#and there are SO MANY characters who just decided to wander off and live in the wild

[c4ts4ndstuff]

if you haven't read the Septimus Heap books by Angie Sage, i definitely recommend you go read them. there's no way she hasn't had the desire to go live in the woods

[sachiko6243]

Make me your wife

Summary: Y/N and her sister got attacked by giant spiders. Luckily Thranduil and his men were near enough to come to their rescue. What Y/N didnt think would ever happen, would be the elven king falling for her sassy and sarcastic character...

Word count: 6606

Warnings: spider attack in the beginning, sass, smut in the end, Minors DNI, this contains adult content!

This was written on request for: @mitsurisu I hope you like it. Sorry for the long wait, but I had much to do at my work. 😅

I was riding through the forest of the Woodland realm with my sister Leonor. We had set of from Rivendell on the request of Legolas. We had met him after he had helped the dwarves to take back their mountain. He was a very nice fellow, flirtatious and easy going, to the point where my sister had poked me and made fun of me for maybe pursuing him as a potential partner. She had been married to her husband for the last 300 years and was still utterly convinced that I would be happy in a marriage as well.

Nothing I said was driving her from that path and I had given up convincing her otherwise, deciding that letting her talk and ignore it would be the best option. She was once again on a rampage on married life, while I rode besides her, letting my thoughts and gaze wander. A crack deeper in the woods made me listen up. I knew that in those woods there were living many giant spiders, so I silenced my sister. She wasn’t a fighter like I was and if we were in trouble I needed her to listen to me.

“Shut it, Leonor. I think I heard something!” I whispered, but she waved it off. “Oh, come on Y/N. You always see and hear danger everywhere.”

“Its my job. I am a soldier after all. Be quiet, there are many spiders in these woods. I need to figure out if we are in danger.” I growled, my hands already gripping my two swords.

“Relax. There is nothing out there. You know how thoroughly Legolas and the guards clear those woods. He has told us on many occasions.” She sighed, not taking the threat seriously.

Another crack made me draw my swords, telling my horse to speed up. Leonor was quick to follow me and we were now thundering through the forest. I really hoped that it was just the forest doing foresty things and not some giant spiders, but my hope was being denied.

With a loud thud, a dark green giant spider dropped right in front of us. Leonor was just quick enough to steer her horse around it, while I was cut of by the spiders body. My horse shrieked, nearly throwing me off, but I was just able to keep me on its back. “RUN!” I yelled at my sister, making myself ready to face the big monster.

“Y/N!” She screamed, drawing the attention of the beast to her. It got up high enough for me to ride under his stomach, grabbing the reigns of my sisters horse who seemed frozen in place.

Dragging her behind me, I rushed my horse through the woods, hoping that we would be faster than that spider. Leonor took a while to come out of her frozen state, but when she was able to steer her horse again, I gave her back the reigns, now drawing my bow, turning around on my horse to shoot at the giant spider. But it didn’t seem like my arrows really seemed to bother the creature that was chasing us. And to my dismay, I hear the clicking sounds of several more coming through the woods.

They started to catch up to us, our horses slowly but surely loosing speed. And then it happened. We got circled by two smaller spiders dropping in front of us. Our horses freaked again, this time throwing us off their backs and making a run, only to be killed by spiders stomping onto them. Immediately they started to drag them away, probably into their net. I reached for another arrow, realizing, that I had shot every single one of them, without taking down one single spider.

“Fuck.” I let out, throwing my bow to the ground and dragging my swords.

“What do you mean fuck?” Leonor asked and I just gritted out: “Fuck as in we are fucked. I am out of arrows.”

“You shot all of them?” She asked and I wanted to smack her: “No, I threw them away. Of course I did!”

“No need to be so snappy.” She lashed back and I just looked at her with a deadly glare. “Oh yes, we are just about to die and I should play happy fun time with you? Forgive me for feeling a little stressed.”

“Its not my fault, that it happened.” Leonore seemed hurt and I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. “I never said it was. I am sorry for snapping at you. Its just… Ah forget it. Try to stay close to me, without getting in my way. If we are getting separated, I cant protect you and if you are in my way, I will probably hurt you. Just…” I tried to make it understandable for her. “…think of it as a dance.”

“A dance?” She asked and I could hear she was raising her brows. “Why would I think of this as a dance?” Shrugging my shoulders I swung my sword at the first spider stepping close: “I don’t know. You are the minstrel of us. I was just trying to make it logical for you.”

I didn’t hear what she answered, because my sword collided with the heavy foot of a spider, drawing an ugly screeching sound from it, as I cut through the hard material. Letting my second sword swing higher, I managed to stab it into the thicker part of the leg. Ripping out my first sword, I swung my body around and through the air, landing on top of the spider. I forced both my swords into its head, managing to down it. Jumping off, I faced the next one, but my fight seemed to have no end, as I saw that the ranks were quickly closed again.

A horn being blown and horses thundering through the woods made me catch a new wave of hope and I started to fight back harder, always making sure to cover my sister from any attacks. I heard yelling and arrows whirring through the air and I realized, that the spiders slowly but surely were thinned out. Facing another one, I was just quick enough to jump aside, as it launched for me. Rolling around, I found myself underneath its big body. Not hesitating a second, I stabbed my blades into its stomach drawing it along, as I ran to get out of there.

A mixture of spider blood, gushy intestines and a sort of dark slime covered me, as I stumbled out beneath the tumbling and falling creature. Catching my breath, I stood there for several seconds, trying to regain some strength and to get rid of the slippery mixture that covered me. When I was able to look back up, the rest of the spiders had either been slain or forced away, leaving us and the elves that came to our rescue behind. “Y/N! Leonor!” I heard Legolas yell, turning to look at him.

A sarcastic smile on my lips, I greeted him: “You seem to lack in your mission to clear the woods, my prince.” He gritted his teeth, hugging Leonor, but refraining to do the same to me: “You are as friendly as always, Y/N.” I shrugged, shoving my swords back into their sheaths. “What can I say. I was raised to be a sunshine.” But when I saw his father approaching us, I stopped talking, bowing to greet the king. “My king. I apologize for causing trouble in your lands.”

“No need to apologize. You were right. It seems as if my son isn’t particularly thorough with his task. I am the one in need to apologize as this has clearly endangered you and your…”

“Sister, my king.” I helped him out, still looking down on the ground.

“…your sister. Am I correct with the assumption you came to visit my kingdom?” He asked.

“Yes, my king. We came to visit your son, prince Legolas. He has invited us.” I answered stiffly, looking at Legolas for help. The blond elf just smiled at me and I dared to look at his father the first time. And what I saw knocked the breath out of my lungs. He was gorgeous to say the least.

Tall, strong, handsome. The similarities to Legolas unmistakable. And his blue eyes. Staring at me as if he was reading directly into my soul. I was totally caught of guard by his appearance, not realizing he was talking to me again: “I am sorry. What did you say, my king?” I barely remembered to address him by his title, but he didn’t seem to mind. Smiling at me, he repeated his words: “I was welcoming you to my kingdom. As it seems, something must have caught your attention, my Lady.”

“Y/N. Just Y/N, my king. I am no lady. Just a common soldier of Rivendell.” I corrected him, trying my best to hide my breathless voice. Thranduil looked behind me, the smile on his lips widening. “A very good one, as it seems. You took out two spiders on your own.”

“And I shot all my arrows without them having any effect.” I reduced his praise, not feeling comfortable with the king saying such high words about me. He clicked his tongue. “Ah, arrows barely have any effect on the spiders. Their shells are far to thick for them to penetrate deep enough.”

“I didn’t know, my king. The next time I will come prepared.” I said, bowing deeply again.

“The next time?” He asked with a smirk to his lips and I furrowed my brows: “Yes? Did I do something wrong, my king? If I have insulted you in any form, I apologize.” But Thranduil just grinned at me with a knowing look on his lips, before he turned around: “The next time you visit us, let me know beforehand, so that I can ensure your save journey. A lady like you must not face such beasts under my watch.”

“I can fend for myself!” I yelled after him, this time leaving out his title, as his assumption angered me. He looked over his shoulder, taking in my angry form for a moment, before he answered: “I know. But I would feel better if you were protected by my guards.” Then he turned around, looking at a light brown haired man: “Feren, ensure that Leonor and Lady Y/N have a horse to ride on and have a bath prepared for them.” The man bowed his head slightly. “Yes, my Lord.”

***

And that’s how I had met Thranduil. That was nearly 100 years ago. 87 to be exact. He had started to court me soon after that incident, sending letter over letter to Rivendell, to the point where even Lord Elrond heard of what was happening. In the beginning I didn’t think much of it, reading his letters as nothing more as friendly correspondence. Until one day he literally showed up in Rivendell, demanding to speak with Lord Elrond himself.

Later on, I was told, that Thranduil had demanded to know if I was forced to work too much, since I didn’t answer every single one of his letters. From then on, our letters turned into a frequent thing, until one day I asked Lord Rivendell to free me from my duties and to allow me to live in Mirkwood. Lord Elrond let me go with a warm and knowing smile, something I didn’t exactly know how to read back then.

But soon, Thranduil and my friendship turned into him making advances until I finally gave in to courting him. Thranduil had pulled every string he had, to get me to fall for him. He made sure that I was taken care off, that I had everything I ever wished for to the point where I literally had to fight him on lessening his extensive gifts, but there was nothing I could do to talk sense into that man.

And now here I was, sitting at the big banquet next to him. We had gotten married. Well technically we weren’t truly married yet, since for elves the marriage was only completed when the marriage was conceived. And to be honest, I couldn’t wait much longer. My friends and family had come to Mirkwood and wished me the very best. Even Lord Elrond had managed to fit in time to spare my marriage a visit, congratulating me.

I looked at my now husband, only to find him staring at me already. “You are so beautiful, my little starlight.” He whispered, reaching his hand for mine. I squeezed his hand, leaning in to his shoulder. “How long do we have to keep up this thing, until we can retreat?” I asked, the alcohol in my blood probably pushing me to speak this openly. Thranduil chuckled at my words: “So desperate already?” I smacked him on the chest. “Don’t tell me you aren’t.”

“At least I don’t show it so openly.” He teased me, kissing my hand softly. “Dance with me, meleth.”

Letting him pull me to my feet, he guided us to the dancefloor, pulling me close to his body and I could feel that he was longing for me the same way I did for him. His head sank down to my level as he whispered: “This one last dance should appease our guests. I think they already know what is about to happen, but it is much easier to vanish between dancing couples than from the high table.” I smirked at his words, leaning my head onto his chest. “Is that so, my king?”  I felt him shrug: “At least I suspect it would make things easier for Feren. He always seems to be so stressed.”

“That’s because you stress him, herven.” I answered and the way he stiffened at me calling him husband for the first time, made me smile. “Herven.” He repeated. “Say it again. It sounds so beautiful from your lips.”

“What? Herven?” I asked, putting a soft moan to my words. Thranduils breathing became rigid, as he clearly had trouble keeping the rhythm of the dance. He took a deep breath, before he simply ended the dance pulling me through the other couples. “You know what? Fuck it. I am done waiting.” Once we were far enough away from the others to hear or see us, he threw me over his shoulder, causing me to shriek out loud. “Thranduil!”

“Oh yes. That’s even better.” He grinned, carrying me through the halls and back to his chambers. “I am going to make sure that the only things that are leaving your mouth will be my name, my title and those sweet little moans or yours.”

***

Thranduil stopped in front of his door, looking at me with what I believed to be fear in his eyes. “Are you ready?” He asked me and I nodded: “Yes.” Taking his hand, I followed him inside. As soon as the door fell shut behind us, he pressed me against a wall, a sly smirk on his lips. “You have no idea, how much I waited to do this.” I didn’t react to his tease, just pulling him in by his collar, desperate to kiss him. His hands wandered to my waist, gripping the fabric of my dress.

I held onto him, still letting his hands wander over my body. “Are you sure, you want to do this?” He asked, his breath fanning down my neck, before he bit down on my sweet spot. Moaning at the sensation that rushed through my body, I tried my best to keep the conversation going: “Yes, I am. I haven’t been so sure about anything in my life, ever.”

“Good. Because I doubt, I would be able to endure the wait any longer.” His husked voice sent shivers down my spine and I had to hold on to his shoulders, to not faint. “You know what this perfume does to me, darling? The whole evening, I could not focus on anything else than you sweet smell. Do you even know, how hard I was all evening?” He picked me up, pressing me against the wall, looking at me with an angry hunger in his eyes. “I should not be commanded by a woman like that, especially not one that does it so easily like you do. It is endangering my reputation.”

“I think your reputation as the King is hardly attacked with you desiring your wife.” Trying my best to fight back against his administrations, I rolled back my head when his free hand opened the lacing of my dress, desperate to feel more of him. “What reputation, darling? Go on. Make your point.”

“The… fuck…” I cursed, earning a chuckle: “That’s very unladylike, darling. I should knock that word out of your brain.”

“You wouldn’t dare to do that. You love my dirty mouth.” I sassed back. He hummed at my words, just holding me tight to his body. “I do. And I want to make sure you are taken care off.” His words made me open my eyes again, leaning back to look at him.

He let me down slowly, still trying to hide his face from me, but I held his head, looking at him, when he let go of me: “No, please tell me. What are you afraid of?” I asked, stepping closer to him, but he just dodged backwards. Tilting my head, I followed him into the living area, effectively backing him into the sofa. When he sat down on it, I straddled his lap. “Are you afraid to be close to me?”

“No…” He breathed heavily. “Yes… I don’t know. I… I want to be close to you, but I don’t want you to feel forced. You know how it is… Wifely duties and all and I don’t want to pressure you into anything, but at the same time I want to feel you, hold you, smell you, taste you. Everything. I am in no place to expect anything from you, so I refrain from giving in to those thoughts too much, because I don’t want to make it too obvious to you, that my needs are currently overruling my consciousness. And now that I am close and… and alone with you, I realize that its much harder than I have thought it would be... I want this to be special to you. I want to be the loving husband you deserve, to let you know that you are my most priced treasure… That I would do anything for you.”

I just looked at him: “Are you… are you rambling? The elven king and man of precise language is rambling and stuttering?”

“Yes.” Was all he said. “And you currently sitting on my lap, dressed like that, doesn’t help my case either.”

“What's stopping you?” Letting my voice drop lower, I leaned forward, rolling my hips shamelessly over his lap. He groaned out, gripping my tighter. “Y/N… You don’t have to do this. I can live with it, if you aren’t ready.”

“Do I look forced, meleth?” I whispered close to his ear, nibbling on it. “Show me what it feels like. Please, meleth. Touch me. Please… be my husband.”

Thranduil let his head fall back, his eyes were closed, as he was definitely on his last straw of mindfulness. “How much do I need to push you, until you give in?” I giggled at his neck, making my way up to his chin and then hovering over his lips. “Would it help, if I lose my wedding dress?”

“You sound like a prostitute…” He gritted out and I just grinned wider. “And? Is it working?”

“Yes. And I don’t know if I like that thought.”

“Which thought? Me as a prostitute, or that I am succeeding to win you over that easily?” I kept on teasing him. Leaning back, I opened up the strings of my dress, pulling it over my head.

He balled his fists at my waist, his eyes forcefully trained on my face. “Both. But I would never let you become a prostitute.”

“Scared to share me?” Still keeping up my teasing way, I just sat on top of him, waiting for him to react. “No.” He gritted out.

“What's it then? Afraid another man might do me better?” Wetting my fingers with my tongue, I let them slide between my legs, stabilizing myself with my free hand on his knee. And when my fingers found my clit, I hummed in pleasure, still watching his face intently. Not reacting to my administrations, he spoke in a very forced tone: “You are my wife. There is no other man. Ever.”

“Hmmm. I like that, meleth.” I sighed, feeling how I grew wetter, so I dipped one finger inside my core, only to then put it to my mouth to lick it clean. “I like it, when you get possessive and confrontive towards other men. The difference of how you treat them and how you treat me, makes me feel special.”

“Does it now?” He sassed and I sighed internally. I finally had him broken out of his restrictive shell. I had my husband back: “Always has.”

“You really want to do this?” He inquired further and I nodded. “Yes. Please. I think I am ready.” Taking one last breath, he gripped my thighs. “Hold on.” Without giving me much time to react, he got up, walking towards the bedroom. “If you want me to do this, I am going to do this properly.”

“I know. Everything else wouldn’t be like you.” I grinned, hiding my face in his neck. He sat me down slowly on the edge of the bed. Then he stepped back, taking off his clothes one piece after the other: “If you are already naked, I shall be too. I don’t want to make you feel insecure.” His words made me blush and I stuttered out a quiet “Thank you.”  

Thranduil came back to me sinking further to his knees. When he was eyelevel with my stomach, he softly kissed it, then down my thigh until he reached my knee. “Lean back and relax.” His voice was rough, his warm breath sending goosebumps over my inner thigh.

“I want to watch you. I need to see you.” I whispered, stroking through his hair. His jaw clenched at my words, but he didn’t say anything, taking my hand and pressing a kiss to it. “If you wish so.” His fingers ghosted over my skin, leaving trails of goosebumps behind. “I will take my time today. I want to take care of you as good as I can.” He whispered roughly, kissing the insides of my thighs up to my core. I was too mesmerized with his softness, his blue eyes burning with love and passion, that I was incapable of answering him.

Then I felt his first finger touch my core and I stiffened up, digging my nails in his shoulders. He immediately stopped, looking up at me, waiting for me to relax. We stared into each others eyes, Thranduil kissing and nibbling on my thighs. “You are safe, meleth. Relax. There is nothing you have to fear.” Taking a deep breath, I focused on his eyes, relaxing as much as I could. And when he felt me giving up my barrier, he kept on pushing his finger inside of me. “See? You are doing great.”

I closed my eyes, the faint sound of his name on my lips and I could feel the familiar feeling starting to grow between my legs. Carefully he added another finger, scissoring them apart, creating a steady rhythm. “Let go, love. You are doing so good. Taking my fingers so well.” He praised me, his voice low and soft like silk. I could feel my blood rush to my face, painting it a light pink shade, my heartbeat thrumming in my ears, that I nearly missed his sweet little murmurs. His mouth wandered all over my thighs, my stomach, and hip bones, until he hovered over my core. “May I?”

“Yes…” I breathed out, moaning, when I felt his lips kiss my sensitive spot. Instinctively I spread my legs further, letting myself fall back onto the bed, one hand still clasping his free arm. “Thranduil…” I moaned, unable to focus on anything else than the man between my legs, lulled in by his sweet touches and soft little praises. “Please don’t stop.” I cried out, not really caring, that it was still the early evening, our windows hanging open, still a hurried humming coming from the big ball room.

“Never.” Was all he answered, slowly finger fucking me. It was ridiculous, how fast he was able to find the sweet spot deep inside of me. I heaved myself onto my elbows, wanting to see him, rather than just feeling him. And the expression that he had on his faze was breathtaking. Full of confidence and arrogance, a slight smirk forming on his lips, when he realized I was watching him again. “You taste so fucking good.” He groaned, raising his head to properly look at me. The shamelessness of him made me gasp out in embarrassment. His face was covered in my slick, eyes wild and hungry.

His gaze flickered between soft love and hungry possession as he was clearly fighting his urges to claim me. And I was absolutely turned on by it.

Thranduils smile grew wicked, when he saw how much I was affected by him. Wiping my slick of his chin, he licked his fingers clean, making a show out of it, simultaneously not stopping his fingers working my core. “You like that do you?” I wasn’t able to answer, just staring him in the eyes. “Answer me, my love, or I will stop.” He teased, some of his usual possessive self breaking through.

“Yes.” I pressed out, his name quickly following, when he curled his fingers perfectly against my sweet spot. Dipping down again, his fingers and tongue kept pushing me further down the road of my orgasm. The knot in my lower stomach starting to grow tighter, my legs wrapping around his shoulders, to keep him in place. I could feel my walls starting to flutter around his digits, another sign that I was close. The strength left my upper body and I fell back onto the bed, pulling his free arm close to my chest, nails digging into his skin. My eyes rolled back into my head as his name rang through the room, when my orgasm suddenly washed over me.

I felt him carefully pull out his fingers, his hands gently covering my cunt, as I just dwelled in the feeling. Tears started to form in my eyes and I tugged on his arm. “Meleth…” I mewled, desperate to feel him. He reacted instantly, getting up from his position climbing onto the bed and pulling me higher into the pillows. I turned around, crawling to the headboard falling to my stomach. “Feel you!” I pressed out, hugging a pillow tight to my chest.

Seconds later, I could feel his warm body hovering over me. I reached out for his hand that was holding his weight, clamping my fingers around his wrists. Sinking down on his elbows, he pressed me down, taking my hands in his bigger ones. The new intimate position making me feel hot and safe at the same time. His strong chest forced me down, chest hair tickling on my back, his thighs caging me in, as he buried me underneath him. “Thranduil…” I whimpered desperately, bucking my ass against his crotch.

He growled into my ear, his lips smothering me roughly, leaving a trail of wet kisses behind. “Please… I need you… Meleth…” I tried again, pressing up against his body, only to be met with him pressing me down further. “By Valar, please… I cant bare it anymore…” Begging for more, I cried out for him the tension in my body so high, that I was sure I would snap any moment.

His hands were roaming over my body, when he suddenly grabbed my arm, twisting me around. I shrieked and he instantly pulled back, skidding back to the edge of the bed, hands raised. “I am sorry, darling. I let myself go. Forgive me.”

“Its alright, Meleth. I trust you. I just didn’t expect this.” I smiled at him, reaching out for him. “Come back. Please.”

“What if I hurt you?” He stayed at the end of the bed.

“You wont hurt me.”

“You don’t know that!” He nearly yelled; the stress clear in his eyes. I gulped hard, seeing him irritated like that send a shiver down my spine. Taking a deep breath, I forced the unwanted thoughts out of my head.

“I know that you would never willingly do something that would harm me in any way. And that is all you can do. I trust you with all my life and I want this, meleth. I need this. Please. What can I do to make you believe me? To help you to trust yourself with me?”

“Promise to tell me, when its too much, or when I hurt you.” He rasped, slowly coming back to me, leaning his face into my hand.

“I promise.”

“Thank you.” He whispered, kissing my palm, before he sat back on his ankles, opening his breeches and I couldn’t help but stare at him.

His cock sprung free, hard, and tinted in a light pink shade, a drop of precum already crowning on his tip. “Fuck yes…” I breathed, staring at his manhood, not realizing, that he moved again, ridding himself from his breeches, crawling towards me again. He forced me to lay back down on my back and I just wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him flush against my core. That caused him to grind his hips against mine, eliciting a soft moan from my lips. I just clung to his body, squirming against his touch. “So needy.” He mused, kissing his way down to my breasts, taking one nipple between his lips.

Him sucking so delicately on my nipple, let me jolt in pleasure. I could feel his hard cock pressing against my thigh, twitching in anticipation. Supporting all his weight on one hand, he looked at me one last time, waiting for me to give him my consent. Nodding I bit my lip, bracing myself for what was about to come. He guided his hard member into me, very carefully easing his way in. I was still incredible wet from my previous orgasm, but I wasn’t prepared to take him, my body tensing up at the intrusion, making him stop mid movement. “Are you alright, darling? We don’t have to…” But I shook my head. “Go on. I want this.” 

Once he bottomed out, he stayed sheathed like that, distracting any thought I had with kissing me, until my head spun. It didn’t take long for me to grow accustomed to him, my hips starting to roll against him. I held onto his shoulders, looking him deep into the eyes. “I love you.” Thranduil nearly crumbled at my words, closing his eyes and groaning lowly. “Fuck me… That’s the hottest ‘I love you’, you have ever said.” Giggling I blushed. “I doubt that.”

“Not that it isn’t incredible to hear you say it in any other situation, but this… this just hits different. You trusting me like this... This memory will forever be my heaven.”

“You old romantic.” I groaned, but my smile betrayed me, him bending down for a kiss. “Always for you.”

Slowly he started to move, setting a slow and steady pace, fully set on pleasuring me as much and long as he could. My walls started to accommodate him more, relaxing around him. I hummed at the sweet feeling that started to spread through my body, my head sinking deeper into the pillows. “Yes…” I sighed, closing my eyes, just holding onto his upper arms.

“I love you, darling. Just relax and enjoy.” His words were water on a hot stone, instantly fogging up my mind, a light veil covering us.

He bent down to my neck, kissing it, nibbling onto my shoulder and a short worry of being marked up by him shot through me, but when he managed to hit my sweet spot, that worry got kicked out of my mind again. “Thranduil!” I yelped, digging my nails into his arms even more. “Do it again.” He growled against my skin, his teeth nipping on the sweet spot right under my ear. “Let me hear how much this pleasures you.” I complied to his demand, babbling before I even managed to filter anything that left my mouth: “Please… Give me more… I need more. Make me your wife, please… This feels so good. You feel so good. Claim me, please… meleth.”

“God, Y/N.” He moaned. “You are going to be the death of me…” The way he was so affected by it, only fed the tingly feeling in my body, spreading it to my limps. The tension in my lower stomach now growing bigger with every second, causing me to produce a guttural moan. I clasped my hand in front of my mouth, my gaze wandering towards the open balcony door, but Thranduil didn’t seem to mind one bit. Quite the opposite. He let out a growl, taking my hand away again. “Let them hear. Let the whole kingdom know, that you are my wife.”

Shifting his weight, he leaned back on his ankles, raising my hips, while fucking me deeper into the mattress. The new position caused him to hit a particular deep spot inside of me, pushing all the air out of me in a loud cry of his name.

“Say it again, little one. Let everyone know who you belong to.” He darkly smiled at me, his thrust not faltering one second. “So beautiful. So perfect for me. Taking my cock so well.” Praising me, he didn’t let go of my eyes. “Keep your eyes on me, bereth. I want to see you, when you come.”

