#but having a small fire within your heart keeping you warm

[novaursa]

The Silent Pyre

- Summary: It was a rainy night when Blood and Cheese came to deliver you your half-sister’s message; a son for a son.

- Paring: reader (twin!wife)/Aegon II

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N. Aegon and the reader have four children, the oldest son named Aeron, a daughter, Daena, and twin boys, Vaelon and Baelon. These events happen after Twin Fires and before The Fire That Binds Us. For full chronological order of these works visit my blog. The list is pinned on the top. Or, you can read it as a one-shot. Anonymous user inquired about these events, and I've decided to post it and share it with you all, it has been stashed away for too long in my file graveyard.

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (no adult content, but there are graphic descriptions of violence, blood and gore)

- Word count: 5 133

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The night is heavy with the scent of rain, the coolness of autumn seeping into the stones of the Red Keep. The fire in Helaena’s chamber casts long shadows across the walls, flickering as the wind howls faintly outside. You stand by the door, the weight of your crown pressing down upon you as you gaze at your younger sister. Her pale hair gleams like moonlight as she kneels by her children’s cradle, whispering a soft lullaby. Her voice is a quiet, fragile thing, a melody that seems almost too delicate for the world that surrounds you both.

“Helaena,” you murmur, stepping closer. She lifts her head, her violet eyes distant and unfocused, as though she is seeing something far beyond the chamber walls.

“Y/N,” she replies, a small, distracted smile gracing her lips. “Goodnight. May the Seven bless your dreams.”

“And yours, sister.” You reach out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sleep well.”

With one last glance at her serene face, you turn and leave the room, pulling the door shut softly behind you. The corridor outside is eerily silent, the usual clamor of the servants and guards muted, as if the Keep itself holds its breath.

As you walk through the darkened halls, a sense of unease begins to coil in your chest. The silence feels unnatural, like the calm before a storm. The rain patters against the windows, a steady rhythm that should be soothing, but instead heightens your anxiety. You pull your cloak tighter around yourself, the chill of the stone floors seeping through your slippers.

Your thoughts drift to Aegon, waiting for you in your shared bedchamber. You picture him sprawled across the large bed, his platinum blond hair tousled, perhaps with a goblet of wine in hand. There is comfort in the thought of him, of the warmth of his body against yours, but it does little to dispel the growing dread that gnaws at your insides.

As you approach the nursery, the unease sharpens into fear. You pause, your hand hovering over the door. The sound of something crashing softly from within reaches your ears—a faint, almost imperceptible noise, but enough to send your heart racing. The shadows behind the door shift, moving in ways that shadows should not.

You swallow, forcing down the rising panic. Your children are in there, your precious sons and daughter. Steeling yourself, you push the door open slowly, trying to remain as silent as possible.

The scene before you is one pulled from the darkest of nightmares. The warm, cozy nursery is cast in a pall of terror. Your eyes first find your mother, Dowager Queen Alicent, bound and gagged on the floor, her eyes wide with a terror that you have never seen before. She struggles against her bindings, her muffled cries like the wail of a ghost in the suffocating silence.

But it is the two men in the center of the room who capture your attention—the one holding your eldest son, Aeron, in his arms, a cruel knife pressed to his throat, while the other stands nearby, his presence looming and sinister. Your son is awake, tears streaking down his face, his small body trembling in fear.

“Do not scream,” the man holding your son whispers, his voice low and threatening. “Or the boy dies.”

Your breath catches in your throat, a wave of nausea rising within you as the reality of the situation crashes down. You force yourself to remain calm, to not give in to the terror clawing at your heart.

“What do you want?” you manage to say, your voice shaking despite your best efforts to keep it steady.

“Vengeance,” the other man—Cheese, they will call him, from his size and the rat-like cunning in his eyes—replies coldly. “For son's blood has been spilled. Now, it is your blood that must pay.”

You take a step forward, and the knife digs deeper into Aeron’s tender skin, a small whimper escaping his lips. Your entire body tenses, every instinct screaming at you to protect your child, but you are powerless, bound by the threat that hangs over him like a blade.

“Let my son go,” you plead, your voice cracking. “Please. He is but a child.”

Cheese’s grin is twisted, devoid of mercy. “A choice, Your Grace. You must choose one of your sons. Two to live, and one to die.”

The words hit you like a blow, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your knees threaten to buckle beneath you, the world spinning as the horror of what they ask becomes clear. They want you to condemn one of your children to death. To choose between your sons.

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head. “I cannot.”

“You must,” the man holding Aeron insists, his voice a menacing growl. “Or we kill them all three.”

You look between your sons, your heart shattering into pieces. Aeron, your eldest, so brave despite his fear, his wide eyes pleading silently for you to save him. And twin boys, Vaelon and Baelon, still asleep in their cribs, blissfully unaware of the nightmare unfolding around them.

Tears blur your vision, the anguish of the choice tearing at your soul. You cannot do this. You cannot be the one to decide who lives and who dies. But their lives, three of them, hang in the balance, and the choice is yours to make.

“Please,” you beg once more, though you know it is futile. “Do not make me choose.”

Cheese steps closer, his breath foul as he leans in. “Choose, Queen Y/N. Or your precious children will all die, and it will be on your head.”

The weight of your crown feels like a curse as you stand there, trembling, the choice before you too terrible to comprehend. Your hands are shaking, your heart breaking, as the words begin to form on your lips, but they can't leave them.

The world narrows to the unbearable choice before you, every second stretching into an eternity. You stand frozen, the screams of your heart drowned out by the silence that has gripped your throat. Aeron, your firstborn, stares at you with wide, tear-filled eyes, pleading for a salvation you know you cannot grant him. And there, in their cribs, laid Vaelon and Baelon, so small, so unaware, their chest rising and falling peacefully with each breath.

It is the smaller and younger twin’s innocence, his lack of awareness, that seals your fate. If he must die, let it be without knowing fear. Let him slip from this world in the safety of his dreams.

Your decision comes not from cruelty, but from a twisted, desperate kind of mercy.

“Vaelon,” you whisper, your voice a broken thing. “Take him.”

The words taste like ash on your tongue, a confession of the darkest sin. The man holding Aeron grins, his eyes alight with a sadistic satisfaction. But even as the choice leaves your lips, a cold realization claws at the back of your mind—this was never meant to end well. They were never going to let Aeron live.

You see it happen almost in slow motion, the knife glinting in the dim light as it draws across your eldest son’s throat. The sound that escapes him is a choked gasp, eyes widening in pain and betrayal as the blood wells and spills down his neck.

“No!” The word tears from your throat as you lunge forward, but it is too late. The man has already sliced deeper, crimson blooming like a terrible flower. Yet, Aeron is not yet gone. The blade catches as the man’s hand slips, and in that moment of weakness, Alicent—your mother—finds her strength.

With a fury you have never seen, she throws herself against the man holding Aeron, her bound body knocking him off balance. He stumbles, the knife digging deeper but freeing your son from his grasp. Aeron falls to the floor, clutching at his bleeding throat, his small hands stained red.

A scream of pure, primal rage rips from your chest as you hurl yourself at the man, the world around you narrowing to a singular purpose: kill him. You grab for the knife, your hands slick with Aeron’s blood, and wrest it from his grasp. The man struggles against you, but your desperation lends you strength. With a wild, desperate thrust, you drive the blade into his side, feeling the give of flesh and bone as it sinks in.

He gasps, a wet, gurgling sound, eyes wide in shock as he stumbles backward, clutching at the wound. You pull the knife free and stab again, and again, each strike fueled by the agony that has consumed you. Blood splatters across your face, warm and sickening, but you do not stop until he falls, lifeless, to the floor.

In the chaos, you do not notice Cheese until it is too late. He has turned his attention to one of the twins, to Vaelon, your youngest, the one you had chosen to condemn. As your daughter, Daena, screams—a piercing, heart-rending sound that echoes through the nursery—Cheese moves swiftly, seizing the smaller boy from his crib.

“No! Please!” you cry out, scrambling to your feet, but your voice is drowned by the sheer panic that has overtaken you. You are too far, too slow. Vaelon’s eyes flutter open, confusion and fear flickering across his tiny face as the knife flashes once more.

And then it is done. The light fades from Vaelon’s eyes as his small body crumples to the floor, lifeless. 

A silence falls over the room, broken only by the sound of your daughter’s sobs, Baelon’s baby gurglings and the ragged breaths of Alicent, who is desperately pressing her hands against Aeron’s wound, trying to stem the flow of blood.

“Aeron!” You rush to him, dropping to your knees beside him. His eyes are glazed with pain, his breathing shallow and labored. The wound is deep, but he is alive, clinging to life by the barest thread.

Cheese is panicking now, his eyes darting around the room as if realizing for the first time the gravity of what they have done. The plan, whatever it was, has gone horribly wrong. He looks at the bodies—the man you killed, Vaelon’s small, lifeless form—and he falters, unsure of his next move.

“You will die for this,” you hiss, every word trembling with a deadly promise. “You will not leave this room alive.”

Cheese takes a step back, fear flashing in his eyes, but before he can act, you move. Fueled by a mother’s wrath and the madness of grief, you surge forward, the bloodied knife still clutched in your hand. He tries to fend you off, but he is no match for the fury that drives you. With a wild, savage strike, you plunge the knife into his chest.

He gasps, a final breath escaping his lips as his eyes go wide, then glassy. He collapses to the floor, joining his fallen companion in death.

You stand there, panting, covered in the blood of your children’s murderers, and of your children themselves. Your hands shake as you drop the knife, the sound of it clattering to the floor barely registering in your mind.

“Y/N,” Alicent calls out, her voice trembling. “Aeron needs you.”

You blink, the fog of rage lifting just enough for you to focus on your son. You drop to your knees beside him, your hands finding his, trying to staunch the flow of blood with trembling fingers.

“Stay with me, my love,” you whisper, tears streaming down your face. “Stay with me. Please.”

Alicent is beside you, pressing her hands down on the wound with all her might. “He’s strong,” she says, though her voice wavers. “He will survive this.”

You nod, though your heart is breaking. You dare not look at Vaelon’s still form, his twin, Baelon, now wide awake in his crib, or at your daughter, Daena, who is now curled into a ball in the corner, sobbing for her brothers. You can only focus on Aeron, on keeping him alive, as the horror of what has happened sinks into your soul.

The night is no longer just cold and rainy; it has become a night of death and despair, one that will haunt you until your last breath. But you will not let it claim Aeron. Not him, too.

And as the dawn begins to break, casting pale light over the carnage, you hold your son close, praying to the Seven to spare him. To spare at least one of your children, as the taste of your own choice, the bitterness of it, poisons your every breath.

Aegon sits in the dim light of your shared bedchamber, his goblet of wine resting lazily in his hand. The fire crackles in the hearth, casting dancing shadows on the walls, but the warmth it offers does little to chase away the chill of the autumn night. He sighs, his thoughts drifting to you, knowing that you will join him soon. The bond you share, forged not only by blood but by a deep, consuming love, is one that neither of you can escape, nor would you wish to. Sleep eludes him without you by his side, as it always has since you were children. 

He takes another sip of the wine, waiting for the familiar sound of your footsteps approaching. The thought of the night ahead, of holding you close, offers a comfort that softens the weariness in his bones.

But then, a scream pierces the stillness of the night—a scream that he recognizes instantly as belonging to your daughter. It is followed by your voice, raw with anguish, echoing down the corridors.

The goblet slips from his hand, clattering to the floor as he leaps to his feet. The wine spills across the stone, forgotten as dread seizes him. He knows something is terribly wrong. Without a moment’s hesitation, he rushes to the door, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Your Grace!” one of the Kingsguard calls as they fall into step behind him, but Aegon doesn’t respond. The only thought in his mind is to reach you, to reach his children.

He tears down the hall, his bare feet slapping against the cold stone, until he reaches the nursery. The door is ajar, shadows flickering ominously in the light from the hallway. The scent of copper fills his nostrils before he even crosses the threshold, a scent that chills him to the core.

He bursts into the room, but in his haste, he doesn’t notice the slickness beneath his feet until it’s too late. His foot slips on the blood that pools on the floor, and he stumbles, barely catching himself on the doorframe before he can fall.

For a moment, everything seems to slow. He looks down at the blood smeared across the floor, the vivid red of it stark against the stone. And then he sees the scene before him, a tableau of horror that makes his breath catch in his throat.

Two men lie dead on the floor, their bodies twisted in death, blood oozing from fatal wounds. But it is not them that hold his attention; it is the small, lifeless form of Vaelon, his infant son, lying not far from them, his throat cruelly slit. Aegon’s heart seizes, his vision blurring with tears that he fights to hold back.

“No… no, no…” The words are barely a whisper as he staggers forward, his mind unable to fully comprehend the sight before him.

But there is more—your mother, Alicent, is on the floor, her hands pressed desperately against Aeron’s throat, trying to stem the flow of blood. And there you are, kneeling beside your eldest son, your hands covered in blood, your face a mask of desperation and despair as you try to keep him alive.

“Y/N!” Aegon chokes out your name as he rushes to you, his voice filled with fear and anguish. “What… what happened?”

You look up at him, your eyes red and swollen from crying, and the sight of you breaks something deep within him. “Aegon… they… they killed Vaelon,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “They tried to kill Aeron… we… I couldn’t stop them…”

Aegon falls to his knees beside you, his hands hovering uselessly over Aeron, unsure of what to do. He can see the life fading from his eldest son’s eyes, the pale skin, the way his breath comes in shallow, ragged gasps. Aegon feels a crushing sense of helplessness, something he has never experienced with such intensity before.

“Aeron, my boy… stay with us,” Aegon pleads, his voice thick with emotion as he brushes a trembling hand over Aeron’s hair. “Stay with us, please…”

Alicent looks up at her son, her own eyes filled with tears, though she fights to keep them at bay. “We need to stop the bleeding, Aegon. If we don’t… if we don’t…”

“I know,” Aegon says, though his voice is strangled. He tears a strip of cloth from his sleeve, pressing it to Aeron’s wound with a firm but gentle hand. “Stay with me, Aeron. You’re strong. You can fight this.”

But even as he says the words, he feels the cold dread settle in his chest, knowing that the wound is too deep, that his son’s life is slipping away with every passing moment. 

You lean into Aegon, your body shaking with sobs as you press your bloodstained hands over his, trying to help, trying to do something—anything—to save your child. But the blood keeps coming, seeping through your fingers, staining the floor beneath you.

“Please… please…” you whisper, over and over, your voice breaking with each word. “Don’t take him from us…”

Aegon pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around you even as he continues to press down on Aeron’s wound. He can feel your pain, your sorrow, as if it were his own, and in that moment, he knows that this night will haunt both of you for the rest of your lives.

The Kingsguard finally arrive, swords drawn, their faces pale as they take in the scene before them. But there is nothing they can do; the threat is already gone, the deed already done. All they can do is stand there, silent and grim, as the horror of what has happened sinks in.

“Get a maester!” Aegon commands, his voice rising with desperate urgency. “Now!”

One of the guards rushes off without a word, the others standing watch as if expecting another attack, though it is clear that the danger has passed. Aegon looks down at Aeron, his heart breaking as he watches the light in his son’s eyes flicker and fade.

“Stay with us, Aeron,” he whispers again, but the words sound hollow, empty, even to his own ears.

Alicent, her hands still pressed against the wound, glances at you, her eyes filled with a sorrow so deep it seems to swallow the room whole. “Y/N,” she says softly, her voice thick with grief, “he’s… he’s still fighting. But we need to prepare ourselves… we need to…”

“No!” You cry out, shaking your head violently. “No, he’s going to survive. He has to. He’s strong. Please, Aegon, tell her… tell her he’s going to survive.”

