips and soars between terrific heights, and he can't help but grin a scarred and twisted smile, egged on by your delight of the views and freedom. Yes! This is freedom, my little princess. Let us not be chained by those targarians, this is what living is!

He certainly likes challenging you, obviously not to the point he puts you in any danger of course- but he'll dive at gut churning speeds to see what'll make you shriek. It's almost like He finds amusement out of it, perhaps getting a little kick out of challenging his rider. Once he has landed however with you safely back on the ground, he'll look at you with his gnarled smirk and expect just a little push from you. Don't take it to heart though, his princess. You'll get gently prodded and nudged by his snout to check on you to make sure you're alright. He is still protective over you, after all. His cruelty will not extend to your pain. Besides, you are more often than not riding him bareback, so he would never fly so recklessly that you'd get bucked off. Most of the time he's holding back, really.

. That is not to say that each time you climb upon his back that you will endure terror, because that is surely not the case. He loves flying with you, loves feeling your awe and wonder. It fills him with unbridled pride and ego. You can both feel freedom, and freedom is all he wants for himself and his rider alike.

. As his rider, you have a good chance of escaping the talons of your family. Who is to stop you? The mad prince, Daemon, and his blood wyrm? Cannibal could laugh at the mere thought of this deranged man challenging him with his little red pest. Even the one eyed prince and his ancient she-dragon, Vhagar, will be a welcomed challenge. When it comes to you, he'd do anything.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

katsuki in trouble !

katsuki makes a grave mistake and has to make it up to you.

“ hey.”

silence.

“ hey.”

katsuki is in trouble.

he knew he was in trouble when he playfully poked at your cheek and you kept ignoring him, not even offering him a side glance as you kept scrolling on your phone.

earlier, you had caught him committing the irreparable sin of eating the last piece of cake you had bought from a bakery near school which you had specifically saved for today. you would’ve been nice enough to share it with him if you hadn’t caught the bastard red handed stuffing his face with your cake.

after that you hadn’t talked or looked at him since. and it’s been driving him fucking nuts.

he needs you to talk to him, to touch him, to at least look at him again or he’ll lose it. this was basically torture for him, and you knew that.

he tried acting like he didn’t care, he really did. but that lasted about five minutes before he started getting antsy. he kept clicking his tongue and grunting and sighing every minute or so. he rested his head against his hand where he laid on your bed and he’s been staring—scratch that, glaring at you for what seemed like forever.

katsuki knows he’s in trouble, but he doesn’t like it when you ignore him. you know he hates it, so it’s all your fault he’s acting like this. he wants you to look at him now, and when he wants something katsuki makes sure he fuckin’ gets it.

“yer bein’ dumb, was one slice of cake, you’re really gonna ignore me for that ?” he poked at your side making you jump slightly, but your eyes remained fixed on your phone like you hadn’t even heard him. like he wasn’t even there !

katsuki’s eye twitched.

he sighed, scooting himself closer to you so he could grab the phone you were tightly clutching onto. after wrestling you for it and ripping it out of your hands, you tried crossing your arms against your chest, but he was faster, grabbing both your wrists. you tried getting out of his iron grip but it was futile. screw him, being so strong. it was honestly kind of insulting he wasn’t even struggling that badly, only grunting a bit as he told you to “quit that” and grabbing both your wrists in one hand.

you dont know how he ended up on top of you, but he did and you were suddenly trapped. you wouldn’t go down without a fight though, turning your ahead away from him to glare at the wall.

you heard him huff above you. “ m’sorry okay ? shouldn’t have eaten yer’ stupid cake.” he mumbled begrudgingly. you glanced at him and saw how red his cheeks were as he tried to keep eye contact but simply couldn’t, his eyes darting around the room then landing back on yours.

fuck, he’s cute.

as endearing as he was, you were still a little pissed off. “that was my last slice.” you muttered grumpily.

“i know.”