I couldn’t help but stare at him, mesmerized by him, not able to resist the drawl he put into calling me his wife. His wife. That title alone did things to my mind, I wasn’t prepared for. The knot in my stomach was about to pop, threatening to pull me under. And by the way he was grinning, he knew. Knew from the way I shivered, the way my walls fluttered around his length. “Go on, my starlight. Let go for me. I wanna see those beautiful eyes roll back in your head. Wanna feel how you twitch around me and make a mess on my cock.” He spurred me on. And on cue I came.

Hard.

My back arched from the bed, eyes rolling back inside my head. I shivered in his hands in pure bliss of my orgasm, his name ringing through the room loud enough, that I was sure even the soldiers standing guard on the southern entrance were able to hear me. This orgasm was hard and fast, crushing into me like a rogue wave. Thranduil still kept his pace, thrusting into me, roughly praising me: “That’s it, darling. Ride it out. You are doing so good. Looking so fucking beautiful.” And I could feel my cum leak on his lap, drawing lush sounds from my core.

“Meleth!” I cried out, now completely kicked out of reality.” Crying out in desperation I reached out for him. Thranduil gave into my pleading, leaning forward again, pressing me down with his full body, effectively caging me in between his hot chest and soft mattress. “Yes…” I mewled, wrapping my legs around his waist, feeling him thrust much deeper into me. I was again babbling absolutely unfiltered: “Don’t stop, meleth. Makes me feel safe. So good. Thank you.”

“Of course, darling. Everything for you.” His voice sounded strained and I realized that he was close as well. “Its okey. You can let go.” I tried to get the words out straight, but another moan rippled through me, him groaning, desperately gripping a pillow. “No. I am not finished with you. I want you to come with me.” The pure determination and love in his words, striking me deeply, so that I couldn’t help but, whimper again. I earned a soft bite on my shoulder, followed by more praises: “Fuck yes… I love it when you do that. Taking me so well, moaning for me in such beautiful tones.”

Sneaking a hand between us, he pressed two fingers on my clit, sloppily rubbing circles over it. I clenched around his cock as an answer, goosebumps spreading over my skin, as he forced the fire to burn up in my body once again. A shiver ran down my spine, my walls fluttering around his cock, my legs wrapping around him even tighter. It spurred him on to fuck me even harder, his fingers moving faster, the sloppy kisses on my neck now closer to love bites than anything else. I started to shake uncontrollably, my body overwhelmed by the desire and stimulation that he had and still was administrating.

“I got you.” He rasped out and it was all I needed to hear. I came again, succumbing to a shivering mess underneath him, clamping down on his cock. “Fuck, Y/N.” He groaned and I could feel him twitch inside of me. The feeling of his hot seed shooting up my core made me whimper desperately and I couldn’t help myself but to think about what it would feel like to carry his child. Slowing down his pace, he rode out our orgasms, smothering every bit of skin with wet kisses. He was breathing hard, trying his best to catch his stance again.

Pressing me close to himself, he rolled onto his back and I was now lying on top of him. “You did so good, meleth nin. Took me so well. I promise I will always love and protect you. You are everything to me, the only thing I would give away everything I own for without batting an eye.” Listening to his sweet ramblings, I let the tears roll from my cheeks, cherishing his love and the sweet intimate moment between us.

To my dismay, it was interrupted far too quickly, when I felt the mixture of my slick and his seed trickling out of me. Wriggling in his arms, I tried to find a comfortable spot, but the stickiness just got worse. He was quick to realize what was the problem. Pressing a kiss to my head, he rolled around again, getting up from the bed. “Stay there. I will get something to get you cleaned up.”

I just watched him scramble through the room and come back with a bowl of water and a wash cloth. He looked so incredible hot like this. His hair messy and disheveled. Eyes still glowing with desire. And when he saw his cum seeping out of me, I believed to see his gaze grow even darker. I sighed loudly, catching his look with mine: “How was I ever able to deny me such pleasures…?” He laughed at my words, slowly sinking to the bed and cleaning me up with soft little touches. “From now on you will never have to. Whenever you need me, feel free to come and get me.”

“Even when you are in a meeting?” I asked and he smirked at me: “Especially then.”

[hyukascampfire]

𝒯𝑂: 𝑆𝑂𝑀𝐸𝑂𝑁𝐸 𝐹𝑅𝑂𝑀 𝐴 𝑊𝐴𝑅𝑀 𝐶𝐿𝐼𝑀𝐴𝑇𝐸 ༉

𝓘N THIS STORY 〃 a life lived as a human among the fae is hard-earned. the folk are built of indescribable beauty, and of debauchery and mischief. for some, a life lived subservient to the folk is just fine; but to those who dream of something more, they would spend their lives clawing and biting to make it happen.

you, looking for a way to escape a life as a faerie’s human servant, put a new foot forward thinking that any life could be better than that. but, when your first assignment as a king’s spy is alongside a brooding, icy faerie man, you begin to wonder what your place in this foreign world really could be.

wc ➳ 7.5k

pairings faerie!taehyun x human!reader

warnings violence, blood is drawn, some heated kissing and groping, a magic spell is placed over a human character, fem reader, mentions of violence, animal death

playlists ⑊ yeonjun ˒ taehyun ˒ series

…🪶 ashlynn's note okay i am actually so obsessed with a icy and mean taehyun. like genuinely it is rotting my brain. lmaooo

⑊ →

The stale reek of the ancient, crumbling palace walls makes it feel like they are closing in on you. You trail only a foot behind the odd goblin spy. He treats you with quiet. He’s relatively short in stature and quite grubby, worrying his hands while he walks. You have plenty of reasons to be scared of him; a royal spy, no doubt lethal in skill, who could probably spin around and end your life the second he decided he didn’t like you. But you aren’t scared of him—no, your brain is quintessentially human, and more worried about whether or not the rest of them would find you up to their standards when you arrive where he takes you.

Growing up among the folk was, in an understatement, challenging. They were of a different nature. They did not understand the rules of the human world, and could never understand your resentment for being spirited away. Most would argue that it was a blessing, that you would one day grovel at the feet of the faerie that had stolen you here all those years ago. Resentment bloomed like a potent seed in your mind each time Nut-hatch made you sew the gowns she couldn’t manage until your fingers were bleeding and sore. Because, who wouldn’t adore a life spent at the beck and call of the faerie that snatched you right from your cradle?

You trip over a loose, fractured stone, reaching out for a wall to catch yourself. Palm stinging, you hiss. Re-steadying yourself, you spin the hand over to inspect the burning scrapes. Blood wells around shallow white trails where stone had bitten skin, but you kick your legs back into motion. The goblin does not bother to wait for you. You expect that he’d just continue walking if you don’t.

“And you expect to be a spy,” the goblin laughs, a throaty and irritating sound, “crying over a scuff.” He does not even turn around to address you, but you can’t say you expected him to. You had done nothing to earn his respect. You are going to change that.

Instead of defending yourself or making yourself sound pathetic, you just stop nursing the scrape and let the sound of footfalls fill the air. The walk is long, and you find your mind wandering off to agonize over the different ways that this could play out. Many of them do not end well. You squeeze your eyes shut, gulping down a swallow despite the tightness in your throat. When you feel your foot catching on flat ground again, nearly toppling forward, your eyes lurch open. Don’t close your eyes walking down the halls of decrepit old castles, genius. 

He makes a stop a few feet ahead of you, just before a towering, ornate, and no doubt heavy elmwood door. The metal handles are scuffed with well use to the point that they are utterly dull and reflect little light, and there are four long gashes that splinter the wood. Wild gashes like that could only have been carved by a beast of Faerie origin. 

“So, this is the entrance?” you ask, catching up to him. You gesture at the door ahead. 

He levels you a stare, a crooked grin tugging at his mouth. A yellowed canine, so sharp it would pierce your jugular like a knife through sweet cream, peeks out. You squirm under his glare, those yellow eyes scrutinizing you for a moment. 

“More like this,” he says simply, looking pointedly to a slate tile at his feet.

You sigh. You suppose you should’ve inferred that the entrance of a royal spy den is not just a door with no visible locks or veiling. You watch as he dislodges the loose tile from the ground with practiced ease, a heavy hunk of stone that reveals beneath it a set of stairs leading down into the ground. The palace they had decided to conceal the den within is no doubt timeworn, but the staircase you look at now seems much newer. The stone is significantly less worn and eroded, save for the dirt that cakes the tops of each step. Wafts of earth and root greet your nose.

You frown at the prospect of heading down without even so much as a torch on the wall. It’s hollow and black down there, leaving you to only imagine where a root or pebble might steal your balance and send you down who even knows how far. “How deep is that staircase?” you ask. The goblin had already begun descending, pausing at the third step with visible impatience. 

“Oh, just get down here, won’t you?” he grumbles. “This damned stone is heavy.” You observe the utter pitch black of the stairwell for a moment, considering all the awful possibilities, before relenting and descending into it. Stone grinding and light weaning to nothingness tickle nerves up your spine as he slides the coverstone back over the entrance. 

“I can’t see,” you say, words falling out into the thick, muddy air. Perhaps obvious, but how are you supposed to walk? He curses you out under his breath before he grabs you by the meat of your arm with gnarled, calloused fingers, tugging you forward and down. You protest as you almost slip off the ledge of a step, stumbling down each descending one for a few moments until you come to another stop. The floor here is softer beneath your feet, no longer stone. You sit in waiting for whatever he is doing in the pitch black. You do not question him again. It’s better to not come off as any more incapable than you already had made yourself look, considering your goals. Your stomach is tied in such tangled up knots that you don’t know how to act right; how to act like the capable spy that you had painted yourself to be in order to even end up in this decaying palace. You wonder if he is second guessing his decision in even bringing you here. You hold your head up a little more, squaring your shoulders. If you act sure of yourself, you’ll appear that way.

A resounding pattern of knocks bounces off the dirt walls surrounding you two, and the sound of muffled words spoken follow. A soft yellow light luminates your surroundings as a peephole slides open. You blink your eyes to readjust, taking in your surroundings for the first time since that stone snuffed the light out. A rickety, rotting wood door stands before you, oddly shaped to fit the round, burrowed out dirt hollow. The light filtering in from behind the door disappears when somebody peeks through it. No words are even exchanged before a metal sliding bolt cues the unlocking of the round door, and it swings open. You squint your eyes in the light.

“This is her?” A reedy faerie stands holding the door open, her skin a pale green and with an iridescent sheen to it. The hood from the cloak around her shoulders is tugged over her head, but you can see the way she takes you in even through the shadow it casts. 

“Something wrong?” the goblin asks, shoving his way past the long-limbed sprite. You stay put, not sure whether or not they’d like you just barreling your way in behind him.

She scrutinizes you for a moment longer, shrugging. “No,” she answers, lips pursed, “just a bit…” The sprite hesitates on the wording before finishing,“Underwhelming?” She leaves the door to follow him in. You gnaw at your cheeks. You are used to being lackluster—You were raised from infancy here, in a world of creatures that are beauty incarnate. Humans could be beautiful, yeah. But it was not the beauty of starless nights for eyes, nor of flower-petal skin, and never hair of twinkling, gold-spun strands. Human beauty could only ever exist in the four-walled prison of facial symmetry and physical attraction. Even the most gritty of the folk had a certain air of ethereal about them, worted and twisted as they may be. You resent them for it; resent the way your skin and hair dull beside them, becoming something mundane and underwhelming.

Their little hideout is humble. It smells of old wood, and furniture is minimal. The two of them sit down at a square table to the center of the room, leaving three other seats empty. You mull over whether or not simply taking a seat next to them would be offensive before just shoving your nerves down with a foot long stick and sitting. To convince them that you’re a needed part of their team, you’ve got to act the part. An indelible spy does not wonder whether or not a seat is for them, they know it is theirs. However you may try to play an act, though, you’re sure that they can see how the scars that decorate your fingertips are more from pricks of a sewing needle than they are of blades and combat. The sprite girl tugs her hood off her head, revealing a head of tousled white hair except for horizontal stripes of black that decorate some chunks. Her eyelashes are chunky, spidery, and curled, so long they tickle her brow with each blink, and they frame her grass-green eyes. She doesn’t look far off from the insect that she shares her name with. Regarding you, she sits nonchalant and kicked back in the chair, worn boots up and criss-crossed on the table. 

“This is the place where you’ll meet us,” she says, addressing you finally. She wiggles a foot as if this conversation is the last she’d like to be having.

You pause inwardly—you had thought this would be some sort of rugged test of skills, not an initiation.

She continues. “You’ll meet the others whenever they—”

You cut her off. “Aren’t you going to ask me about my qualifications?” 

She quirks a delicate brow, speaking for her just as well as words might.

 “Or, like, test me? Or something?” you continue. The two of them share a look, before breaking out into snorts and giggles. You shift in your seat, frowning. There was nothing funny about your questions.

“We would have never even brought you down here if we didn’t already decide on you,” the sprite girl says, and then gestures at the goblin, “We heard plenty of you from Gristle.” 

The goblin sputters to explain himself, embarrassed how the sprite had made it seem like he was raving. Gristle is his name, then. “We needed a human counterpart,” he says, pointing a clawed finger at the sprite girl. “Nobody else was doing the heavy lifting in recruiting. You try and see how it is, then,” he huffs, voice gravelly. “We needed one, and I brought you one.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, voice softening to a tone reminiscent of soothing a tantruming toddler. “You sure did.” She flexes her booted foot to point in your direction, “But did you bring us a competent one?” 

You cross your arms across your chest, narrowing your eyes. “I’m plenty competent,” you say. Sure, you are the servant girl of a busy seamstress faerie, but you need to make something more of yourself in one way or another. You could learn anything, if it meant that. “You don’t have to worry about me running off and telling anybody anything.”

She barks a laugh, as if the notion was ridiculous. “Well, I should know that, because I assume you value your life well enough.” She lets her feet drop off the table, prowling toward you on legs a bit too long for her body, before sliding an ornate dagger from its sheath at her hip and brandishing it to you. “But could you even hold your own if someone engages you out in the field?” She then drives the blunt, thick pommel end of it into your chin. Your head snaps back with the force of the strike, and you can feel by the warm trickle of blood that it had busted your chin open. 

You look at her, wild-eyed and accusatory. Your jaw aches as you open your mouth to ask, “What was that?” A trail of thick blood runs down your neck, and she just scoffs.

“Figures.” The sprite sheaths the dagger, dropping back into her seat unceremoniously as if she did not just bash you in the chin. 

“I don’t know how to fight yet,” you say, wiping at your neck. You bring your hand up to check the damage, hissing through your teeth as you prod around the gash. You shake your shoulders as if it would shake off the searing pain running up and down your jaw before adding, “But I can learn. I will learn.” Gristle tosses you a rag he had retrieved silently from a drawer, his mouth pulled taut into a line. You wipe up the remnants of the blood, the metallic tang of it finally reaching your nose. You shudder as you press the rag to the wound and hold it there. 

“Now, that’s what I’m talking about,” Gristle cracks, his grin toothy. “We weren’t going to find humans who could already fight,” he says, a fur-tipped ear twitching, “but one willing to learn…” He looks at you, and then returns his gaze to the sprite. “We can work with that, Cricket.” When her face stays drawn, he repeats, “We can work with it.” His yellow saucer eyes are serious.

Cricket doesn’t say anything; her grassy eyes simply go distant with thought for a moment. It was true: humans are not brought to the world of Faerie to learn to fight. Or to be anything more than servants, at that. The luckiest ones, like you, are at the very least schooled on reading and faerie histories. Lucky would be an overstatement, though. Nobody stolen from their homes and then forced to accept a reality in a foreign world is genuinely lucky. Despite it, you no longer dream of the life you could’ve had in the human world. It is not your life. It will never be your life. And, considering the look that Cricket and Gristle share, your life is now to be the human counterpart of a royal band of spies. 

“Do you know how an oath works?” Cricket asks, pulling out that same embellished dagger and spinning it between two fingers. You hesitate before nodding. You don’t, and she seems to read right through you. She narrows her eyes at you. 

“First of all, don’t lie. Never lie. We have to be able to trust each other.” She says, still spinning that glittering dagger utterly nonchalant. “You’ll want our trust when you’re on the field and need your back covered. Not knowing how to officiate an oath is one thing,” she stops spinning the blade to point it at you, “lying to me is another.”

 You shake off the embarrassment that crawls up your throat. “I’m sorry. I want you guys to trust me.” 

“Trust is especially important with you,” she says. It’s true. Humans can lie blatantly with their mouths. The folk could twist truths to deceive, and bend over backwards to make one thing sound like another, but they could not just lie. In your schooling years, you were taught that a lie is simply against faerie nature. You had laughed at that—if anything seemed to be in faerie nature, it was lying.

 “We can start our trust”—she gestures with one finger between you and herself—“off on the right foot with a geas.” Taking your arm that does not hold the rag, she tugs it toward her.

You struggle with the word geas. A geas is a faerie ensorcellment the folk dearly love subjecting humans, who did not know any better, to. They sweet-talk them into it, and when the human was fully ensorcelled, the human becomes a living plaything to make dance unabashedly and kiss the dirt off their boots. It leaves a bad taste in your mouth. 

“An oath and a geas are not interchangeable,” you say, wary and preparing to take your arm back. “Which is it?”

 “An oath means nothing to a human.” She looks to Gristle for support, “Right or wrong?”

“Leave me out of it.” 

Cricket rolls her eyes. “We just have to get some type of way to ensure that I won’t have to tie up loose ends.”

A knock rings through the room, the same rhythmic knock that Gristle had performed on the door. Gristle clambers over to the door and slides the peephole open. 

“Decided to show up to do your work today?” Gristle says through the peephole, before sliding the hatch open. You look away from the door before seeing who enters as Cricket grows impatient, spinning your arm so that your palm is facing the roof. She takes her dagger and slides it across the delicate skin. You try to reclaim your hand, but she holds it steady and slides a slit across her own palm. 

“Are you guys trying to bleed me for every drop I have?” you protest. You could probably count the amount of wounds you’ve been inflicted with since stepping into the palace on two hands. She clasps your hands, mushing together the wounds still seeping blood. 

You had forgotten about the knock at the door until a new voice with a deep and silvery quality to it asks, “Trying to do it before I could get here, Cricket?” The voice travels from behind you to in front of you, and the man who owns it comes into view. He is relatively tall, towering over Gristle and quite a bit taller than Cricket. His hair is dark, hanging over a pair of sharp eyes that glare daggers at the sprite. You thank all things good that he is not leveling you with that icy smolder. You notice quickly that his ears are the distinct rounded form of a human’s ear. 

“This is Taehyun.” Cricket gestures with an exasperated arm. If the roundness of his ears is not already telling, the name is. He was human. You frown, retracting your hand.

“I thought you guys were looking for a human counterpart? That you had no human piece?” 

The quickness that Cricket is trying to get a geas over you is already unnerving, but now they are lying about the circumstances of your recruitment?

Cricket gives Taehyun a look that could match the heat of a thousand suns. His face is stony in response to it, utterly unmoved. Gristle does not make so much as a peep. 

“Taehyun,” she says while she takes your wounded hand into her own again, “is faerie.” 

“What about his ears, then?” You make a gesture around your own ear, one that drags along the round curve of it. Faeries were not born with rounded ears, not the goblins, nor the hobs, nor brownies, not even ones that are the most humanlike in nature. You have seen folk with knives for teeth, skin of boulders, hair from ear to clawed foot, but never rounded ears. It was another intrinsic piece of their nature; what set you apart from them. He was absolutely a human, and they were absolutely not telling you the truth. They had to have spoken their words in a way that made one thing seem like another, spun truths into lies. It was the faerie way. You would not be magically compelled by liars.

Taehyun’s face flashes with the first emotion you had seen since he arrived, but it is muddled and hard to read. 

Cricket scowls deeper, telling you, “He is not a human.” 

Taehyun gets in closer, his eyes venomous. “You know how I feel about that shit.”

 You try to decipher whether he meant being human, or the geas, but his next words solve it for you. “And you were going to try and do it before I could say anything.” When Cricket opens her mouth to say something, he cuts her off, “Don’t you say that’s not true.” 

Cricket turns to you, decidedly not responding to Taehyun. “I want the geas, because it will make us feel safer. I swear on the Mighty King’s life that I will not use it to control you in any way, other than to keep your mouth shut about our operations. You will not hear another thing of it from this day forward, anyway.” Her words are proof enough of her honesty, plain and so obvious in their wording that she could not be twisting her truths around a lie. She means what she says, or else she would not be able to say it. “Would it make you feel better if you were the one to make it, Taehyun? Would you just seal your lips and let us move on from this?” She asks. Gristle feels the tension as bad as you do, so thick in the air you could choke on it, making himself busy sliding a blade down a sharpening stone.

Taehyun does not respond, his black eyes conveying exactly how he feels about that. You attempt to ease the atmosphere while also catering to your own curiosities. “How is he a faerie, with rounded ears? That doesn’t… exist.”

Taehyun’s eyes flicker at the topic of his ears again. “Well, it seems you don’t know all that you think you do about Faerie then, huh?” he spits before spinning and disappearing down a hall that leads further into the spy den, long legs clad in black striding near silently beneath him. The words crawl under your skin successfully. You could spend your whole life here, and still the folk would see you as foreign. It makes you want to make that geas, to make something of yourself. To be a spy, and make them see that you are so much more than what Nut-hatch told you that you are destined to be; A servant to the superior beings. To make him chew his words, because you know plenty about this foul world, and how to live in it. If anything was true, it was true that you know more about it than him. 

You turn to Cricket, more determination in you now than you even had when you pledged your case to Gristle. “I’ll take the geas. I’ll do whatever it takes to become a competent piece of your team, I swear it. I know my words don’t carry much weight to you, but please, let me show you that I mean them.” Cricket grins, tightening her hand to yours, tilting her head to one side and batting her spiky lashes at you. 

“I knew you were a smart girl.” She taps you on the nose, before her expression drops to a more solemn one. The headiness of faerie enchantment tugs at the sides of your vision, turning it wavy and magnified about the edges. You feel it thread through the air, and then spread from your palm to your arm, and then all over, under your skin, like an itch, and in your head, like potent faerie wine. It lasts for a moment’s width longer, before you blink it away. She drops her hand from yours. 

“You will not speak of this team, nor its dealings, to anybody I do not authorize, and are, from this exact moment forward, unable to reveal the location of this den.” You shudder under the gravity of knowing that your autonomy is vulnerable and in her hands. Was it ever truly yours to have, though? Faerie glamour and enchantments on humans are unpunishable, and often seen as entertainments. Is a geas permanent? You shove back that worry; it’s too late now.

Gristle whistles a descending tone, finally making himself known again. “This place, we call Homebase. Or, The Hole. Whichever you prefer,” he gestures around, and you take in the shoddy ceiling, the make-shift kitchen, and the weapons strewn about every surface. Definitely a spy hideout. “There are a few others for you to meet. They come and go; but you’ll be staying here, I understand?”

 You nod. He knew about your situation with Nut-hatch already.

“Okay, then. Let’s get you a room.” He hobbles to that hallway Taehyun had stormed down, his gold-embroidered cloak dragging on the floor behind him. You follow, scoping out the scenery. 

“Do the others not stay here?” you ask. You two continue down that same hall, the smell of underground musk still heavy. That would take you some getting used to. 

He grunts in affirmation. “Whoever you met today, stay here. The others dwell elsewhere, for some reason or another.” He stops at a room, and opens the door. The room is ornate in contrast with the other rooms of The Hole, the bedding plush and made of fine threads. It was not anything overly extravagant, but perfectly fit for a spy of The King. It is better than sleeping in the sweltering-hot attic of Nut-hatch’s cottage, you decide, appreciating the cool and damp air. And here, they decide that you are worthy enough of your own room. That is more than enough for you.

 “But, you’ll meet them tomorrow, no doubt. Make this room your own, I’ll fetch some more fitting garments for you,” he gestures down to the simple linen frock you adorn. You feel the odd tickle of embarrassment at the back of your mind. The irony of your attire, while living under the roof of an esteemed seamstress, is hard to ignore. Nut-hatch had always liked to scold you up and down that there is no need to look frilly working a gown shop, while simultaneously being dressed in ribbons and lace. You take a deep breath of linen-scented air, and then release it. And then, you get to making the room your own. 

❆

You do your best to plant your booted foot to the ground, to save yourself from anxiously toeing dirt or stone. The clothes they had brought for you were odd and foreign as someone who only wore the most efficient of dresses and leather slippers for the entirety of her life leading up to this moment. The hooded cloak bunches around your neck and shoulders, stifling. The boots at your feet are so heavy and chunky that they chastely kiss the ground when you step. The sensation of pant legs securing your thighs and shins is the most suffocating, and the weight of the weapons secured by straps are heavier than you’d ever expected them to be. And, to top it all off beautifully, your first assignment is with Taehyun. You’re supposed to be heading north, to the land of the Northern Queen, where the folk are Unseelie, and are said to be the most vicious. You’d already let that thought sink in, though. Now, all you can mull over is spending the trip with Taehyun; the contempt he had regarded you with before he left last night is still fresh in your mind.

Lightweight footsteps approach behind you, and you know it’s Taehyun. He plops a full pack on the ground wordlessly before tugging the hood of his mantle up and over his head. He is, like yesterday, fashioned in a black tunic and a matching doublet, embroidered with silver threads at the lapel and cuffs, a heavy bow strapped to his back. Maybe a bit flashy for days of traveling by foot, but maybe you also have no idea what flashy actually means. 

You cross your arms over your chest, before gesturing to the bag you had already packed for yourself. “I packed.” 

He sends you a vacant look. “Put that one back,” he tells you. The air is so tense that you consider just doing it, but his tone ruffles your feathers. 

“I have stuff that I want to bring in mine.”

He doesn’t respond, his face locked and static.

“Look,” you huff, “I know you don’t respect me yet, but I’m trying my best to become competent, you know?” 

“I respect you.” He picks up the pack he brought for you and dusts the bottom off. “You would freeze to the core in the north without the stuff packed in here. Competence is nothing to a corpse.” 