Aegon swallows hard, trying to keep the tears at bay as he looks at you, seeing the hope in your eyes, fragile and desperate. “He’s strong,” he agrees, his voice trembling. “He’s a dragon. He’ll survive this.”

But even as he says the words, he knows that they are more for your sake than for his own. He knows the truth, as much as he hates it, as much as it tears at his very soul.

And then, as if in response to your pleas, Aeron’s breathing hitches, a faint, ragged sound that sends a jolt of hope through your heart. But Aegon sees the truth in the way his son’s eyes begin to flutter shut, the way his small body goes limp beneath your hands.

“No, no, stay with us, please…” you sob, your voice breaking completely as you try to shake him awake, as if you can keep him from slipping away just by sheer will alone.

Aegon pulls you closer, holding you tightly against him, his own tears falling freely now. “Y/N… he’s…”

But before he can finish, the maester arrives, pushing his way into the room with a satchel of supplies. He takes one look at Aeron and immediately sets to work, but Aegon can see it in his eyes—the resignation, the grim acceptance of what is to come.

Aegon watches as the maester tries to stem the bleeding, his hands moving quickly, efficiently, but it is clear that he is fighting a losing battle. You cling to Aegon, your tears soaking into his tunic as you watch, your breath catching in your throat every time Aeron’s breathing falters.

Minutes pass, each one stretching into an eternity, until finally, Orwyle pulls back, his face pale and drawn. He looks up at Aegon, then at you, and shakes his head, his expression filled with sorrow.

“I’m sorry, Your Grace,” he says quietly. “There’s… there’s nothing more I can do.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, and you cry out, your hands trembling as you reach for Aeron, as if you can somehow pull him back from the brink.

“No… no, please, no…” you whisper, your voice barely audible as you cradle your son’s head in your lap, your fingers brushing through his hair.

Aegon feels his heart shatter completely as he watches you, as he sees the light finally fade from Aeron’s eyes, his small body going still in your arms. He can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but hold you as you break down completely.

The days following the brutal attack on your family pass in a haze of grief and despair. The Red Keep is draped in a suffocating silence, its once lively halls now cold and empty, as though the life has been drained from its very walls. The horror of that night lingers in every corner, every shadow, a constant reminder of the blood that was spilled and the lives that were lost.

Your remaining children, Daena and Baelon, are kept under the strictest watch by the Kingsguard. No less than two knights are stationed outside their chambers at all times, and they are never left alone, not even for a moment. The memory of what happened to their brothers hangs over the nursery like a dark cloud, and every sound, every creak of the floorboards, sends a fresh wave of terror through the household.

But it is you, their mother, who is most affected. The grief has hollowed you out, leaving you a mere shadow of the woman you once were. You spend your days in a state of numbness, your heart shattered beyond repair. Nothing and no one can console you, not even Aegon, who tries desperately to reach you, to bring you back from the edge of the abyss into which you have fallen. But his attempts are in vain. You are inconsolable, broken beyond words.

Aegon himself is a man consumed by fury. The fire of his rage burns hotter with each passing day, fueled by the sheer injustice of what has happened. He holds a small council meeting in the dead of night, summoning only those he trusts—or at least, those whose loyalties he can control.

In the dimly lit council chamber, Aegon sits at the head of the table, his hands gripping the arms of his chair so tightly that his knuckles are white. His eyes are bloodshot, his face drawn and pale from lack of sleep. The tension in the room is palpable, every man present feeling the weight of the King’s anger pressing down on them like a physical force.

Around the table sit Otto Hightower, his face a mask of stern concern; Ser Criston Cole, his expression grim and unyielding; Lord Larys Strong, who watches the proceedings with his usual calculating gaze; Lord Jasper Wylde, the Master of Laws, his fingers tapping nervously on the table; Lord Tayland Lannister, the Master of Ships, who remains unusually quiet; and Grand Maester Orwyle, who sits with his hands folded, his eyes downcast.

Aegon’s voice breaks the silence, a low, seething growl that sends a shiver down the spine of everyone in the room. “How did this happen?” he demands, his eyes blazing with fury as he looks from one man to the next. “How did two men infiltrate the heart of the Red Keep, murder my sons, and nearly take the life of my other children without anyone knowing? Where were the guards? Where was the protection I was promised?”

Otto is the first to speak, his voice calm but firm. “Your Grace, we are all grieved by this tragedy, but rest assured, we are investigating every possible lead. The guards who were on duty that night have been questioned, and those found negligent will be dealt with severely.”

“Dealt with severely?” Aegon echoes, his voice rising with incredulity. “My sons are dead, and you speak of discipline as if that can undo what has been done! This was not just negligence—this was treason, betrayal of the highest order!”

Ser Criston Cole, ever the loyal sword, speaks next, his tone as hard as steel. “Your Grace, the Kingsguard were stationed as ordered, but the enemy was cunning. They knew exactly where to strike, and when. We are searching for any who might have aided them from within the Keep.”

Aegon glares at him, his anger still simmering. “You should have been there, Ser Criston. You should have been protecting my family, as you swore to do.”

Criston bows his head, accepting the rebuke without argument. “I failed you, my king, and I will bear that burden until the day I die.”

Larys Strong, who has remained silent until now, leans forward slightly, his voice smooth and unhurried as he speaks. “Your Grace, the men who did this were not acting alone. This attack was meticulously planned, designed to strike at the heart of your family and weaken your claim. There is but one who stands to gain the most from such an act of terror.”

Aegon’s eyes narrow as he fixes his gaze on Larys. “Speak plainly, Lord Strong. Who do you accuse?”

Larys meets Aegon’s gaze without flinching, his voice carrying a weight of certainty. “Rhaenyra Targaryen, and her husband, Daemon. They are the ones behind this atrocity. They seek to undermine your rule, to sow chaos and discord within the realm, so that Rhaenyra might usurp your throne.”

Aegon’s breath hitches at the mention of his half-sister’s name. His hatred for her is no secret, but to hear that she might be responsible for the deaths of his sons sends a fresh wave of fury coursing through him. “You have proof of this?” he demands, his voice shaking with barely contained rage.

Larys inclines his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. “The men who committed the murders—the butcher and the rat catcher—are known associates of Daemon Targaryen. They were hired by him to carry out this heinous act. The gold they were paid with was traced back to Rhaenyra’s supporters in King’s Landing. This was not just an act of violence—it was a message. Response to the death of Lucerys Velaryon by the hand of Prince Aemond.”

Aegon’s hands clench into fists, his nails digging into the wood of the table. “A message? They dare to send me a message by murdering my sons? Two innocent boys?”

“Yes,” Larys replies, his voice as cold as ice. “They wish to show that you are vulnerable, that your rule can be challenged. They wish to provoke you into rash action, to draw you into a conflict that will weaken your position.”

“Rash action?” Aegon scoffs, his anger flaring anew. “They think they can provoke me? They think I will sit idly by while they murder my children?”

“Your Grace,” Otto interjects, his voice measured. “We must be careful. If we move too quickly, without proof, we risk turning the realm against us. Rhaenyra still has many supporters. We must gather our strength, consolidate our power, and then strike when the time is right.”

But Aegon is beyond reason, his grief and rage too great to be tempered by caution. “I will not wait!” he snarls, slamming his fist on the table. “They have taken from me what I hold most dear, and I will make them pay for it, tenfold! If Rhaenyra wants war, then war she shall have!”

The council members exchange uneasy glances, each man aware of the storm that is about to be unleashed. Aegon’s wrath is a dangerous thing, and they know that nothing they say will dissuade him from the course he has set.

Grand Maester Orwyle finally speaks, his voice soft but insistent. “Your Grace, the lives of your remaining children—Princess Daena and Prince Baelon—must be your foremost concern. They are the future of your house, and they must be protected at all costs.”

Aegon’s expression softens slightly at the mention of his children, the thought of them momentarily piercing through the fog of his anger. He knows that Orwyle is right, that the safety of Daena and Baelon is paramount. But even this knowledge cannot quell the burning desire for vengeance that has taken root in his heart.

“I will protect them,” he says, his voice hardening once more. “But I will not allow this attack to go unanswered. Rhaenyra and Daemon will know the price of crossing me.”

Otto inclines his head, understanding that there is no turning back now. “Then we must prepare for war, Your Grace. We must rally our banners, secure our allies, and strike swiftly and decisively.”

Aegon nods, his jaw set with determination. “Do it. Call the banners, prepare the dragons. We will bring fire and blood to those who dare to defy us.”

The council members rise from their seats, each man knowing that the decisions made this night will plunge the realm into chaos. As they leave the chamber, Aegon remains behind, staring at the bloodstained map of Westeros spread out before him. His thoughts drift to you, to the shattered look in your eyes, to the bodies of his sons lying cold in their graves.

He swears to himself, to the gods, and to the memory of his murdered children that he will not rest until Rhaenyra and Daemon are brought to justice. No matter the cost, no matter the blood that must be spilled, he will have his revenge.

And so, the storm begins to gather, the winds of war stirring in the darkness of the Red Keep.

[moonxytcn]

Shadows of Dragonstone

| Rhaenyra Targaryen x fem!reader

summary – You have been Rhaenyra's servant since you were a child and you will always be there for her, no matter what

tags & warnings – rhaenyra x fem!servant!reader, angst, a little dark themes?, fluffy if you squint your eyes.

a/n – I'm just back in my era of love for her. My queen! 🤭

| English is not my first language so there may be some errors.

| Masterlist —✽— Pinned post

 ㅤㅤ✯ ━━━━━━ ✿ ✫ ✿ ━━━━━━ ✯

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The halls of Dragonstone are cold and silent, a far cry from the warmth and bustling life of King's Landing. Here, the stone walls seem to echo the turmoil in your heart, reflecting the stark isolation that Rhaenyra must feel. She has always been a flame in the darkness, a beacon of strength and defiance, but now, that flame flickers dangerously low.

You have been her personal servant since childhood, a constant presence by her side. The bond you share goes beyond duty; it is a secret love forged in the crucible of court intrigues and whispered promises. It began on that fateful night when Daemon took her to the house of pleasure, a night that changed everything between you. Now, with Harwin Strong's departure to Harrenhal, Rhaenyra's heart aches with a new kind of pain, one that you feel deeply within your own soul.

The morning is bleak as you approach her chambers, carrying a tray of breakfast. You hesitate at the door, listening for any sound from within. The silence is oppressive, broken only by the distant roar of the sea. Taking a deep breath, you knock gently before entering.

Rhaenyra sits by the window, her silhouette framed against the grey sky. Her eyes are distant, lost in thoughts you can only guess at. The fire in the hearth struggles to warm the room, much like your presence struggles to warm her heart these days.

"Good morning, Princess." You say softly, setting the tray on a small table. "I brought you breakfast."

She turns her gaze to you, and for a moment, the mask of the future queen slips, revealing the vulnerable woman beneath. "Thank you." She murmurs, but makes no move to eat.

You approach her cautiously, your heart aching at the sight of her so desolate. "Rhaenyra." You whisper, daring to reach out and touch her hand. "Please, you must take care of yourself."

She looks at you, and the pain in her eyes is almost unbearable. "I am tired." She admits, her voice barely audible. "So very tired of losing those I care about."

You kneel beside her, your fingers entwining with hers. "You are not alone." You say, your voice fierce with the depth of your feelings. "I am here. I will always be here."

Her grip tightens on your hand, and for a moment, it seems as if she might break down. But Rhaenyra Targaryen is nothing if not resilient. She takes a deep breath and straightens her shoulders, the mask slipping back into place. "We must be strong," she says, though you can hear the strain in her voice. "For the realm."

You nod, understanding the weight of her words. "For the realm." You echo, though in your heart, it is for her that you would do anything.

The days pass in a blur of duties and stolen moments. You do your best to be a comfort to her, to remind her of the warmth and love that still exists in the world, even in the shadow of Dragonstone. It is a delicate balance, keeping your relationship hidden from prying eyes while giving her the solace she so desperately needs.

One night, as you help her prepare for bed, she turns to you with a look of determination. "I need to feel alive again." She says, her voice trembling with emotion. "Will you help me?"

You nod, your heart pounding. "Always." You whisper.

She leads you to the bed, her hands shaking slightly as she begins to undress. You follow her lead, your own nerves taut with anticipation and fear. This is different from the secret moments you've shared before. There is a desperation in her touch, a need to forget the pain if only for a little while.

As you lie together in the dim light of the chamber, you hold her close, your bodies entwined. Her tears dampen your skin, and you kiss them away, each touch a silent promise of love and loyalty. In the darkness, the walls of Dragonstone seem to fade, leaving just the two of you in a world of your own making.

Afterward, you lie together, her head resting on your chest. The storm outside rages on, but here, in this moment, there is a fragile peace. "Thank you." She whispers, her voice breaking. "For being here. For loving me."

You kiss the top of her head, your own tears mingling with hers. "Always." You repeat, the word a vow.

But peace in Dragonstone is fleeting. The next day brings more bad news, more reasons for Rhaenyra to steel herself against the world. You stand by her side, offering what comfort you can, but the shadows are ever present, threatening to consume you both.

One evening, as you sit together in front of the hearth, she takes your hand in hers. "I fear I will lose you too." She admits, her voice barely above a whisper.

You squeeze her hand, your heart aching with the weight of her fears. "I am not going anywhere." You promise. "No matter what happens, I will be by your side."

She looks at you, her eyes filled with a mixture of hope and sorrow. "Promise me." She says, her voice trembling. "Promise me that you will stay."

"I promise." You say, the words a binding oath. "I will never leave you."

The days grow shorter, and the nights colder, as the weight of the realm's troubles presses down on you both. But through it all, you hold onto each other, finding strength in the love that binds you.

One night, as the storm outside rages, you wake to find Rhaenyra standing by the window, her silhouette a dark shadow against the flickering light of the fire. You rise and go to her, wrapping your arms around her waist. She leans into you, her body trembling with unspoken fears.

"We will get through this." You whisper, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. "Together."

She turns in your arms, her eyes searching yours. "I do not know what I would do without you." She admits, her voice breaking.

"You will never have to find out." You say, your voice firm with conviction. "I am yours, Rhaenyra. Now and always."

She kisses you then, a desperate, searching kiss that speaks of all the things words cannot express. You hold her close, pouring all your love and devotion into that kiss, hoping to banish the darkness that surrounds you both.

As the storm rages on, you make love again, finding solace in each other's arms. In the heat of your passion, the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you, bound together by love and necessity.

In the aftermath, as you lie together, spent and sated, she turns to you, her eyes soft with affection. "Thank you." She whispers, her voice thick with emotion. "For everything."

You smile, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Always." You say, the word a promise and a vow.

The storms of Dragonstone may rage on, and the shadows may threaten to consume you, but in each other, you find the strength to carry on. Together, you face the darkness, knowing that your love is a light that will never be extinguished.

And in the end, that is enough.