“that was my last slice.”

“i know.” he lowers himself until he’s laying on top of you and he noses at your neck. “ i’ll get ya another one." he muttered into your shoulder.

you stayed silent for a bit, willing yourself not to smile “really ?”

he shoved his head deeper in your neck, you squirmed at the ticklish sensation of his hair against your cheek. “ yeah.” he grumbles, pressing a sloppy kiss onto your skin. “so quit ignorin’ me, pisses me off.” read : “it makes me upset.”

you can practically hear the pout in his voice as he presses more of his weight onto you like he’s trying to trap you which he probably is. he lets go of your wrists in favor of wrapping his arms around your waist tightly. you feel him sigh against you as he waits for your response.

you smile slightly to yourself as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. he lets out a sigh of relief and his hold on you tightens. “don’t ignore me like that again, got it? mean it.” he practically whines into your shoulder. his attempt at scaring you is completely useless when he’s basically trying to hibernate in your neck.

you chuckle “ i won’t if you keep your paws off my food.” obviously he’s unhappy with your answer because he bites you, hard.

“ ow ! katsuki !”

he growls in response “don’t do it at all, dumbass. don’t like it.”

“ well, i don’t like it when you eat my food !” you quipped.

“ didn’t know it was yours.” he answers simply, cozying himself up in your neck. the asshole.

“you could’ve asked me.” you complain, but you’ve got a hand running through his hair and you’re rubbing his back soothingly. he groans.

“ i’ll get you a new one tomorrow, so quit bitchin’ at me an’ lemme fuckin’ hold you.”

you sigh “you’re unbelievable.” you feel him smirk against your neck and he bites it again, softly this time, and looks up at you. a smirk on his lips and you hate how it makes your heart skip a beat or two. screw him and his stupidly pretty face.

“you love me though.” and he knows he’s right with that stupid little self assured grin he has and you’re suddenly tempted to smack it right off his face. with your mouth. lovingly.

you pretend to be deep in thought and he huffs out a laugh, pinching your stomach. you squeal and tug lightly at his hair as payback. he retaliates by shoving his head into your neck again, mouthing and chewing on it like a dog.

“katsuki !” you try to scold him but you’re laughing. you weakly push at his shoulders but it’s useless.

“you love me.” he says again.

he’s insufferable.

“ i do, i do !” you gasp.

“ say it.”

he’s insufferable.

but you wouldn’t have it in any other way, unfortunately.

“ okay, okay !” you grab his shoulders to get him to look at you and when he does his eyes are bright and playful and he’s smiling wide and you mirror his expression, because you do love him.

“ i love you, katsuki.” he smiles wider. his cheeks are pink but he’s still got that stupidly handsome smirk on his face as he speaks “ of course you do.” he leans forward and plants his lips onto yours. you place your hand against his warm cheek and he grips your wrist. when you pull away you’re both breathing a little heavy. he presses his forehead against yours and smiles softly at you. you smile back.

of course you do.

“ you’re still getting me my cake tomorrow.”

[bunnygirllover45]

— THE THRILL OF THE HUNT.

♱ TRIGGER WARNINGS: Johann literally hunts down the reader, Small outburst at the end, and a lot of bullshit talk about hunting because I like it, DEAD DOVE. No violence was used.

Synopsis: You escape from Johann, he has to track you down. WORD COUNT: 1.6k

Johann wasn't exactly the thrill-seeking kind. He always preferred a slow-paced life, not filled with many excitements or tragedies. He wasn’t an adventurous spirit or a fiery soul in search of greater meaning. In his head, the only thing he needed was you.

And maybe that’s why this exact moment made his blood boil with newfound rapture, he could swear for a moment his skin bumped at the feeling of his heart throbbing so quickly against his ribcage. The thrill of the hunt, like his father used to say, made mere men become beasts, some because it was vital for their survival, others because of the rush of power it gave them.