You blink at the bluntness of his words and press your mouth into a thin line, before dropping your original bag on the table and slinging the other over your shoulder. You gesture for him to lead the way with a restrained sigh, and he does so without falter.

The beginning of your mission starts off on a lovely foot.

❆

There is plenty of time to mull over what you would be doing in the north as Taehyun leads you through the lushness of the forest. The hum of insects and nearby streams and the cloying scent of summer-warmed bush berries reign supreme. When your stomach begins to rumble for not having eaten all day, you stop by a bush with exceptionally heavy branches and begin picking. The juice of the berries is thick and golden like honey when they mush between your fingers, and it glitters in the odd way that all Faerie fruit does. 

“Are you dull?” Taehyun’s voice, thick with contempt, makes you jump and lose a few from your handful of berries. “That is a Goldhip bush,” he says, his brows pinched, “you would die without a sign; just drop dead to the grass.”

Blinking, you drop the rest to the floor, wiping the glazed juices off on your pant leg.

He scoffs, spinning and heading the same way he had been going before you decided to grab fistfuls of, apparently, intensely poisonous berries. You follow him, shaken. 

“I had no idea,” you say, mostly to yourself, but he stops, turning on you. 

“You can’t afford having no idea out here. Either you step up to your role, or you die.” He gives you a long look before turning back around and stepping over a felled log. 

You step over the log as well. “I didn’t really have any reasons to know your poisons in my old life,” you say. Nut-hatch had at least fed you well, and you were never set out scavenging off berries with an empty belly. You set your pace so that you are parallel to him instead of trailing him. “What are the ones I should know?” 

He doesn’t even pause to think for a moment. He knows them like the back of his own hand. “Goldhip berries are turned into a liquid extract, and dropped into drinks. It doesn’t have a smell, but has a notorious sweet taste. It doesn’t matter by the time you taste it, though; you’re as good as dead.” A chill burrows its way under your skin. You had been so close to death; had you just popped a berry into your mouth, you would be dead right now. 

“How would you even avoid being poisoned by that, then?” 

“You don’t,” he deadpans. “It’s why you have to stay always painfully aware of your surroundings. Always.” You nod.

“Silver and salt are poison to the folk. They singe the skin, and when ingested, they decay the insides. It’d be best if you use that to your advantage. A poison harmless to you, but deadly to another, is an asset.” You clasp your hands and thank the sky inwardly at that. It feels like an ah-hah moment, to have something over the folk. Small mercies. 

“Human poisons don’t work on the folk at all. So, whatever you remember from your old life won’t serve you here.”

Old life? You have no old life. “I was raised here,” you say, keeping the hurt that tugs at your features on a tight leash. “I was in Faerie before I could even walk.” 

You watch as his face falters, sunlight filtering through tree leaves dappling his features and highlighting his nose. He is beautiful, like all fae are. He only nods in acknowledgement, but you can tell he tucks the information away.

He presses forward. “Hunter’s Bane is a milled-up tree leaf that inebriates, and fizzes up the drink it is sprinkled into. Not deadly, but the state it leaves you in could be. Deadly Pinchweed is ground up as well, and leaves a green tint—and is deadly. Lachrymose is a faerie fruit. As I’m sure you know, it makes a human agreeable and fogs their mind. It’s usually not prepared in any special way, just fed to glamoured humans.” 

The name of the fruit brings back the memory of a boy, a bit older than you, who at a particularly wild revelry was fed faerie fruit, and buttered up by folk who thought it would be exceptionally humorous for the boy to make an audience with The King. Of course, the boy did, spewing nonsense at the foot of the dais, before going to wrap The King in a hug. A guard shot an arrow through his heart. He could not have been older than sixteen. Nut-hatch barred you from any form of revelry after that; she couldn’t spare her hard-raised shop worker over some faerie fruit. You fold the memory up neatly, compacting it so that you can keep it vibrant and alive in your mind. You solidify, in that memory, that Taehyun and every other wretched creature of his kind, would hardly blink twice to see you die such a death. 

❆

Taehyun kindles a small but mighty fire with dry twigs and pine needles; they catch quickly and roar into blazing life. You settle onto the ground, propping your back against a gnarled trunk and try to breathe out the ache in your back. You miss the way the mattress back at home base had cradled your body into sleep, and abhor the dirt and foliage that sticks to your pants and palms where they meld with the ground. 

Taehyun’s voice, returning from his last round of searching for pine needles, startles you. “Get up.”

 You shoot him a look that, hopefully, channels all your exhaustion. “I just sat down,” you tell him, exasperated. 

“If you’re hungry, get up,” he says, narrowing his eyes at you. He has ditched his mantle cloak and his doublet, and now is only in his simple black tunic, its sleeves rolled to his elbows. He’s serious, then. 

You huff and complain, but stand up and dust off your palms and pants from the needles that stick to them. The especially deep indents itch a bit, and you soothe them as you follow him promptly into the thicker part of the woods. 

“Lighten your feet,” Taehyun commands, his voice low, as a third twig snaps under your foot. You wince and try to replicate the lightness of his walk, but it makes no difference. If anything, your gait is more off than before now that you overthink it. Taehyun stops walking, pointing to his feet, before slowly demonstrating his footfalls. “Tense your legs, and keep your weight on your back foot until the other is fully on the ground.”

You oblige, and can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips as it works. Your steps come lighter, and dodging crunching foliage easier. It reminds you of how a stalking beast might make itself light and airy while it watches and hunts.

The two of you continue through the shrubbery and low-hanging branches until Taehyun pauses, placing a finger over his lips. You see it now, too; a plump pheasant that pecks at the foliage, none-the-wiser. Taehyun reaches for his bow, and notches an arrow. He pulls the bowstring taut, centering his shot, and the arrow sings as he lets it fly. 

The thud of the arrow piercing the pheasant makes your stomach flip. The pheasant cries, the arrow having pinned its wing and pierced through its stomach, but not killed it instantly. You avert your eyes as the scene burrows under your skin. Your heart sinks heavy like stone in water. Taehyun bounds over to the still squawking bird with hurried steps, and the sound of metal unsheathing is followed by a loud final cry and then silence. You go rigid, nails biting your palm. You do not open your eyes, even as Taehyun announces in a whisper that he spots a second bird. The pheasant’s final cries bounce off the walls of your mind, reverberating and driving a stake into your hurting heart more with each echo.

❆

Taehyun ended up catching two other pheasants on the way back to the temporary campsite. You watch as they roast over the fire, yellow flames licking at their lightly charring bodies. Taehyun takes one off, passing it to you on a stick whittled sharp at the end. You shake your head, queasy at the thought of eating it. 

He delivers you nothing but a cold resolve. “Respect its life.” He holds the stick there for you to take once more. 

“I’ll throw up,” you say, shaking your head again and wrapping your arms around your stomach. 

He barks a laugh. “This is ridiculous.” He lets the stick drop back over the fire, and you flinch as embers flurry up into the air and narrowly miss you. Attitude flares up in your chest and you go to say something smart-mouthed, but before you can, he continues, “Go back, if you’re just going to become a waste of my time. You think you’re a spy under The King? You’re a spoiled brat who believes life should be handed to her. If you wanted that, this was not the life to choose.”

You reel at the bite in his voice. His words cut right where it hurts. “You think so?” you say, willing back the hot tears that prickle your eyes. They would only prove his case. “You don’t know a thing about me.”

“I know that you don’t know shit about being a spy,” he says, standing up. “I know that you’re weak and for some reason think you’re ready for a world that is going to kill you, and that you should probably be on your way back to Homebase to tell them you were never cut out for this. Save us both the time and effort.” 

You’re up to your feet in an eye’s blink, closing the space between you two. “Humans don’t have the privilege of being spoiled brats in your world,” you hiss. The warm sensation of a tear rolling down your cheek has you hoping that he doesn’t notice, and you reach up to wipe it away quickly. You curse being an angry crier. “I’m doing what I can with what I have. Just teach me what I need to learn, and I’ll learn it.” 

“Eat the damn pheasant, then.” he urges, like a wild, roaring beast in a delicate bauble shop. 

You laugh an exhausted laugh. “I’ve never killed something, and then eaten it. It's… I think it’ll take me some time to get used to it. Just give me some time, yeah?” Your mind urges you to scream that the standards he is holding you to are unfair, that the two of you lived very different lives, and that you are going on this mission regardless of his haughty attitude, but you tidy those emotion-fueled words into something that he might like more.

He goes quiet. You sit for a moment, too, stewing in all your rehashed hurt. It isn’t just that he’s treating you like a burden, or the low-blows he seems to keep opting for. He’s unknowingly cutting down to your deepest worries, rubbing salt in the wound, that maybe you are never going to amount to anything more than a servant girl. 

He unsheathes the longsword at his back, getting into a solid stance. “Show me you can be strong, then.” You hesitate. You’ve never so much as swung a sword, and the weight of it is heavier than you’d expect as you unsheathe it. The metal hisses, and the handle of it is solid and plainly decorated in your palm. You replicate his stance, and shift the weight of the sword awkwardly in your hand, trying to find your grip

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you say, palms a bit sweaty against the cold metal, rocking in your stance. He swings hard, and the force of it colliding with your sword jolts you. It flies from your hands. You panic, frozen to the ground as he swings again. Your heart lurches as you realize he isn’t going to pull his swing. 

Wind whooshes as his sword stops just by your face. He leaves it there, pointed right at your nose. “Pick it up,” he cocks his head toward your sword. You stare at him, wide-eyed, as you oblige. You both reset your stance, him barking commands every time he finds your stance or swing to be flawed. You accept his criticism with open arms—it is better than disdain painting his features. 

You grit your teeth. You’re sheened in sweat, tugging for deep breaths, and your limbs are slow to recover from each blow he sends you. You’re twisting, dodging, and parrying how he tells you, but it's sloppy, and you have to summon your energy from already low reserves for each. His skin is irritatingly free of sweat and of a cold and pristine quality. It only comes to your attention now with your new proximity how much looks like frost twinkles just under his skin. 

Your back collides with a tree you had not noticed Taehyun was backing you into, air escaping your lungs in a big whoosh. He gains on you, pressing the long edge of his sword so that it sits mind-numbingly close to your neck. You pulse rushes frantically, heart beating from your chest in a nearly audible thudding. You continue to try and catch your breath. He swoops in so close that his breaths fan over your face. An emotion that you have a hard time reading flickers in his eyes, and then he’s slamming his mouth to yours. 

It’s a desperate clashing of teeth and lips. He lets his sword drop from your neck and to the ground, and he takes your face in his callous-roughened hands. Your own find purchase at his shoulders, tugging him closer as if he could be any more so. The sound that escapes you as his hand tangles into the hair at the back of your head and tightens, tugging your head back and pressing in with more fervor, is like none you’ve ever made before. 

When he pulls back for air, your vision swims around the edges, and is dappled with stars. He studies your face, and you’re suddenly more conscious than ever of how your cheeks burn and your lips are smeared with his kiss. He takes in your debased state. His eyes have more fire in them than you ever thought you’d see—swirling and ravenous, an innate need clawing to reach the surface . It’s a dizzying mixture of pure headiness and I shouldn’t be doing this. He dives back in, and each nip and lick at your neck is blazing. They electrify your veins and send shockwaves buzzing from the column of your throat and through your chest, zipping up and down every one of your limbs. You’re not even sure that, if Taehyun were to stop holding you fast to the tree, you would be able to stand on your wobbly and unreliable legs. 

“Taehyun,” you gasp, your voice sounding not entirely your own. “Taehyun.” 

“You piss me off so fucking bad.” He keeps one hand fisted at the back of your head, exposing your neck to him, but the other travels down your body experimentally. “And I have no idea why.” 

Your mind wants to reel and dwell on that, but he doesn’t let you. He wanders a hand about the hem of your shirt, and then he dares to go underneath it, and then he trails that cold hand up the plane of your abdomen. Your stomach flips. “Have,”–you gasp–“have you considered that maybe you’re just an asshole?” 

He draws back from ravishing your neck to give you a look, his eyes wild and untrained. It feels, for some odd reason, good to break down his impenetrable exterior—to puncture it down to where he is in his basest desires. Maybe it’s because you just need him to see you as something other than useless; to need you so badly that he forgets his contempt for you. He maintains eye contact as his thumb traces the swell of your breast, watches you gasp as he finds your nipple and rolls it under his thumb. His eyes set you ablaze, and he delights in the way you burn. 

“What, you’ve got nothing to say to that?” you say, meeting all the intensity of his gaze the best you can. You try to goad him into something; even if anger, so that he’ll soothe the pounding between your thighs. He does not entertain you, just regarding you with that same blistering intensity. Your scalp begins to ache with the relentless tug of his fist, and you whimper, your hands leaving their place in his tunic to grab at his hand. 

“You’re every bit the whiny brat I’ve known you to be,” he says. His voice is gravelly, as if even those few words were hard for him to formulate. Just as your chest had adjusted to the chill of his palm, he drags his fingertips back down your abdomen. The pads of his fingers rake over you, your skin prickling and alight. 

“And you’ve got every bit of faerie entitlement in you,” you hiss. His hand pauses just above the waistline of your bottoms, and every bit of untamed need carved into his features is dust in the wind within a heartbeat. You reel at the loss of warmth as he pulls away. You try to reach out for him, to tug him back and wipe that awful indifferent look off his face again. But he’s already kicking out the fire and propping himself up against a thick pine tree. Your stomach churns wildly as you set up your own sleeping situation. The silence is worse than any you’ve sat through—it’s charged with words better left unspoken, and heavy with the weight of your hands all over each other seconds ago. 

Sleep does not come easy to you, but when it does, you sleep dreamless and weary.

…🪶ashlynn's note how was thatttt? my first fanfic!! i've been looking forward to doing a high fantasy/faerie fanfic for sooo long. i'm sorry to leave you off like that but.. know that I am plotting, and planning. i'm already working on part 2, so stay tuned!!

﹙🏷️ ﹚ @lvrs-street2mmorrow if your tag isn't working, check the mentions part of your settings!

[applcrumbl]

Argumentative?

Pairings: Rafe Cameron X F! Reader Warnings: Soft Rafe (It’s a warning of it’s own), angst, alcohol mention Author’s Note: I’m so on the fence with Rafe cos like he’s obvs a horrible character, but like he’s such a good character. Like he’s sexy and he’s well-written, I love him. But he’s an arsehole, I hate him. yknow

Summary:  You and Rafe never argue, ever. 

Despite Rafe’s hard demeanour, and tendency to need the final word at all times, very seldom did you argue in your relationship. For someone living with so much hatred, it was important to Rafe that you never experienced it. 

Typically, you got on well. Similar in interest but completely different in manner. He was the talker, you were the listener. You washed the dishes, he put them away. You simply never fought.

Bickering was different, you’d laugh and joke around, poke holes at a bad haircut and so forth. And naturally, with Rafe, jealousy was a large part of your day-to-day life together, but the anger that came was never directed at you. He knew how un-wandering your eyes were, and he knew how beautiful other people found you. Yes, he’d lose his temper at the Pogue looking you up and down, but no, he would never blame you for it. He knew that you were his.

On the other hand, you were never entirely sure that he was yours. He’d never once cheated, or given you any reason to think that he was, but you were aware of his past when your first met. Aware of the elusive Rafe Cameron who was never tied down for long. Self-consciousness crept in quickly after you’d hit the one-year mark.

A trip to the mainland that you’d chosen to accompany your boyfriend on. Simply a few drinks with some potential clients, Rafe was expected to go following his new position in the family company. The insecurity began when he hadn’t initially invited you, it stayed as you realised how many beautiful women were there - each with eyes on Cameron Development’s newest CEO.

You tried to loop your arm in his, an effort to have the eyes turn away, but Rafe didn’t notice. His hands still tightly in his trouser pocket, networking away. Neither he, or the leggy brunette in front of him noticed as you slipped from his side and found the open bar.

10 Minutes and 3 miscellaneous drinks later, he found you. Tucked away and sipping your straw.

“Hey,” he soothes, “Where ya been?”

You look to him, “Here.” you state, plain and simple.

“Obviously,” He tries to jest, “Why did you leave me?”

“I came for a drink.”

“Why didn’t you come back?”

“Why are you suddenly so interested?”

I must reinstate that you never fought, so anything more than some hushed words, or a light squabble, seriously neared separate bed territory. What might have been a heated conversation to some couples, was a raging bullfight to the pair of you. Rafe had so much of that for the rest of his life. He was adamant that it would never happen with you.

“Let's go outside.” He states; much less a suggestion than a direction, and leads you out a back door to one of Charleston’s quiet alleyways. 

“Talk,” he ordered, hands on each of your arms.

You shrug, “I’ve nothing to say.”

Rafe kisses his teeth, looking away, “Have I done something?” He asks, a hint of insecurity in his tone.

You can’t quite answer, because truthfully he hadn’t. He’d never given you a reason to feel insecure, you just did anyway. Something about knowing that you were never invited, knowing that if you hadn’t decided you’d come along, he’d probably be off with some other woman.

“I shouldn’t have come,” you finally admit, “I should have just let you get on with it like you normally do. Stayed blissfully unaware.”

His eyes squint, “Y/N, I want you here. I have nothing to hide from you?’

You chuckle, it’s hearty but without an ounce of humour to it. “What? Do you think I’m blind or something?” Rafe stands unmoving, taking in your words, “I see you in there, they eat you up, and you feed into it!”

“How do I feed into it?” He’s strangely calm, anger in his tone, but only a whisper of it.

“You flirt! You smile, you complement, you completely ignore that I’m right next to you. Rafe, you don’t even introduce me as your girlfriend-”

“Because I thought it was obvious!”

“It’s not!” You shout, “It’s fucking not.”

The alleyway is quiet again. Muffled voices and music come from inside the door, and a handful of cars driving down the main road a few meters away provide the only light. You see Rafe’s face for a second as they pass by.

“How can other people see that I’m your girlfriend, when I don’t even feel like I am.”

His hands drop to his sides as he inhales shakily. Not a word is spoken, but tears fall from your eyes. Rafe watches them glide, mouth slightly agape. He stands a second more before pulling you into his embrace.

You’d try to fight it, but that’s the last thing you want to do right now. 

“I’m sorry,” Rafe whispers, lips grazing your forehead, “I’m so sorry, Baby”

You want to assure him it’s fine, but it’s not. You were dancing on the grounds of breakup territory, and neither of you wanted that.

“I notice things, Rafe. And you forget that I know your history, I knew who you were before.”

“I’m not him anymore.”

You hesitate your answer, “I know that-”

“Do you?” He asks, pulling away to see your face. His eyes are growing red, obviously fighting back the urge to cry with you, “Because it sounds like you don’t. And I’m not that guy any more, I want you.”

“Do you?”

His words used back on him. Normally he’d continue this argument, fight his way through to victory. Finish the battle with the last word, and full disregard to the other person’s feelings. But, he couldn’t this time. He could never fight with you.

“More than anything.”

Tears fall from his eyes, water staining the silk shirt he wears under his blazer. He doesn’t care, eyes boring into yours, awaiting your words.

"Okay."

[fikefries]

wheels of fate (m.s) part one

part one: shadows in the dark

warnings: implied almost assault, swearing, mentions of alcohol

summary: when you find yourself in the face of danger, an unexpected character comes to your rescue.

1.1k words

you sit on your dorm bed, staring blankly at the incomplete essay on the laptop in front of you. today was not your day. partying the day before your thesis was due was not the best idea. the words blur together as your mind wanders, boredom gnawing at you, and an immense craving for salt-and-vinegar chips bubbling in your stomach. you look across your room to your tiny electric clock sitting on your desk, its blue hue slightly lighting up the darkness of your dorm.

1:37 AM,

you sigh, shutting your laptop with a small thud, rubbing your tired eyes, and pull yourself out of bed. you left out a soft groan at the state of your room, mini skirts, tube tops, and empty bottles of tequila sprawled out on the floor. the room feels stifling, and your hunger is rising. you need to get out, even if just for a little while.

grabbing your phone and hoodie, you decide to make a quick trip to the 24/7 convenience store down the street. it isn’t far, and the walk will do you good. you slip out of your dorm quietly, tip-toeing down the hall—not wanting to wake your roommates.

the cool night air is a nice change as you walk through the campus gates and onto the empty night streets. the city has a different feel at night—quieter and more solemn. you stuff your hands into your jacket pockets, trying to shake off the unease that creeps up your spine. you know that walking down a dark street in the middle of the night isn’t the safest thing to do for a girl like you—but hey, what are the odds something happens the one night you decide to go out?

as you reach the convenience store, you notice a small group of tall men huddled around the energy drink section. they are dressed in black t-shirts, black jackets, and have on fingerless gloves. you realise that most of them are holding motorcycle helmets, automatically assuming they are night bikers. the area you live in is notoriously famous for its biking culture—one that results in many police chases and gunshots. knowing this, you keep a safe distance away from the group of men, but one seems to catch your attention. a boy who looks around your age is holding a motorcycle helmet and has multiple piercings adorning his ear. you can’t help but stare at his sharp features and siren eyes, the way he looks with his jaw clenched, a toothpick resting in his mouth as he stands patiently, waiting for the rest of the guys to sort out their choice of drink. you don’t even realize you are staring so intensely until he starts looking around the small store, before his eyes catch yours.

shit.

you quickly avert your gaze and pretend to inspect the different flavors of chips. your embarrassment doesn’t falter, as you feel his sharp gaze burning into the back of your head. you turn to quickly grab a few snacks and head to the counter.

"just these, please," you say, trying to act normal and confident, not wanting to garner more attention from the possibly dangerous bikers.

the cashier barely glances at you, engrossed in his phone.

“have a good night,” he mumbles as you pay and leave the store.

you begin your walk back to your dorm, nervously munching on a bag of chips you bought. you decide to take a different route, hoping to enjoy the quiet streets a bit longer, distracting yourself from the awkward encounter you just had. your thoughts wander, and you find yourself lost in your own world, not noticing the ominous figure that has started following you.

“hey you,” a gruff voice breaks through your thoughts, making you jump in fear. you turn to see an old, ragged man approaching you, his eyes gleaming with something sinister, a creepy smile etched onto his face, revealing his crooked teeth. “what’s a pretty thing like you doing out here alone, hm?”

your heart races, and you quicken your pace, turning around occasionally to see if you lost him, but the man keeps following you, his grunts growing louder as he catches up to you. you begin randomly taking different paths and alleyways in hope of losing the man. you've heard stories of what has happened to other girls on campus before and you know how dangerous the situation you are in is.

god, i should've just stayed home.

you glance around at your surroundings, slowing down your pace, realizing you have run into a more isolated and unknown part of town, and are now at a dead end, with nowhere to run to as the creepy man catches up and starts walking towards you.

“leave me alone,” you manage to shout, your voice trembling in utter fear and desperation.

“come on, don’t be like that,” the man sneers with a wicked smile, closing the distance between you.

before he is able to touch you, the sudden loud roar of a motorcycle engine echoes down the street, zooming towards your direction. the old man halts his actions, his expression shifting from predatory to wary and he slightly backs away from you. a sleek black bike skids to a halt in front of you, and the rider jumps off with an air of cold confidence.

the rider removes his helmet, revealing the boy from the convenience store with sharp features and piercing eyes that seem to see right through you, his hair messy from being underneath the helmet.

how is he here? did he follow me? did he hear me screaming?

he barely glances at you before fixing his gaze on the old man.

“get lost,” he says flatly, his voice devoid of emotion, his blue eyes glaring coldly at the man.

the old man hesitates, clearly intimidated by the biker’s presence. “hey, boy, i don’t want any trouble,” he mutters, fully backing away from you, as you let out a sigh of relief.

“you already found it. leave before you actually fucking piss me off,” the biker replies, his tone cold and unwavering.

the old, creepy man shoots one last menacing glare at you before turning and disappearing into the night, knowing not to mess with a night biker—especially in this part of town. the biker turns to you, his expression unreadable.

“you okay?” he asks, his voice and eyes still stoic and devoid of warmth.

you nod, swallowing hard. “yeah, thanks. i—”

“be careful” he interrupts, already turning back to his bike.

“wait” you nervously call out, hesitantly taking a step forward. “what’s your name—i mean thanks for saving me, i don’t—” you stutter.

he pauses, glancing at you over his shoulder. “matt,” he says simply, putting his helmet back on and revving the engine of his bike before heading off into the night.

tags: @isasturns @sofieeeeex @scqrletsmadness

a/n: im thinking this will be a 10 or more part series! let me know if you have any ideas!

[kedsandtubesocks]

blood on your name

Cowboy!Ezra x F!Reader

summary: Texas 1885 - the town’s ranching competition brings in new souls out from the desert, one unfortunately happens to be a ghost haunting you & he’s still as handsome and dangerous as ever

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY. MDNI, old Wild West AU, slight enemies to lovers, very morally!gray Ezra, fingering, oral (f receiving), pussy pronouns, one moment of spit kink, allusions to p in v, scoundrel but soft!Ezra, themes of violence & reader enacting violence on another, use of guns, blood & injury, morally!gray reader, time period views of marriage & shaming women (brief use of derogatory terms against reader), minor character deaths, light gender language usage, use of nicknames

word count: 7.2k

a/n: here’s to finally putting my 7th grade tx history lessons to some use plus I’ve been really missing west texas so here we are lol! Fun history fact - Pecos prides itself as the birth place of the rodeo so this competition is the inception of that! It took me a while to get here & this truly wouldn’t be here without @gasolinerainbowpuddles @julesonrecord & @perotovar i can’t thank you babes enough, and to you, if you decide to read this too, thank you so much ♡

The newcomers that blew into town stand around the edge of the fence.

Pecos had become famous for hosting this rope wrangling event, and you’re not surprised it’s brought others in to observe the spectacle. Just last week it seemed like more wagons wandered into the edge of town.