[wh0rrorb4by]

big brother - kuroo

tw: stepcest but take it however u want lol, naive reader, virginity loss, dubcon(?), umm i need big bro kuroo in my life

18+

ugh. thinking about kuroo as your older (step) bro and how annoying he’d be. constantly making fun of your height, eating the last of everything in the house (even when you wrote your name on it!), hogging the bathroom in the morning or waltzing in while you’re either in the shower or only half-dressed. he literally has no boundaries with you!

he reads your diary and holds it over your head when you demand he give it back, making you jump and paw at him for it. and if you don’t give him a kiss on the cheek he’ll read it. it’s so embarrassing! he doesn’t need to know about your fantasies, or how it makes you giddy when his friend bokuto playfully puts his arm around you and calls you affectionate nicknames — especially baby sis. God, kuroo never let you live that one down. you thought your face was going to catch on fire when he pinched your cheeks and asked if you got excited when he called you that, too. it was humiliating, and you swore he placed a ban on bokuto coming within 20 feet of you after that.

he’s such a clingy big brother, too. always hugging and grabbing at you, making you sit on his lap so he can squeeze you, holding you down and tickling you until you’re squirming and squealing — and he won’t stop that unless you give him a kiss on the lips. it’s so annoying. and he’s always coming into your room in the middle of the night to “check on you,” but really it’s just so he can crash in your bed and keep you close to him all night. he caught you by surprise the first time he did it, walking in to see you whining and humping your pillow like you were in heat. you’d never been so embarrassed in your entire life. you started crying, thinking he was going to tease you like he always does, but he only let out a breathy chuckle and told you it was okay, that it was normal. he even told you that it was hot, that guys love little virgins who get themselves off so cutely, and asked why you even bothered with a pillow when he was just across the hall.

that’s when you started to realize that even though he’s annoying, he really is a nice big brother. you couldn’t imagine any other brother letting his little sister tag along with him to everything, or letting you cry in his arms when you were all worked up and just couldn’t cum on your own. it broke his heart when you told him you think you’re just defective, that you’ll never be able to please a guy if you can’t even please yourself. you guessed he just felt bad for you when you cried, that he really had a soft spot for his little sister, because he offered to teach you how to touch yourself. you were grateful to have such a smart big brother, too, because after just looking at your hands he found that the problem was that your fingers are just too small! you need big, long fingers to really make you feel good. better yet, you need a long, thick cock to really give you a good orgasm — and who better to guide you through your first time than your big brother, who’d taken care of you your whole life? you were nervous to accept at first, but he eased your little mind by telling you that only bad brothers leave their baby sisters all needy and empty and insecure about still being a virgin, and besides, he’d take better care of you than anyone else could. and he was so right — you were shaking and whining and cumming all over your sheets by the time he bottomed out inside you and taught you the proper way to rub your little clit. kissing with tongue really helped you get more into it, too.

by the time he fucked you open enough to really start thrusting, you were all dizzy and dumb and wondering why you didn’t come to him earlier. and when he was whispering praise in your ear and sucking marks into your neck and filling you up with his warm cum, all you could think about was how grateful you were to have such a good big brother.

[pearl-nouveau]

A Woman's Purpose - Cregan Stark x Reader [chapter three]

summary: After a sudden betrothal, you consider what a future in Winterfell may look like.

warnings: smut, oral (fem receiving durr), referenced baela x jace, slight timeline alterations

a/n: i feel weird writing smut even though i am an adult and i was writing UNGODLY things as a sixteen-year-old virgin half a decade ago. lmk if you enjoy because i don't have anything else written so if i'm going to keep writing i want to know that it's going to be read!

Cregan wasted no time trying to get me accustomed to Winterfell. As we entered the gates, he led me through with a protective hand on my back, steering me towards the stables first. He introduced me to his horse, Stormfighter, and I smiled at his excitement over the creature. It reminded me of my feelings about Vermithor. 

"You shall have as many horses as you wish," he told me, "perhaps a cream-colored one would pair well with mine. But I suppose you already have a dragon."

"Yes, Vermithor is a good form of transportation. I find horses rather slow now."

He laughed. "I shall build a dragonpit for Vermithor, if you wish it."

I smiled gently. He was so eager to please me. "He is much too big, I'm afraid. He will have to find a nest outside like Aemond's dragon, Vhagar."

"Ah. Not as easy as having a small dragon like your brother's, but perhaps more impressive."

"Vermithor's wingspan creates shadows over entire towns." I knew I was boasting, but Cregan's eyes widened with approval nevertheless. 

"Impressive indeed."

He took me within the palace walls, through warm hallways and into a communal dining hall where Stark bannermen laughed together merrily. One of them noticed Cregan enter, and the group regarded him with respectful My Lord's. I observed a few kitchen girls gossiping by the fire, unafraid of their Lord's presence. It pleased me to think that my future husband was a welcome presence to the people who worked beneath him. The tranquility of the scene put my mind at ease.

"I know Winterfell is less grand than you are used to," he admitted wearily, "but I will do anything to ensure your comfort here."

"You are Warden of the North and take care of your people with ease and no complaint," I turned to him, "there is no greater comfort to me than a Lord husband with a gentle heart."

"Lord husband?"

Jacaerys' voice startles you. He has crept up behind the two of you, and you are suddenly aware of the weight of Cregan's hand still on your lower back.

"Jace," I flushed, "we... I..." 

The words were lost in my mouth, but before me stood my brother, and words were not necessary. He smiled at me and I returned the grin knowing that he understood what had come to pass. He brought me in for a hug. 

"Congratulations," he told me, pulling back and kissing my head. He moved to Cregan and, to my surprise, brought him in for a hug as well. "Brother." he said happily. 

"Thank you, my prince." Cregan stood tall in front of him, pride radiating from him. "We will have a celebratory dinner tonight in the great hall."

"I shall send a raven to my mother." Jace said this with a smile and walked off, but I watched Cregan's expression darken. 

"What is it, qēlos?" I touched his face without thinking. He leaned into my fingertips.

"I realized I never asked your mother permission for your hand," he said, "I was so caught up in the thrill of being yours that..."

"It matters not, it was always my choice." I said firmly. I could tell it still bothered him. "What can I do to make it better?" He thought for a moment. 

"Allow me to come with you to Dragonstone, at the appropriate time. Let me meet the queen and pledge myself to her and you in person. And then..." he trailed off, as if afraid to overstep.

"Yes?"

"I hoped we could have a ceremony in the traditions of House Targaryen. Bind ourselves to one another by blood. If it pleases you."

For him to think of my house and my culture and not only his own made me awash with emotion. 

"It does please me." I whispered, placing a sweet kiss to his lips. He pulled back.

"What did that word mean?" My brows furrowed at his question. 

"What word?"

"The one you said earlier, qua, queh..." 

"Qēlos." I told him. "It means star." 

He hummed and repeated the word under his breath. 

I sought some alone time with Jace so we could talk before my betrothal to Cregan was announced at dinner. I found him in the library of Winterfell, flipping through an old history book. He looked up as I came in. 

"Sister," he greeted, "the Maester suggested I read up on the history of our houses' relationships with one another. That is, the Targaryens and the Starks."

"I hope it's good." 

He smiled. "Even if it wasn't, this marriage would surely do the trick." He stood up, removing his focus from the book below him. "Cregan is a powerful man, little dragon. In many ways. He commands a population that our ancestors have found very hard to control in the past. The North is loyal not to their Warden, but to their Lord Stark. His involvement could mean victory for mother."

I scoffed, suddenly annoyed. I was newly engaged and he could still only talk politics. "Well, what do you suggest I do? Suck his cock every time mother wants a thousand men? I won't be her pawn, I am going to be the Lady of Winterfell."

"I only mean that you now sit beside one of our most important fighters. I... I suppose I don't know what I meant telling you that. I just mean that it pleases me to see you with such an accomplished man. And... I like Cregan. He is good, and you deserve a good man."

"I did worry, at first, that he only asked for my hand because mother sought something from him. But he asked for my hand all those years ago, in a letter he sent me after his time in King's Landing."

"What? Why did you never respond?"

I flushed. "I never opened the letter."

Jace began to cackle. "You're a fool, sister." 

"I know." I snapped at him, slapping his shoulder. I sat down in a chair across the table from him, prompting him to sit as well. "I don't think I would have said yes if I had, though."

"Why not?"

I sighed. "I was not ready, and I knew not what he wanted from me."

"What does he want from you?" Jace was prodding, and I was letting it happen. I looked down at my hands.

"Everything. My heart and soul. I haven't been ready to give it. I have been too afraid that I would give it to the wrong person, or they would capture it and I would never be free again. But I feel free with him. He wants nothing from me, but to love me. And I know if I ask for my soul back, he will give it to me. But I want him to have it. I trust him."

A tear shot down my cheek, taking me by surprise. I didn't realize I had started crying. Jace was still smiling at me. I loved when he smiled, and I had the feeling it would only become more rare. So I returned it, and we were happy together for a moment. 

"When will you wed?" He asked curiously. 

"I have no idea. But Cregan has asked to visit mother in Dragonstone and have a ceremony of her house there."

"That will please her greatly."

I nodded. "Part of me wants it to be slow, so that I can ease into being married. But part of me cannot wait another day. Part of me just wants to be near him, close to him, always." I blushed, realizing what I was insinuating. But Jacaerys was nodding in agreement. 

"You know, you can wait as long as you want. You don't have to wait for the rest, not really."

"What?" I sputtered. He so casually and simply dismantled a norm that had been thrust at us our entire lives. More specifically, me. 

"No one really knows what happens behind closed doors." He shrugged.

"Oh hush, Jace, you only say that because you are a man." I bit.

His face reddened. "Very well, but you have never heard me presume to say that a woman's virtue is ruined alongside her maidenhood."

"Only old men still believe that."

"Exactly. Look, I know how much of a change this is from what you convinced yourself you always wanted. Take a few moons to settle in before you marry him. If anything happens naturally between you two in that period... so be it. You are to be married anyhow."

I was amused by his candor. "My brother, the wildling." I teased. "Tell me, was this enlightened opinion developed when our depraved uncle took you to a brothel when you were ten and three?"

He rolled his eyes. "You know very well I was a child deathly frightened of women, and bedding brothel wenches is different than making love to your betrothed."

It clicked for me. "You mean to tell me that you and Baela..."

He looked at his lap, equally flustered and self-satisfied. As much as it irked me to think of my brother in bed with someone, I found his admission heartwarming. After our grandsire's death, Dragonstone had been dreary and tense. We all walked the halls knowing that our days were numbered. To be unwilling to wait to be with the one you love when each day could be your last - it was romantic. 

"Jace," I grinned at him. I kicked him under the table. "How? I mean, when?"

"Before grandsire died," he admitted, "We just... got caught up in the moment. But I don't regret it. Life is too short."He reached out across the table and playfully pressed his knuckles against my cheek in a faux-punch. "If you are choosing to be free, be free. We may be called into battle on the morrow."

I left our conversation feeling validated in a way I hadn't realized I needed to be. It made me want only one thing: to find my husband-to-be.

I found Cregan in the highest room of a round tower to walk to dinner together. He answered the door and I could tell he had been working from the papers strewn upon his desk. The room was set up as an office, with a small straw mattress in the corner. I guessed that he found himself sleeping here when overwhelmed with work. 

"My beautiful wife," he greeted me, "almost. Come in." 

He brought me in, sitting me in a cushioned chair across from his desk and leaning against that to observe me. I spoke. "I wanted to discuss the wedding. I was not sure how long you wanted our engagement to last, and I wondered how soon before we are married." 

"I had not thought to discuss the details without you," he said, "you are, after all, meant to be in attendance as well."

His words always comforted me, and were always accompanied by a soft smile that I had only seen him give to me. "If it is alright, my Lord, I hoped to wait a few moons before we are wed. I suppose I have not yet come to terms with the reality of saying the vows." 

"We can wait as many moons as you like, little dove. Years, if it is your wish."

I smiled up at him. "You are so easy. You truly have no quarrels?"

"Not if it would go against my Lady's desires." I stood. Our chests were inches apart. I could feel his hot breath on my face.

"There is nothing that you cannot wait for?"

He shuddered. His jaw tightened as if he were in pain. Suddenly, the unbreakable man had a crack running through his thick skin. I ran my fingers up his furs and toyed with the clasp, which carried the Stark sigil. I unclipped it slowly and his cloak fell to the floor. 

"You don't have to wait to touch me," I told him. His eyes were burning holes through mine, darting every other breath to my lips. He bit his lip. 

"I will not sully you, my princess," he said in a low voice. "I am an honorable man."

"And I am an honorable woman," I said firmly. "Therefore we do not dishonor each other."

"Your arithmetic is very confusing, my love."

"But it is correct."

He kissed me with a heat that his kisses had never held before. It was as if now I had given him permission to want me, he could no longer pretend he didn't. His hands roamed up my back, unclasping my cloak and moving to tangle in my hair. Teeth clashed against each other in a dance that we were both leading. One of his large hands came to rest at the base of my throat, then ran lower through the column of my breasts and then he finally moved to cup one. I gasped at the feeling of his fingers kneading at my flesh, slowing down when grazing over my nipple. He stopped kissing me only to flip us and place me on the desk, slotting his hips between my legs. I squealed as he pressed them open, the fabric of my dress falling between my thighs, but he quickly bunched it and moved my dress up past my hips. He smiled at the sight of my smallclothes. 

"I'll have you naked in my bed soon," he grumbled, "but for now, I won't ruin the surprise. I will just give you a taste of the pleasure you shall have for the rest of your life."

His words made me whimper. He kneeled down in front of me, and a surge of embarrassment made me close my eyes as he grasped my undergarments and slid them down my legs. He must have noticed, because no more touches came after I was bare. I opened my eyes to his gaze. 

"I want you to watch me please you," he said gently, more a request than a command. He kissed the inside of my thigh. My hip bone. Slowly, he grew closer to my center, keeping eye contact with me until his mouth connected with my core. 

Oh. 

So this was why people could not wait until after their marriage vows. 

I gasped so loudly that he stopped for a moment until I gently grasped his hair and guided him back to where he was. I could feel him smiling down there and I almost laughed with joy. His tongue danced beautiful choreography against my cunt, expertly drawing pleasure from my body in a way I could never have imagined.

"Cregan... fuck, oh, yes," I could no longer control words from spilling from my mouth. He slowly stroked a finger at my entrance, looking back up at me to ask for permission as he gently prodded at my hole. I nodded and then moaned as his finger intruded me, and if I wasn't mistaken I could have sworn I heard him let out a moan as if it were his own cock that had penetrated me. 

He continued to eat me like a starved man and with the addition of his finger slowly curling inside of me, I knew that something was about to explode within me. My stomach was tightening, my legs shaking and trying to clamp shut against Cregan's head. He fought against them with ease, pressing me further open and leaning into his meal, lapping it up like a wolf feasting on prey. He could feel my peak approaching and his tongue began to focus on my pearl, suckling and kissing the bud with tender care. 

It was too much. My moans had morphed into screams of pleasure, and my hands were yanking at his hair so hard I had no idea how he wasn't hurt. With a few more well-placed licks against my pussy, I could feel myself at the edge.

"Cregan..." I could barely breathe, barely speak. "I'm-I'm-so, so close," I keened. 

"You're perfect," he mumbled against me, "can't believe this is all mine." He dove back in on a mission and I began to fall.

"Oh, oh, yes..." I could only sigh as the tension snapped and a jolt ran through my body. It was electric, and Cregan held my body tightly as it shuddered. He stood slowly, caressing my legs as he did, and removing a handkerchief from his pocket, which he gently ran through my folds. I gasped, sensitive from my orgasm, grasping at his forearm. He only hushed me and kissed my brow. He moved my dress back down to protect my modesty, and picked my undergarments off the floor. 

"I'll keep these as a reminder of the first of many times I ate my wife's cunt," he said, shoving them into his pocket. He picked me up from the desk and set me down in front of him. "How was that? Are you alright?"

I put my arms around his neck. "I have literally never been better."

“I am glad.” He said. He kissed me slowly, his arms absentmindedly running across every plane of my back, mapping the new terrain. "You are..." He looked at me the way people usually looked at me before calling me beautiful. But he said nothing. He only placed a peck on my forehead and fetched our cloaks from the floor, reclasping mine first and then his own.