But he couldn’t quite understand it until now. For him, hunts weren’t that exciting. The game was always too easy to track down, the footsteps effortlessly concealed. The gun didn’t feel heavy enough. His breath didn’t quicken at the mere chance of letting his prey slip away; he’ll always find a way to reach them again, after all. Animals have their habits; they’re easy to decipher once you know their true nature.

This is the type of hunt he’s been craving for so long. Johann had to press a hand against his mouth to prevent a low chuckle from escaping. Oh, how right his father was. This was truly trilling to the core, the kind of thrill that made a foreign heat rise towards his head and seep into his very brain tissue.

Humans aren’t like animals, their behavior is a little more erratic, animals can be divided between highly intelligent beings and straight-up dumb ones, but humans? All of them had their quirks, you couldn’t easily guess how prepared someone could be under certain circumstances. “Isn’t that so fucking interesting?” 

Lowering himself to the ground Johann reached to touch the freshly shaped footstep that his precious prey left behind. If they’re leaving such a pretty trail behind they’re expecting me to find them, what a tease.

“You know what kind of animals roam these types of terrains?” His voice was loud enough to carry its sound through the extremely quiet, when the hunt begins, the forest goes quiet, no need to scream. “Bears, moose, sometimes even wolves. Had to detangle a lot of ‘em from traps before, not without properly securing they won’t be able to bite, ‘course.” 

His heavy boots made the rotten wood and debris scattered around the forest soil yield under their weight, no need to change onto more quiet shoes, his bunny wouldn’t be able to hear him coming, surely their heartbeat was the only thing resounding inside their ears. Reaching into his pocket he took out his watch, starting a countdown. “I’ll give you two minutes to gain distance, cover your tracks, you can try hiding if you want, but I wouldn’t recommend staying still, it makes you easier to spot.” 

“Once the two minutes are done I’ll begin searching, I'll make a bird calling each 45 seconds, and once three minutes pass by, I’ll stop making bird callings and hunt in earnest, ‘kay? Just want to make the game easier for you, it isn’t fun if I’m the one with the upper hand all the time even if this is my subject.” 

With a deep sigh, he crouched down again, his hands fidgeting inside his pocket until he found a cigarette, the last one actually. Grabbing his lighter he lit up the tip, taking a slow inhale before letting the smoke escape from his lips. 

His free hand reached to grab the gun he always had with him, it was an old friend of sorts, stuck by his side in all the worst situations, a lot of people meeting their death at the end of this same barrel. Maybe it should have your name, after all, people do name their guns sometimes.

The forest grew more eerily quiet, the sun setting down in the distance while Johann quietly awaited the starting gunshot of the race, he didn’t really need to put the time on his watch, he could already count the time down to the millisecond inside his head. “Forty-eight, forty-nine…” His gloved fingers tapped against his lips, hands tightly clad in leather gloves, perfect for the harsh Austrian winter. 

A part of him wished you didn’t even make the effort to run away, maybe finding you curled up against a rock or a tree just waiting for him to find you was more exciting than actually pursuing you, after all, that meant you truly gave up on the idea of leaving him behind—still, another part of his brain screamed for you to run, so he could find you and make sure you won’t try pulling up bullshit like this again.

Slowly he stood up, the watch making a low beeping sound before he began to walk, settling the gun back onto the strap around his thigh. Holding the cigarette in between his lips he began to prepare the clothes you were going to use once he caught you, after all, little you decided to escape both barefoot and barely dressed, the worst thing in this forest beside him was the cold. Holding the spare jacket he always brought with him inside his bag and a blanket he continued to walk nonchalantly, not even sparing a single stare in any direction that wasn’t just dead front and center. 

Johann's stare drifted onto the floor, a little disappointed that you didn’t take his recommendation into account, there, clear as day, were your pretty little marks for him to follow like a bloodhound. Johann even took the time to carefully make sure he didn’t accidentally step into any of them, not wanting to overshadow the loving tracks you left behind for him with his heavy boots.