You’ve been living here among the desert’s harsh eyes with your aunt for a few years now. When your mother unleashed her wrath after she found you with an unmarried man who had drifted into town, you fled with the caravan heading out west. So far west it brought you to the Pecos River. You’re thankful your aunt welcomed you with open arms. The desert proved to be a harsh host. But you’ve managed.

The actual event in town wasn’t taking place until the end of the week. Except so many already want to see the cowboys proudly warming up, showing off.

It’s why you even stop on your way home from the tailor shop.

Duke Williams currently tries his hand at practicing. The handsome young star all the way from Austin shows promise while he maneuvers his threadbare rope with ease.

He lands a solid catch against one of the practice sheep running around, and the crowd claps already impressed.

His bright face, angelic almost, brightens when he smiles triumphantly. When he spots you among the on looks, he beams even wider. You smile back politely.

However, Martha, the mayor’s youngest daughter, nudges you.

“I don’t know why you haven’t let that man swoop you up yet?” She giggles with a slight tease however, her words sting.

Duke’s been pursuing you ever since he came into town last spring. He reminds you of a newly built chapel, lovely coated in pristine and full of holy hope.

Yet, you don’t care for him.

You understand you should be married by now. Especially at your age, you’re becoming a dusting antique on the shelf by the town’s whispers. You even understood your mothers anger after discovering the man she caught you with had simply scurried away without another word.

Everyone in town seems to see Duke almost as your god blessed savior on a white horse sent to rescue you from a desolate destitution.

But you don’t hold any sense of attraction towards Duke. Even as you watch how handsome and sturdy he looks, a fierce cowboy among the other competitors, you simply admire his skills. And that’s it.

You wonder if you’re simply destined to the life of a happily secluded cactus like creature.

Something tickles against your skin, a sensation of being hyper aware of being caught in another’s gaze. Living in the desert has brought you a heightened awareness to make sure no critters lurking among can strike you.

So your eyes flicker around and find the crowd still enthralled by the sight of the cowboys.

Until you find one man isn’t.

One of the newcomers.

Sun kissed skin, an absolutely striking hawkish nose, sparse facial hair and then, the deepest dark earth eyes you’ve ever seen stare straight at you. The dusty black cowboy hat he wears casts a strange shadow across his features, cloaking him almost sinister.

Your breath hitches fast like it’s stolen from you.

You know this stranger.

One of the other newcomers nudges against him drawing his attention away from you. But your face stays stuck on him.

The men discuss with each other low and close, clustered together like a pack of desert weeds sprouting fast.

Except after the mystery outsider relays something back to the group, his eyes flicker back to you.

There’s a simmered wildness to him.

The commotion of spurs clinking comes and so many giggle around you, drawing your attention away.

Duke moves towards you with a shining grin on his face.

A desire to scurry away tugs at you. So with a polite smile, you silently duck away and decide to head home.

“Hey! Why ya leaving so soon?” He calls out. “Did you see me?”

His voice is so bright but also, so slightly arrogant, as if he can maybe keep you from leaving.

“Yes, you were incredible.” You’re truthful in your words.

Thankfully the others all around begin greedily vying for his attention.

As you turn to head home, that strange itch crawls over you again. Someone’s watching you.

So glancing around you think it must be Duke, but his attention is preoccupied.

However, it’s the handsome black cowboy hat stranger who again blatantly stares so direct at you.

A moment passes of you simply staring back at him.

However you break the contact first, needing to head home. But the entire way you sense his eyes blazing a hole on your back.

By the time you hit the edge of town towards your aunt’s cabin, the day creeps into early evening.

Above, vultures circle around high. However… there isn’t any sign of decay nearby.

- ☾𖤓 -

Your walk towards the tailor shop passes by the large stretch of land where the cowboys practice. Duke cries out your name excited. Politely you turn to greet him good morning only to find he’s not alone.

Other cowboys of course have come to wrestle in their skills. One of them surprises you.

The man you saw a few days ago is here.

His deep midnight eyes flicker to you immediately. That handsome face of his stays entirely composed.

Duke rattles on about his day. Yet you pay no attention as the new cowboy has stolen all your focus. The black cowboy hat he wears is dusty, weathered, and for some reason, you feel as if it both does and doesn’t suit him.

Duke chirps out your name again. Apologizing, you blame your dazed attention on lack of sleep.

Your night has been restless

“Hope ol’ lady Julie isn’t working y’too hard at the tailor shop.” He grins boyish and charming.

“Oh, Duke.” A smooth twang of a voice floats out. Waltzing in besides the cowboy, the newcomer arrives.

“You didn’t tell me your bird was so lovely.” His voice is curled with a smile and his voice, a deep drawl, draws an acidic venom in your mouth.

“I’m not his bird.” You politely reply.

“Not yet.” Duke adds warm, shy. But that only causes your stomach to squirm even more.

“Name’s Ezra, dear honeysuckle.” The newcomer introduces himself with a tip of his hat.

You nod back quietly giving him your name.

“Ezra came for the competition, traveled all this way just to try his hand at it!” Duke, ever the competitor, explains excited for the new competition.

Your eyes unfortunately stay on the newcomer rider.

Compared to Duke, Ezra’s frame is lithe. Then again, Duke with his incredibly tall stature is built like a terrifying boulder. Ezra’s broad shoulders and his striking sleek build makes you think of a river, fluid yet quietly powerful.

As unfortunately handsome as he is, his frame does not seem like a cowboy’s build.

Instead he reminds you of the traveling con man you once knew.

Duke continues rattling on and on about how proud he is to show off the town and this event.

You however hate the way Ezra’s eyes still on you make your skin tighten.

Excusing yourself with a soft nod, wishing them both well, you return on your way to the seamstress. Your body burns the entire way.

The day goes by slowly at the shop. After working on a few ruined blouses, Julie, the elderly shop owner, keeps you busy with tidying up. When the sun starts setting, the door clings open, and you wonder who’s coming in so late.

Ezra saunters in, and your throat tightens.

“Welcome in, newcomer!” Julie greets with a grandmotherly grace. “What can we do for you, good sir?”

Ezra smiles with all the charm of a gilded cactus.

“Seems I am in need of a new stitch for these gloves of mine.” Ezra explains pulling out worn gloves.

Leather frayed along the straps speak of the weathered and worn attention they’ve been given. But they seem too big for his hands. You even swear you’ve seen them before on his old business partner. But you don’t want to think too much on it.

Good dear sweet Julie chatters with the man. You simply stay quiet, not even turning to greet or address him.

You don’t even work on his gloves, deciding to let Julie handle them.

You even hide out in the back room, not even listening to when Ezra leaves.

Julie ends up heading home, and you’re left to close up. The sun sets a dusty fading apricot against the shadow of the tailor shop.

As you pass by the alleyway, suddenly you’re handed into the dark shadows. You’re about to scream, maybe even yelp, until a hand goes flying across your face, silencing you.

“Now now, pidge, don’t need you making too much of a holler.” Ezra.

Anger seethes in you, boiling. Violently and with a harsh yank, you tear yourself away from his grasp. You’re almost tempted to storm away.

“Didn’t think I’d ever be graced by your beauty again. That mother of yours still got that shotgun she threatened me with?” He smoothly asks with the amount of dangerous charm a rattlesnake would carry.

“What? This your last attempt at selling that watered down snake oil you call elixirs and tonics?” You snap back razor sharp.

When you first met Ezra, which now feels like lifetimes ago, he was a smooth talking traveling salesman. A drifter, as your mother so harshly called him.

Instead of the cowboy hat he wears now, he looked more stately in his bowler type cap.

He charmed so many of the women in town, trying to sell them the secrets to youth, vitality, beauty, and anything else he could promise in his elixir vials. You however, were not interested, saw right through his ruse.

Though, you realize now you were just as foolish as the others in town rapidly buying his lies. Because you had been just as charmed and fooled as they were.

This man, who’s sharp wit intrigued you, who spoke to you as an equal, became so dangerous because you were willing to give him everything.

Your heart, your body - all of you should have been reserved for your husband. Instead you freely gave everything to this thief.

The swindler swore he would take you with him, make you his wife. But when your mother’s fury came, he fled like a petrified jackrabbit.

You suppose he is more coyote than jackrabbit, greedily stealing anything he can then sneakily moving on.

Ezra’s composed grin on his face flickers, like all the history resting between you and him resurfaces within him.

“Didn’t you hear, pidgeon? My elixirs were plundered. Even my poor partner, god rest his dear soul, was shot down in cold blood!” Ezra explains with sorrow.

You had heard about that. At the edge of town, on the dirt road leading out into the hills, one of the sheriff’s found the large carriage and Ezra’s associate dead. The carriage crashed, run off the road. The damage screamed of the work of bandits. However, Ezra was nowhere to be found.

“I’m just supposed to believe you miraculously made it out of there alive?” You narrow your eyes suspiciously.

You don’t want to say it, but your instincts twist dangerously in your stomach. You wonder if Ezra did the deed himself, killed his partner and took the valuables.

Ezra shrugs sheepishly.

“That’s the way the desert works, honeysuckle. It’s a harsh landscape that only protects those who can survive its wrath.”

You forgot how much he spoke like a preacher sometimes, so elevated and otherworldly. You hate how badly your heart races just being this close to him again, hearing his voice again.

“So you’re telling me you came all the way here just to try your hand at the competition? Never even seen you ride, much less thrown a rope. Can’t imagine a con-man like you being a cowboy.” You reply skeptical.

He barks a laugh. “You'd be surprised. I’m a man composed of many unrevealed talents.”

You knew that very well.

Cautiously, treading like he’s approaching a mountain lion, Ezra steps closer to you. Out of instinct you step backwards closer to the other shop beside the tailors.

“Now don’t tell me you’re pondering the idea of telling everyone about my past life, pidge?” His voice is low, calm but brewing like an approaching storm.

“Because it pains me just imagining the repercussions that could arise if ya did.” He mutters, and your throat gets tight.

There's an underlying threat below his words.

Fiercely, stubbornly, you glare at him, refusing to speak. But you know you won’t say anything. He must know it too. You’ve left your past far back at home. And you don’t want him reviving your ghosts either.

Suddenly the back of Ezra’s hand gingerly, barely touching your skin, grazes against your cheek. He whispers out your name.

“The years out here have made you bloom, like a beautiful desert petal.” He mumbles with hazed eyes.

Out of spite you snap your face away and scowl even harder at him.

“I have to get home.” You snap angrily, managing to finally remove yourself from him.

“The motel houses me for the time being,” he declares from behind in the shadows.

“Unless that blonde Galahad cowboy of yours is keeping your bed warm now?” Ezra adds almost amused.

Rage bursts a furious fire in you, and it consumes you in its heated path.

“Rot in hell.” You snarl whipping back to him.

“As long as you keep me company, beautiful.” Ezra replies coy.

You’re about to curse his soul when he stomps towards you, fast and steady. His hand flings to your face, pulls you back to the shadow of the tailor shop.

He kisses you with the fierce intensity of a sudden dust storm. It even shakes your soul, spins you around, as if you were caught in an actual twister.

He tastes like the faint hints of a cigar, but something still so deliciously sinful and him. Your knees want to buckle when he easily slips his tongue inside and immediately coaxes his against yours.

You whimper, don’t even realize he’s maneuvered you to the wall of the shop, until your back gently hits the cool wood building.

It’s like your body is imprinted to his, completely answering his call, willingly and wanting to be closer to him while your hands clutch at his broad shoulders.

His body pins you firm against the building, and already he grinds his hips into you.

Then the laughter nearby bursts the bubble, snaps your attention clear.

You scramble and rapidly shove Ezra away. You don’t say another word and simply walk away.

However your lips continue to sting, as if bitten by a bee. Your hands ache empty like they’re missing the presence of his body in their grasp.

You can’t fall for this trap again.

But by the time you arrive back home, greet your aunt warmly, the lie spills from your lips before you can stop it.

“Julie wants to start the inventory sooner. So I’ll be heading back and staying over at the shop.”

Your aunt doesn’t question you, simply grins sweet and wishes you a safe trip back to town.

The sun barely sets in for the night over the horizon. The sky is a dusty blue, the softest color before bleeding into a dark midnight. The desert at night is another creature entirely. Even as you walk into town, you try to stay aware and low from any curious eyes.

The motel approaches fast. The caretaker gives you a curious look but before he can, he’s called away.

Ezra already waits for you at the top of the stairs, hidden in the shadows but still so distinct among them.

He doesn’t tease you, doesn’t even greet you. His presence seems so different with how intense he stares at you. Simply moving to intertwine his hand with yours, he guides you to his room. Inside it’s like the world melts away. It’s only you and him.

He devours you, ravenous, like trying to both make up for lost time and also feel like not a day has passed. Your hands run through his hair, knock off his cowboy hat.

You hate how badly you’ve missed this, missed him. He’s the only man your body has known, and the nights you’ve ached for him your fingers never did him justice.

When you’re bare among his bed, and his fingers slide into your wet core, you whine against his lips.

“This cunt still mine, pretty girl?” He asks mutter.

You wearily nod then all thoughts shatter when he rubs against that certain spot you can never reach. Your body crashes in a climax so shakily fast you have to catch your breath against him.

Ezra kisses the top of your head over and over.

“That’s my sweet peach,” he says in awe.

You greedily now pull him towards you, aching even more for him to be inside.

But he’s not finished with you. Ezra greed swallows your sigh before his lips move down your bare body to your core and kisses you with reverent devotion.

Your body melts into the sheets feeling his tongue trace paths among your wet cunt.

Ezra firmly calls your name. It sounds like your soul is being brought back. Wearily you sit up to see him peering up at you between your legs. Slowly he lifts himself away from your cunt, his face glistening with your arousal.

Those obsidian eyes of his blazing in the candlelight lock you in their gaze. Keeping eye contact with you he suddenly spits down to your wet aching sex, and your mind spins.

It’s obscene, you should be disgusted and horrified. You even wonder if you’ve been transported to the brothel a few ways down the road. But it feels absolutely divine especially when he does it again.

“Oh she likes this.” Ezra coo’s then presses ever the softest kiss against your soaked throbbing pearl. “This pretty little cunt, my lovely lady, ache for me huh?”

You don’t argue with him. You don’t want to. He makes you come again and a creature raw and hungry awakens in you. You claw at him, now needing him inside.

It’s like a piece of yourself returns when Ezra slides into you. It’s hot, heavy, frantic but feels sacred.

Ezra must sense it too, because he doesn’t last long. When he spills over your tummy, his hands become claws and keep you caged in his grasp. Your con artist kisses every inch of you he can.

Sweaty and tangled in him, you still feel a tinge of sadness creep in.

“You left me.” You whimper against his lips.

“And it will haunt me until my dying breath.” Ezra sighs back, his voice weighing heavy. “I was planning to come back for you, my bird. But your mother…”

She had put a bounty out on your drifter, managed to get the sheriff on her side. You knew even in your anger at Ezra leaving, it was smart of him to escape.

His hand cradles your face, and his thumb strokes your cheekbone. Those endless eyes shimmer in the low light.

“But I’m here now, pidge.” Sincerity radiates from him.

You’re now able to bask in his beauty - his gorgeous jaw, his beautiful nose, the striking streak of blonde hair that has been hidden under his hat and you’ve been dying to see.

You nuzzle your face into his palm.

“What are you doing here? Truly?” You ask.

“I told you,” Ezra says, drawing your face towards him to kiss you tender again. “I’m here to try and prove myself victorious.”

You’re not sure you believe his words.

But you end up staying with him. Early morning, before the sun reaches over the desert, his fingers trace your face waking you up.

“Dawn bathes you in her glory.” He mutters. Embarrassed at his words you burrow your face into the pillow.

He doesn’t chase you, but instead lets his fingers draw aimless shapes against your shoulder.

“There wasn’t a day where you did not occupy my mind, even after all these years.” Ezra admits low, as if he didn’t realize those words escaped him.

Slowly you turn towards him and discover those deep eyes hazed over staring at you.

“I hate you.” You tell him without any malice. In fact an emotion something very opposite of hatred soaks your words.

“I know. I’d hate me too.” Ezra agrees muttering then leans down to kiss you gingerly.

You have to leave before the town wakes up, and to seal your alibi.

With a final kiss goodbye, you head to the tailor shop.

Julie finds you in the shop when she arrives and applauds you for your diligence and wanting to get a jump start on inventory. You’re thankful the lie worked out this way. You even manage to convince her to let you finish inventory the rest of the week. Of course she happily agrees.

Ezra drops by to pick up his riding gloves and winks at you shamelessly. You roll your eyes but hate how badly you fight against a grin.

The next few days are spent between the shop and the motel. You already brace your heart for Ezra’s departure approaching once the tournament is over, but you try not to face that.

“You’ve been in a rather good mood.” Your aunt notices when you stop by to drop off goods for her.

“Thought you hated inventory.” She comments.

“Guess not.” You reply with a shrug.

This blissful cloud you’re walking in however does cloud your mind. It makes you sloppy. Instead of taking the longer path to the motel, the one that kept you away from the views of the main road and town, you walk straight into town.

Running right into Duke Williams.

He says your name bright and clear. Dread dawns on you fast.

“Haven’t seen you ‘round. Heard Julie’s got ya working extra hard.” Duke smiles.

You hate this small town and the small whispers that spread like wildfire.

You reassure Duke you’re fine and are even glad you can help Julie.

All his friends, in their sleek cowboy hats, and dusty spurs, stand off to the side snicker. They crowd around each other like an ominous pack of wolves.

One of them even calls your name.

“Might wanna enjoy this freedom while it last!” He proclaims, and your stomach twists.

The other guys snickers, shushing him playfull, and even Duke turns around to reprimand him.

“What does he mean by that?” You cautiously question.

Duke simply waves the conversation off instead offering to walk you to the tailors.

You politely decline.

“Aw come on, sweet thing like you shouldn’t be walking alone at night.” Duke smiles but even with his sweet eyes you’re reminded of a crocodile now.

“Well gentleman, that’s why i’ll accompany this lovely bird to her destination.” Emerging from the shadows Ezra grins warm.

He must have come to find you after you hadn’t shown up at the motel.

The men including Duke go eerily silent. Ezra is older than Duke and the younger men. So he holds seniority now. But besides that, Duke now seems wary, and you don’t blame him. Ezra is a man that radiates a sort of unpredictable energy.

“You sure you don’t want me to walk ya back now?” You almost appreciate the slight genuine worry leaking into Duke’s voice. But shaking your head you move to walk with Ezra by your side.

You do hate how all eyes are on you, even walking away from Duke and his mindless followers.

“Just remain calm.” Ezra mutters.

You do especially with him by your side. By the time you open the tailors you thank Ezra, worried Duke and his men are still watching.

You whisper for him to meet you behind the shop, and he does. Your swindler willingly steps into the back room with you.

“Not my ideal choice for our evening, but I do love a good change of scenery.” Ezra comments amused browsing around the storage. Playfully, you throw a ball of yarn at him.

You’re surprised he even helps you with the small bit of inventory you do.

“That young buck…” until his voice comes out low. “He’s fond of you.”

“Unfortunately.” You reply back unamused.

“Earlier at the saloon…he was boasting.” Ezra continues with the same serious tone.

“About enjoying the last days of being an unmarried man.”

That causes you to pause.

“Must mean he’s gotten over me.” You sigh, thank goodness.

“No pidge…” Ezra stops to turn towards you. “He was proclaiming how you were to be his bride.”

Your stomach drops.

You think of the way the boys just now snickered almost knowingly, and that strange comment one of themselves said -

All of it makes your stomach sick, and you have to sit down.

No. There was just no way.

“I’d never accept his proposal.” You snap out hating how badly your body feels frantic, almost skittish like a cornered road runner.

Ezra kneels before you rubbing your hand with his, a strange solid comfort.

Eventually he gathers you into his arms and calms you with soothing soft words.

“We’ll figure out a solution.”

You still don’t know if you can trust his words. But that's all you have. Your drifter stays with you overnight in the tailor shop. You even feel sinful fucking him in the back room but it’s deliciously sinfull all the same.

Sitting and resting against the work desk you fade in and out of sleep. Tender fingers brush against your fingers, ghost like. Ezra is gone by the time you wake up and Julie’s entering the shop jolts you awake.

Her eyes are frazzled.

“Did you hear? Mister Johnston’s eldest son was shot down early this morning.”

You hadn’t heard. Dread fills you fast when you realize Johnston's boy was the one who had made the joking comment to you last night.

There’s talk about postponing the competition. But others in town, especially Duke, argue to continue the tradition in a way to honor the fallen young man.

An ominous terror looms in you.

Later that night, you return to the motel. Too many thoughts swarm in your head, and Ezra even seems distant. He even slides his duster jacket one before kissing you.

“I have some personal matters to attend to, pidge. Get some respite here.”

His boots echo down the hall and then down the stairs.

You can’t sleep. So you move to slide open the window and let some of the night air in.

The faint mutter of discussion very close outside in the alleyway floats into the room.

It’s muffled at first, but once you step closer and concentrate, you pick up the very familiar cadence of a certain drifter.

“No no, I have it covered. As long as you make sure to double the bets on me tomorrow.” Ezra explains in a hush.

The others with him explain the different amounts they’ve collected, and it hits you.

He’s gambling on the competition.

That’s why he’s here.

You knew the men at the saloon often bet, but this feels heavier.

A new clicking of spurs arrives.

“Y’know, you fellas look like a dangerous bunch all here hidden in the shadows.” Duke.

Panic prickles all over your body.

“Now young buck, we’re just here partaking in a fun and friendly wager.” Ezra with his smooth talking skills deflates the tension easily.

“Waggerin’ on what?” You’re surprised Duke immediately quickly jumps in to gamble.

Ezra and the other men begin conspiring on how to make sure Duke wins to favor the odds of their bets.

“I like the sound of that.” Duke grins.

He makes a hefty wager on himself to win, the price even makes someone whistle.

They offer to place their wagers on him as well and with Ezra even in the competition, he’s argued to be an even better reassurance that the outcome falls in their favor.

Ezra even swears by this.

They’re fixing the match, going to cheat. You don’t know how to feel about any of this.

They end their discussion, and you quietly slide back into bed. Before long Ezra returns, the smell of tobacco and the cold air lingers in the room.

His fingers dance against your shoulders while your back stays to him.

“You’re only here… to make money, and cheat.” You mutter hollow.

His fingers stop.

“You overheard.”

You don’t reply to him. Ezra sighs.

“Indeed I am. But I’m no different than the gentlemen that place simple wagers on a game of horseshoe.” He explains low, under the whisper of the candle flicker.

“But it’s like you’re wanting to play with a weighted or lighter horseshoe.” You argue back.

“Is it not in our best natures to make sure Lady Luck favors us by any means possible?”

You don’t know how to reply to him.

“…I’m doing this for you, for us.” He adds.

You turn to him, your face scrunching up in fury.

“Bullshit.” You tell him.

“Believe me a liar, but I’m honest in my endeavor.” His face becomes a firm steeled frown.

You can’t look at him anymore, turning your back again to Erza in bed.

“My hope was to gain enough funds to pay for the bounty your mother placed on me, return for your hand, and make our way into a new life together.” His voice is steady.

“Unless you wish to stay here and wed that Duke.” He offers.

You whip back to glare harsh at Ezra.

There’s a silence heavy and ancient like the desert that settles between you. But it doesn’t last long before Ezra leans down and sweeps in to capture your lips

The discussion dies immediately as passion burns in its place.

You don’t think of gambling cowboys, or of your mysterious drifter, only of the moment consuming you now, and you almost pray you never leave it.

- ☾𖤓 -

Late in the night, wearily half sleep, the bed shifting jolts you awake, and you even hear the door creak open. Before you can ask Ezra if he’s alright, your eyes so sleepy flutter close for a moment. Then he’s sliding back into the warmth pulling you close into his arms. You fall right back to your dreams.

In the early hours of the morning, Ezra kisses your jaw.

“My lucky charm, are you going to observe our tournament today?” He mutters.

The competition was today.

“You nervous?” You had never seen him ride much less try ranch hand work.

“Never.” He says smoothly.

Eventually he slides out of bed and lets you get ready. But soon Ezra walks over and places something in your hands.

The pistol weighs heavy, cold. And your eyes snap open wide now fully awake.

“Why-”

He cuts you off gently. “You know how to fire, yes?”

You nod weakly.

A small smirk tugs at his handsome lips. “Figured as much, after seeing your mother.”

It’s an attempt to tease, but too much terror bubbles in you.

“I just need to know you’re protected.” Ezra reveals, but with a croak you ask why.

“Cause unfortunate as it might be, it’s even more dangerous for a criminal like me to cherish something.”

Your eyes water. There are too many questions in your head, but the day will be starting soon. You need to leave before you’re spotted.

“Tell me you have another gun.” You snap at him.

Ezra simply taps the side of his head. “Don’t need another firearm when I have this weapon.”

You angrily throw the pistol down back to the bed, refusing to take it. That’s when he snaps your name, hard and serious.

You’ve never heard his voice raise like that.

“Take it.” He grabs the firearm and hands it back to you. His midnight eyes are ominously serious with no room for argument.

His hand grabs your face firm in his hand. Your eyes search his endless midnight lake eyes.

“I call you pidge, my little pigeon bird. But I’ve known right from the start you’re a fierce creature. Don’t ever forget that.”

Ezra’s words are beautiful but barbed. They rip up tracks in your heart. He kisses you quick, fierce and short. You hate how it feels like a goodbye.

With shaking hands and confusion, you slide the gun into your satchel. You walk back to your aunt's cabin in a daze. So much so that you barely notice she’s already awake when you sneak back in.

“You have fun at the motel again?” She asks, and fear freezes you.

“I wasn’t-”

“Mac, your uncle’s good friend, gave me the heads up.” She cuts you off softly.

Mac, the innkeeper. God damn this small town. Venom, anger, indignation, they all swirl violently in you.

“Whatever you’re doing there, you’re only gonna find danger.” She says somber, and you stay quiet.

Your aunt sighs.

“You’re lucky this hasn’t gotten out yet. What would young Duke say if he found out?”