"I am what?" I asked, now curious.

Cregan shrugged, leading me towards the door. "There isn't a word to describe it."

The silent walk that we took to the great hall was not awkward, but pensive. I liked the feeling of my arm wrapped around his underneath the cloaks. He always pulled me to his side, so he could feel the fabric of our clothes brushing together as we walked. Every few steps I could see him look down at me out of my peripheral vision. At one such time, I caught his gaze and we smiled at each other. He licked his lips slightly, and it reminded me that those same lips had so recently between my legs, and I blushed, my gaze falling to my feet.

"Thinking of something, dove?" He smirked. 

"Just those lips of yours," I reached up and brushed his bottom one with my fingertip. "You've been blessed with a talented mouth."

"I am at your service, forever." He said seriously.

Forever. It seemed an easy enough thing to imagine with Cregan. He felt safe, he was devoted to me. He said he loved me. Could it be that easy? Just to give in to his love? It was tempting, but I sought clarity. What made him love, and why had he found it with me? What if I suddenly stopped doing the thing he loved? The darkest part of my heart told me that as we aged and my beauty faded, his interest in me would falter. 

"Now you surely aren't thinking of me between your legs," he observed, "because you are frowning."

"Just wondering."

"About?"

I sighed. "Do you believe that love fades?"

"Sometimes." He said. His definitive answer stumped me and I could feel a flare of anger arise from it.

"Well, then," I hummed passive-aggressively. It was unbecoming, I knew, especially since I was trying to ascertain that he would not grow tired of my antics and regret our union. Instead of arguing, he chuckled. 

"Why do you speak in riddles? Ask me what I know you have been wondering. I may be a dull Northerner but I am not dimwitted." 

Even in humbling me he was gentle, his voice laced with amusement, as if any complaint I may have could be fixed as simply as commanding him. 

"Why do you love me? I... I am afraid that whatever it is will fade, and you will grow tired of me. And..."

"And?"

"Forgive me."

"What?"

I felt hot tears behind my eyes but I clenched my teeth until they retreated. "Will I forever be your second wife? Not the mother of your children, either, only a... replacement? I'm sorry, my Lord, I should not target your late wife with my own insecurities."

He had stopped us in the hallway, boxing me against the wall and listening intently. Cregan drank every word I said up like honey. After I finished, his palm found my face and I saw the emotions swimming behind his eyes. I regretted terribly the possibility that I may have reopened past wounds.

"I believe love can fade sometimes, in the way that it has for my late wife." He sighed. "Her name was Arra. We were friends in childhood. When my parents suggested our union, her familiarity comforted me. I think that is what I loved about her. She was like home, like being a boy again. But I am no longer a boy." He took my hands. "I will miss Arra until the day I die because she was my friend and bore me a babe. But I did not choose her, and you have been my only thought since the moment I met you. In years of not hearing from you, not knowing if you would ever allow me to become close to you, I still loved you. Every night memories of your wit and bravery haunted me. Fuck, girl, you ruined me for any other woman. The thought of anyone else, for all those moons, was unthinkable. You could not fade from my heart if I tried to pluck you out with a knife."

I hadn't anything to say. 

So I said, "I love you."

[mrsfancyferrari]

You Know Me Best

Summary: Charles has a bad day and you as his best friend always knows what he wants, but do you really?

Song: Friends by Chase Atlantic

Author��s note: This is similar to Just One Kiss but the ending is the different and spicy version. This is my first time writing an erotic scene so please just give constructive criticism. I just want to keep celebrating Charles' win T_T

Word count: 3.6k

Charles Leclerc experienced a challenging day on the track, and as his best friend, you noticed his need for comfort and reassurance. Charles has always been known for being incredibly intuitive, and you knew that he wanted to unwind and seek solace in his favorite activities.

Whenever Charles feels overwhelmed or stressed, he tends to crave comfort food. You know that he can always count on you to bring him his favorite treats, whether it's a bowl of warm homemade soup or a delicious sandwich.

You knew that providing him with one of his favorite foods would provide him with a sense of comfort and stability.

Throughout the day, you noticed a newfound attentiveness among the team members and fans alike. They knew that Charles was having a bad day, and they couldn't help but notice the changes in his behavior.

Whether it was his distracted demeanor or the way he constantly sought out your comfort, everyone realized that something was amiss.

However, what no one realized was that you were the one who understood Charles better than anyone else.

You knew exactly what he needed, and you were determined to bring him the comfort and reassurance he craved.

Throughout the years, you made sure that Charles had his favorite meals, whether it was sneaking him a few bites of dessert during team meetings or surprising him with a late-night snack.

You knew that these small gestures would make a difference, helping him regain his footing and regain his confidence.

"Are you sure you're not married or something?" Daniel joked to you as he watched you give Charles some snacks.

"No, just really good friends," you replied with a laugh. "But sometimes it feels like we're practically married with how well I know him."

Daniel chuckled and said, "Well, if you ever decide to tie the knot, I hope you'll remember to invite me to the wedding. I wouldn't want to miss out on witnessing such a perfect match!"

"Of course, Daniel! You'll be at the top of the guest list," you replied, grateful for the lighthearted moment amidst the tension.

What you didn't know was that Charles was listening to your conversation. As he overheard Daniel's comment about you two being a perfect match, a small smile formed on his face, and he couldn't help but wonder if there was more to your friendship than he had realized.

Your friendship with Charles runs deep, rooted in years of shared experiences and unwavering support. From late-night conversations to celebrating each other's successes, you have been there for each other through thick and thin.

Charles knows that your understanding of him goes beyond mere comfort food, and he cherishes the bond you share.

But as the smile lingered on his face, Charles couldn't help but wonder if there was a chance for something more than just friendship between the two of you.

The thought had crossed his mind before, but now, listening to your conversation with Daniel, it seemed like the universe was teasing him with the possibility of a deeper connection. . . .

The thought of a deeper connection with Charles had always lingered in your heart, but fear had held you back from taking any action. You were in love with him, and had been for as long as you could remember, but the risk of losing the friendship you cherished so much had always been too great.

As you watched Charles zoom around the Monaco track in his racing car, gripping onto your seat in the paddock, a surge of emotions washed over you. The adrenaline, the excitement, and the undeniable sense of pride in seeing him pursue his passion ignited a fire within you.

The roar of the engine filled the air as Charles sped past, his car a blur of color. A mix of excitement and anxiety washed over you, causing your heart to race in sync with the car.

As you held your breath, you couldn't help but notice the fierce competition from Max Verstappen and Lando Norris, who were hot on Charles' heels, ready to seize any opportunity to overtake him.

The race was far from over, and the tension only grew as the laps ticked by, making you wonder if Charles would be able to maintain his lead until the end.

The race intensified with each passing lap, as Charles skillfully navigated the twists and turns of the Monaco track. He expertly maneuvered his car, pushing it to its limits, while Max Verstappen and Lando Norris continued to apply relentless pressure. The crowd erupted with excitement, their cheers echoing through the air, as the three drivers engaged in a thrilling battle for the top spot.

Every move, every split-second decision, held the potential to determine the outcome of the race. The tension was palpable as the cars zoomed past, their engines roaring and tires screeching, creating a symphony of speed.

With each passing lap, the stakes grew higher, fueling the adrenaline coursing through your veins. As the race entered its final stages, every corner became a make-or-break moment, and you held your breath, praying for Charles to maintain his lead until the checkered flag.

As soon as he crossed the finish line, everyone jumped up from their seats, including you. The air was filled with a mix of cheers, applause, and jubilation as Charles secured the victory he had fought so hard for.

Emotions overwhelmed you, and you couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of pride and joy for him.

You rushed to the podium, eager to congratulate Charles on his well-deserved win. Your heart swelled with pride as you embraced him, knowing that your unwavering support had played a small part in his momentous victory.

Charles stepped out of his racing car, his face beaming with a mixture of exhaustion and triumph. The crowd erupted into a thunderous applause, recognizing his incredible skill and determination in securing the hard-fought victory.

When he finally found you, Charles quickly hugged you tightly, his grip filled with gratitude and genuine appreciation.

The bond between you and Charles had grown stronger through countless races, and this victory was a testament to the unwavering support and belief you had in each other.

As his head was tucked into your neck, you gently stroked his hair in response, feeling the weight of his exhaustion and the elation of his triumph. In that moment, you knew that all the sacrifices, the late nights, and the unwavering support were worth it, as you celebrated this unforgettable victory together.

"You did it," you whispered, your voice filled with pride and admiration. "All your hard work and determination paid off. I couldn't be happier for you."

Charles smiled against your neck and whispered back, "Thank you for always believing in me. I couldn't have done it without you."

Charles then let go of you and looked into your eyes before saying, "Can you meet me in my driver's room after? I have something important to discuss with you."

"Sure," you nodded as he was taken away by a staff member. As you watched Charles disappear into the crowd, your mind raced with anticipation, wondering what he could possibly have to discuss with you.

As you watched Charles make his way to the podium, you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and admiration for his remarkable achievement. The sight of him standing tall, his face glowing with a mixture of exhaustion and triumph, filled you with immense pride.

It was a moment that would forever be etched in your memory, a testament to the years of hard work and determination that had brought him to this point.

"He likes you, you know,"

Startled by Arthur Leclerc's sudden appearance, you turned to face him with a surprised expression. "What do you mean?" you asked, curious about his comment.

Arthur smirked mischievously and replied, "Oh, come on. It's obvious. Charles talks about you all the time. I think he's finally ready to take your relationship to the next level."

You laughed nervously, shaking your head. "Oh, Arthur, you've got it all wrong. Charles and I are just friends."

Arthur's eyebrows raised at your comment. "Maman says otherwise, she's always talking about you," he said with a smirk.

You felt a mix of surprise and curiosity, wondering what Charles' mother could possibly be saying about you.

"Just know that the family will welcome you in with open arms if you two get together," Arthur added, his mischievous smirk widening. As he walked away, leaving you with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, you couldn't help but wonder if there was something more between you and Charles than just friendship.

As Charles stood on the podium, he couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude and honor as the Prince of Monaco handed him the golden trophy. The gleaming trophy symbolized not only his extraordinary victory, but also the recognition and respect he had earned from the racing community and the world at large.

In that moment, as the national anthem played and Charles made a point to lock eyes with you, it felt like a silent affirmation of his feelings. The intensity of his gaze left you with no doubt that there was something more than friendship between you two, and you couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement and anticipation for what the future might hold.

In that moment, you couldn't deny the warmth that spread through your chest, matching the pride evident in his eyes. As the applause filled the air, you realized that your own feelings for Charles had grown deeper than you had allowed yourself to admit.

The future suddenly seemed full of possibilities, and you couldn't wait to explore them together. . . .

As the celebrations continued, you found yourself caught up in the whirlwind of joy and excitement surrounding Charles and Ferrari's victory. The atmosphere was electric, filled with cheers, laughter, and the clinking of champagne glasses.

In that moment, you couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness for Charles and a deep sense of pride for being a part of his journey.

A staff member approached you with a message, informing you that Charles was looking for you amidst the celebrations.

As your heart raced with anticipation, you couldn't help but wonder what he wanted to say and how this momentous victory would further solidify the bond between you.

"Charles wants to see you," they said, their voice filled with urgency. Intrigued and slightly nervous, you followed the staff member through the crowd and made your way to Charles' private suite.

As you knocked on the door, your heart raced with anticipation, wondering what Charles wanted to discuss with you in this intimate setting.

As you wait for Charles to open the door, a mix of excitement and nervousness floods your senses. Your heart pounds in your chest, and your mind races with possibilities of what he might say.

In this moment, every second feels like an eternity, and you can't help but wonder how this conversation will shape the future of your relationship.

You heard the sound of footsteps growing louder and closer to the door, causing your anticipation to heighten. Each step seemed to echo in your ears, building up the tension and making you even more eager to see Charles and hear what he had to say.

As you heard the footsteps come closer to the door, your anticipation grew. The sound of Charles' voice calling your name sent a thrill through your entire body, and you couldn't wait to see the expression on his face as he opened the door.

"Yes, it's me Charles," you responded, a smile spreading across your face.

The door swung open, revealing Charles with a mixture of excitement and nervousness mirrored in his eyes.

When you met Charles' gaze, there was something in his eyes that took your breath away: a blend of lust and desire that took you by surprise.

His eyes scanned your whole body slowly, taking in every detail with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. It was as if he was seeing you for the first time, his gaze filled with a newfound appreciation and longing.

As his eyes scanned your whole body slowly, you felt a shiver run down your spine. It was as if he was undressing you with his gaze, his desire palpable in the air. You couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation, wondering what he had in mind for the two of you.

It was as if he was taking in every detail, every curve, every nuance, and savoring the moment.

"Charles?"

For a brief moment, Charles blinked and locked eyes with you, seemingly forgetting the intimate setting you were in. The intensity of his gaze broke the tension, and you could sense a deep connection forming between you.

It was as if the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you in that moment.

"Come in," he said, widening the door for you, his voice filled with a mixture of anticipation and vulnerability. As you stepped inside, the outside world seemed to disappear, leaving only the possibility of what this conversation could bring.

"What is it that you wanted to talk about, Charles?" you asked, your voice filled with curiosity and a hint of nervousness.

Charles took a deep breath and looked into your eyes, his voice steady yet filled with a hint of vulnerability. "I wanted to talk about us," he whispered, his words hanging in the air

"There's something I've been meaning to tell you, something I've been holding back for far too long.

You nodded, encouraging him to say it, your heart pounding with anticipation. The words hung in the air, and you could feel the weight of his confession building.

Charles took a deep breath and looked into your eyes, his voice filled with sincerity. "I wanted to talk about us," he began, his words hanging in the air. "I've realized that I can't ignore my feelings for you any longer. I've fallen in love with you."

Your eyes widened at his statement, unable to believe what you were hearing. The room fell silent as you processed his words, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and uncertainty.

"Oh no, I knew it wasn't going to work," Charles muttered into his hands, taking your silence as an assumption that you rejected him. But little did he know, your silence was not a sign of rejection, but rather a moment of shock and disbelief.

You were quick to realize that Charles misunderstood your silence, so you walked over to him and gently took his hands off his face, meeting his eyes with a reassuring gaze.

As his scared eyes met your excited eyes, a moment of vulnerability passed between you. You could see the fear of rejection lingering in his gaze, while your eyes reflected a mixture of surprise and joy. In that instant, you knew that this confession meant as much to him as it did to you, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth and affection for him.

"I love you too, Charles," you whispered as you cupped his cheeks gently. The weight of his confession lifted off both of you, replaced by an overwhelming sense of happiness and relief.

In that moment, Charles couldn't contain his joy and excitement. He quickly pulled you into a tight embrace, wrapping his hands around your waist, as if afraid that you might slip away.

The warmth of his embrace reassured you that his love was genuine, and you couldn't help but melt into his arms, feeling a sense of safety and belonging that you had longed for.

"Can I?" he muttered, pulling back from the hug enough to stare at your lips. The intense desire in his eyes matched the longing in his voice, as if he was seeking permission to seal his confession with a passionate kiss.

Without hesitation, you leaned in, closing the distance between your lips. The moment your mouths met, a surge of electricity coursed through your bodies, igniting a fire that had been simmering between you. The kiss was passionate and filled with all the pent-up emotions that had been building since the moment you met.

As your lips met, a wave of butterflies fluttered in your stomach, a tingling sensation spread through your chest, and your knees felt weak with anticipation.

The intensity of the kiss confirmed that the connection between you and Charles was not only emotional, but also physical, leaving you both breathless and craving for more. . . .