He knew very well he was taking all of this too lightly, this was a high gamble where he could lose everything or gain all, but still the elated sense of happiness and bubbling excitement made him more self-confident, too sure you wouldn’t get away too far, and even if you did, he’d stay in the damn forest all the time necessary for you to realize you need to go back onto his loving arms.

Stopping dead in his tracks he turned around as he heard a small sound coming from behind a fallen stump, dead bark peeling off the tree’s corpse. There you are.

And there you were indeed, curled up in a ball, back pressing against the rough bark as you held your arms around your torso, bracing yourself from the harsh winter cold, from the shiver that ran down your shoulders towards your legs or the sight you so pathetically defenseless made him smile, a blush creeping up onto his features.

“You didn’t even run far enough to let me do any bird calls, are you that tired, baby?” He kneeled down in front of you, but as soon as you jolted up in surprise Johann’s hand shot to grab your wrist with unnerving quickness. His dark eyes bore into you, a small smile gracing his lips, but there was no emotion behind that expression of his. “That’s okay, next time I’ll give you some proper equipment, some shoes wouldn’t hurt.” 

His thumb caressed the skin of your wrist, while his other hand threw away the now almost half-smoked cigarette that Johann held in between his lips. Eventually he reached to grab your head in between them, rubbing your cheeks with such tenderness that it could be even soothing in a different situation. “There, you did good. Not good enough to grant you a reward, but you did have me a little scared back there.” His smile widened as he lied through his teeth. You frowned, tired, freezing cold and also breathless, but still with enough energy to try and pry his hand away from your wrist, it was useless, he was latched onto you like a handcuff. “Fuck yo—” Before you could even finish he reached to clasp his free hand onto your mouth, the sudden movement making you stumble backward, head pressing against the tree. “Fuckin’ language.” He whispered between his teeth, staring at you dead in the eyes. “You should be grateful I didn’t put a damn bullet in between those pretty eyes of yours. Runnin’ away from me like that? After all I did for you? I let you away from my sight for just a second and you go jolting away like a fucking rabbit.” 

Taking a deep breath he lowered his head, slowly pushing his hand away from your mouth, his face leaning closer to you, the only warm feeling gracing your warm body being his hot breath against your face. “Sorry ‘bout that.” He pushed your lower lip with his thumb, pressing a soft kiss onto your flesh as some sick and twisted kind of apology.

“I won’t be as lenient next time, ‘kay? You know I care about you a lot, meine Liebe, don’t want you getting hurt.” He forced a smile, leaning his forehead against yours, but again his voice was masked by the thumping sound of your heart against your ears. “Let’s get you back to the car, I’ll get you all warmed up and cozy.” 

You just let him grab you, his hands effortlessly grabbing you and carrying you bridal style as both of you made your way back toward the car, you stole a few glances at Johann’s face, finding a small smile and that darn blush in his cheeks that showed how much he enjoyed himself, maybe a twisted part of him was truly pleased by all of this, even if it just started as a rebellious act of trying to escape from your part.

“Hear that? It’s a White-tailed eagle. Birds of prey, always hunted them with my father as a child.” Suddenly the forest wasn’t so quiet anymore, the hunt has ended.

[ravengards-rogue]

i thought of you so often.

arthur morgan x reader.

✧ tags : fem!reader (gendered language, explicit use of she/her in reference to reader), children / planning on children, generally sappiness, fluff, au where nothing bad happens to arthur hdskjsdkfhsj.

✧ wc : 2.4k (???)

✧ a/n : arthur morgan.... save me arthur morgan....also not a super original thought but i can't Stop thinking about it.

✧ synopsis : a collection of love letters, all unfinished, tucked somewhere you aren't meant to find them. oh, arthur loves you more than you knew.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

You try to keep out of Arthur's belongings.