Frustration bursts in you, and you snap furious about why would you even need to care about that man’s opinion of you.

“Because he plans on weddin’ you, and I plan on letting him.” Your aunt fires back and her words shoot right through you.

Your legs feel like they’re about to give out, even have to steady yourself against the nearby chair.

You thought your aunt understood. She’s been alone, a widow since she was around your age, longer than your mother had been a widow. You thought she’d never fall into the trap of forcing marriage.

“It’s for your own good.” She argues, watery urgent m. “You need protection, a home, a husband to provide for you.”

You rush out of the house even ignoring the screams from your aunt.

You’d have to think of a plan fast. Maybe leave with Ezra once the competition ends today. It’s all too much. You swallow back a sob and walk back into town.

The competition was today after all.

The day at the shop is very short. Julie doesn’t even notice your somber atmosphere as she’s completely caught up in the excitement of this day. So many more wagons stretch around the edge of town.

Pecos flutters alive with life.

But there’s already commotion, a dangerous kind that chokes the competition tense.

Duke yells loud and furious. The sheriff along with his deputies are nearby. Thankfully you spot Martha and quickly move to ask her what’s going on.

“Duke’s horse is missing.” She whispers.

From what Martha says, when Duke went to the stables this morning the gate was open and his horse was nowhere to be seen. His trusty companion, you even knew how serious an issue this is.

“Well young buck, if you’re that upset then maybe you shouldn’t partake in the festivities.” Ezra, out of thin air, offers.

He looks confident as he strolls up.

“Or you simply ride with another mare?” He proposes with a coy optimism.

“Fuck you!” Duke snaps at Ezra and even looks as if he’s going to lunge.

Your heart hammers hard in your chest. Thankfully the sheriff settles the commotion down.

Angered but stubborn, Duke declares he’s staying to compete and will simply use another horse. He is favored to win after all.

Other cowboys from out of town have blown in like packs of tumbleweed. So many of them are excited to participate and try their hand at showing off their rancher skills

Some are good.

But it is Ezra who proves to be the dark horse, the surprise underdog.

Watching him on his stallion, your throat goes dry seeing how effortless and strong he manages his horse. You never knew he could ride. The way he maneuvers and stays a quiet presence, he reminds you of an outlaw.

“Moves like a bandit.” Someone in the crowd even whispers.

His rope throwing skills however surprise everyone, including yourself. The calf he manages to wrangle takes you by shock. A dangerous lust slithers over your body watching him wrangle the animal with his strength and sturdy form.

But you realize -

This wasn’t what had been planned. From the discussion given last night, Ezra was meant to perform poorly to make sure Duke did better.

But this is exactly the opposite.

He’s the lead runner for champion of the competition.

And then Duke’s turn arrives. The crowd mummers curious, on edge waiting for the favored cowboy to make his move.

The horse he uses is not cooperative. Duke screams, unable to hide his frustration in wrangling the creature.

But once he stabilizes a manageable ride, he goes to lasso the calf. His rope lands and the crowd cheers. He’s already faster than Ezra.

Until the frayed rope snaps and the calf yanks itself free.

The crowd gasps.

It’s not an immediate disqualification, but it doesn’t look good. Duke argues that his rope was frayed and that someone must have slowly started cutting at it. However it’s a long shot argument. There’s no way to prove that and even the sheriff seems a little wary of the accusation.

“That’s just the way rope is son, you just gotta keep an eye on it.”

Duke screams in anguish canyon splitting anger. You’ve never once seen him like this. It’s like it’s a whole new man, or maybe, his true self being revealed.

He’s offered another rope, but it’s almost horrifying to watch that one as well snap. The crowd again gasps.

This wasn’t the outcome meant to happen.

“Duke’s cursed.” Someone mumbles.

The crowd is in disbelief, you even are. The last remaining competitors try their luck, but none can beat Ezra’s speed.

You can’t believe it. But he won.

And Duke is livid. The crowd tentatively applauds Ezra’s win because of the somber mood clashing.

“You bastard! You goddamn cheated!” Duke screams at Ezra while the deputies try settling him down.

“Poor boy,” Ezra says sympathetically before turning to find you in the crowd.

There’s a gleam of something proud shimmering in his dark eyes.

You don’t question it, don’t want to.

Ezra truly is a man of many facets, dangerous ones, like looking at a raw gemstone that could cut your fingers.

The competition spills into the nearby saloons, and the festivities only seem to intensify as the sun starts setting. You can’t even reach Ezra from the groups swirling around him and want to get as far away from Duke as possible.

So you return back to the tailor shop. Julie urges you to join her and the other women at the mayor’s large property, but you decline.

You simply sit in the store trying to muster up a plan. But in a blink, the night arrives and you have to find Ezra.

So after locking up the shop, you head to the motel.

Until the sound of Duke’s screaming and the rage of violence roars nearby.

You freeze, terrified.

Until someone wearily coughs. “That’s what ya get for gamblin’ with bandits, boy.”

Your swindler’s distinct twang drawls smug and now your body rushes to the secluded alleyway.

You swallow back a scream at the sight you stumble upon. Duke with blood fists has Ezra pinned against the wall, like a mythological creature, terrifying and large looking over with violence in his wake.

Ezra’s face is bloody and one of his arms even hangs limp.

“Pidge.” He coughs, and your heart aches.

Duke whips around to see you and barks for you to leave.

Shakily you snatch down to your bag, and whip out the gun to point it to him. Duke’s face falls a bit confused.

“Honey this man wronged me, I’m only enacting my justice.” He argues.

You snap at him to let Ezra go or else.

That’s when a sinister evil darkens Duke’s golden boy face.

“So, ya little god damn whore…you’re workin’ with this man aren’t ya? I knew I should’ve listened to all the rumors about a slut like you.” He spits with venom leaking from his voice.

“Don’t you touch her.” Ezra snarls, but Duke pays him no mind keeping his sinister eyes on you.

“What?” Duke slowly mutters. “Do ya really think you’re gonna shoot me?”

Tears fill your eyes. You don’t want to, but the way your heart races like a terrified Jack rabbit it screams at you to flee. But… you also wonder if your heart races because it’s urging you to attack, to bare your fangs.

Instead of releasing Ezra, Duke moves to grip his coat harder. He slams your drifter hard and fast against the wall. A painful crack-like smack comes, and you scream.

You fire the gun instantly.

Duke blinks, you even wonder if you landed a hit.

Until deep dark crimson, almost the color of dark sludge, leaks across Duke’s side. He crumbles like a fall leaf.

You cry scrambling to Ezra who thankfully is still standing. Duke wheezes out obscenities and even tries hollering for help. You’re however too worried about Ezra.

“M’fine,” your drifter reassures with a wheeze.

“Hand me the gun, dearest.” Ezra somberly mutters. When you do, without hesitation Ezra fires the gun point black down at Duke. And your eyes shut hearing the pistol strike. Duke goes quiet and stays silent.

“Come on, we gotta hurry.” Ezra urges.

Supporting his body, you manage to get him into the tailor shop to tend to his wounds.

Ezra coughs out your name. “M’dearest, I need to make my escape out of town once more.” His breathing his heaved, he needs to rest.

“Don’t leave me.” You cry sharp, unable to focus on anything now.

His hand slides to your face and he cradles you tenderly. You clutch at his wrist as you blink back tears starting at him now.

“It will not be a pleasant life, staying with a devil like me.” He mumbles.

Doesn't he realize, you’re just as tarnished as him now? Blood is on your hands. You simply turn to kiss the palm of his hand feeling more reassured than ever.

“I’d rather be with the devil than live without him.” You speak soft into his skin while tears dry on your cheeks.

He barks a hollow but watery thick laugh as he says your name. “You foolish bird, my lovely dangerous creature.”

The desert is unforgiving to those who do now learn to grow fangs or become just as fierce as its landscape. You wonder if that’s what has become of you. But you don’t question it. You simply gather all you can, steal one of the horses from the saloon and keep Ezra close to you on the saddle.

If Ezra is a devil, then you’re grateful he saved you from your hell. And for him, you will gladly stain your soul.

Under the eternal eyes of the desert, you wander into the night keeping your bandit close to you.

In the distance a lone coyote howls aching at the moon.

You don’t look back once.

[bedoballoons]

Is your requests still open i just got back on and stuff and i kinda forgot your username did you change it i feel like my memory is getting worser everyday🫠aside from that if you are still doing requests can i maybe request like a reader that has animals following them around because of the calming presence they have around them that they use to comfort the characters at times maybe with a dendro or cryo vision (tighnari, wanderer,lyney,xiao,nuevelle bro what is this mans name and maybe cyno for the last) oh and they are a healer

It did change! My older username was much longer and a randomly generated one so I decided to go with something more personal! Also so happy to see you again! Sorry this took forever to write, but I hope you enjoy!

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ🍂𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ🍂

{༻~Calm like a soft breeze~༺}

CW: Super sweet and fluffy!

(Includes: Lyney, Tighnari, Xiao, Wanderer, and Neuvillette!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Lyney:

"Oh my" Lyney gasped as he caught sight of the fish in the ocean, the lot of them swirling at the bottom of your feet while you searched for shells against the setting sun...the crabs had even started to follow you. You just had that affect on everything, anything that could see your sweet smile...feel the calm collected words that left your lips...they'd be entranced. He himself often got himself watching you with lovestruck eyes, hoping to catch glimpses of just what made you a walking safe place.

"Mon amour, you're one of the most beautiful mysteries of this world, I hope you realize just how many times you leave me in awe..."

"L-lyney...I'm just collecting shel-"

"I know and yet you've even caught the attention of the sea itself...incredible. Absolutely incredible."

𑁍༄Tighnari:

Tighnaris tail swayed slightly as he watched you, he couldn't help but be amazed...more animals gathering around to watch along with him as you intertwined small sticks into a crown. Your soft presence drawing him and every other living thing closer so they could see the culprit behind their newfound peace of mind. He had no clue how you managed to turn even his most stressed days into easy evenings. You truly had to be magical, and not like using a vision type of magic. A magic entirely your own, a spell you cast on anyone who met you.

"You're pretty incredible. I thought today was going terribly and then you turned it around like it had never been bad to begin with...how do you do it?"

"I just go with the flow and comfort you all the ways I can, you're the incredible one and I want to help you feel that way."

"There's no doubt you do."

𑁍༄Xiao:

Xiao sighed, watching as more birds gathered around you...your being radiating a calming aura that even had him feeling like he could lull off into a sweet sleep. "How do you always manage to draw the attention of the birds? You're just humming and yet it feels like you slow the world down so all can feel at peace...even me with my Karmic debt. How?"

"I'm not sure, I just humm the melody in my heart and hope that the birds and you enjoy it. As for being calming...I guess I find it easier to comfort people when I'm like this. Does this help?"

"Yes...I appreciate it. I might actually rest for awhile...if that's alright."

"Of course it is. Rest as long as you can my dear, you deserve it."

𑁍༄Wanderer:

Wanderer set his hat beside you, laying his head on your lap so he could look up at you while more animals gathered around the both of you. Normally so much attention from the wildlife would leave him annoyed...but you calmed his angry soul so easily. Reading aloud to the creatures of the forest and him while the clouds slowly swayed in the sky...you just left everything feeling safe and cozy.

"I don't know how you do it...but thanks I guess, for making me feel better. Even if you didn't really do anything but read. It helps.."

"If reading to you is what helps then consider it my pleasure."

"...you, are what helps."

𑁍༄Neuvillette:

Neuvillette opened the window slightly, allowing the many birds that had been sitting on the sill of it to get a better look at the source of the most wonderful lullaby they'd ever heard. Your voice was like the calming waves of a ocean, the perfect sound washing over him and wrapping him in a comforting warmth he'd needed so badly after his long day at work. He could listen to you for hours and never find your voice dull.

"You're a work of art my dear."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚~Have a nice day~*⁠.⁠✧

[gallusrostromegalus]

So how much are you willing to talk about Ulquiorra?

I will talk so much about him. There are so many things wrong with that man, but to make a brief list of his most notable features:

He's dumb as hell.

I say that with tremendous sympathetic affection. Ulquiorra barely thinks. It's easy for him to do nothing and go nowhere. He eats chocolate in the middle of the night in the dark. When he gets access to a garden, he often just stands around in it. He's often waiting for things to happen.

He just LOOKS smart compared to nearly everyone else in the fic because he doesn't have much to say, so he's not constantly opening his mouth to jam his foot down it.

Consequently, Ulquiorra starts off having little to no initiative of his own. Stuff just happens to him. Some of that is because he is colossally depressed, but he's depressed because the idea that he has control over his circumstances has straight up not occured to him.

The first person he meets that shows him that "You can just do whatever you want, forever" and the boundless joy it is to be a creature of free will is, unfortunately, Aizen. And Aizen left off the key corollary "-EVERYONE is allowed to do whatever they want, forever. We are all equal in God's dead, empty eye sockets."

So Ulquiorra wanders around trying out this "doing stuff" thing without any concept of ethics.

I realize I am infantilizing this character, but I am doing so in a twilight zone "hey, wouldn't it be fucked up to watch a fully anatomically functional person who is able to speak and blow stuff up with his mind go through the emotional development steps of a toddler?", because I think that's a fun high-concept premise to explore with him. Yeah, what if a toddler could speak articulately and also destroy you? How would he act? How does he feel, learning to have feelings?

It'd probably suck for him and everyone around him, and make him very easy to manipulate, for one thing.

So I don't think Ulquiorra is evil, because evil takes intent. He is dangerous to be in the general proximity of, though

Like a horse

lose

in a hospital!

I love that sketch as much as the next person but if an IRL horse got loose in a hospital it would be bedlam, but the horse would be mostly confused and probably willing to follow around the first person who looked like they knew what they were doing.

You know, like how Ulquiorra follows Aizen around because that's the first guy he's met who THINKS he knows what he's doing, and is good at convincing others he knows what he's doing!

So Ulquiorra's entire first character arc is being exposed to more and more people and realizing he does have control over his life, and that he can take actions, and that those actions have consequences.

Like being emotionally devastated by a teenage girl because he was an asshole to her and she's willing to scream at him about it.

Hm.

Consequences hurt.

He lives through the Las Noches arc, and decides to follow his own star!

He follows it right through a portal that was not meant for him and now he's sort of trapped in somewhere he's really, really, really, really, REALLY not supposed to be.

But it's a beautiful place

And nobody is forcing him to do anything.

And for a long time, he just stands out in the garden, waiting for something.

But then

Ulquiorra experiences a novel pair of emotions that he's recently learned from his new...

Orihime is too mad at him for him to call her a friend.

-but he did learn the names and therefore the experience of two new emotions from her: boredom, and it's natural remedy: curiosity.

So Ulquiorra's second character arc is him learning how to be himself without anyone telling him who he is and what he ought to be.

He's travelling up Maslow's hierarchy with the inscrutable but unstoppable instinctual drive of a salmon returning to its spawning ground.

This has lead to an important discovery on my part: Ulquiorra is terrific for comedy because he is the ULTIMATE straight man to everyone else's nonsense, because he's immune to nearly all nonsense.

He doesn't have societal taboos to be hung up on, nor any sense of what is "normal", so the sole thing he geta hung up on is a lack of internal consistency in others, meaning he can slip between straight man to the absurdist at the drop of a single scathing observation. Yet, he retains a sort of understated dignity that compels people to try to earn his respect.

Hence, I'm having fun turning him loose on the most absurd, internally inconsistent and frankly, insane batch of characters in the series:

The Royal Guard.

:)

[maleyanderecafe]

Courtin' Cowboys (Visual Novel)

Created by: Mr Fishess, jd

Genre: Horror

I know this game came out a while ago, but I finally was able to play it and man is it fun. It reminds me of a smaller scale DOL or even something like The Snake's Taken a Spouse. There are three yanders that are in this game, though it definitely follows more of a porn game logic for yanderes. I will explain that in a bit. This game has a lot of violence and sex, and is r18, so please be wary if you do play it.

The MC basically starts out staying at a town in Summerfield. They rent a motel there. The game allows you to meet people at the saloon, the store, the sheriff's office, out in the pastures and in the woods. You can also decide to leave at any point as well. There are a lot of things you can do in the game besides interact with other characters, including buying and cooking food, going fishing, foraging and catching snakes for money. You can also buy different outfits and customize your looks.

While there are many characters, we will be going over the three yanderes in the game, Dijon, Jak and Will. I'm not sure if I was able to get everything for them, but I was able to at least get all of the endings, so we'll start with that. A lot of the endings usually involve them competing with other yandere characters so we'll cover those as well.

Dijon is the farmer that lives in the pasture. When first meeting him, he will talk about how he can't tell if he's missing sheep because he can't count higher than 10. After helping him, we go hunt for his lost sheep, which has run off into the woods and then go into the farm to have sex with him (I finally get to be the dom in one of these games, heck yes). Most of his endings generally involve sleeping with another character, only for Dijon to kidnap you and bring you back to his farm, where I guess you can just leave afterwards. Each time, it seems like he believes you are like a sheep, having strayed too far from home, getting a bit more paranoid every time that you leave. He can do this upwards of about three times. After sleeping with the fourth person, Dijon will get angry and chain the MC up in the barn, before the MC is able to escape. Dijon runs after them only to hear a loud noise. Afterwards it seems Dijon kind of just continues what he's doing as if nothing has happened.

Jak is the drunk that hangs out in the bar. If you flirt with him before buying him a drink, the two of you can have sex outside in a camp. If you sleep with enough other characters, Jak will actually kill the last person you slept with before being sent to jail. From what I remember, he is also one of the main characters in the creator's other game, Lover's Trophy, though I have yet to play that game.

Will is a clown man that is found in the woods. The MC will end up trying to chase after him finding a bunch of bones set up in a way that resembles a tea party. Depending on options, Will can either end up killing the MC or growing obsessed when the two talk. We learn that he lives in the woods and wears clown makeup because he's afraid of social interactions and wants to make it easier to approach people (thus the clown makeup). We also see he's sort of the groundskeeper of the woods, burying bodies to let them be eaten clean to the bone. After talking to him and not dying, he ends up stalking the MC. During one of the other interactions when the MC is investigating a robbery, they talk to the dancer, Magnolia. If the MC brings up Will as the possible thief, Magnolia will defend Will, stating their history together as childhood friends before drifting apart. In another ending, Will is able to save the MC from the beast in the woods called the Bastard, a man who basically acts like an unkillable animal and wanders the woods. There is also an event where Will sneaks into the MC's room at night and kind of noncons them. This is a random event.

There are two competitions that occur with the yanderes in the game, one being Jak vs Dijon and the other being Dijon vs Will.

When sleeping with both Jak and Dijon, the two of them will end up attempting to kidnap the MC during the night. Upon waking up, the two will end up forcing the MC to choose one of them. Choosing Dijon ends with Jak attempting to shoot him, with the MC having the choice to push him out of the way, thus getting themselves killed. Otherwise, Dijon will be shot and Jak kidnaps the MC into the forest to noncon them. The MC can run away, causing the Bastard to come and kill Jak. Choosing Jak will cause Dijon to sadly walk away, allowing Jak to take care of the MC. Jak will end up shooting Dijon regardless and once again drag them back to camp to noncon them. Through gun play, I believe the MC can still be shot and killed, and the same bastard ending will still apply.

When interacting with both Dijon and Will, the two of them will end up the MC's room at night. The MC will wake up to the two of them talking at the end of the bed. At first it seems to be some sort of banter, the two insulting each other's ages and their weaknesses before Dijon attempts to take out a gun and kill Will. If the MC warns Will and then takes the gun, they can attempt to shoot as a warning, to which the bullet will miss and end up killing the MC instead, or they will simply threaten them and they will leave. If they don't warn Will, Dijon will end up shooting Will and dragging his dead body out, whereas if you do, Will can end up stabbing and killing Dijon.

As a whole, the game is very well put together and has a lot of features. You can basically date every character except three of them (that being the innkeeper, Mortom and the Bastard), each with it's own CGs and endings, along with various mini games, and an entire cooking and inventory system. On a technical basis, this game is done very well and it is pretty fun running around and doing a lot of these tasks. Still, as much as the individual components are very fun, I feel like there's not really any reason to do any of the mini games for the plot. You can basically ignore the entire portion of it if you are simply just seeing what the character plots would be like, which is kind of unfortunate. The cooking system is supposed to tie in with the stamina system, which is a good idea, but talking to people doesn't deplete stamina, only gathering items. In this way, it feels very disjointed from the rest of the game, as not even stuff like money is really needed to play. I think at least an easy fix for the money system would be similar to how DOL forces the player to pay Bailey, so in this game, you would be forced to pay the innkeeper money for every day that you stay there (which, you know, does make sense if you want to stay at the inn) thereby forcing you to spend time getting money and having to cook food to be able to get energy to make money. Unfortunately with the implementation that I see at least, it seems to be lacking in attempting to make a game play loop with these cool mini games. While it's not the worst thing in the world, I think it does make these minigames kind of pointless since you can basically completely ignore them.

Storywise, while I do think it's very nice that you are able to get more of a solid look at a lot of characters, I do feel like there isn't really anything satisfying for the end of a lot of them. When they are killed, there is no reaction for most of the other characters (with the exception of a handful of them). It's hard to say where certain events will happen unless you have a guide and while there is one on the fandom page, there is none on the itchio or steam page that helps you (which is unfortunate for people like me who generally rely on a walkthrough to try to get everything). I think that was the point of having a lot of characters all with their own story, but I feel like there could have been more to place more of an arc for each them.

Dijion as a yandere is mostly pretty light. He actually is probably the most harmless out of all of them considering that he only really kidnaps the player when sleeping with another character (unless it's with Jak or Will). He seems to delusionally believe that the MC is a sort of "lost sheep", which is why he keeps bringing them back to the barn. It is unfortunate that he doesn't actually end up trying to harm or even properly trap the MC (well, he tries, but they run away again, with seemingly no consequence). He does manage to kill Will in one of the endings, however, it's strange to me that he wasn't able to do so with other characters such as Jak or even any of the other characters that the MC might end up sleeping with. Still, I think I do quite like Dijion as a character, he's very puppy like, similar to a dog herder who is trying to get his sheep back. His running gag of not being able to count (especially when Will calls him out on it) is pretty funny, though I wish it was brought up more.

Jak is probably the most extreme out of the yandere characters considering that he is the most violent and most forceful of the three. When choosing between Jak and Dijon, Jak will outright shoot Dijon if the MC doesn't protect him and he can kill either Magnolia or Jade as well, sending him straight to jail as well as fighting and possibly killing the Bastard in one of the endings. I'm not sure how close he is to his counterpart in Lover's Trophy, but he is very violent in this version, with it often leading to his own detriment, like when he is killed by the Bastard after being taken when choosing between Dijon and him, or when he is jailed for killing either of the girls. He also definitely has a very intimidating presence with the game emphasizing just how tall he is and how generally strong he is. He definitely feels like he fits very well in this type of murder horror type game given his general behavior and intimidating presence.

Will as a yandere generally just stalks the player, and doesn't have nearly as many endings as Jak or Dijion. Still, I do think the scenes we do get give a bigger impression of what he's actually like. From what I've seen, although we generally don't see him in the game, it is implied that he stalks the player quite often, as we see him save the MC from the bastard and sneak into the MC's place at night. Given that he's rather aloof and is uncomfortable with most human interactions, it does make sense that we barely ever see him, only really gaining more insight from Magnolia as the two seem to be friends. I kind of wish that we had more personal encounters with him like maybe hanging out with him with his bone collection (thing), but I do think even with the little information that we do learn about him he's a pretty solid character. Plus if you talk to him wrong, he straight up kills you which is kind of entertaining.

In terms of what I mean by porn game yandere, I basically have to turn again to DOL for this. While I get it's not really fair comparing two of these games as they are going for different things, what I mean in this case is that in general, yanderes are not usually okay with their love interests sleeping with other characters. This usually results in murder of some sort or at least some sort of separation of their lover with the person that they're sleeping with. However, in games like DOL, while Kylar and Eden can get jealous or otherwise kidnap the MC, they aren't allowed to kill the other characters that they sleep with and in essence, the MC can just kind of have a poly relationship with all of the love interests if they want. While I'm not saying poly yanderes can't exist, they generally have certain specifications on how they act (at least in my opinion). Obviously for gameplay wise, if the player is not into any of the yandere characters and ends up sleeping with with by accident or on purpose, it would be a big pain if they ended up murdering or getting rid of the other characters gameplay wise, and considering both of the characters, it also doesn't seem fair to also just exclude them just because you are allowed to sleep with other characters, which is why I kind of call it porn game logic since for the sake of not making the gameplay bad for the player, I will make an exception for it in this context. Anyways, going back to Courtin' Cowboys, while unlike DOL you can have characters killed, they don't usually get that far. A good example is with Jak who is able to kill one of the characters (either Magnolia or Jade if you sleep with them) before getting captured (which is fine). Meanwhile a character like Dijon seems pretty light, having the player sleep with three different characters only leads to Dijon basically telling the player not to get lost again after being kidnapped and Dijon just...letting them go. Will also doesn't have that much yandere actions either considering that outside of the versus, protecting the MC from the bastard and the random encounter of him breaking into the inn and sleeping with you.

Still despite what kind of possible tweaks and missing things I have for Courtin' Cowboys, it is undoubtedly a fun game. There is so much in it that I probably didn't even get to see, plus every time you play you can have a different experience. The customization and general aesthetic of being a cowboy is really nice and the fact that you have all these minigames in the first place is very impressive along with the sheer amount of characters that you can date/interact with is very cool. It's a great entry into the murder sim type genre with a bunch of fun yanderes to boot. If you haven't played it yet, I would highly recommend it.

[cheolism]

laundry and jiu jitjsu

✧ seungcheol x reader

✧ request from @softnyams, who wanted seungcheol showing his jiu jitsu moves and play fighting. i hope you enjoy this!!! <3

✧ summary: after seungcheol leaves the laundry unfolded on your bed before going to his jiu jitsu lesons, you decide to take action.