Their bodies moved as one, their hands exploring every inch of each other's skin. Their breaths intertwined in a symphony of desire as they surrendered to the heat of their passion.

Soft moans escaped their lips, mingling with whispered words of love and longing. In the midst of their ecstasy, their eyes locked, conveying a depth of connection that words could never capture.

"I've waited so long for this," Charles whispered, his voice filled with a mix of awe and adoration.

"Me too," you responded, your voice laced with pure bliss.

In that intimate moment, every touch felt like the caress of silk against skin. Your fingertips danced across each other's bare flesh, creating a symphony of pleasure that sent shivers down your spine.

Charles carried you onto the sofa, laying you down as he kneeled over you, his eyes filled with a hunger that matched your own.

You gasp as Charles's lips make contact with your neck, his touch sending electric currents through your body.

The sensation of his warm breath against your skin intensifies the desire pooling within you, as you arch your neck, granting him further access to explore the depths of your pleasure.

Charles' hands moved with purpose, skillfully undoing the buttons of your blouse one by one. As each article of clothing fell away, he whispered seductive words of praise and desire in your ear, igniting a deeper sense of arousal within you.

You surrendered to his words, intoxicated by the way he took control and unleashed a wave of passion that consumed you both.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice dripping with desire. "I want to explore every inch of you, to taste every part of your pleasure."

His words sent shivers down your spine, fueling your desire and leaving you yearning for more of his commanding touch.

You respond with a low, sultry moan, your body arching further into his touch, silently begging for more. The sound of your moans only adds to Charles's desire, fueling his determination to fulfill your every craving and ignite a passion that would consume you both. "I want you, Y/N," he said, his voice low and husky. "I want you so badly."

The intensity of your desire could be seen in your eyes when you looked up at him.

"I want you too, Charles," you said, biting your lower lip.

"You're so beautiful," he said, his voice filled with awe. "I can't believe you're mine."

You smiled up at him, your eyes filled with love.

"I'm all yours, Charles," you said, reaching up to pull him down on top of you.

Charles didn't waste any time. He kissed you deeply, your tongues dancing together in a passionate embrace. He ran his hands over your body, feeling every curve and contour.

"Fuck, Y/N, you feel amazing," he said, his breath hot against your ear.

You moaned, your body writhing beneath him.

"Charles, please," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. "I need you inside me."

Charles didn't need any more encouragement. He positioned himself at your entrance, his dick throbbing with need.

"Are you ready for me, Y/N?" he asked, his voice low and seductive.

You nodded, your eyes wide with desire.

"Yes, Charles, I'm ready," you said, your voice trembling with anticipation.

Charles pushed inside you, feeling your tight warmth surround him. He groaned with pleasure, his hips moving in a slow, steady rhythm.

"Fuck, Y/N, you feel so good," he said, his voice filled with wonder.

You moaned, your fingers digging into his back, as Charles continued to move inside you, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Charles, don't stop," you begged, your hips meeting his with every thrust.

Charles couldn't stop if he wanted to. He was lost in the pleasure of being inside you, of feeling your body respond to his touch.

"Come for me, Y/N," he said, his voice husky with desire. "I want to feel you come apart in my arms." "I'm so close, Charles," you gasped, your voice filled with desperation. "Please, don't stop."

Charles's movements became faster and more intense, his breathing ragged. "I won't stop, Y/N," he growled, his voice filled with determination. "I want you to come for me, to lose yourself in pleasure."

The room filled with the sounds of your moans and the rhythmic slapping of your bodies coming together. As the intensity built, you felt yourself teetering on the edge, ready to fall into ecstasy.

And then, with one final thrust, you shattered, your body convulsing with pleasure as waves of orgasm washed over you.

Charles kissed your forehead gently. "I promise, Y/N. I'll never let you go. You're my everything."

And in that moment, as you melted into each other's arms, you knew that this was a love that would withstand any obstacle. . . .

[navybrat817]

Can lumberjack Bucky keep me warm? 🥺

He'd love to, nonnie.

A Warm Embrace

Pairing: Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky teases you as he keeps you warm. Word Count: Over 600 Warnings: Fluff, cuddling, pet names, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Are you lovelies sick of my fluff? Sorry, but Burly and Bambi are sweet.❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You couldn't sleep. Not with how cold you were. The thick blanket tucked around you should've been more than enough to keep you warm, but it didn't stop your teeth from chattering. The howling wind outside sent another shiver down your spine as you tried to burrow yourself deeper into your bed. Maybe you should've thrown another log on the fire.

Better yet, you should've just camped out in front of the fireplace instead of stubbornly going to the bedroom.

“Stupid cold,” you grumbled to yourself, rubbing your face against the pillow when gentle footsteps approached the bed.

Your eyes flew open when the mattress dipped behind you, a warm weight enveloping your back under the blanket before a heavy arm curled around you. “Can hear your teeth chatting from the other room, Bambi,” a deep voice rumbled.

The tremble that rolled through your body had nothing to do with the cold when Bucky rubbed his soft beard against your neck. “I slipped on the ice one time,” you muttered.

He chuckled before he kissed the back of your neck, tracing the path his beard made as you bit your lip. “Yeah, but you tried so hard to stay upright before gravity took you out. Just like Bambi.”

“I’ll have you know that I fell very gracefully,” you said before he turned your body toward him, your heart racing as you came face-to-face with the lumberjack.

Bucky was the captivating sort of handsome, the type that made people stop in their tracks when they caught a glimpse of him. From his lush brown hair to the depths of his intelligent and striking blue eyes, it was like an angel carved him out specifically for you. But what was beautiful about him came from within and shined through the surface.

Even when he teased you.

“I watched the whole thing, darling, and you were about as graceful as a baby deer,” he said, his azure eyes filled with glee when you narrowed yours. “Again, just like Bambi.”

“You know, you’re lucky you’re cute, Burly. And warm,” you said, tearing your gaze away from his pretty eyes to stare at his broad chest. Of course, he walked around the cabin shirtless while you couldn’t stop shaking. How was he so hot? Body and looks wise?

Was it a rule that lumberjacks were sin incarnate clad in packages of plaid shirts and tight pants with sturdy bodies underneath?

“So, you do think I’m cute,” he teased, your stomach flipping as you smiled at his words. Of course, you did. “Come here.”

You buried your face in his chest as his arm tightened around you, molding your body against his as you sought out more of his warmth. He rested his chin on the top of your head as your shaking eventually stopped, his calloused hand roaming along your back with immense care. All you wanted to do minutes ago was sleep, but now he was holding you and pushing a thick thigh between your legs and all you wanted to do was bask in his attention.

Maybe ride his thigh, too.

“You’re right, you know,” he said.

You tried to lean back as much as you could to get a good look at him, but didn’t want any space between the two of you in case you started shivering again. “Right about what?”

He brought his hand to your cheek as his lips curled in a small smile. “I am lucky,” he whispered, helping you tilt your head so he could kiss you, slow and deep.

And lucky for you, your lumberjack would always be by your side.

Because I need another AU, right? SHH. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[ssahotchnerr]

ALSO ALSO ALSO, Aaron keeping a pair of readers fuzzy socks in his go-bag for reader when a case is rough/they’re in a super cold area/just because 🤭🤭🤭

perfect pair

SCREAMING i'm setting this in the alaska episode it's the first thing my mind went to <33 cw; bau!reader, established relationship, fluff!!!!!

even with the burning fire going, countless chills continuously rushed through your body; you were shaking in place.

upon receiving word the case was in alaska, the customary temperature had been an afterthought. sure, you had packed (some of) your winter trappings; long sleeves, a heavy lined coat, boots. but you hadn't thought to layer, pack a set of gloves or a hat, wool socks rather than your usual cotton ones. rather, the excitement of purely being able to say you're going to alaska, of all places, had taken priority.

even today as you were getting dressed, you managed to talk aaron into lending you one of his favored quarter-zips. 'talk into' was a loose term, he hadn't needed the persuasion; you asked, he immediately accepted - never the one to deny you wearing his clothing, or the extra, provided warmth.

on the bright side, however, you had been hunkered down at the inn with penelope, researching the residents of the small town and not needing to brace the cold. but you might as well been, the heat coming through the air vents wasn't nearly enough, especially when the door frequently opened and the cold air drifted in. the fire was slowly weakening, and just thinking about the cold, made you freezing. the lingering frigidness was numbing your feet within your shoes, your fingers were just as biting - the bitterness was painful.

you were counting down the minutes until the day ended, eager to be warm in the comfort of bed, curled up with aaron 'the furnace' hotchner - the best perk of minimal rooms available and having to double-up. the two of you didn't typically share quarters while on the job, wanting to uphold professionalism, so this was a welcomed treat.

but when aaron had entered (and brought yet another rush of crisp air with him) to regroup with you and penelope, to discuss findings that would contribute to the profile, and hopefully narrow your search down, all he had to do was take one look of you shivering.

aaron walked behind the couch you were seated at, his hand finding your shoulder and giving it a squeeze hello, before heading up the stairs. at the gesture, you were quick to look up and acknowledge him, giving him a soft smile before your attention returned to penelope's screen.

aaron came back down a minute or two later, lightly tossing something onto your lap. it landed softly, but you still jumped a smidge, taking you by surprise.

you were met with your polka-dot fuzzy socks, a pair you hadn't seen in your drawer quite in a while, actually. your eyebrows furrowed in perplexity, grabbing the soft sherpa material and turning the pair over, analyzing as if you've never seen them before.

"you had these?" your eyes shot back up to aaron, arching an eyebrow in an accusatory, but playful, manner. the ends of your lips tugged upwards in a smile, your heart warming.

"given the circumstances, i'm sure you're glad i did." aaron's face matched your cheeky expression, a light smirk on his face. but he dropped the teasing demeanor, his gentleness returning, "i packed them into my go-bag a while ago. i figured they come in handy in one way or another, at some point. for comfort, warmth, when your ice cold feet touch my leg at night." his eyes smiled at you, and you couldn't help but grin.

aaron's immense, loving look was enough to melt everything in you, physically warming you. the sensation started in the middle of your chest, fanning out to the rest of your body, leaving you toasty and almost giddy.

forget the socks, layers, fireplace - all you needed was aaron.

"god that's adorable." penelope chimed in, who had been listening so quietly you'd forgotten she was there, a slight whine present in her voice, "never thought i'd be crying over a pair of socks, but here we are."

she turned back to her laptop, but her fingers paused above the keyboard, as thought came to her. her gaze drifted back towards you and aaron, a tickled glint in her eyes. "wait, i take that back. you two are the most, adorable pair."

[diejager]

can we have more of phoenix! reader? 🥺 i feel like they (as a baby bird) would build a nest on Price's belly cuz he's SUPER WARM and also he breathes out fire and that's perfect for the lil birby

Cw: reader being cheeky, teasing, biting/pecking, tell me if I missed any.

Having you on… ”leave” was hard when you were right there, clicking and chirping from your high perch on Price’s head, watching them being treated by another medic with your black eyes. They were reluctant - Ghost especially - to be touched and cared by someone else, hesitant to accept her tender hands and muted sighs at their stubbornness. It irked them even more when you chirped on and on, cackling at them after they grumbled, beating your wings and sending sparks from your newly-grown feathers around you, amber lights burning within seconds.

And the worst of all, was how willing you were to being handled by her, preening and pushing your chest out, your orange feathers puffing up in a show of dignity under her loving gaze. They - all but Price - glared on, witnesses to you nuzzling against your replacement’s cheek, your head bumping the curve of her lips when she placed a small kiss atop your curled mane. Perhaps it was jealousy that boiled in their stomachs, an anger at not being able to coddle you and being envious about such affection given to others rather than them. 

Fortunately, she returned you to Price’s waiting hands, craddling you in his warm palms, fingers curled carefully to keep you unharmed and away from his claws despite your cheeky bites at them, clawed feet wrapping around his thumbs while you bit him. Even in your small and vulnerable state, you were still so cheeky —a bastard, really, playing their hearts, knowing full well they would never stop you. They figured you’d stay as small as you were until the next day, where you’d keep growing and maturing until you reached your peak, a beauty to admire and bewilder at —or so Price said. 

Within the next week, the clock striking the start of a new one, you’d lost your curled and fluffy feathers, the protective layer to keep you warm, and had started growing long and silken ones, coloured a majestic scarlet and gold. You could fly rather than hop around, your little feet rarely taking you far, and you took full pleasure of landing wherever you wanted. Largely Price’s stomach, the rumbling fire within him keeping him alive - a burning core, his beating heart - worked well to replaced the nest you’d usually need, nestled over the fold of his abdomen and happily sighing.

Then your feathers grew out, longer and sturdier, the ends curled upwards, your crown of scarlet feathers making you look noble from your perch (the one Price took out of storage in your closet and placed in the rec room), head held high and lean body still and watchful. You were, exactly as Price had promised, a beauty to the eye, the noble phoenix cloaked in fire and royalty in the grey and gloomy base. A taste of vibrant life within these cold walls, enchanting with your chirpy songs, healing with your little tears and surprising strength. And yet, you were still the cheeky bastard you were as a chick, a cackle rippling through your throat when they fumbled around, trying to catch you after you stole things right out of their hands. 

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce @sobbingnshtting

[sabersandsnipers]

A Stray on the Road

Author’s Note: I work with a lot of the pediatric population as a nurse, so I thought about what Halsin and Astarion’s reactions would be to me having to protect and take care of every kid I find lol

The day was grueling. The sticky sensation of blood covers every inch of your skin. Aches and pains rattle your bones, and the road seems endless as your group searches for a good place to set up camp. The only thought keeping you going is that of curling up between Astarion and Halsin later. 

“Gods, this is hell,” Karlach complains. 

Wyll responds with some snide comment, but you’re only half listening, because you’re approaching a rather violent scene. Wagons are tipped over, and bodies litter the road. You slow as you approach, noticing a small figure sitting by a pair of bodies. 

Your gaze sharpens, and you see it’s a young girl. No older than 5. Tears stream down her cheeks as she sits by a pair of dead bodies. Your heart sinks as you realize it’s probably her parents. 

“Hang back, guys,” you say. You fear the approach of such a large group will frighten her. Attempting to wipe the blood off your face, you walk up to the girl. 

Her clothes are tattered, and you notice she has a few cuts lining her arms and legs. You crouch next to her.

“Hey,” you say softly. 

Big beautiful brown eyes meet yours. Something twists in your chest. 

“What’s your name?” you ask.

She sniffles. “Eowyn.”

“Eowyn, do you have family nearby?”

She shakes her head. “No. And I don’t know where I am.” 

Her voice trembles, and your heart breaks for her. You look back to your companions. Most won’t mind her staying with them, except for Astarion, who will be annoyed by the young presence.Your friends look back at you expectantly, wondering what your next move is. 

“Would you like to stay with me and my friends for the night?” you ask her.

She looks to the group behind you, and you half expect her to run away in fear with how harsh they look. 

But her expression doesn’t change, she simply nods her head. 

“Do you think you can walk?” you ask her.

She shakes her head. 

You smile at her. “That’s okay. Halsin?”

The elf approaches. Eowyn stares up at him, eyes wide. 

“Is it alright if my friend carries you?” you ask her. 

She nods. “He’s so tall.” Her eyes are filled with wonder.

“He is,” you say with a chuckle. You look to Halsin and he nods. He reaches down and picks up the child, placing her on his shoulder. 

“Hold on, child,” he says. There’s a slight smile on her face, but then darkness fills her eyes again. 

Your group ventures forth once more. The sun is beginning to set, casting shadows along the road. But you can’t help but admire the beautiful colors streaking across the sky. 

Astarion falls into step beside you. “Picked up another stray, I see.”