He's owed some privacy, for one. More than that, you've never felt any reason to look into it. Arthur isn't a man of many words, though you catch moments of his introspection should you pry. He isn't stoic, neither. And above all things, he's kind. Really truly kind in a way that makes him different from other men.

You don't have any complaints about him is what you mean. Unlike the men you've loved before, there are no short-comings of Arthur that would drive you to wanting to investigate his own personal things. Especially something so personal like his journals, prior or present.

On top of that, you were there with him through everything. You were part of the gang and stayed by him when it all fell apart. It was towards the end of that that Arthur came to you near frenzied, told you his plans, his thoughts. Confided in you and no less than begged to go with him where he ran.

You loved Arthur enough to stay, and so things ended - and you ran. There isn't much his journal could tell that you couldn't surmise on your own.

It's been years now, and you've long since left that life. You live with Arthur quietly, peaceful in the moments with a garden and kitty sweet as sugar.

It's a good life. An honest, quiet one sometimes to the point of being boring. You rarely miss the action, though occasionally you'll take up a bounty just to feel alive and make some money.

Mostly though, you live as unassuming folk. No bloodshed, no wardens, no gunslinging.

Been talk between you both about having a baby, recently. Serious talk. You've made some money between here and there, and you've got a good life. You've traveled too. But it gets a little lonely, and you don't really get your fill with just Jack when John and Abi are ways away.

Before anything like that, though - you need to clear some space. Empty out some belongings and things collecting dust. Living in one place for too long creates all sorts of mess, you find. When Arthur is home to help, he does - but he's been busy lately figuring something out with Charles. Some business venture related to ranching that you know nothing about so far. They'll tell you when its ready.

Usually when you're tidying, you keep to just your things, or your shared things - but Arthur has lived more life than you. It shows in that big closet space filled with nick-knacks he has yet to toss.

You'd mentioned it to him not too long ago and he'd given you permission to go through them.

(A kiss to your forehead from chapped lips and hands holding your waist, Arthur hums in acknowledgement as you ask his permission.

"Ain't nothing I gotta hide from you. Do whatever you need.)

But like you said - you try to keep your nose out of his business if it's not necessary for you to be in it in anyway.

You weren't trying to look through his things, really. You started cleaning, worked your way to that last box. Up on a shelf in his closet, a little too high for you to reach easily. You made a misstep and dropped the damn thing. It barely missed your head as the whole thing fell open, and out came journals and papers and photographs.

You've always known Arthur to be sentimental, so none of it has been particularly surprising. A photo of wolves and him on a horse, the picture from John and Abigail's engagement. Some other scraps of sentimental value.

And then there was a journal. Not Arthur's journal that he's always using, but another you've never seen before. You know Arthur journals, seen the thing plenty though you never look unless he shows you first.

A journal with a dark brown stained leather binding, fallen open and your name scrawled out in pencil lead at the top of it.

The curiosity got the better of you, okay? Not your damn fault.

So you're thinking on it.

The fabric of your skirt is pooled out underneath you as you hold the thing in your hands, sitting down on the ground surrounded by things. You've stowed away everything else that fell out from the box after ensuring it was intact, including Arthur's journals. Everything with the exception of the one you're holding.

Some guilt eats at you. You don't wanna upset him potentially by having looked. Even if he gave you permission, looking in the damn thing is a little different. But your name was there so clearly, and well - you didn't think he wrote about you. Apart from here and there, maybe.

You hold the book out in front of you with a sigh, looking fondly at his name ingrained in the leather. You press your forehead against it with, resigning yourself completely.

"Lord forgive my pryin'," You mumble, hoping it's enough to absolve you.

Your heart feels funny as you let your fingers trace over the hard edge of the front cover, one eye shut as you start to open it slow.

The first few pages are nothing special.

A page outlining who the journal belongs to and when it was started, and some doodles of yarrow and oleander. The pages after that filled with mundane entries. About people he met or things he saw, all endearing to you. The corners of your lips tug up slightly.