✧ wc is aprox 4k

✧ genre: fluff, humor. already together, living together. domestic life. they have a cat.

✧ notes: wrestling, pettiness, name-calling, pinching. reader plays dirty. the cat sits on the counter. mentions of having showered together in the past. he wears a tanktop and his biceps are mentioned. i don't know jiu jitsu. i also don't fold my laundry so ig i'm my character's own worst enemy </3

Living with Seungcheol had its ups and downs. More ups than downs, of course. Way more. But still there were downs, moments that had you rolling your eyes and reminiscing on what it was like to live alone. 

You wouldn’t trade anything for that back, however. No matter how many times you ask Seungcheol to throw his socks into the laundry basket instead of just peeling them off at the front entrance; no matter how many times you ask him to use a bowl when eating cherries instead of just leaning over the kitchen sink, spitting the seeds out into the sink. 

No matter how many times you ask Seungcheol to actually fold the laundry instead of just dumping it on the bed, you wouldn’t trade it for anything. 

That’s what you were trying to tell yourself. 

Which was reasonable! 

But still, coming home after a day of work to see all your clothes tossed out on your bed after your boyfriend had said he would do the laundry did put a damper in your good mood. 

But still, coming home after a day of work to see all your clothes tossed out on your bed after your boyfriend had said he would do the laundry did put a damper in your good mood. 

You worked your way out of your blazer, pausing before you folded it and put it with the pants. You grabbed the pants and shook them out before throwing them on the top of the pile, your blazer joining. 

There was a little noise of surprise from the pile. Then Darling’s startled head wiggled out from underneath your pants, her bright eyes blinking at you. “Mrp?”

“Sorry, Darling,” you cooed, going to the pile. You scooped your black cat up, having not seen her due to her lying on one of Seungcheol’s black hoodies. She began purring, nustling her face underneath your jaw and pressing her cold nose to your neck. “I can’t believe he didn’t fold the laundry. He said all he had to do today was go to his jiu jitsu lessons. Was it too much for him to fold the dang laundry?”

Darling didn’t respond. The cat, who was of a considerable size due to her enormous amount of fluff, instead began kneading against your collarbone. Sighing, you sunk your hand into her fur and absentmindedly began to pet her. “At least you got something out of it. Probably enjoyed sleeping on top of all that clean laundry, huh, Darling?”

The two of you went around the room, Darling swiveling her head back and forth to watch you as you grabbed joggers and a hoodie. She let out a meow of protest when you set her on the floor, but once you were clothed again you grabbed her. She let out a surprised mrp? when you lifted her back into your hold, but settled in easily. 

With your baby in your arms, you wandered back out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. The counter was clean of the dishes that had lined it that morning, pots and pans drying out on the dishrack. The rest of them were resting in the dishwasher, clean and spotless. 

Sighing, you dropped Darling so you could grab a cup. “At least he does dishes, right?”

You went to the fridge, pulling out some fruit punch. When you turned back to the counter, twisting the plastic cap off of the bottle, Darling was sitting there. She looked like a proper little lady, her paws resting at the edge of the counter and head slightly tilted at you. Darling blinked, noticing you looking at her, before erupting in a meow. 

“If Seungcheol saw you sitting on the counter he would flip,” you chastised. You settled in next to her, getting ready to pour the punch. “We’ll just wipe off the counter before we make supper and he won’t know any better, will he?”

Despite having lived with Seungcheol for a little over a year, when you heard the key enter the lock and the little click of the lock releasing, you still froze and turned to watch the door. You waited, holding your breath, as the door quickly opened. 

Never once had a serial murderer or thief used a key to enter your apartment, but you never knew when they would start. 

Then your boyfriend was rounding the door, kicking it shut behind him. His dark hair, still curly from the perm he had gotten weeks ago, poked out from beneath his black beanie. He was wearing his overly large white hoodie, accompanied by his black cargo pants. A typical Choi Seungcheol look. 

“Hey, baby,” he greeted, smiling once he caught sight of you. Then Seungcheol’s eyes drifted, and his smile flipped into a frown and his thick eyebrows furrowed. “Darling. What are you doing on the counter?”

Darling stood up, tail going straight into the air. She meowed excitedly at the sight of Seungcheol, despite the scolding tone he had. She jumped off of the counter only to then jump onto the kitchen table, going to the corner of it and craning out her neck, meowing frantically, tail striking the air in her excitement. 

“Someone wants you to pick her up, Cheolie,” you laughed, returning the punch to the fridge. Seungcheol was holding Darling when you turned back around, your black cat pressing her face against his, tail swishing against his hoodie. “What a big baby.”

Seungcheol hummed, his large hand settling over her head. He ran his hand down the length of her spine, pressing his lips against the crown of her head. “She is a baby.”

He crossed the room to you, moving the hand that wasn’t holding Darling to reach out for you. You pressed yourself against him, careful not to squash Darling between the two of you. Your sides pressed together, his arm wrapping around your shoulders and drawing you ever-close. Burrowing your face into his chest, you pressed kisses there. 

“And me?” You asked, peering up at him with a faint grin. 

Seungcheol pulled away, moving to place Darling on a kitchen chair. Then he returned to you, his large hands cupping your face. “You’re my baby,” he said. You fell into him easily, his hands guiding you close, your hands going to grasp at his hoodie. Your eyes slipped shut as his lips pressed against your forehead. Moving your hands, you wrapped your arms around him in an attempt to mold your bodies together. You were surrounded by Seungcheol, which was, if you were honest, your favorite place to be. His cologne was thick and expensive, and you could smell your laundry detergent and fabric softener from his hoodie. 

And he was warm. He was so warm, his body heat sinking into your fingers and face, traveling through your body and warming every centimeter of your heart and soul. Seungcheol was likened to a fire more often than not, people quoting his fiery passion and temper for the analogy. But there was also the warmth of his eyes as he watched his friends laugh and make jokes, the warmth of his voice as he murmured I love you; the warmth of his embrace and how safe and loved and wanted they -- he -- made you feel. 

Pulling away from his chest, you rose to the tips of your toes. Knowing, Seungcheol lowered his face and met you halfway, his lips meeting yours. The two of you exchanged a series of quick kisses, a small smile slowly taking over your lips at every satisfying smack of your lips. 

“Stop messing around,” he mumbled. Then his hands moved and tangled into your hair, angling your face to his liking. Seungcheol descended on you, his mouth prying yours open, pressing hot, quick kisses on your lips that stole your breath. 

Satisfied, he pulled away. His smoothed your hair, eyes soft and sweet. “Okay. Now we’re good.”

“Oh?” You laughed, reaching up and grabbing his hands. He squeezed yours, and you pressed a kiss to the backs of his hands. “Sometimes I forget how stingy you are.”

“Not stingy,” Seungcheol protested. “I’m a just man who knows what he wants.” You laughed again, pulling away. Darling had left the two of you for the couch, stretching out on the top and licking at her stomach. “And what is that, Cheolie?”

“A proper fucking kiss when I see my baby after a full day apart.” He reaches out for you once more, hands on your cheeks. Seungcheol kisses your lips once more before trialing to them your chin, cheeks, temple and forehead. 

Finally the two of you separated, you returning to your abandoned cup of fruit punch. Seungcheol peeled his hoodie off of his body and tossed it onto the dining table, leaving him in just his dark tank top. He stretched out his arms, pale, thick muscle bulging and a satisfied sigh escaping his mouth. 

You watched all the while, though the serenity that had settled within you was displaced by the reminder of the pile of clothes on your bed. Taking one last sip of your punch before throwing it in the sink, you slowly began your trek to your boyfriend as he hunched over to peel his socks off. 

“So,” you drew out the word, watching him ball up his socks. “Did you get to your lessons okay?” Seungcheol straightened, transferring his socks to one hand and grabbing his discarded hoodie. “Mm. I had so much restless energy today. It was nice being able to get it all out of me, you know?” “I bet,” you said, trying to appear empathetic. You followed your boyfriend into the hall where he discarded his dirty clothing in the hamper. Next he grabbed his beanie and tugged it off, though he didn’t toss it in the hamper. “Must’ve been nice to take out your energy like that.”

“It is!” He agreed, dark eyes shining. “I was able to perfect a move today. Wanna see?”

You nodded. Seungcheol then fished his phone out of his pants pocket, pressing close against you. He opened up his gallery. “I recorded me doing it to show you,” he explained. 

You fought to hide the little grin that began to appear on your face. Despite Seungcheol being a blackbelt in taekwondo, learning jiu jitsu, having bulging muscles and seeming like the sort of man who didn’t need anyone’s approval, he always sought out some sort of praise from you. 

Once you had been folding paper flowers, a pastime craft you had learned in high school. Seungcheol had wandered into the living room to see you sitting on the floor, surrounded by paper flowers and paper sheets. He had watched you do one and then sat down next to you, snatching a piece of paper to fold alongside you. 

So you had guided him, slowly folding and gluing. Seungcheol had been a dutiful student, and while the end result wasn’t the prettiest flower, he still placed it in the center of his palm and proudly presented it to you, a boyish grin brightening his face. 

Compliments and praises had poured out of you, and you had taken the flower and gone into the office room. Seungcheol had followed, obviously pleased when you set the flower on your bookshelf. 

There were a series of videos on his gallery just from today’s practice. He flicked through them before seemingly finding the one he intended to show. Seungcheol angled his phone towards you. “This is called a butterfly sweep.”

You watched as Seungcheol laid beneath his trainer, the two men grappling with one another for a few moments. And then Seungcheol got his arm next to the other man’s neck, his leg between the other man’s, and then he was flipping the man up and over. The man landed on the other side of Seungcheol, back on the ground, arms splayed out in an attempt to catch himself. 

Despite not really understanding what was going on, you grinning nonetheless. “That’s so cool, Cheolie,” you praised, turning to face him. 

Seungcheol was already facing you, having been watching. He smiled widely at your praise, pleased. 

“It looked really effortless when you did it,” you carried on. “I can’t believe you’ve only been doing jiu jitsu for a month and a half now.”

“What can I say,” Seungcheol began, obviously enjoying every moment of your attention. He flicked through his videos, that overly satisfied, slightly cocky look on his face never leaving. “Your boyfriend is just really good at this sort of thing.”

He then paused, turning to you. “I can show you how I did it, if you want.”

Which had led to the two of you moving the coffee table across the living room, freeing up the wide space. Seungcheol grabbed the pillows and blanket off of the couch, Darling having stopped bathing herself to watch as the two of you prepared. 

“Okay,” he began, sitting on the floor. He was leaning back on his hands, his feet resting flat against the hardwood. “I’ll be the one doing it. Just do what I say, okay, baby? Don’t struggle or anything and just move with me and you won’t get hurt.

“Now. Kneel at my feet.”

You did as he said, squinting in false accusation at him. “If this is just an elaborate set-up --”

Seungcheol laughed, shaking his head. He leaned forward, his right arm coming up underneath your left and looping across your back. “So this is just an underhook.”

“I remember,” you said. Seungcheol had taken to showing off most of his newly acquired knowledge with you, and while you couldn’t remember all of what he said, you did remember some. “Now what, babe?”

“Put your arms out on either side of my torso,” he instructed. “Now,” he carried on, doing as he talked, “I’m going to hold your elbow and squeeze your wrist against my side with my elbow. Normally instead of holding your elbow I would clamp it, squeeze the muscles there and pinch them.”

He shifted, his leg moving from where you had been straddling to cross underneath his other one. “I’m going to start moving you now. Don’t fight it. I’m going to bring my ear down to the floor, and as I move, I’m going to move you with me and kick my foot out to kick your legs and get them in the air. Remember, baby, to move with me.”

And then Seungcheol slowly moved, just as he had said. You moved with him, letting Seungcheol manipulate your body and flowing with his movement. His arm around you tightened as he moved, and even though he was flipping you onto the ground, his slow movements and the arm around you prevented you from slamming against the wooden floors. Instead you were lowered as gently as possible, so you were flat beside him. 

You were still breathless at the end of it. He was leaning over you, your arm looped around his chest and his both holding you down. Seungcheol’s face was close enough to where you could see the dark shadows beneath his eyes that always lingered despite him getting enough rest, the little dark spots on his face. 

“From here I’d do some sort of hold,” he explained, flicking his hair out of his face. 

You nodded. “Hey, Cheol?”

“Yeah, baby?”

His arms repositioned around you. One of his hands went to your head, smoothing back your hair and stroking it fondly. For a moment you let yourself bask in his attention, feeling slightly bad for what you were about to do. But then:

“Why didn’t you fold the damn clothes and put them away before leaving?”

Immediately Seungcheol froze against you. His eyes widened, jaw dropping. Then you were moving. You looped your arm around the arm that was around you, creating space between the two of you; then you used your other arm to meet your first one, hands settled over one another and pushing against Seungcheol while you moved back and away, creating more space and getting out of his hold. 

Still shocked, Seungcheol put up no fight against you. He laid there, half sitting up, watching as you went to your knees. “Baby, what --”

You then launched yourself at him, straddling his waist and pressing his shoulders into the floor. Seungcheol’s hands immediately went to your waist, holding you in place. “Baby --”

“Jerk,” you said, hands slapping against his shoulders. “Put away the fucking laundry if you’re going to do it! If you’re not going to fold the clothes and put them away just don’t do the laundry!” 

His hands tightened around your waist, and then one of his arms was worming up and between the two of you to create space. Immediately you hooked your arm around his, holding it in place. Seungcheol cursed, “You’re lucky I don’t want to hurt you. Otherwise you’d be on the floor.”

“Yeah?” You huffed, squeezing his arm. Your free hand slipped into his armhole, which was overly large due to Seungcheol having cut it so, your fingers lightly pinching at the skin there. Seungcheol let out a shriek -- though he would deny it was a shriek. 

Then you were lifted up and over, just like before. And just like before Seungcheol’s arm was around your back, protecting you from the brunt of the landing. He quickly moved, straddling you like you did him. 

“That fucking hurt,” he struggled, fighting off your hands as they pushed against his chest. “What did I say about pinching?”

One of your hands slipped free of his and slapped against his bicep, your palm stinging from the impact. Seungcheol cursed, his knees tight as they squeezed your hips to keep you at bay. His other hand went to try and wrap around your wrist, and you used his distraction to shove at his shoulder in an attempt to get him off. 

“Stop --” He managed to get both of your wrists in his hold, pressing them against the floor. “There. You absolute ass. What happened to talking things out?”

“Leaving clothes on the bed happened,” you hotly returned. Your heart was pumping, and you could feel yourself begin to sweat. Still, even though he had both your wrists pinned, you had no intention of stopping. You got your feet beneath you, using your toes to try and bridge.

Meaning, in simple terms, you were frantically bucking up against Seungcheol in an effort to get him off. 

Seungcheol, surprised and confused, rose off of your hips. “What are you --”

You used the space he created between the two of you to scrunch up and wiggle, loosening his grip on your wrists. Seungcheol quickly gave up on holding your arms down, moving instead to loop his legs through yours and sit on your thighs, keeping your lower half trapped between him. 

“There,” he sighed, hands on your stomach and keeping you down. His bicep muscles bulged as he exerted strength against your stomach as you struggled, hands slapping against his arms and trying to get ahold of him. “What has gotten into you?”

Then you had the skin of his upper arms between your fingers, tight and ready. “I’ll fucking pinch you if you don’t let me go. Don’t think I won’t.”

“If you pinch me you’ll regret it,” he warned. His eyes were blazing, and his body was heavy on top of yours. For all Seungcheol loved to baby you, he wasn’t going to back down from a stand-off just because you were on the opposing side. Just because he was the one to press band-aids to your scratches and kiss your temples whenever you got migraines didn’t mean he was going to let you win a wrestling match between the two of you. 

“I’ve got you trapped beneath me,” he announced. “And I know your tickle spots.”

You narrowed your eyes, glaring at him. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would,” he said, “and I can.”

“My armpits are all sweaty,” you provided, wiggling beneath him. “Won’t want to tickle me there.”

“You think I care about armpit sweat?” Seungcheol mocked, grinning down at you. “I’ve showered with you, I’ve cleaned your sweaty body before.”

You bucked up against him once more. Seungcheol squeezed your body between his knees in response. Sighing, you laid your head back against the floor. “Fine. I won’t pinch you.”

“And we’re done wrestling,” he demanded. “Say it.”

Pouting, you relented. Seungcheol released your legs from his hold, but he still sat on your thighs. He settled his weight on you, using one of his hands to run through his hair in a poor attempt to coax it into lying flat. “So what was this about? The laundry on the bed? I was going to fold it after jiu jitsu, baby.”

You continued to frown up at him, wiggling. You moved your hands to press against his thighs, feeling the muscle flex. “Cheol. It’s not about you doing it later. It’s just like. You decided to do laundry and didn’t finish it, meaning that when I came home to relax it was to the sight of another chore I would have to do.”

“But if I hadn’t washed the laundry that still would’ve been a chore for you.”

You sighed, throwing him a look. “Cheol. It’s the thought, you know? You thought about doing laundry, meaning you must’ve had some intent of folding it and putting it away. And then you just didn’t. You didn’t put it away, which meant you were leaving it to do later, but you knew I would be returning home from work before your lessons were done. So you were leaving it for me, Seungcheol. And I don’t mind doing chores. You know that. 

“It’s just after a long day at work, do you really want to come home and see some unfinished chore your boyfriend started?”

Seungcheol closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose. Then he moved off of you, settling his body next to yours. Seungcheol leaned over you, the line of his body against you. His hand that wasn’t supporting his body went to your lips, tracing them, before his hand settled against your neck. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” he murmured, voice deep and thick. His lashes fluttered as he blinked. “I didn’t think about that. Honestly, I didn’t.” “I know, Cheol,” you wiggled your hand from between your bodies, moving it to brush his bangs out of his face. “But you gotta think about stuff like that. It’s not fair to me.”

Seungcheol moved his hand again. He cupped your cheek before leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your lips. “I’m sorry. I’ll do better to think about stuff, okay?” “Okay,” you softly repeated. 

Then something poked at your head. You shifted to see Darling staring down at you, her paw raised in the air from when she had tapped you. Darling did it again, letting out a little meow. 

Seungcheol laughed. He raised off of you, allowing you to sit up. “Here she comes to investigate.”

You gathered Darling into your arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She turned her face away to look at Seungcheol, her paws settling on your arm. She meowed again and Seungcheol relented, bridging the gap to pet her. “Clingy cat.”

“Just like her dad,” you said, grinning at him. 

Seungcheol rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re just as clingy as me.”

“Am not.”

“You are literally the clingiest person I know,” he protested. Then after a moment, he amended his statement. “Well. After Mingyu, of course.”

You laughed, startling Darling. She squirmed in your hold. “I was going to say! Imagine being Mingyu’s boyfriend.”

Seungcheol did an exaggerated shudder. “I’d never get anything done.”

“Not like you get anything done anyways,” you argued back, grinning. You stood, stretching and looking down at him. Then, trying to fight the sly little smile that had taken over, you couldn’t help but add: “Like folding the laundry.”

And then you tackled onto the couch, your boyfriend’s full weight against you as he began tickling your sides. 

[itoshiexx]

pretty

synopsis: when your insecurities get the best of you, rin comes to the rescue to make sure you know you're so much more than pretty.

pairing: itoshi rin x gn!reader | words: 845 | warnings: established relationship, slight hurt/comfort, insecurities, i tried to make this as gender neutral as possible but reader is implied to wear makeup, suggestive at the end!!, aged up characters

notes: it’s me, hi, i'm the problem it's me! i'm back with this idea i had while i was trying some clothes. kinda hate how this turned out but whatever, i'm sad

masterlist part 2 (nsfw)

you never really took long to get ready. it was one of the reasons rin loved you so much: you were practical with your outfit and your makeup, and very good at managing your time. for someone as the young itoshi, who screamed practicality, you were a perfect match.

it is why rin is standing up from his place on the living room’s couch, sprinting towards your shared bedroom — to understand why you are taking so long. if you don’t leave soon, you might be late for your dinner reservations. 

entering the bedroom door, rin spots you easily. you are standing in front of the mirror, with nothing but your underwear on, staring at your reflection with a lost gaze.

he decides he doesn’t like this gaze on you.

“what’s wrong?” his question seems to break you from whatever stupor you were in; his bluntness catching you off guard in an unusual manner, since you were used to your boyfriend’s direct nature.

rin is met with silence. your lips part and close several times, but nothing comes out. his brows furrow, and he takes a few steps inside to take a closer look to you. 

your hands are wandering through your skin — from the plush of your thighs, your hips, the curve of your waist, stopping at your tummy. then, they move further to your ribs, chest, shoulders, up until your neck. 

it’s like you’re analyzing something, although rin can’t quite pinpoint what it is. he could almost say you’re admiring yourself, if not for the slight furrow of your brows and the crisp on your lips.

“do you… do you think i’m pretty, rin?” 

your voice is so small it scares him for a moment. he wasn’t expecting such a question. nevertheless, rin takes a few more steps until he’s right behind you in the mirror, and his arms find home in your waist in a tight embrace. you shiver feeling the material of his white button up shirt against your bare skin. 

you feel his scrutinizing gaze from over your shoulder, and you have to fight the urge to hide. it’s silly, and you know; because you never have to hide from rin. he has seen you, all of you, way too many times. 

but there’s just something about this moment that makes you feel so little and so insecure, because the stupid voices in your head keep telling you bad things about yourself. and you also know that they are just intrusive thoughts, and that you shouldn’t listen to them, but right now it’s really fucking hard. 

“pretty?” he repeats, a little breathless. his eyes wander through every bit of you, like he’s trying to commit to memory. “you’re asking me if i think you’re pretty?”

you shake your head. “forget it, i shouldn’t have asked—”

“love,” rin interrupts your rambling, “you are so much more than pretty.”

you blink a few times, unsure you heard him right. rin’s hold on you tightens. 

“you are beautiful.” he rests his chin on your shoulder, still staring intently at your figure. “you are… god. you’re breathtaking.”

he leaves a featherlight kiss on your neck, and you can’t help but feel incredibly shy under his strong gaze. rin stares at you as if you are the most beautiful creature that has ever landed on earth, like some sort of divine being that came from the heavens to bless every human lucky enough to deserve to cross your path. probably because, to him, that was exactly what you were.

and rin was the luckiest of them all, for he was the one who you chose to call “lover”, the one that could spend every minute of his existence by your side, bathing in your glow, basking in the warmth of every one of your smiles. 

he was the one that could feel the texture of your skin beneath his fingertips and worship your body like some kind of temple, giving all the love it deserved. and if you were asking him that question, well… then maybe he wasn’t worshiping you enough. 

“baby,” his right hand leaves your waist and trails all the way to your shoulder, where he leaves another kiss. “look at me.”

you shake your head no. you miss the way his expression turns pained. “please?”

you sigh. you’re such a goner for itoshi rin. and he knows that anything he asks in that tone will be granted. so, albeit hesitantly, you do what he says, and meet his gaze in the mirror. 

the small smile he gives you is enough to send your heart into a frenzy, giving you those stupid butterflies in your stomach that always appear when it comes to him.

“you are everything good in this world,” he says, like it’s the truth, like it’s all he’s ever known.

then, gently turning you around to face him, he grips your waist tightly and brings his face impossibly close to yours, until your noses are touching and his lips are hovering above yours.

“and i will show you just how much.”

© 2023 itoshiexx. do not plagarise, translate, or repost any of my work on here or other sites.

[weixuldo]

Tinder and Tequila

Linecook/Roommate! Anakin x F!Reader

a/n: ngl this really has nothing to do with linecook ani- it’s more just tinder shenanigans lol- there’s more abt the context of the universe in the notes at the end- also to the anon who asked abt not putting padme in fics…. don’t read this one lol (i have nothing against padme, she’s one of my fav characters) this one’s v long

NSFW mdni!

After a night out with some friends, you decide to swipe on tinder…what happens when you see your very attractive roommate pop up on the screen?

Warnings: gn!reader, cursing, banter, past relationships mentioned, female anatomy, hand job, oral sex (f!receiving), blow job

________________________

You turned the knob on your shared apartment open and thrusted the wooden door open. Good thing Anakin was staying at a friend’s because you were completely wasted from a night out with your friends. One too many shots of a particularly strong tequila. 

You giggled at yourself as you stumbled your way through the living room. You flopped onto the couch before pulling out your beloved phone so you could mindlessly scroll. 

Before long your inebriated brain started to wander.

It was definitely good that Anakin was gone, because if he were here… You may not have been able to contain yourself. 

You licked your plump lips as you eyed his door… What if he were home though?

You hoisted yourself up and creeped towards his shut door. He had a woven piece of decor on his door; he told you his mom had made it for him before she passed unexpectedly in his last year of school. 

Nosily, you knocked before prying the white door open. 

Nothing.

You exhaled a shaky breath, it would have been so embarrassing if he caught you sneaking. Though, you couldn’t help but feel disappointed that he wasn’t here to keep you company.

You headed back to your spot on the couch and pulled out your phone again. Time to play your favorite game- Tinder. 

You knew it was a toxic mentality to have a stream of people constantly at your fingertips; judging them off only a glimpse of who they were. But it was so amusing to quietly scroll through people who potentially wanted to take you out. 

The first few people were average; bad angles, boring bios, and conflicting views. 

Whatever. 

Soon you were getting bored with the whole thing and were about to log off when your heart stopped. 

Anakin, 24

9 miles away

Hobbies: cars, cooking, movies, nature, travel

His initial photo was an amazing pic of him at a rooftop bar in NYC from the trip you guys took with some friends. His black shirt was unbuttoned enough to see his strong chest and the sleeves were rolled to his elbows to show off his muscular arms. 

He knew he was fine. 

Your eye twitched- his hair fell perfectly in front of his angular face and his smile was simply radiant. 

God really had his favorites, huh?