You nudge your shoulder against him. “You were a stray once too.” 

He gives a half smile. “I’m just worried you’re going to burden yourself with her safety.”

You let out a sigh, knowing he wouldn’t like her presence. “She has no one, Astarion.” 

He doesn’t say anymore, but you can feel the tenseness between you two. Your relationship is still being navigated. But even with your difference in values, you couldn’t stop yourselves from being drawn to each other. 

A giggle pulls you from your thoughts. You look back to see Eowyn playing with Halsin’s braids. He’s grinning back at her, thoroughly enjoying her laughs. The sight sparks a warmth within you, and you can’t stop the smile from growing on your lips.

“Ugh.” Astarion comments. “Does he always have to be so…Halsin?” 

You shoot him a half hearted glare. Despite him being agreeable to Halsin joining your relationship, he always seems taken aback by his general goodness and willingness to help others. 

Your trek continues, Astarion allowing your hands to brush ever so slightly as you walk the dusty road. 

The fire crackles as Karlach throws more wood onto the flames. A warm stew has been shared amongst your group, Eowyn getting a healthy portion. Conversations scatter around, commenting on the latest tavern you stopped at, or how a fight went along the way. 

You sit on a log between Eowyn and Halsin, but Astarion sits over by his tent. He’s reading one of his books, sipping on some wine. 

Every time you glance to Eowyn, you notice her watching Astarion. Her gaze is curious, and she seems completely enthralled with him. Not that you can blame her. You’re completely enthralled as well. 

“He’s so beautiful,” she suddenly comments. You smile at her and then look at your love.

“Isn’t he?” you respond. “He’s awfully nice too, to the people he likes.”

“I saw you kissing earlier. Are you married?” she asks. 

You laugh. “No, but I do love him very much.”

Confusion crosses her face, as if she can’t comprehend how you can be in love but not married. She takes another bite of her stew. Her eyes flicker back to Astarion. 

A few minutes later she taps you on the shoulder. You turn away from your conversation with Halsin as she leans over to you. 

“Do you think he would read me a bedtime story?” she asks in a whisper. 

You grin, and glance at Astarion. Although he would most definitely deny her request, he can’t deny you. 

“Yes. You should go over and ask. Tell him I sent you.” 

Her expression brightens. She gets right up and makes her way over to Astarion, who doesn’t acknowledge her until she’s standing right in front of him. He finally looks up, his expression mildly annoyed. Eowyn talks for a few moments and then he shoots a glare in your direction. 

You raise an eyebrow at him, daring him to say no. He bites the inside of his lip. The seconds pass as you wait for his response. 

Finally, his body relaxes and he nods his head. Eowyn sits down on the cushion next to him, snuggling up right close to him. Although Astarion tenses a bit, he doesn’t push her away. You watch them for a bit, admiring how adorable they look together. 

A pair of hands find their way to your shoulders. 

A familiar voice whispers in your ear. “I’m going to bathe in the river. Would you like to join me?” Halsin asks. He places a hot kiss against your neck. 

“Halsin, the day I say no to that question, I want you to push me off a cliff, because clearly I’ve gone mad,” you respond. 

A breathy laugh caresses your skin. You give him your hand and the two of you make your way to the water. 

When you return from your excursion with Halsin, skin still tingling, you’re astounded by the sight before you. Astarion and Eowyn still sit together, except Eowyn is sound asleep in his lap. Astarion looks down at her, his hand resting lightly on her hair. You can’t read his expression. 

When you approach Astarion, you crouch down and place a kiss to his temple. He smiles at you, and it makes your heart flutter just like the first time. 

“I can have Halsin take her to my tent,” you offer, brushing back a strand of his white curls. 

He hesitates, looking down at Eowyn. “I think we’ll be okay. She looks so comfortable.” 

She’s curled right up, her head resting on his chest. Her face looks so serene after all the horrors she’s experienced today. 

“Okay. I’ll go spend the night with Halsin then. Just come get me if you need me,” you tell him. 

“I think we’ll be okay, darling,” he replies. 

You smile and kiss him goodnight. As you make your way to Halsin’s tent, you take one last look over your shoulder, and allow yourself a moment to admire the two of them. And it brings you great joy to know Astarion is finding just as much comfort as she is. 

[puppym3]

Hey! I loved your Seungmin fic so much, it had so much emotion in it and I enjoyed reading every chapter! Can you maybe write a short chapter where Seungmin develops a breeding kink after seeing the reader take care of Yun?

bf!seungmin x afab!reader

this is technically a pt 5 to this story here, but you don't need any prior information to read this.

wc: 4.3k (ik you said short but i get carried away....)

a/n: thank you so much for reading and liking my first-ever fic! <3 you have no idea how much this means to me. also i literally love that prompt so much i started immediately writing when i saw it.

WARNINGS! : MDNI, unprotected sex (dont do it), p in v, creampie, explicit language, slight somnophilia, cockwarming, dom!seungmin, sub!reader, seungmin has a breeding kink, reader is lowkey into it, seungmin is still super sweet, fluffy

---

It’s been a few months since Seungmin and I officially started dating, and it’s been the happiest I’ve ever been. My mom often commented on how in love we both seemed, and my mom's approval added a layer of peace to my heart. Seungmin was attentive, caring, and always ready to listen, making me feel cherished and loved.

 Yet, despite the overwhelming joy, I couldn't shake off the nagging feeling that something was off.

It was subtle at first; small moments where Seungmin seemed distant, lost in thought, or overly anxious. He would brush it off with a reassuring smile or a quick kiss, but the sense of unease persisted. I brushed it off, maybe I was just overanalyzing things, everyone has their own off days.

Tonight me and him were both in the nursery room together, he was sitting down while I was rocking the baby to sleep. 

The room was dimly lit, casting a warm glow over everything. The air was thick with the sweet scent of baby powder and shampoo. As I gently swayed back and forth, the baby's soft breathing lulled me into a peaceful trance. Seungmin watched intently, his eyes fixed on me as I hummed a tune to Yun.

As I gently laid Yun down in the crib, Seungmin's arms wrapped around me from behind, his embrace firm yet tender. His warm breath tickled my ear as he whispered, "You’d be such a good mother." His voice was thick with desire, and I couldn't help but shiver. The feel of his arousal pressing against my backside sent a wave of heat through my body.

"S..Seungmin," I whispered, trying to keep my voice steady. "What's gotten into you tonight?"

He didn't respond with words. Instead, he pulled me closer, his lips finding my earlobe and nibbling gently. A soft moan escaped my lips, and I leaned back into him, feeling the intensity of his desire and my own building in response. His hands moved to my hips, holding me tightly against him as he continued his tantalizing assault on my ear.

"You drive me crazy," he murmured between kisses. "Seeing you like this, it makes me want to put my own baby in you."

As Seungmin's words sank in, I felt a mixture of confusion and arousal. I knew he loved me deeply, but this newfound desire was something I had never encountered before. I tried to gather my thoughts, but his lips were too distracting as they trailed down my neck, leaving a line of burning desire. 

The passion in his eyes was undeniable, and it ignited a fire within me. "I want that too," I whispered, my voice quivering as I felt my legs tremble.

Seungmin's eyes darkened with desire, and he leaned in, capturing my lips in a searing kiss. I melted into him, my body responding to his every touch. His hands roamed over my curves, exploring and claiming as if he couldn't get enough.

"Seungmin," I breathed as we broke apart, both of us panting for air. "Not here. We should go to the bedroom."

The next moment, Seungmin's hand moved up my shirt, tracing the curve of my breast through my bra. His touch sent shockwaves of pleasure through my body, and I couldn't help but arch my back into his hand. As his fingers teased my nipple, I felt a warmth spreading between my legs. I could feel the wetness growing on my underwear, and it only fueled my desire for him.

"Seungmin," I breathed, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart. "Bedroom..." I repeated breathy, with a sense of urgency in my voice.

Without another word, Seungmin grabbed my hand and pulled me to his bedroom. As we entered the room, he slammed the door shut behind us, casting the room into darkness. The only light came from the moonlight streaming in through the window, casting an ethereal glow over everything.

Seungmin's rough hands grabbed my hips, pulling me towards him. His lips crashed down on mine again, his tongue invading my mouth as he devoured me. His touch was rougher than usual, and it sent shivers down my spine.  

I could feel the heat between us growing stronger with every passing moment. My body melted into his, responding to his every touch. As he pulled away from the kiss, his breathing was heavy, and his eyes were filled with desire.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he murmured, tracing his fingers down my bare skin. "I want you now."

His words sent a wave of excitement coursing through my veins. I had never experienced this kind of raw desire before, and it terrified me in the best way possible. 

"Take me," I whispered, my voice thick with need. "I'm yours."

As soon as the words left my lips, Seungmin's eyes widened with desire, and he lifted me effortlessly, carrying me to the bed. The soft mattress sank beneath our weight as he laid me down gently. His hands roamed over my body, tracing every curve and caressing every inch of my skin. I could feel the heat between us growing stronger, and I knew that this was a moment I would never forget.

Seungmin wasted no time, his hands moving to the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my head. The cool air made my skin tingle as his fingers explored my bare skin. He quickly unhooked my bra, his hands replacing it quickly.

His rough hands massaged my breasts, and I moaned softly, arching my back into his touch. The sound of my arousal sent a surge of need through him, and his lips found mine again, claiming them hungrily.

I could feel his cock straining against his pants, and I couldn't help but press against him, my body aching for him.

Seungmin's hands moved lower, tugging at the waistband of my leggings. In one swift motion, he had them off, leaving me naked and vulnerable before him.

He growled softly, his eyes drinking in the sight of me. "All mine." His words were rough, filled with a need I had never seen before. It made my heart race and my breath catch in my throat.

Seungmin's gaze was filled with lust, and his hands moved to my thighs, pushing them open. "Show me how needy you are for me."

My face heated at his command, but my body responded automatically, spreading my legs wider. The cool air sent a shiver through me, and I could feel the wetness coating my thighs.

Seungmin brushed his hair out of his face as he took in the sight of me, his eyes tracing every part of me. His gaze was filled with lust, and it made my heart race.

"Please," I whimpered, my body aching for him. "Please, Seungmin, I need you."

"So fucking desperate now." Seungmin said, his fingers teasing the sensitive skin on the inside of my thighs. "You want this so bad, don't you? You'd let me fuck you however I wanted, wouldn't you?"

His words sent a shiver of anticipation through me, and I nodded, unable to speak. My mind was filled with images of him taking me roughly, filling me completely.

His fingers traced the outer edges of my folds, his touch feather-light. I moaned softly, arching my hips into him, wanting more.

"Prepare yourself for me, then." Seungmin commanded.

Arousal coursed through me, and I hesitantly slipped a finger into my wet folds. My body trembled with anticipation as I rubbed my clit.

Seungmin's breath quickened as he watched me, and I could see the strain in his pants as he heard me mewl for him desperately as I toyed with myself in front of him.

"That's it, just like that. You're doing so well for me, love." He said, his voice husky and filled with desire.

As I slid my fingers through the slickness, preparing myself for him, his eyes never left me. I could see the hunger in them, and it only fueled my need for him.

As I slowly circled my clit, his hand moved to his zipper, freeing his strained cock. The sight of him stroking himself made my breath catch in my throat.

"Look at you, so needy and wet for me. You're practically dripping," he said, his voice husky, filled with a new edge of dominance.

"Please..." I begged, my voice barely a whisper, the need in me growing unbearable.

"Tell me what you want," he demanded, his tone brooking no argument.

"You, inside me. Please, Seungmin, please fill me up," I pleaded, the desperation clear in my voice.

He smiled at my words, a look of raw hunger flashing in his eyes. He moved towards me, his cock teasing my entrance, the sensation almost too much to bear. I arched my hips into him, needing him to take me, to finally bridge the gap between us.

"Tell me again," he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. "Tell me how much you want me."

"I need you, Seungmin. I need you so bad," I pleaded, my voice shaking with need. "Please, please, fill me up, fuck me, claim me, do whatever you want to me."

My words must have been the final straw because, with a swift, powerful motion, he plunged into me. The force made my body jolt, a moan escaping my lips. Seungmin's hands moved to my hips, gripping me tightly, holding me steady as he filled me completely.

The sensation of his raw, unprotected cock inside me for the first time was exhilarating, a forbidden thrill that sent shivers through my entire body. I gasped as he bottomed out, our hips flush against each other. The intensity of it was almost overwhelming, the reality of our naked connection sinking in.

He looked down at me, his eyes burning with passion and a fierce possessiveness. "You feel so good..." he whispered, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in with a force that made me gasp.

With each thrust, he pushed deeper, hitting my sweet spot with precision. The sensation was indescribable, a mix of pain and pleasure that left me breathless. I wrapped my legs around him, arching my back to meet his hips, wanting more of his hardness. He groaned, the sound vibrating against my skin, and I could feel the heat of his body as he pounded into me.

"Fuck," he breathed, his voice low and raspy. "So tight..."

The sound of his voice, rough and filled with awe, only heightened my pleasure. Seungmin's thrusts were powerful, each one hitting my sweet spot with a precision that made my entire body shiver. His grip on my hips was firm, almost possessive, as if he was marking me, staking his claim.

I moaned, arching my back and wrapping my legs around him, desperately wanting more. "Don't stop," I begged, my nails digging into his shoulders. "Don't stop, Seungmin, please..."

He replied, a mix of fierce possessiveness and raw desire in his voice. “You want me to keep going, don’t you? To make you mine completely?”

I could barely manage a nod, my body trembling with the sheer pleasure of being forced into submission under him.His pace didn’t falter; if anything, it increased, driving me closer and closer to the brink. Each thrust was deliberate and powerful, his cock hitting me perfectly with relentless precision. I could feel every bit of him, the way he filled me up so completely, the way he made me his.

He seemed to sense my impending release, his grip on my hips tightening as he pushed me closer to the edge. “Come for me,” he commanded, his voice a low, heated whisper. “Let me feel you come around me.”

The urgency in his voice, combined with the relentless pounding, pushed me over the edge. My body convulsed with pleasure, a cry escaping my lips as I came. The sensation of my orgasm gripping me tightly around him only seemed to drive him wild.

Seungmin followed soon after, his thrusts growing erratic as he reached his climax. With a deep, guttural groan, he filled me completely. I could feel his warmth spreading inside me, an overwhelming sensation that left me feeling completely owned.

As the last waves of his orgasms subsided, Seungmin’s grip on my hips softened. He lowered himself onto me, his breathing heavy but calm.

As I lay there, utterly spent and overwhelmed, my mind felt foggy and distant, the intensity of our union leaving me breathless and dazed. I could barely process the sensations that still lingered, a heavy weight of pleasure and exhaustion settling over me. My limbs felt heavy, my head resting against the soft sheets, my breaths coming in slow, ragged gasps.

Seungmin’s grip on my hips softened as he slowly pulled out, his hands gently smoothing over my skin. His eyes, once burning with fierce desire, now softened with concern. He looked down at me with a mixture of tenderness and worry, his brows furrowed as he took in my dazed and exhausted state.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice gentle and full of care. “Are you okay? Did I—did I go too far?”

His concern was evident in the way he brushed a strand of hair away from my face, his touch tender and soothing. He leaned in close, pressing soft kisses to my forehead and cheeks, his breath warm against my skin.

I tried to focus on him, but my mind was still clouded, my body feeling as if it had been completely drained of energy. “I’m... I’m okay,” I managed to whisper, though my voice was barely more than a breath.

Seungmin’s eyes searched mine, a look of relief mixed with lingering worry. “I didn’t mean to push you too hard,” he said softly, his fingers gently tracing the outline of my face. “I just... I got… carried away.”