You really love this man helplessly.

You flip through a few more pages, many of them blank before writing starts to appear again. Little by little, you find passages. You look to the dates up at the corner (though not all of them have one) and trace the timeline. This is from all the way back in Horseshoe Overlook.

It feels like ages ago now.

You look at a page with no date, and reading the writing in it. There's doodles of flowers and trees along the bottom of the page. The words are easy enough to make out - because Arthur has the most unusually beautiful handwriting.

There's some entries about you. At first, they all include your name in some context. Mentioned in the same way Arthur might mention Hosea or Abigail. The further you go, the less you see it. The more you become her and she.

It's a trend. The longer you read, the less there is about anyone else. Just you and all your silly idiosyncrasies tucked between pages. Something lovestruck and foolish lights its match in you.

Saw a body hanging at the tracks at Valentine. A gruesome sight. I told her about it and she laughed. Asked me to take her to see it. A strange woman, by all accounts.

You feel yourself smile a little as you continue to flip through the pages.

She joined me riding into town today. Said she had some business to attend but would not tell me any details. After, she came with me to purchase a new gun. I engraved a snake into it's handle, per her request.

Another few pages littered with drawings of delicate berries and waterfalls before you stumble across more writing. The more you flip, the longer the passages become you.

You can't tear your eyes away.

Rained today. Nothing too terrible or worth mentioning, except that she nearly caught a cold playing in it. I brought her coffee to keep her warm, but could not scold her further upon seeing her delight.

Another passage, this time written with messier hand writing. A coffee stain splatters on the white of the page.

Your heart tugs on itself. Swells about a thousand sizes. To think he wrote so much of your time together between these pages.

You read and read and read - and each passage is a little more mundane at the last. Some pages go on in vivid detail, but others are so short you aren't sure what to make of the fact he wrote them at all. As if such little details were important enough to keep in mind.

I picked a flower for her. I thought it would suit her taste. It was white with delicate petals. I did not know the name.

She wore it in her hair this evening. I find I can't stop grinning.

One passage on the next few pages, longer than the rest, catches your eye. From later in your time together, written when you were in Leymone. Near Scarlett Meadows and before the mess in Saint Denis.

After Arthur had been kidnapped.

I have gone on and on about the business with Colm O'Driscoll in many entries before this one. Yet, I find it difficult to forget. Many times I have come close to death, and still no experience lingers on my mind quite like this one. Everyone has done their best to look after me. For that I am grateful, though I do not care for being looked after. What use am I like this, I wonder? Perhaps, I should simply be grateful to be alive and in one piece, if a little uglier than I was. Alongside Miss Grimshaw and Miss Tilly, she has been by my side while I recovered. Such a carefree woman and yet I have seen her cry and weep over me countless times in the last few weeks alone. The decent man in me is apologetic for causing sorrow. Perhaps, it is the outlaw in me that feels some strange relief or satisfaction. Her fussing does not give me any grief. If anything, I find myself all the more endeared. Such a decent woman does not belong in a place like this. I hope she is able to go somewhere far away and live peacefully. I am not so shameless to want anything more. The time together we have spent, I will make sure to cherish.

Something painful and pitiful tugs at your heart. Even when Arthur admitted his feelings for you, he had started it on a similar tangent. You tell him often that you're the one who feels out of bounds with him. That a man as decent and as honest as him often feels like too much for you to have so easily.

A tear slips from your eye and you laugh at your own sentimentality, wiping it away before it can splatter onto the pages.

The further you read, the more sporadic entries become. You find that there are pages filled with sketches of you, but many of them are scratched out or half erased - like he did not find them good enough. Of your side profile, of your hands, of you pointing at a target with a gun. You feel a strange feeling of love wash over you.