You swiped through his pictures with laser focus; gym pic, him on the couch, him shirtless…. him with his damn backwards cap on, and finally one that you took of him sitting in your shop.

You were really conflicted, you wanted to swipe right, obviously- but what if he didn’t reciprocate? What if he thought it was weird?

And he's on tinder! He probably just wants a hook up.

You sighed and prepared to swipe left when another thought popped into your hazy mind. 

Maybe he “played'' tinder like you did? He’d never brought anyone back to the apartment… and his bio does suggest he would cook for you (something he would rather do in his own kitchen). 

Ya know what? If he asked- you could just say you thought it would be funny! Yea, sounded like a great idea to your stupid drunk brain. 

With a deep breath you swiped right. 

A subconscious part of your mind was praying for the screen to pause and “match” to light up your phone- but sadly that didn't happen… oh well, maybe he just hadn’t seen it yet? 

You sighed and headed off to shower and go to bed. 

________________________

Anakin sat on his friend Ahsoka's couch with a chilled beer in hand. It had been awhile since his whole friend group had had time for a night and he was excited to catch up with them all. 

The living room was lit up with a neon LED strip that Ahoska had gotten back in her party days. The den had one large sofa, a few bean bags, some fluffy chairs, and her flatscreen that was currently showcasing the ROKU city with her music playing in the background. 

On the couch sat Anakin, his closest friend Obi-Wan (or “Ben” for short), and his girlfriend Satine. Ahsoka sat on the beanbags with Cody as they shared his new bong. And on the chairs sat Rex and their other friend Padme. 

“So when are you gonna get cuffed Skyguy?” Ahsoka asked with a smile after taking a rip from the blue tinted device. 

Anakin took a swig from the bud light he had in his hand and sighed, “Ya’ know? I’m not quite sure myself, Snipps” he lamented. 

Obviously he knew he wanted to- and he knew with who. But how to get there was a puzzle he hadn't quite solved yet. 

Padme’s eyes darted towards Anakin as he spoke. Throughout highschool Padme and Anakin had been flirty but nothing much happened between the two- nothing serious at least.

A few make-outs here and there at house parties, that one time after senior prom, and a couple late night hook ups when she was back in town from school, but nothing really since she graduated.

Anakin knew she wasn’t for him but she didn’t seem to get the hint. 

There was absolutely nothing wrong with Padme, she was a lively woman but Anakin just wanted something else- Maybe it was because she always made him feel inadequate, dumb even.

He knew it wasn’t her fault, but she had gone to law school and he always felt lesser when she would talk to him. Everything about her spoke class and refinery and he was… well, he was him. 

He spent his younger years wondering what a relationship with her would be like but as he got older he realized he only fantasized about her status- not really her. And that was fucked up. 

Another factor that got her off of his mind was when you started coming into his restaurant- The first time you ordered your wild combo he just had to sneak out of the kitchen to see what kind of person ordered cinnamon instead of butter on their mashed potatoes. He never in a million years guessed such a beautiful person would be sitting at booth 5. 

And when he found out you were his new roommate- he completely stopped flirting with Padme, how could he when you were right there?

He remembered when you first started living with him, Padme had called drunkenly to come over; of course Anakin usually would have said yes but tonight you had invited him to watch your favorite movie with him and he couldn’t pass up an opportunity with you. 

“Well everyone seems to have someone, we need to get you cuffed!” Ahsoka laughed. 

“Yea, get my bro a partner” Cody joined in. 

“Doesn’t seem like Anakin’s really into anyone- maybe he wants it that way” Padme chimed in, playing with a strand of her brown hair. 

“I never said that,” Anakin responded quickly. 

“Well- do tell then Ani” Padme’s voice lilted with passive aggression. 

He absolutely hated when she used that tone. 

“Well honestly it’s none of your business M’lady” Anakin shot back using a nickname she hated. 

“You’re such a child Anakin” she rolled her eyes before taking a swig of her martini. 

“Nothing you haven’t said before,” he remarked under his breath. 

She was about to fire back when Ben spoke up, “Guys, let's take a step back- Anakin, how’s the new roommate? Well, I guess she isn’t that new anymore-how long has it been?”.

Padme leaned back and crossed her arms as Anakin began to answer. 

“Oh, um it’s been a little over three months?” he said, even though he knew exactly how long it had been- three months and eighteen days. 

“And how is it? Will we meet her sometime?” Satine chimed in with a smile.

Anakin felt his mood lighten once he got the chance to talk about you, “Oh, it’s been really nice- She works in the cafe near my restaurant so we always have good food around” he smiled, playing with the rim of his bottle. 

“Well now you really have to have us over,” Rex laughed. 

“Soon guys, just gotta clean up a bit”.

“But you guys get along?” Ahsoka asked, “because you're not the easiest guy to deal with in a small space” she laughed. 

“We get along just fine- She happens to enjoy my company” he boasted. 

“Sure” Padme scoffed.

Anakin tried to ignore her but she spoke up again.

“Well if she can deal with you, why don’t you try to date her?” Padme said, trying to provoke him. 

“Maybe I will” he snapped back, making Padme’s face go white. 

“Good luck- once she finds out what an immature asshole you are, she’l leave just like everyone else does” she huffed before excusing herself to the bathroom. 

She definitely had one too many drinks- she was getting emotional. 

Anakin was annoyed at Padme’s outburst, but he also felt bad- he knew she fell for him back in the day and she never really let go of it. But life changed and so did he- he hadn’t flirted with her in over a year so it wasn’t his fault if she was still hung up, he hadn’t led her on in the slightest. 

“I’m gonna go check on her- I’ll be right back” Satine said, excusing herself to tend to her very drunk friend. 

Anakin sighed.

_______________________

It was around two in the morning and everyone except Ahsoka, Ben, and Anakin had gone home. Ben offered to go home with Satine but she insisted she took Padme back to her apartment alone. 

Ahsoka had fallen asleep on her bean bags, Ben retired to the guest room and Anakin was lying on the couch; he was drowsy but not quite ready for bed.

With a belly full of warm alcohol he decided scrolling on Tinder might be fun. 

He tapped on the flame icon that was buried in the deepest depths of his phone and waited for the app to open. Anakin wasn’t a big fan of dating apps or social media in general, but every once in a while he logged on. Some people crave cigarettes when they drink- he liked to swipe on tinder. 

Most of the girls on there were people he’d never actually go out with or were bots. He yawned after he had swiped for a few minutes and got ready to log off for the night when he saw a familiar face…. You. 

There you were, in all your glory; a radiant smile plastered on your face as you ran a hand through your hair. 

Fuck. 

He physically sat up and brought the device closer to his face; he scanned every detail of your profile as if he had a test on it in the morning. 

He slowly tapped through your photos, lingering on each one longer than the last. Maker, how were you real?!

His heart raced as he analyzed a photo you took in your shared living room. What he wouldn’t give to be able to get pics like these directly from you. 

He saw your profile said “short-term fun, open to long-term”. Damn. 

But then the thought… you never brought anyone home and you rarely went out… so, you wouldn’t have time to see other people.

Maybe this was his chance. 

With a shaky finger he swiped right and held his phone close to his chest to conceal the screen (like a stupid lovesick teenager). 

He shut his eyes and slowly peeked them open to see the bright pink lettering flash across the screen “Match”.

No fucking way. 

No. FUCKING. Way.

He stared at the chat box and thought about what to say for what seemed like hours; he didn’t want to come on too strong but also didn’t want to be forgettable (he could never be forgettable). 

He decided to go with a sarcastic but teasing line. 

“Hey sweetheart, don’t see me enough at home? I know I’m irresistible, but if you wanted me that bad, you could've just asked”. 

And send. 

Anakin snapped off his phone quicker than he ever had and slumped back onto the couch- now he definitely wouldn’t be able to sleep. 

_______________________________________

You woke up with a big yawn accompanied by a long stretch. Last night was fun, but you did have things to do today. After a few minutes of lying around you finally hauled your ass up to start preppring for your closing shift. 

It probably wasn’t the best idea for you to have drank so much, since you had a terrible headache now… but at least you had fun last night.

After showering, getting dressed, and eating a light breakfast, it was already quarter after one and you were suposed to be at work by two. You threw on your jacket and rushed out the door. 

As you hurried to work you mentally checked off everything.

Brushed teeth? Check. 

Showered? Check.

Cleaned dishes in the sink? Check.

Turned off the toaster oven? Check.

Grabbed employee card for the bakery? Check. 

Seemed like everything was in line! 

But there was something you hadn’t checked, something sitting snugly in your back pocket, something in a little app with a red flame. 

A new message from Anakin. 

To be fair, you never took tinder seriously and never had notifications on so you wouldn’t have seen it. But also you were pretty drunk last night so there was a big possibility that you didn’t even remember seeing him. 

Either way, you would receive a pleasant surprise when you finally did open your app. 

_______________

Anakin’s heart raced as he reached your shared apartment- you never responded to his message. 

Was this going to be awkward now? Were you going to have an uncomfortable boundary talk with him? How would you react to seeing him? Had you even seen the message? What if you were making fun of him with your friends?!

He legitimately could not turn his brain off.

But regardless of his restless mind, he opened the door. 

Nothing.

Anakin leaned against the doorframe and sighed when he realized that you had work today. Good. He got to avoid you for a few more hours as he sat around overthinking everything-wonderful. 

Being the hyperfixating overthinker he was, Anakin couldn’t help but check your status on tinder every so often

His stomach dropped when he saw you were active five minutes ago…

You hadn’t responded to his message, not even a “like”.

Fuck. 

Anakin had never felt so embarrassed in his whole life; should he just delete the message?

On the other side of town you were closing the shop when you pulled out your phone to check the time just to see your phone was already unlocked and on the tinder home screen.

No way your ass was scrolling through matches. 

You closed the app with a laugh; it didn’t really matter who you matched with you never really did anything serious on tinder. 

You finished your tasks and finally headed to your car. Once you got in you pulled out your phone again to see what matches your butt chose. 

Once you opened the app you could tell it had been open in your pocket for a while with the amount of people you wouldn’t have chosen yourself.

You scrolled and deleted profiles you weren’t interested in when you came across…Anakin?

Holy shit, you did see him last night. 

Anakin: [New Message]

A tiny rectangle holding only his circular profile picture and his name indicated he had swiped right on you too… and sent a message. 

You audibly gasped as you scanned the notif- was this real?? 

“Hey sweetheart, don’t see me enough at home? I know I’m irresistible, but if you wanted me that bad, you could've just asked”.

Home?

Electricity coarse through your veins; you secretly loved when he would refer to your shared apartment as home, it implied the two of you shared the space in a more intimate way than it really was.

His text was purely Anakin, every word just carried his personality. You were still stunned you were even in this position; never would you have thought he was actually interested in you.

The message was sent early this morning- you had left him on delivered for hours… 

Before you could think of the implications you jumped to respond; you wanted him to know you were very interested. 

“Road goes both ways Skywalker, obviously u like what u see too haha- yk I’m just one wall away ;)”

And send. 

After you sent it your stomach dropped again once you realized… you just sent your crush (and roommate?!) basically an open invite to come into your room whenever. 

You sat in the parking lot behind your bakery for a good 15 more minutes before finally heading home. 

___________________________________

Anakin usually didn’t have tinder notifs on, but he put them on today just in case you replied. So when his phone dinged while he was in the middle of making spaghetti for dinner he dropped the noodles into the pot and ran to the small device. 

It was you.

“Road goes both ways Skywalker, obviously u like what u see too haha- yk I’m just one wall away ;)”

A large smile plastered itself on his face- he was worrying for nothing!

He laughed and set the phone back down; just wait til he told the guys at work tomorrow morning!

Sooner than he anticipated, he heard the familiar sound of your keys jingling to open the door- he debated opening the door for you to save the hassle, but he stopped himself because he was worried he’d come off too desperate if he did so (you woulda been just fine if he did). 

You opened the door and were met with the savory aroma of marinara sauce and boiling noodles. After breathing in the scent you sighed, “someone’s been busy today, huh?” you smiled. 

“Well when you leave me home all alone…” Anakin trailed off with a stupid grin. 

Maker, you loved that look.

“Someone has to be the breadwinner in this house” you joked before setting your bags down. 

“And speaking of bread… I brought this back today- guess great minds think alike” you winked holding up a baguette from the bakery. 

Anakin’s face lit up and he eagerly received the bread, “Great! I was actually going to have to disappoint you since we’re out of garlic bread, but now we can just make it”. 

You nodded and went back to your room to change. It was pretty hard not to squeal at every little thing Anakin said, but you thought you were holding your own pretty well too.

Unintentionally, you changed into a rather enticing outfit- it was just a white tank with a lace trim and some flannel shorts (well, they were rather short). 

Anakin’s eyes observed your figure as you pranced out of your room and into the kitchen. 

“Why so fancy Ani?” you teased, batting your lashes. 

Both of you knew there was an obvious elephant in the room but neither of you wanted to address it. 

“Just ‘cause I wanted to, don’t get too excited princess” he laughed making you roll your eyes. 

“I’d never get excited over you” 

He arched an inquisitive brow and turned towards you, “oh really? Then why’d you swipe on me?”. 

There it was. 

You felt your face heating up quickly. Fuck. 

“Why’d you swipe on me?” you retorted back. 

“Uh Uh” he scolded, shaking his head while slowly walking towards you. 

“We both know you swiped first” he said, closing the space between you quickly. 

“I-I thought-” you stuttered, trying to come up with a witty response. 

He shook his head with a smile, “No sense trying to come up with a lie, pretty girl- you can tell me”. 

His tone was playful yet commanding- you felt compelled to confess everything to him right then and there. The burn of his striking blue eyes seemed to cut through all of your defenses. 

“Because I wanted to,” you admitted. 

A smile spread across his face as he leaned in, impossibly closer to you. 

“atta girl”

His confidence gave you goosebumps and you felt yourself leaning in to graze his lips with yours when he backed away abruptly to stir his pot of noodles- right. 

This was Anakin Skywalker we were talking about- the annoyingly charming linecook who could get anyone he set his sights on.

Maybe your intuition was right, he was just a playboy- how could you have been so stupid to think he actually wanted you?

With shame, you retreated to the couch as he strained his noodles and finished dinner. 

Unbeknownst to you, Anakin actually chickened out. He cursed himself as he stirred his famous spaghetti sauce; he was so close… and he blew it. 

Your sweet perfume flooded his senses and suddenly all of his charm just vanished. He felt like the awkward teenager Ben had to introduce to people because he was too shy to speak for himself. 

So in his moment of panic he went back to something he was comfortable with- cooking. 

Once he was finished he made two plates: one for him and one for you. Gingerly, he walked towards the couch with the plates in hand. 

“Here ya go princess” he attempted to sound normal. 

You didn’t meet his gaze as you took the plate and mumbled a “thank you”. 

He couldn’t blame you; from your perspective it probably seemed like he had just been leading you on- that’s not how he wanted to make you feel…at all. 

He set his food on the coffee table next to yours and sat beside you with a heavy thud, making the cushions deposit you next to his side. You were about to move away when he lightly grabbed your upper arm. 

You met his gaze in surprise, “Anakin, what-”.

You were silenced by his lips crashing into yours; your hand quickly found its way into his sandy hair just as he gently held the side of your face. 

Synapses were firing and you felt warm. With an unspoken agreement, he laid you down on the couch and continued to passionately kiss up and down your neck. 

“Anakin-” you said breathlessly, “What has gotten into you?”

“Nothing that hasn’t already been there for weeks” he responded through sloppy kisses. 

His touch was somehow better than what you’d imagined all those lonely nights in your room. How was this real?

You sat up and placed a hand on his chest; he sat on his heels with a worried expression, “What’s wrong?” he asked (did he do something wrong?).

“Weeks?” you parroted back to him. 

He huffed out a laugh and relaxed his tense posture before tenderly holding your face in his strong hands. 

“Yes, weeks. Don’t you know you drive me absolutely insane?” he asked in a playful tone. 

You shook your head in confusion. A lopsided smile settled on his beautiful face before he drew you closer for a soft kiss. 

“I thought- I thought you swiped on me as a joke… I had no idea” you admitted. 

His blue eyes scanned your face before shaking his head lightly, “No, no I’ve wanted to do this since the day I met you ''. 

Your confused expression slowly turned into a full blown grin before you pushed him into a seated position and straddled his lap. 

“Good to know, ‘cause so have I”. 

He let out a soft groan before resting his large hands around the bottom of your waist, his fingers gripping onto your flesh. His eyes were completely focused on you- they were hungry.

As you straddled him you felt his hardening member against your aching core. You wanted nothing more than to rip off his pants.

Just as you had wrestled his tight shirt off, his phone began to buzz. He rolled his eyes and let out an annoyed “fuck” when he saw it was his work. 

“I’m sorry, I gotta answer this” he said picking up the phone. 

“No worries” you said with a mischievous smile. 

What were you up to?

He ignored your tone and answered the call; just as he pressed the device to his ear you unzipped his pants. His eyes widened once he realized what you were so smug about. 

You were looking up at him through batted lashes as you freed his aching cock from the constrains of his boxers.

He was big- bigger than you expected; you licked your lips in anticipation, hypnotizing him with your ambition. 

You there Skywalker?

Anakin blinked himself back into reality, “Y-yes sir, I’m here”. 

Sorry to have to ask, but two of the other cooks just called in sick and we have abunch of parties booked tonight…would there be any possible way you could come in tonight

Anakin groaned loudly as you took his large member into your mouth, he had to cover his mouth with his free hand as you skillfully bobbed up and down on his dick. 

Now, I know it’s your day off, but I can offer you double time if you can just cover this one shift

His employer had no idea his head cook was getting the best head of his life on the other side of the line. 

He stifled a moan as you applied pressure with your tounge, thankfully he was able to disguise it as him thinking. 

“I-I guess I could swing it if there’s overtime-”

You’re a lifesaver! That’s why you’re my favorite linecook, when could you be in?

Anakin shuddered as you worked his tip. 

“I-It’ll have to be a lit-” 

He was cut off by the feeling of your moans sending vibrations up his shaft. 

“Have to be a little later, I’m a bit caught up at the moment”

No problem, how late we talking though?

“Just an hour, maybe hour twenty”

Done, see you then! And thanks again Skywalker. 

He hung up the phone as fast as he could and threw it against the recliner beside him. You laughed once he met your gaze again. 

“You’re wrong for that” he huffed out breathlessly. 

“For what?” you played dumb. 

He laughed bafore grabbing a handfull of you hair. 

“You know exactly what- now, I have work in an hour and I think you should finish what you started” he said with a playful yet demanding tone. 

“Yes chef” you said before taking him in your mouth once more. 

“FFuck” he groaned as your throat squeezed around his weeping cock. 

Without thinking he began to move his hips back and fourth to chase his high. You gagged around his length and clawed at his thighs. 

“Fuck baby, this what you wanted? You wanted me to fuck your throat raw? Better hope you don’t have to work the register tomorrow” he said with a smirk as he thrusted in and out of your mouth. 

You moaned around him and your tears began to spill over. This is exactly what you wanted- you wanted him. 

“God- You feel so damn good, I’m close” he said in a strained voice. 

In a moment of boldness, you removed yourself completely from his cock and began to vigorously pump his length, making his legs shake. 

“Ah- I’m gonna- I’m cumming! F-fuck I’m cumming” he babbled as his abs twitched with every rope that spurt out of his red, swollen tip. 

Once he finally settled down and caught his breath he sat up and wiped his mess off of his chest with the tissues from the end table. 

You wiped your mouth and smiled before nodding to the spaghetti, “You should probably eat, you’ve got work in a few”.

It was his turn to lick his lips, “Yea, I should eat”.

His eyes traveled down your body, “But I don’t think I’m really feeling spaghetti right now”. 

“Oh?” you said with a curious grin, before he pulled you into his lap. 

You kissed him passionately once more before asking “how hungry are you, Ani?”

Maker, you already had a nickname for him- you were perfect. 

“Absolutely ravenous” he responded before laying you on the couch. 

“Show me”.

He smiled and quickly slipped off your shorts and panties in one swift motion. You could already tell this was going to be a top three experience. 

Before you could register the feeling, he was already buried in your pussy. He lapped up your arousal and all you could do was toss your head back in bliss. 

“Oh Anakin” you moaned as he kneaded his large hands at the fat of your ass and your thighs. 

“Fuck, you taste so good- you’re so wet for me” he panted through licks. 

Once his tongue swiped over your swollen clit your back began to arch. You clenched your thighs around his head and tangled your fingers into his hair; this was heaven. 

His mouth worked on your pussy as his hands roamed your body, he seemed to just know what would drive you absolutely insane. 

“Maker- Oh my god Ani!” your breath hitched as his long fingers skillfully pushed into your aching core. 

The combination of his tongue and fingers alone, made you see stars (imagine what his dick would do). 

Embarrassingly, you felt your high coming; usually you lasted longer, but damn did Anakin know how to use his talents. 

“Wanna cum for me sweetheart?” He asked through hooded lashes. 

You nodded vigorously and with another curl of his fingers, you were coming undone in his grasp. 

_______________________________

Anakin threw on one of his work shirts and zipped up his pants; once you came, he gave you the most aftercare he could until he knew he had to leave (Luckily the two of you had time to get cleaned up). 

“Fuck, ‘m so sorry I gotta go, I’ll be back though” he said as he rushed around looking for his keys. 

“I’d imagine so, you live here” you laughed as you stretched on the couch. 

He sighed and walked up to you again, “You know what I mean, I don’t want you to think this was a one time thing- we will be discussing this later”. 

You nodded with a small smile before he leaned down and ran his fingers through your hair; he drew you in for a soft kiss, “I really don’t wanna leave you right now, I look like an asshole”. 

“Don’t you always?” you joked, nipping at his lower lip.

“I’m serious, I don’t want you to think that is all I want from you…”

“I don't” you assured him.

“Alright” he smiled before kissing your forehead once more before leaving. 

_________________________

“Someone’s in a good mood, what’s got you so happy, playboy?” one of the cooks asked after Anakin didn’t immediately get annoyed when one of the servers rang in an order wrong. 

Anakin smirked and shook his head, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m always in a good mood-”.

“Bullshit! You were just skulking around the kitchen the other day ‘casue you saw someone flirting with your little roommate” another butted in. 

“Yea, are you ever gonna ask her out? You’re supposed to be a player, ain’t ‘cha?”

“Nah, man- I’m retired, i’ve been retired for awhile” Anakin said, cringing at his past flings. 

“What made you change?”

Anakin smiled and turned towards his co-workers, “this”.

He pulled out his phone and on the lockscreen were a few texts from you, the top one saying, “Can’t wait til you get back home ;)”.

The chef’s eyes all widened before the kitchen became loud with their excitement. 

“Skywalker’s actually tied down?!”

“Ya finally asked her out!?!”

“When are you bringing her ‘round here?” 

“We wanna meet this little roommate”

Anakin slipped his phone back into his pocket with a smile, “hold on, hold on- we’re not official yet, but i’m pretty sure by tonight we will be- I really like her”.

“No shit, Skywalker! We could all tell you had a crush ever since you moved in with her” one of them laughed to which the rest agreed. 

Anakin smirked before going back to work, “Whatever guys” he said, rolling his eyes, but he couldn't shake the warm blush that was climbing up his cheeks.