Seungmin’s concern deepened as he looked at me, his fingers brushing gently against my cheek. “I’m really sorry if I pushed you too hard,” he said softly. His voice, that was just commanding, was now tender and filled with worry. He placed a gentle kiss on my forehead, his touch soothing as he began to tenderly clean me up.

He carefully retrieved a damp cloth from the bedside table and began to wipe away the remnants of our passion from my skin. His movements were slow and deliberate, his hands gentle as he cleaned me with great care. Every touch was accompanied by soft, reassuring words.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, his eyes never leaving mine. “Do you need anything? More water? A blanket?”

I managed a faint smile despite my exhaustion. “I’m okay,” I whispered, trying to keep the fog of my mind clear. But as he continued to clean me, a thought crossed my mind. The sensation of him attending to me, his hands moving tenderly across my skin, was incredibly soothing, yet the warmth of his release still inside me made me crave more.

I shifted slightly, making sure to keep his essence within me, the sensation of being filled up still vivid. As Seungmin continued to clean me, he didn’t seem to notice at first, but when he did, his eyes widened in a mix of surprise and heated desire.

“Are you…” he began, his voice trailing off as his gaze dropped to where our bodies were still intimately connected. The realization hit him, and his breath caught in his throat.

“You left me so full,” I murmured, my voice soft but laced with a teasing edge. “I wanted to savor it a little longer.”

Seungmin’s expression changed from concern to one of intense, almost deadly desire. His breath quickened as he took in the sight of me, still filled with him. His hands paused, a shiver of excitement running through him.

“You’re driving me insane,” he growled softly, his voice rough with barely contained desire. “You know how much that drives me crazy?”

A mischievous smile touched my lips despite my exhaustion, and I gazed up at him with a hint of playful seduction. “Maybe you can help me keep it all in,” I suggested, my voice a soft whisper, laced with teasing. “What if you… plug it for me? Keep me warm and full.”

Seungmin’s eyes widened in surprise, and his breath hitched at the suggestion. The notion of keeping me filled, making sure none of his essence escaped, seemed to push him to the brink. He looked at me with a mix of disbelief and intense need, his body tensing as he tried to rein in his own escalating desire.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his voice trembling. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself as he moved between my legs. His hands trembled slightly as he guided his still-hard cock back towards me, his movements careful but filled with raw urgency. His eyes never left mine, searching for any sign of discomfort or hesitation.

Slowly, he pressed the tip of his cock against my entrance, the sensation sending shivers of anticipation through me. “Is this what you want?” he asked, his voice rough with need. “To keep you filled and warm?”

“Yes,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Please, Seungmin. Help me keep it all in.”

With a deep groan, Seungmin carefully guided himself into me once more, the feeling of him filling me again was both intense and soothing. He moved slowly at first, his movements deliberate as he adjusted to the sensation of being inside me once more. The heat and fullness were overwhelming, and I could feel the weight of his presence inside me, making me shiver with pleasure.

Seungmin’s eyes were locked on mine, his expression a mix of fierce desire and tender affection. “You feel so good,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know how I’m going to keep it together.”

And he did keep it together, for the night.

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a gentle glow across the room. I stirred awake, feeling the warm weight of Seungmin against me, his body pressed closely against mine. 

As I began to shift, trying to find a more comfortable position, the sensation of his cock inside me sent a jolt of unexpected pleasure through my body. My movements, though unintentional, brushed against him in a way that reignited the arousal I had felt earlier. The pleasure was subtle but intense, causing a soft moan to escape my lips.

Seungmin stirred, his breathing deep and even, but as I continued to move slightly, his body responded with a familiar hardness that seemed to grow. I could feel him twitching inside me, the sensation driving my already heightened senses.

I froze for a moment, my breath hitching as the intensity of the feeling registered. My body was betraying me, reacting to the lingering warmth and the very real presence of him still inside me. I tried to steady my breaths, but the pleasure was undeniable, a soft, persistent throb that made my heart race.

Seungmin’s hand rested on my hip, and I could feel him waking up, his grip tightening slightly as he sensed the shift in my movements. He groaned softly, his voice thick with sleep and desire.

“Morning,” he murmured, his voice husky and filled with a mix of affection and lingering need.

I turned my head to look at him, my eyes meeting his with a mixture of embarrassment and longing. “Good morning,” I whispered, trying to keep my voice steady despite the growing heat between us.

He shifted slightly as he felt the subtle movements of my body against him. “You’re driving me crazy,” he said softly, his voice a blend of frustration and arousal. “I can feel every little movement.”

I blushed, feeling a mix of guilt and excitement. “I didn’t mean to—” I started, but my words were cut off by another involuntary shift that sent a shiver of pleasure through me.

Seungmin’s breathing grew heavier, his grip on my hip firm but gentle as he looked down at me with a mixture of desire and tenderness. “It’s okay,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I like it.”

Seungmin’s admission sent a flush of heat through me, mixing with the lingering sensations from the night before. The way he looked at me, his eyes heavy with desire and affection, only heightened my awareness of him inside me. Every subtle movement sent ripples of pleasure through my body, and I could see the effect it had on him.

“Fuck,” he breathed again, his voice raw. “I can’t help it. You’re making it impossible for me to stay still.”

The admission was a mix of frustration and intense desire. Seungmin’s hands moved to my hips, his grip firm but still gentle, guiding my movements with a mix of control and surrender. His touch was electrifying, and I could feel the heat of his body as he pressed closer to me.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, his voice thick with a mixture of need and tenderness. “To keep me inside you like this?”

I nodded, unable to form words as the pleasure continued to build. “Yes,” I managed to whisper, my voice trembling with desire. “I want to feel you all the time.”

Seungmin’s eyes darkened with raw need, and he leaned in closer, pressing soft kisses along my neck and shoulders. His breaths were hot and uneven against my skin, his voice a whisper of longing. “You’re driving me wild,” he murmured. “I can’t get enough of you.”

The way he spoke, his voice laden with both adoration and desire, made me shiver. I shifted again, and this time, the sensation of his cock moving inside me was accompanied by a mix of pleasure and tenderness that left me breathless.

Seungmin groaned, his hands gripping my hips more firmly as he tried to steady himself. “You feel so fucking good,” he rasped, his voice barely more than a growl. “I’m losing control.”

I could feel him twitching inside me, the sensation both soothing and exhilarating. My own pleasure was building with each subtle movement, a constant reminder of our intimate connection.

“Please,” I whispered, my voice filled with longing. “Don’t hold back. I want to feel all of you.”

Seungmin’s resolve seemed to snap at my words. With a groan of surrender, he began to move slowly, his thrusts gentle but deliberate. Each motion was filled with a mix of intensity and tenderness, and I could feel the weight of his presence inside me, making every touch and shift incredibly sensual.

His eyes remained locked on mine, his expression a mixture of fierce desire and deep affection. “You’re everything I want,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t get enough of you.”

Seungmin's movements grew more deliberate, each thrust a blend of passion and tenderness. His breathing was heavy, his gaze intense as he continued to fill me with slow, measured strokes. The pleasure was a constant, throbbing presence, building to an almost unbearable height.

As his pace quickened, the sensations became more overwhelming, a crescendo of warmth and intimacy that left us both gasping for breath. Seungmin’s grip on my hips tightened, his body pressing against mine with a mix of urgency and reverence. Each thrust was met with a soft moan from me, the connection between us palpable and electric.

Finally, with a deep, guttural groan, Seungmin reached his climax. His movements became erratic as he pulsed inside me, the warmth spreading through me in waves. I felt a surge of pleasure as his release filled me once again, the sensation both satisfying and intimate. I shuddered beneath him, my own pleasure reaching its peak as the last tremors of his orgasm continued to pulse inside me.

The intense sensations had drained me, and I could barely move, my limbs feeling like lead.

Seungmin, sensing my exhaustion, eased his pace and eventually came to a gentle stop. His breathing was ragged, but he immediately shifted into a mode of tender care. He pulled out slowly, his touch soft as he reached for a nearby cloth.

As he carefully began to clean me up, his touch was gentle and soothing, each stroke a testament to his affection. His movements were deliberate, ensuring I was comfortable and cared for. “You did so well,” he murmured softly, his voice filled with warmth and tenderness. “You’re amazing.”

I managed a weak smile, my eyes fluttering closed as I tried to stay present. The aftercare made me feel so warm, and Seungmin’s tender care helped to ground me. 

Once he had finished cleaning me up, he gathered me into his arms, wrapping me in the soft blanket he had retrieved earlier. His embrace was warm and comforting, his body pressed closely against mine. He kissed the top of my head, his touch gentle as he adjusted the blanket around us.

“Let’s just relax,” he said softly, his voice a soothing murmur. “You need to rest.”

I nestled closer to him, feeling the steady beat of his heart against my back. His breathing was calm and rhythmic, a steady reminder of his presence. The exhaustion of the night and morning had left me feeling utterly spent, but Seungmin’s affection provided a cocoon of safety and comfort.

As we settled into the bed, Seungmin’s hands continued to stroke my back and arms, his touch both tender and reassuring. The soft glow of the morning light filtered through the curtains, creating a serene and peaceful atmosphere in the room.

I felt myself drifting to sleep in his arms, as he soothed me in his arms.

“Seungmin, I love you.” I murmured, my voice laced with sleepiness.

“I love you too,”

[rs-hawk]

Kinkmas: Day Five

The Orc

Tw: Blood

You weren’t expecting to get lost in the woods. Of course you weren’t. The falling snow covered your footprints, forcing you to try to guess which way you came since you couldn’t even follow them back now. The snow started falling harder as you continued your walk. Surely you’d find the path again soon, right? How long had you really been walking?

You hadn’t dressed as warmly as you should have since you had wanted to leave before the snow started, but it had come early. Much earlier than even the reports of it being early said that it would come. Your heart was a lump in your throat as the chill settled in your body. How much longer could you keep this up, really?

As you wonder that, your movements becoming sluggish as the chill frosts your bones, making them heavy. Is this really where you’re going to die? The thought sends a jolt of terror through you that is quickly followed by tears. Unfortunately, they only served to make you colder. Sniffling, you take a seat on a fallen tree, wondering how you can get your bearings.

Suddenly, there’s the sound of breaking branches. Your throat felt tight as you turned to look at it. How could this possibly get worse? The jolt of terror that had shot through you came again full force when a creature easily twice your size stepped out of the cluster of trees to your right. The color drained from your face as it, she?, approached you.

Her long hair was braided into a plethora of small locks, adorned with all different kinds of feathers and beads. Some of them click together as she approached you in an almost calming and hypnotic way. Her tusks draw your eye as she crouched down to your level. Your mouth felt dry as she grabbed your chin, turning your head this way and that as she regarded you. As she did, a gust of cold wind blew over you, making you shiver. She seemed to notice this, because she gruffed before sweeping you up into your arms.

She held you close to her body, the warmth of her skin seeping into yours. How could she be so warm when it was so cold out? When snow was piling up in inches around you? You had heard stories about the monsters that lived in caves here, but you had never expected that one would be kind enough to save you by carrying you back to her cave.

She set you down on the floor of the cave, on a pile of furs. You swallowed uncomfortably, unsure of why she would have saved you. Surely it wasn't out of any kind of kindness or mercy, right? She was a monster. As you looked around the dark cave, barely lit by the light outside and a small fire she has in a pit a few yards from the entrance of it.

In a surprisingly soft voice, she said something you don't understand. In response, you shrugged and shook your head. What she said might as well have been in a language from another world. You couldn't even try to begin to try to guess what she said. This makes her frown as she regarded you again. Then, she sat down beside you, setting her hand on your leg. Your face flushed slightly as she moved it up slowly, back to talking in whatever her language is.

You paused, then nodded carefully. What can only be described as a smirk turned up the corner of her lips. Within seconds, she had her head between your legs. You groaned as her teeth skimmed your pants, then your panties, then teased the lips of your dripping cunt. Her tusks scratched at your thighs before they punctured you. You winced, but she kept you in place, her tongue finally sliding over you, teasing your clit. A moan of pleasure rolled from your lips, no longer caring about the blood trickling down your legs. Not when her mouth feels like that.

You let a surprised yelp when one of her large fingers slid inside of your sopping hole, but you didn’t flinch as she slowly started pumping in and out. Instead you encourage her, gripping her hair with one hand and one of her tusks with the other. She said something in that language you don’t understand, but she quickly went back to pleasuring you, drawing out orgasm after orgasm.

With a fuzzy brain, you reached for her neck to pull her up. You wanted to pleasure her too, but she growled and held you tighter, obviously eager to continue her meal.

Who could care about being lost in the snow of this was the result?

[iliketangerines]

I know you're probably busy and mainly write smut, but if it's not too much to ask could I request some fluff between Reptile/Syzoth x gn!reader just being a little silly? Like they have very different love languages (reptile being a love biter and reader being a rock giver like penguins) and both are so confused about it (they aren't in a relationship yet and just show each other affection awkwardly). So Syzoth will randomly wake up to rocks at his door and reader will randomly be greeted with either their hand or arm getting bitten (lightly) until they finally explain what they're doing to each other.

I'm sorry if this doesn't make sense, and no pressure to do it, I just thought it'd be a cute idea.

courting rituals

a/n: i love syzoth and he needs to be more lizard like

pairing: syzoth x gn!reader

warnings: none :)

you rock back and forth on your heels, staring at the rock in your hands and admiring how it shimmers in the sunlight of the White Lotus

there’s a whoosh of air behind you, and you turn around to face the swirling fire and light coming behind you and find Syzoth and Kitana with Lord Liu Kang walking out of the portal

you bow to them respectfully, and Lord Liu Kang greets you as well

tucking the rock into your pocket, you welcome them to the White Lotus and start their tour, apologizing that Kung Lao and Raiden wouldn’t be here for their tour because the two of them were busy training the new initiates

you lead the three of them through the grounds and eventually you do reach Kung Lao and Raiden in the training grounds putting the initiates through some tough sets

Syzoth walks by you the entire time, head nodding excitedly with every fact you tell him, and your heart beats in your chest and your face warms as he talks to you

the tour ends a bit early, and you let them scatter about the White Lotus to explore on their own

Syzoth stays with you, deciding to keep walking with you, and you laugh nervously, digging the rock out of your pocket and handing it to him as a gift

he blinks at the rock, bowing his head and thanking you for such a pretty gift, and your face warms at the compliment as you wave him off and say that it wasn’t any problem

a few of the initiates walk by, complaining loudly about the sets that Raiden was taking them through, and you cringe as they start to curse loudly

you give Syzoth a sheepish smile and ask if he wants to go somewhere quiet, and he nods, saying he’ll go anywhere you take him

it makes you clam up and simply hum and nod at his compliment, trying not to stutter and fumble over your words like an idiot

walking through the compounds, you lead him to the gardens once more and take a path that leads to the small pond that exists within the small area

Syzoth sighs and lays down on the grass, stretching his body out onto the grass, and you avert your gaze to not stare at how his arms flex and stretch underneath the sun

he looks back at you, wriggling about to get a bit more comfortable, and he pats the grass next to him, telling you to lay down next to him

you clear your throat and walk up next to him, sitting down and laying next to him, and you fold your hands neatly onto your stomach as you stare up at the cloud formations in the sky