Instead of concrete thoughts, you're met with Arthur's abstract. Subtle complexities and studies. There's honest tenderness in the way he sketches you and the words he chooses to caption each with. Lighter, thinner lines. Smaller doodles like stray daydreams caught onto a page.

You've never doubted Arthur in his love for you, quiet man he is - but it proves to overwhelm when presented to you in such a way.

You get to back pages. There, you're finally met with more writing. Except, instead of journal entries, there's the start of letters. You find your name at the top of the page.

Over and over. Love letters, all unfinished or scrapped. Written over and over and over, but not completed. There's tens of them at least. You've never received a love letter from Arthur before, though it's nothing you fault him for.

Now you're almost glad. You like this much better.

My darling girl My muse The better half of me, I must find some way to tell you all of what I think of you. It seems no words do it justice, I'm afraid. Still, it is in my best interest to try.

Damn that man.

When you find yourself starting to weep, you don't fight the feeling. You merely shut the book closed and set it in your lap before crying into your hands.

Such overwhelmingly happy tears. You feel off balance. If the whole world turned on its head this very minute, you're unsure you'd notice. What a decent, honest man you've come to love. What a tender one.

In the middle of your crying, you don't hear the door open or close. Nor do you hear Arthur's heavy footfall until he's in the doorway, with a voice worried half to death.

"Sweetheart, what in the hell?"

You turn your head to look at him, watching his eyes widen at your tear stained face. You clamber to your feet hurriedly, book dropping onto the ground next to you as you throw yourself at him as soon as you can.

Arthur is a steady enough man not to stumble when you do, though you can feel his apprehension. Eventually, he circles his arms around your waist. His hugs are strong. Bout strong as him and then some. An arm wrapped around your waist, the other crossed over your back all around your shoulder. Full pressure as he squeezes you tight, patting the back of your head.

"I leave you alone for a few hours. What has gotten into you, little lady?"

You pull back and and look at him, wet lashes and all, before leaning up to kiss him. Arthur meets your lips chastely at first before making a noise of surprise as you kiss him further. You use both hands to grab his face as you do, scruff scratching against your skin. His lips are soft, welcoming. He melts into the touch, so easily - blue eyes lovestruck as you pull away.

"You know I love you, don't you Arthur? More than anyone in this crazy world we live in,"

His face softens visibly. He smiles at you, touching his head to yours.

"Somehow, I do. Though, I'm wonderin' what the hell brought this on."

You tuck your face against his chest, feeling his laughter reverb through you at the way you cling to him so fervently. You sniffle as you talk.

"Found your journal. The one about me,"

He goes stiff, then silent. When you look up again, he's blushing red. He pinches his brow.

"Lord, I'd forgotten all about it,"

You shake your head.

"Ain't nothing for you to be embarrassed about. You are so wonderful,"

He pouts at you. Your heart swells. "You ain't helping with the embarrassment."

You hold him further. Hug him so tight, worried he'll disappear if you don't.

"I love you, Arthur."

"You already told me once, didn'tcha?"

"And I'll tell you one thousand times over," You emphasize, pouting at him. "Really. I love you,"

"I love you too sweetheart," His hand cups your face, thumb brushing along your waterline. "Don't cry no more. Spoils that pretty face."

"I'll try but I don't know if it's all out of me,"

Arthur laughs, pressing a kiss against your hairline. "Guess I'll just have to wipe your tears."

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

[transformers-spike]

evil idea complete. it was the eating out hcs all along

[beethatwee]

Reread @naffeclipse’s fic Apex Polarity and I simply could not get the thought of meeting Eclipse in a warmer area out of my head. I think it would be funny and leave more opportunities for Eclipse to be “curious” or learn more about human things. Specifically I love the idea of introducing him to pool floateies and I don’t know why

Not to mention I think it would be easier for his courting intentions to be realized sooner, since he can have you around for longer without danger to yourself or raising suspicion. Just a fun idea I think

Didn’t realize until after, but I love that Eclipse progressively gets larger after every drawing