***

a/n: so this is taking a point from the linecook headcannons (matching on tinder) but it’s in the universe of pancakes and pastries (roommates- cook ani and bakery reader). i’m not acc sure if i’ll end up writing anything with server reader and cook ani that work in the same restaurant- but we’ll see haha

[sleepingdeath-light]

s/o who stays with him hcs ; lovesick!wally

requested by ; anonymous (06/05/23)

fandom(s) ; welcome home

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; wally darling

outline ; “Sweeet! Could I get Lovesick! Wally x reader where reader realizes that Wally is aggressive when he's ignored and most of his love is focused on them so they decide to stay inside Home, getting sick too but Wally is calm and stops trying to escape, just wanting to be around reader now”

warning(s) ; lovesick au, reader succumbs to the same sickness as wally, self sacrifice, references to reader losing their mind, author is new to writing for welcome home so characterisation might need some tweaks in the future

you were doing this to protect the others — everything you had done was for them and if you kept on reminding yourself of that then, maybe, this whole situation could be that bit more bearable for you

but, then again, there was only so much one could do to ease their mind when you were spending every second of every day trapped inside of the same four walls with someone who was sick

so very sick

and you knew you were too

you could feel it in your mind, warping your perceptions and thoughts — making your mind feel less and less like you

you wondered if this was what wally felt before he became too far gone — before the aggression and obsession kicked in and he started to jeopardise the lives of everyone in the neighbourhood to get to you

spreading this disease through words and a phone line that nobody could bring themselves to cut off no matter how many times you begged them to

so, with no other options in sight, you gave in

gave him exactly what he wanted

gave up the potential for a cure or salvation

gave up your freedom

gave it all up because they deserved better — they didn’t deserve what wally was putting you all through

julie deserved to keep wandering through the neighbourhood and styling her hair and her clothes in ways only she could pull off

frank deserved to keep chasing butterflies

sally deserved to keep on pursuing her passion for performance

barnaby deserved to keep on entertaining everyone and being himself

poppy deserved to be able to keep on baking the foods she loves

howdy deserved to keep on tending to his business and multitasking with an expertise only he could have

eddie deserved to be able to keep on doing his job and pursuing what he loves

they deserved better than this

they deserved freedom, and that was your last gift to your friends — the last act of true kindness that you were allowed before you too became trapped in home

trapped with the man who had been incessantly calling you, preaching his adoration and affection and obsession through the speakers every day — moving on to others when you stopped picking up

calling once then twice then dozens and hundreds of times a day when he realised you weren’t answering intentionally and he started to become frantic

desperate for your attention, your affection, your adoration

to hear your voice, to see your smile

he wanted you — needed you

and now he had you

and now you realised just how far gone your old friend was — how wally hadn’t been wally in a very long time

it was his eyes, they’d changed and you couldn’t help but notice how drastically they had when you had nothing else to do but look at him

they were filled with hearts

no

they were branded with them, like he was filled to the brim and bursting with this overwhelming feeling and it was starting to warp even his appearance

but that wasn’t the end of it

his usually perfectly styled hair had been left to flop over his face — an ocean of messy, tangled blue only partially obscuring his painfully dilated warped eyes as he stared at you all day long

a small part of you wondered how much your own appearance had changed — a larger part of you was terrified to find out

the small consolation that you had was that wally had become completely docile once he’s realised that you were now staying with him

the escape attempts stopped and as did the constant calls, as he had no reason to keep on doing either

you were right here, after all, so why would he ever need to leave?

most of the time he just sits and stares at you, love ringing clear in his dreamy expression as he looks at you like you yourself hung the stars in the sky

like you were an art piece to be admired

like he could see you for exactly who you were

you felt exposed, naked, vulnerable

but you couldn’t leave so you just grinned and beared it

making sure to cut all of the phone lines the moment you settled in to your new, comfortable prison

other times he’d actually talk to you, his words well considered and his tone oddly airy and light — carrying like a dandelion seed in the breeze, more whisper or hum than words really — and hanging so dearly off of every word you said

he treated your statements like gospel, your syllables like sermons, your words like the greatest philosophical constructs — considering each thing you said heavily before responding

sometimes he’d just touch you, grasping your hand, running his fingertips along your face when he thought you were sleeping

like he couldn’t believe that you were really there

like it was all a dream and he was going to wake up and it would all go back to the nightmare he was living before

and through it all you were coping with the reality of just how sick your friend was — how horrifically obsessed he’d become with you and how it would ruin him if you left

and you could feel yourself slipping

bit by bit; slowly at first

your eyes would linger on him for a few seconds longer than you meant to

you’d catch yourself smiling whenever you stumbled upon his restful form

but over time these changes became so significant that you could no longer dismiss them

you were sick, really sick, and you could feel yourself slipping away

and in a sick and twisted way you couldn’t find yourself caring — the small part of you that did being massively drowned out by the larger not-you part that was already too far gone

you were sick and you were changed but you were in love and you had your wally

and in much the same way that wally lost all of his aggression the moment you relented, you lost your will to fight before it had even formed

because you had him and thus, really, you had no reason to leave

your neighbours would get over your loss eventually, you were sure, but for now what you really needed was to give your love a hug

it had been far too long since the last…

[mitsuas-coffee-shop]

𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎: 07/18/2024 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚜𝚎: I got this blue to make you come up 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: love obsession, character being very touchy with reader, mentions of kidnapping, self-deprecating thoughts (from the character to himself) 𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜: yandere and angst 𝚃𝙾𝚃𝙰𝙻 (𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝): $2200

Inspired by the song: No blueberries from DPR IAN

In the city you live there's raining almost daily, an unbearable cold everytime you'd open your home's windows or front door as well. The only comforting zone you've find being a couple of cafeterias, lately, due to bad sales, many of them have been closing.

I like no blueberries in my ice cream cake.

You've started talking to him just by chance, met him on a cafeteria near your house you got to know a while ago through social media and decided to try out new pastries that always caught your eye when you scrolled down their page.

He had ordered an ice cream cake but seemingly didn't read all the ingredients the menu said it had, causing his expression to cringe when he saw the blueberries adorning it.

You didn't mean to stare, but had, and he got even more embarrassed and angry about this moment, shifting uncomfortably to avoid your gaze even if you were a sit next to him in the cafeteria's bar.

The barista was about to take the cake away again in the kitchen, but you spoke first. Maybe a little to high, causing the guy next to you to flinch in surprise.

"I'll take it, I'd like to try it out!" you excused, taking the plate from the girl's hands and ordering a drink for yourself too.

This had been your very first interaction, it was pretty odd and you thought you wouldn't see him there anymore.

I'm just kind of lost.

The shock you had when you saw him yet again in the same tall chair from last time was an understanment, he was ordering the same drink you got last time! A smile on his face and now he seemed much more relaxed.

You striked a light conversation from that, the man followed, engaged with whatever topic you came up with.

I'm falling way too soft.

You found yourself going to the cafeteria just as you got off from work, sitting in your usual spot with your usual beverage, some days waiting for him to come by and others you'd find him already ordering for both of you.

The girl who attended you that first and unique time would always know what to recommend, something with blueberries for you and a dessert between salty and sweet for him.

Now tell me when to stop.

Weeks passed, months, and as you least expected it, you had been friends with him for over a year and a half. You've gotten to go to each others' homes a couple of times; some meetings were on parks, but nothing would beat your preferred cafeteria's environment. It always being a reminder of your start with him.

You would be lying if you said you didn't feel anything for him, you often caught yourself thinking about him, how he'd been doing when you couldn't meet up because of work or getting worried when he'd text you he'd gotten sick.

But you'd also be lying if you said he hadn't acted a little too weird for your liking from time to time as well. Like the first time he got to meet your home.

I keep losing my temper for you.

That day had been raining dogs and cats, so your company gave you house work. As soon as you agreed via chat that you wouldn't meet today but the next day because of the thunderstorm, he somehow managed to convince you he's been out for a while and was close your house's direction that you mentioned way too long ago for you to remember.

You opened the door and yes, he was in fact damp but smiling cheekily to you. "Sorry to interrupt!" He apologized as you led him in your living room, weirded out to why would he be outside without an umbrella if he knows how common it is in your city to rain.

"I'll go look for a towel, wait here please," your phrame disappeared as you went for it in the bathroom, oblivious to his wandering enamored eyes scanning your house.

I love it how you think I'm always this cool.

He'd usually meet you with a present—be it a letter, a plushie, or his most favorite, a dessert. You've talked to him about how it is not necessary for him to do it, but he's persistent.

His smile vanishing any doubt you might get about him and his strange attitude towards you or how it'd change when he saw you with anyone else.

Everything was going perfectly in your life. You had friends, you'd get to visit your family often with your work's payment, you were happy. At ease.

Welcome to the other side.

At least a bit happier when he was not with you—which was definitely unusual.

It's been a year and half of getting to know him, he's been getting more and more clingy towards you and you are getting more and more uncomfortable about it.

Stop please.

You feel guilty for feeling this way, he's been nothing but sweet and caring everytime—excepting your first meeting of course—but why couldn't you feel yourself reciprocating your feelings? You've talked with friends and they've told you that he's definitely in love with you, crazily so.

I need a hostage free.

But you couldn't bring yourself to feel the same way for him. You were beginning to feel sick of all his attention, you felt trapped since lately he's been imposing weird rules to your daily routines;

I need a rocket ship.

He'd get to tell you good morning first since he'd wake up really early to come pick you from your home to your work, you'll see him on your lunch break, he'll get you back home safe and sound and last but not least, he'll pick which friends you'll get to hang out with.

I need to run from-

"Oh, and don't forget about the 'reporting myself' thing," you spoke, your tone raising but you couldn't control it as you recounted the things that had finally led you to this unfortunate moment.

You were telling him about your disagreements with his attitudes towards you.

His expression was one of confusion and as he spoke to reply to you, you noticed a shift from obliviousness to seriousness. He understood you, he understood everything you just told him in the privacy the walls of your home provided. He really did, he's eyes were proof enough, but his mouth told otherwise.

"What do you mean with 'why do I do it?' darling, I care for you!" He poorly justified, his gaze cold yet you could tell he was fighting something inside himself.

from you.

You decided to dismiss the topic for the day and kindly told him to leave since you were tired because of 'work'.

I'm just kinda lost.

The next day he got you to work as usual, what took you aback was his distant look, his hair was disheveled and clothes put messily. He was not smiling, he was present but absent at the same time.

You thought your words had really affected him, and tried to cheer him up a little when starting your usual morning conversation with him to begin the day.

However, even if you got him to giggle a little, it was certainly not the same amount you'd achieve any other normal day.

I fall from you.

"Can I have the moist lemon blueberry cake please?" the girl wrote down and looked to your right expecting your companion to order too.

"Uh-what, what do you want to order?" you asked him as you noticed the waitress puzzlement.

I've been looking down a lot.

"Just my usual beverage please." The girl barely heard it over his scarf, scurrying off to take more orders around the place.

You examined concerned towards him, he has barely spoken to you during this lunch break and it got more and more agonizing with each second.

I fall from you.

"Hey, I'm sorry for what I said yesterday, maybe I overreacted and believe me when I say I appreciate your favors, but I don't know, I got overwhelmed I think, I really appreciate you." You decided to explain a little further in hopes of getting your point of view across, as you overthought throughout your morning's shift you never thanked him for his attentions.

I'm fallin way too soft.

His eyes finally connected with yours after yesterday's events. They seemed to have gotten a little crystalline. Your words sinking deeply in his mind and heart.

Now tell me when to stop.

He took your hand in his and started running towards the exit, never letting yours go. You were astonished by his reaction, even more by his grip strength.

As he kept running, you asked what was he doing and where were you going, confusion and a bad feeling building up in your stomach, he never replied your questions.

He took you in his house, barely being able to catch his breath and close the door, lock in, as he embraced you and pressed his lips on yours hungrily.

Stop please.

You couldn't even bring yourself to react properly. He surely took your breath away but not in the way you would have ever liked to have.

I need a hostage free.

He separated from you, his expression mirroring yours, one of terror. He knew what he was doing, yet he didn't stop himself.

He really couldn't, and that's just exactly what he told you after apologizing desperately for his actions.

I need a rocket ship.

"How do you expect me to believe that?" you would have liked to ask, if it weren't for your kindness to think it sounded too harsh, or him speaking up first.

"I get you wouldn't trust me at all, but if I'm being honest, I..." he pauses, looking down in shame and fiddling with his hands, "I have been getting this strange urges when I'm with you."

I need to run from-

"It's like I want to have you all to myself but at the same time I know it's not fine! I try to reassure myself that everything will work out with you if I go slow, but I want nothing more than to hug you, hold your hand... kiss you."

from you.

Did he just admit he likes you? Loves you, even? Shedding tears he was confessing his love for you—his sick, twisted love for you.

"I-I'm sorry, I-I don't think I can reciprocate your feelings." However, you've found yourself bearing more with him than enjoying your time together as you used to do when you first met.

He looked at you, a blink, two blinks and you could see more tears threatening to fall with his next blink. Nevertheless, he sniffed and rubbed his eyes furiously, trying desesperately to erase his feelings forever.

I'm just kind of lost.

"I... it's-it's fine, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable just now, you-you can go now, hope we still can meet up again sometime..." he really was trying his best to not cry huh, he led you towards his door and opened it up for you, throwing one last broken smile.

I fall from you

It's been one month since you last heard about him, at his house, with that discussion and confession still sending you in spirals of thoughts all days.

I fall from you.

You've clearly hurted him, you opted to give him some space for the first week, by the second one you tried messaging him again, asking how he was or if he needed more time.

The third week, as you got no response, you decided to give it off too. Now starting again with Monday and nothing but 'delivered' in your chat has been hunting you, along that strange sense of something wrong coming closer each day since he ran out of that cafe with you.

I fall from you.

He did not want to do it, he couldn't help himself, he really didn't mean to. Didn't mean to interrupt your pacific life just as much as he didn't think that simple interaction at the cafe's bar would affect him that much. But it did.

I'm fallin way too soft.

He could not win his inner battle with the demon he never knew was living inside him until now—he spent hours begging to himself in the mirror to do not make something stupid, something as horrid as what he was thinking to do. He really did it, but as he continued to stare at his reflection he gave up to the monster's desires.

He had kidnapped you. He had you now on his house, at what cost? He could see your tear-stained cheeks, puffy eyes and red wrists due to his manhandlement, he regreted it, but there was no way back. He did it and just as that last string of hope got thin until it broke, his brute self came out to play.

So now you've blown all your covers.

I got this blue to make you come up.

So when you think it's almost over.

I got this blue to make you come up.

𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚕 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑;

BNHA ๋ ࣭ ⭑ Izuku Midoriya, Kirishima Eijiro, Tenya Iida, Tamaki Amajiki, Mirio Togata HQ! ๋ ࣭ ⭑ Hinata Shouyo, Asahi Asumane, Ittetsu Takeda Gakuen Babysitters ๋ ࣭ ⭑ Ryuuchi Kashima Obey me! ๋ ࣭ ⭑ Mammon, Leviathan, Beelzebub, Diavolo, Simeon

˚ ༘ ೀ ⋆ ｡ ˚ ˚ ༘ ೀ ⋆ ｡ ˚ +1 blueberry package

All writings rights reserved © 2024 Mitsua's Coffee Shop. (Credit to the respective owners of the pictures, song and tagged anime characters.)

[theresattrpgforthat]

games to play with my long distance partner? we’re queer nerds, i have a lot of dnd experience and some not dnd experience, they have a little bit of dnd experience, we both have fucked up schedules so something that’s asynchronous or short would be best. uh. there’s two of us. yeah i think that’s everything.

THEME: Long-Distance Games.

Hello friend, I am excited to introduce to you the joys of epistolary games!

From the Petals to the Leaves, by somewhere with stories.

This is a two player game about writing to a loved one while you are apart.  Throughout the game you will write to each other while in different gardens, surrounded by plants and flowers of your choice. 

This looks to be a pretty small game, but I think it fits the mood of writing to a loved one, with a concrete topic to base your conversations around - the plants in your gardens. I don’t own this game but I own a similar one by the same creator, so I’m assuming that the game provides you with a prompt list for each letter you send each-other. You can create your characters slowly as you write, uncovering bits and pieces about each-other through your fictional personas. If you just want something a little extra to flavour your letters to each-other, this might be worth looking at.

Soulum Scriptum, by Radmad.

Featuring the art of Marisa Bruno, Soulum Scriptum is a letter writing game for two or more players. You are isolated and alone, until a mysterious courier arrives at your door. They give you a proposition: write letters for someone just like you and they will bring you letters in return.

Develop the broken world and the haven that protects you, all while fighting despair and taking what hope you can find in your new connection across time and space. 

This is a game of connection, between two isolated individuals who are struggling with despair. There are pages for various steps of the game, from world and character creation, to how to manage your feelings after your first letter. There’s also instructions for what to do when you fill certain tracks, including the track for your Haven (your home) and your Hopes (lines and pieces of the letters you receive that give you hope). If you like emotional games that have great potential to tell a story that grows brighter as you play, I recommend Soulum Scriptum.

Talking Thunder, by Eleanor Hingley.

‘Talking Thunder’ is a two-player correspondence RPG about finding connection in a dystopian world. 

As the world changes, you never know what news each letter from your only friend will bring…

If you even hear from them again.

Another game about connection, this time in a post-apocalypse of some kind. I’m curious about how the letters are meant to reach each-other in the fiction of this game, although I suspect that ultimately that is up to the two of you!

We Are Ciphers, by Jgurantz.

We Are Ciphers is a 2-player letter-writing game where you craft a story using coded messages sent through the mail.  You and your partner both covet the Prize, which you believe will transform your lives for the better. But acquiring it is an extremely tricky operation. Many things stand in your way, including the Target. 

This is a letter-writing game with an added layer of complexity, because both of you could be writing in code! The code part is optional, but the premise of the game is that you are two spies trying to get your hands on the Prize - whatever you two decide that may be. The game comes with a list of popular media for inspiration, as well as a series of checkboxes for you to tick off to help you create a game that would be fun for the two of you. There’s also a number of worksheets to help you build your world, craft your codes, and create your characters. If you would like a fair amount of guidance as to how to play the game, We Are Ciphers might be up your alley.

The Wanderers, by AdventureByMail.

You and your friend wait to board two ARK-4 Civilian Class Shuttles charted for new colonies in the hinterlands of space. Though you will be several light-years apart, you promise to keep in touch through the interstellar communication network known as the Unified Starways Parley System. You'll use this network to tell each other about the life you build and the love you discover in the far reaches of space…

This creator makes a number of games designed for long-distance play, so if you like The Wanderers, you might want to check out some of their other work as well! The game itself is small enough to fit on a brochure, so it should be easy to print out and keep somewhere for easy reference. There are roll tables to help you create a character, and some advice on how to write your first letter. Following letters will be provided prompts based on a deck of playing cards, with special rules for drawing Aces. If you like using a bit of randomization to help drive a story, this game might be for you!

Games I've Recommended in the Past

I've played The Reaper's Almanac with a friend before and I really really love the premise of it. It has a chance to dive into some pretty traumatic material, however, as it is about death, so make sure to talk about your partner about the things you'd like to steer clear of if you play this game.

[soli-nepenthe]

A Hallowed Secret

A Wander in Wonder/Alternate

genre: romance/fluff

characters: Sylus & fem!MC

warnings: fluff/terms of endearment/hint of central asian steppe

word count: ~ 1800

When the warriors from the Kael tribe returned, they were dyed with the rich vermillion hues of the setting sun at their backs, looking like heroes blessed by the sun god Yaşk. They descended the last of the dusky green hills with rousing hollers as their sturdy steppe horses swiftly carried them towards camp.

Because the tribe had settled on the outskirts of the khanate capital, Tala, it was a relatively easy distance for a horse to cover. Many other grassland tribes did the same, for no matter how grand the walled city might be, it could hardly contain the multitudes that came to partake of the celebrations. It was a matter of tradition that participants would enjoy a respite at their leisure on the eve before a tournament. 

From your higher vantage point near a small grove of trees, your narrowed eyes searched among the stream of stout men for a familiar shock of silver hair. Your fingers forgot about the basket at your feet, absently fretting with one of the braids that Sylus had re-plaited for you that morning.

Oh! He’s back!

You felt your heart soar with relief upon spotting him. He rode nearer to the front, accompanied by the formidable warrior he had bested the day before in the races, a man named Tumur.

Tarna, who had observed your ever-changing reactions with quiet amusement, set down her basket of leaves, twigs, and berries for wreath-making, and nudged at your shoulder playfully.

“Ah, so, I wasn’t mistaken then. Your eyes show favor to Sylus.”

You turned to face her, trying to feign nonchalance.

“Well, it’s just that he was gone for a long while. He’s the kind to attract trouble wherever he goes.”

“Oh? Is he a troublesome one?”

Tarna kindly handed you your basket, already taking her first steps to head down to the celebrations that had begun in earnest. The gentle breeze already brought with it the tempting smell of roasted meats and fried bread and the aroma of sweet fruits from the yurts below. Even the gentle hum of voices, bells, and drums were setting the promise for a jubilant evening.

“Come on, then! You don’t want to fight off other girls who may want to throw their yoke over him.”

A bitterness settled in your gut at that friendly reminder, not that you didn’t appreciate her good intentions. Your hand reached for the embroidered pouch that you managed to finish in time. You studied the silky black threads with an unforgiving eye. The crow truly looked clumsy and amateurish.

Was there a point in offering this token to him? And would he accept it?

To these young women, it didn’t matter if Sylus was an exotic outsider. They surely appreciated his athleticism, horsemanship, and general boldness of spirit that were the makings of a warrior par excellence here. And even if this place was an illusion, everything about the people and their customs, to how they lived and loved, felt all too real. 

Thrusting the pouch back under your thick belt, you hastened your stride to match Tarna’s.

“Let’s go! I’m also kind of…. hungry.”

Tarna laughed.

“All is well. Let us get our fill tonight!”

The moon goddess’ hand mirror shone brightly like a lamp, casting the valley in a romantic silver glow by the time Sylus had come to seek you out. He had a rather unusual talent for singling you out of a crowd of thousands, whether it was in the dizzying tumult of a metropolitan plaza or in this pastoral tableau of people making merry.

“You’ve been hiding from me, my shepherdess.”

His towering shadow fell over you like a smoky veil.

After you had supped with Tarna and her friends, you did not have the heart to throw yourself into the festivities, given that your fate would be decided forever tomorrow. There were too many variables. Not quite understanding the reason behind your suddenly low spirits, Tarna did not push the matter further and left you to your solitude as you wished.

“Have I?” You finally raised your eyes to meet his keen-sighted ruby ones. 

Like the night before, he had tarried with the elders and men of the tribe, but this time he eschewed his role as poet-musician. He came to you with neither wine nor music to dull your anxious mind. You wished he had.

“Oh, yes, I believe so. You and Tarna appear to be as thick as thieves now. In passing, she admitted to me that she finds you pleasant company but… a strange one.”

You perked up in your seat. “Me? How so?”

“She says she knows of no other girl who, and I quote: ‘Makes love with fiery eyes to her beloved and runs away like a timid lamb the next’. Were you too shy to welcome me back?”

You could feel your face flush with embarrassment at her direct phrasing. 

“H-Hardly. Also, my eyes were not “making love” with your face. Or any other part of your body for that matter, just to be clear.”

“Of course not.” 

The familiar vexing smugness in his expression returned, a sight that would’ve had you seething any other day. But tonight, under the mystic light of the moon, you found that your heart was undergoing a different kind of turmoil. 

You had half a mind to flee to the sanctuary of your yurt.

Before you could implement such a hasty plan, a raucous and upbeat melody soon replaced the sentimental strains of the morin khuur. Young and old alike began to dance in a wide circle now, clapping and cheering, their faces tinged with the amber glow of the bonfire. 

It was clear how abundantly happy they were.

“Dance with me.”

The deep and pure tones of his voice were like a lifeline that tugged you back. 

He leaned forward as he offered you his hand. 

“I have two left feet! Besides, I wouldn’t want to cause offence by attempting a traditional grassland dance.”

“It doesn’t matter. No one will be watching us, I promise you that.”

You stared openly at each other for a long while, the rest of the world falling away as your gazes tangled together. It was a peculiar habit of late. Was it the effect of the thrumming music or was it the depths of his wine red eyes that made you feel almost drunk?

Taking his chance, he seized your hand that was absently adrift in the air, pulling you to your feet in one deft movement until you were chest to chest, snug in his hold. 

He pressed a reverential kiss against it.  

“Come with me, Şavanika.”

If you were guilty of only one thing tonight, it was for not always matching the beat. And yet, there were no tongues wagging in censure as you danced together in wanton revelry. Under his guiding touch, every hard line and edge of your body was smoothed away to airy lightness. The pair of you continued to laugh and smile, no matter how many occasions you stumbled into the safety of his burly arms. He caught you, unfailingly, every single time.

Slightly winded, with his chest heaving in a similar manner to yours, he looked upon you as if you were his whole world. Intrepid fingers pushed away unruly tendrils that had fallen over your eyes. 

“There’s…there’s something I want to show you.”

You took several breaths, trying to steady your own galloping heartbeat. 

“Lead the way.”

Even as he bore you away to a special place, you felt as though you could still hear the plucked strings of a zither, a divine and otherworldly tune, haunting your path. You gripped his waist tighter as his horse flew over wide blue plains and past silvery rills of water, looking like the fallen diadem of some earth goddess. But nothing was ever so magical as the sight of a cascade of water that sprang from seemingly barren heights into the gleaming opal-like waters of a lake strewn with stars.

It was a place of perfect untouched beauty.

“Tell me, beloved, is this humble gift to your liking?”

He helped you dismount with ease, one hand tethered loosely about your waist as he waited for you to speak. Venturing forward carefully, you drank in the sublimity of the scene, your eyes sparkling with a newly kindled light.

“It's…beautiful.”

It was impossible to remain profoundly unaffected by the splendour he lay at your feet.

“This place…is sacred and holy to all the tribes. And so, I vow to you, we will return home, whatever it takes. The beauty of this transient dream will always be with us, just as my feelings for you will never waver.” 

He paused to catch a lone tear that strayed down the curve of your cheek.

“Trust in me. In us.”

He stepped closer to you, reaching for your trembling hands. He was so warm.

In this numinous place, you felt as though each and every one of your senses had been ignited to a degree of poignant clarity. The man pouring his heart before you now was neither the enigmatic, devilish Onychinus head nor a brother warrior of the Kael tribe. He was just Sylus. And you were not merely an elite Hunter with a terrible weight on your shoulders. There was nothing here for you to prove. There was nothing here to fight.

You loved him. 

It was that simple. 

You were a woman in love.

Even if you couldn’t put a voice to those feelings just yet.

With countless emotions bearing down on you all at once, you edged closer, bracing yourself against the grounding solidity of his body. As the stars wheeled high above your heads, you held each other, locked in tender silence. After a moment, he bent forward, touching his forehead to yours. You could tell he was holding back, his eyes elated by the love he could see in your dazzling eyes. But for you, this tantalizing distance was no longer enough. Like the brushing of petals, you claimed his lips for the first time in delicate dreamy yearning.

“I trust you. Wholeheartedly.”

He breathed in your hushed words with a gasp of emotion, letting your lips linger softly against his, smiling, before you braved to close the space once more. As the kiss deepened, he held you achingly close, sweeping you into his arms in the way you had always wanted to be held by him — like a true lover. 

Whether this secret vow was blessed by the gods or not, you did not know. You believed in him and you had each other, and that was enough, whatever Fate willed.

On this star-studded night, standing together amidst this pristine wilderness, tomorrow felt too far away.

END.

Final Notes:

Thank you so very much for reading! This is my first foray into LADS fanfic territory, especially here on tumblr. I hope I was able to stay true to the feel of the characters as shown in the Grasslands Romance story, in view of their developing relationship. For me, I think we get a taste of who Sylus really is underneath the intimidating and luxe outer shell. He brought a lot of reassurance to an understandably worried but tries to play it off like nothing MC. I think Grasslands will go down as one of my favourite Sylus cards next to Nightplumes.

Please feel free to like and reblog or comment! But please do not copy/steal/feed this written work into AI.

Further notes:

The god Yask was inspired by a sun god in Turkic myth called Koyash. Although the original story had a more Mongolian feel, I thought it would be nice to kind of expand it to more of a Central Asian Steppe influence (so, I hope no one minds too much ^^;)

I was also partly inspired by John Keats's from Endymion introduction.

Anyway, adieu, gentle readers!

And special thanks to @strangergraphics for their beautiful dividers.