Syzoth sighs, soaking in the sun, and he says that he’s never really had the luxury to ever be able to do this a lot

you turn your head to look at him, and nearly squeak when your eyes meet his

he says that it just isn’t common in Zaterran culture to sunbathe unless there is someone else around to also share in the experience

it’s a very intimate process of sharing body heat, usually between close friends, and Shang Tsung wasn’t exactly the kind of guy he wanted to sunbathe with

you nod, trying to wrap your mind around the information, and you press your lips together, the word friend echoing in your head

your fingers fiddle with each other as he talks more about the sunbathing process and then about Zaterran culture in general, and you listen attentively to his words, absorbing the information and learning everything you possibly could

the sun passes above overhead, and soon the sky turns orange and yellow as the moon starts to make its appearance above

Syzoth stands up, shaking himself similarly to how a dog would shake off water, and he holds his hand up to yours, asking when he’d be able to see you again

you take his hand and pull yourself up, not quite sure of when he and Lord Liu Kang would meet once again, and you say as much

he lets out a small oh, looking slightly downcast before fixing a quick smile on his face

holding out his arm, he asks to escort you back to the portal, and you nod and take his arm, the both of you walking together

once you both reach the portal, he lets go of your arm and walks next to Kitana and Lord Liu Kang, waving goodbye to you as you do the same

a few weeks later, you jump up and down on the tips of your toes as you wait for Kung Lao to arrive to the portal

Lord Liu Kang stands by the portal platform, and Raiden makes small talk with him

you have another rock in your pocket, one much prettier than the one you gave him last time, and you really really hope he likes it

Kung Lao finally arrives, out of breath, and Lord Liu Kang shakes his head, but the small smile on his face betrays how he really feels

opening the portal, all four of you walk through, and you find Syzoth waiting there at the base, waving up at you happily

you keep your composure, resisting the urge to just bound over there and greet him, and you walk with Lord Liu Kang and the others down the steps

first, you bow to him, and he bows back to you

when the both of you stand back up, you dig your hand into your pocket and hand him the new rock, and he smiles and thank you for the rock, admiring it in the sun before pocketing it

once again, he holds his arm out, and you take it as he takes you on the tour of Sun Do and then leads Lord Liu Kang to the meeting room with Empress Mileena

Kung Lao and Raiden leave to explore the town together, but you decide to stay with Syzoth

he beams at you and leads you to the palace’s gardens, more beautiful and majestic than you would’ve ever thought, and he leads you over to a small meadow

settling down onto the grass, stretching out his stomach and his arms, he lays sprawled on the soft grass and beckons you to lay with him

you do so, and the two of you just make small talk about everything and nothing

it’s casual and nonchalant, but you find yourself scooting closer and closer to him until you’re pressed against him completely

you’re on your side, and he’s on his, the both of you staring into one another’s eyes

you wish you could lean in and kiss him, but his eyes glance above your head and he shoots up out of the grass, saying that you’ll be late to arriving home with the others

pouting at him, you get up and hook your arm into his, and he leads you back hurriedly to the portal to find the other three waiting for you

he waves to you, and you wave back to him

over the next few months, the two of your visit each other whenever you can, and you give him a pretty rock you’ve found while on missions and he takes you sunbathing in all different types of beautiful and calming environments

it’s a strange ritual, but you didn’t mind, you loved it in fact

you just wish it would lead to something more, always always you get close to each other, so close that you could kiss but nothing ever comes out of it

you’re visiting Outworld again, and instead of leading you anywhere, Syzoth leads you deeper and deeper into the palace until he finds a pair of grandiose doors and pushes them open

inside, you can see that it’s Syzoth’s room, decorated to hell and back with all kinds of plants and greenery

he flops onto his bed, where the sun beams directly onto it, and he calls you over to sunbathe with him again

walking over, you gasp as you find every rock you’ve given him lined up perfectly on the windowsill, catching the light and shining down on Syzoth

your voice is almost a whisper as you ask that he’s kept every single one, and he says that he has, of course he would, he doesn’t understand why you give him rocks but he loves them all

you look down at him, stretched out on the bed and absorbing the sun, and you say that he doesn’t know why you give him rocks

Syzoth shakes his head, and you laugh and pinch your nose, saying that you’ve been giving him rocks because you liked him

you thought he didn’t like you back, so you’ve just been respecting his boundaries

Syzoth sits up on the bed, mouth agape as he tells you what you think the sunbathing has been before

you point at him and say that it was for close friends, and he says that it was for close friends but also lovers, as a bonding experience

you put your head in your hands and start to laugh, realizing how much of an idiot the two of you have been, and he laughs as well

it’s just the sound of both yours and Syzoth’s laughs and giggles in the air until Syzoth finally stops, letting out a wheeze and then clearing his throat

he holds his hand out to you, asking you again to sunbathe with him, and you smile at him and take it

he draws you into his arms, your face only a breath from his, and he asks if he can kiss you

you breathe out that he can, and he leans his head forward, lips melding to yours

the rest of the day is spent sunbathing

[theurgists]

⋆｡‧₊°♱༺ SINNED SOIL ༻♱༉‧₊˚.

astarion ancunin x gn!reader

summary: after a restless night, astarion finds himself seeking comfort. your tent is where he finds it.

warnings: some angst?? a little fluff, not proof-read

a/n: this is my first one-shot for bg3, and i'm lowkey excited?? not as familiar with the game as i'd like to be ( on my first unfinished playthrough ) so bare with me

There’s a nagging in the crevices of the fluid that occupies Astarion’s skull; aside from the tadpole wriggling about - making home directly in his frontal lobe. He tightens his jaw, grinding his teeth together so harshly that he could feel his spine reverberate in the process; a small pinch near his salivary gland. 

This is a recurrence- something he hates dearly with his non-existent soul; thinking. Even though his heart no longer thrummed in his chest, the air was long gone from his lungs, and cold permanently tainting his body, he still had his thoughts.

More often than not, that bothered him severely. No, it tortured him as he lay mindlessly blinking in the darkness of his tent, arms pin-straight by his side, lips pressed together to keep from wobbling slightly. 

He supposes he could cry, albeit having to be silent about it. Astarion’s done it before; in the musky abyss in one of Cazador’s many dungeons underneath his luxurious castle of torment, but it’s difficult tonight. Clenching his left fist, he felt the blood drain from his knuckles as the even ridges of his fingernails indent his frigid palm, the muscle of his tongue darting out between his teeth to graze over chapped lips.

Through the silence that seemed to suffocate him slowly, his pointy ears perked at the constant chirping of crickets and the crackling of the firewood a few feet away from his bedroll. Astarion was coming to realize that those sounds sounded oddly serene; nature. The grass, the moon, the sun. Oh, how warm it had felt on his marble skin. A nice low heat to the teeth-chattering ice that sat dormant in his veins. He could practically bathe in it, arms outstretched toward the big ball of fire in the sky, trickles of light seeping through his pores, heating every fiber of his being.

It basked his figure in a glow so bright and fuzzy that Astarion swore his dead heart actually skipped quite a few beats, a low buzz in his sternum. He cherished it.

It was something he would never utter aloud, his sharp tongue suddenly dulling when he felt his gaze soften during interactions, a subtle but noticeable change in his mood he always tries to mask with his cracking facade. Vulnerability did not look good on him as much as his prized tunics did.

Letting a sigh seep out into the chilled night air through glossy, spit-covered teeth, Astarion shuffled within the comfort of his bedroll, his bones cracking slightly as he rose to his knees slowly. Blinking back the burn developing in his sockets, he lifted an index finger to wipe at his hooded lids, sharp canines puncturing a pillowed bottom lip. 

Secretly, he hoped that no one would be able to tell how stressful he’s been lately, especially you. You could always read people like an open book; a story laid bare before you - cut and dry and easy to decipher. It didn’t take much for you to come to simple conclusions in dire situations of need. Everyone else in your small group could attest to that with blind faith.

That was something that made the pale elf roll his eyes in slight distaste, as if your actions were something that inconvenienced him severely, as if everything you said was something he was supposed to agree with. But, you weren’t like that.

Astarion figured that out under the glow of the moonlight, hidden by thick tree branches and surrounded by the overwhelming smell of dewed grass merely a month ago, back when his attempts to bed you were more than apparent. His brows had furrowed in confusion then, a small pang in his chest as if the knife lodged within the tissue of his heart was dipped in poison. He was confused. For the first time in a while the elf was confused as to why you didn’t take him as you saw fit that night. 

Closing his eyes, Astarion took a wasteful breath, feeling as if it was needed in the moment as his lashes brushed against the blotches of watercolor black, blue and purple that adorned his under eyes, hand reached out to swat away the flap of his tent soon after.

Crimson eyes darted to look through the treelines, a sense of alert flooding through his body as leaves rubbed together, sounding like crumpled parchment as he averted his gaze to Karlach’s back, her nightwear frumpled as she hunched over, sharpening one of the many weapons laid out on the soil next to her; dirty and dull. 

Shuffling past her as quietly as he could, Astarion blew air from between his lips in hopes of adjusting the snowy white coil of hair that blocked his vision, making his way to your tent. A certain hunger arose in him when his pointed ears picked up the sound of your blood flowing through thick veins, sweet like the rolls you’d occasionally bring to the camp from a nearby trader if they had a few.

His throat is dry, the thirst for your blood creeping up on him just like the soft spot for you had after you had confided in him after accidentally bearing witness to the angry scars that littered the expanse of his back, a constant itch to follow the raised skin. He knew you wouldn’t refuse his request to drink from you, having let him sink his teeth into the pulse point of your neck multiple times to keep his hunger at bay. 

Nocturnal animals didn’t satiate his cravings as much as your essence did. It was a pull stronger than he ever thought possible, even if his belly was full - he was not, not until he had your sweet, sweet blood pooling at the tip of his tongue. Instinctively, his upper lip curled, teeth bared before he swiped the muscle of his tongue over them, swallowing the sandpaper that covered his esophagus. 

“‘Starion?” Your small whisper carried in the wind, straight to his ears. 

Within the thin fabric of your tent, he could hear you shuffling about before your head peaked out from the open flap, eyes still ridden with sleep looking up at his towering frame through long lashes. “What are you doing?”

“Restless night.” 

At that, your brows furrowed, warm, clammy palm cupping his; an invitation inside your private space which he accepted without another word.

In the darkness, he could make out the array of worn out pillows covering every inch of the small space, alongside a couple of different items from past journeys and small trinkets that reminded you of your childhood; innocence lost. He figured it was something you were trying to gain back - a sense of control over your dysfunctional life.

Crouching down, his knees ached slightly, palms flat against the ground before making himself as comfortable as he possibly could given thoughts plaguing his mind. With narrowed eyes, he watched as you spun on your bottom to face him, knees knocking with his as you pressed your lips together thinly. 

“I must admit I'm struggling to find peace tonight as well.” Mumbling, your hand raised to smooth over the goosebumps that had found their way to the surface of your arms, raising every individual hair. “Dreams become much too vivid to me now.”

Leaning as far back into the pile of pillows as he could, he could see your eyes, glossy and wide as they locked onto his. “Do tell, darling.” 

His tone is slightly playful, a small inch of concern weaved between his words as his spine stiffened from his position. 

Huffing, your shoulders lifted in a small shrug before falling back into place, ears growing hot from the embarrassment oozing through your pores. You weren’t one to confide in others about your state of distress, especially to those who you deem untrustworthy. 

This was merely a Freudian slip, a loose tongue, but you continued despite everything in you telling you to sew your lips closed with thick thread. 

“There was this… looming sense of dread in my dreams. I was in a field of tall grass, it reminded me of this meadow my father used to take me to when I was ten and one.” Your voice trailed, the scenery of a multitude of flowers and lucious, bright green grass appearing in the forefront of your mind. “I can still smell the manure of the nearby pigpens, but everything was just so bleak. I’m sure I was alone, and even though I somehow knew it wasn’t real, everything else felt like it was. There was a red rose sitting in a bed of white ones, almost as if it was being cushioned just for me.” He could hear the smile in your words, although from the tone of your voice, he could tell that it wasn’t a genuine one. 

“I reached out toward it, and then felt a slight pinch almost as if something poked me.” rubbing the pads of your thumb and index finger together, you stared at them, expecting a trickle of dotted blood to seep from the barely visible wound you had received in the meadow in the crevices of your mind. “It was a thorn, a big one at that. That’s when I woke up, and then I saw your shadow outside…”

The pause that followed was one of comfort, a way for you to know that the vampire before you was listening, grasping onto each word uttered through chapped lips, your warm breath on his face.

Astarion gnawed on his bottom lip gently, careful of his two sharper teeth as his gaze never left your troubled face, a twinge of empathy. “I have those dreams sometimes too. When I let my eyes drift shut, there’s a sort of vulnerability that follows; renders me defenseless.” 

You nodded in the darkness, grasping onto the words that he forced out of his throat like bile, unwanted and already digested. Astarion was a secretive person, for many reasons that were acceptable, drenched in endless pain and suffering. “My skin still burns. It’s all so fresh.” 

Scooting beside him, you cautiously took notice of the way he curled into himself, knees now tucked into his chest as he raised a hand toward his back, sliding it under his shirt to let his fingers ghost over the scars on his back. The muscles in his face contort, a pained expression painting his face, no developing laughter lines, no crows feet at the corners of his eyes. He was forever a little star; his name a memory of a past he can’t recall.

“He can no longer touch you.” You stated firmly, each word spat with venom. It was true as far as you were concerned. You’d never lie to Astarion. You’d never lie to any of your friends about the impending death that loomed over them, the blood that would be on their hands in the following weeks as you continue your trek to Baldur’s Gate. 

“You’d think after being a slave for nearly three centuries that I'd bask in the glory that freedom has to offer me.” A curt, bitter laugh escapes his lips as he throws his hands in the air, “But I-I can’t, and I have no idea why.” 

Twisting your neck just a couple of inches, you stared at the side of his face, bottom lip tucked between your teeth. 

Astarion could hear how loudly your heart thumped in the solace of your ribcage, the blood flowing through your veins, the quiet hum of your throat as you swallowed. And for once - he wills himself to think about life without his affliction, even if just for a second before he could no longer stand to see himself so meek and small, so… helpless.

“It’s the fear he instilled within you. He tormented you your entire existence and it’s not something you can let go of so easily, I un-”

“Please don’t tell me you understand.” His words were nothing above a whisper as he leaned closer, the material of his sleep shirt rubbing against yours before you felt the chill of his skin on your upper arm. 

In those rare moments of genuine words exchanged between the both of you in the safety of each other's company, you had never seen him so fearful. Fearful of becoming a slave for the desires and sexual needs of others  once more, hands forever touching bodies he’d force himself to forget, washing the dirt and grime off of every crevice of himself with tears in his eyes and silent sobs. “I’ll never return to that, to him.”

“I won’t let that happen. You’re more than what he created you to be.”

Hesitantly, you wrapped an arm around his shoulder, causing his spine to grow rigid for the third time it seemed, before he melted under your touch, soft curls tickling the skin under your jaw before he buried his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of lavender and pine wood that always seemed to be glued to you. It wasn’t the first time you’ve touched Astarion like this, in an intimate way, without the premise of sex in the foreground, but this time felt different. 

It was different.

You were more soft than he realized, weren’t you? Astarion thought himself to be nothing concerning a warm-hearted, selfless individual. He was anything but. Bred for destruction and submission, bloodletted countless times through frantic and harsh whips, lashes - anything that could make the smell of his coppery perfume permeate the air.

However, for once in his eternal existence Astarion realized he felt something that had grown foreign to him; love.

Love for you. 

Love for himself. 

And he’d be damned if the sinned soil of this earth took any of that away from him.

[serawritesthings]

AS FAR AS DREAMS GO, second part

Pairing | arthur morgan x fem! reader Summary | It hadn’t been a dream that night. Despite you and Arthur’s efforts to steer clear from each other, it proves futile as a horrible incident brings you to the realization that your misunderstanding that once hurt so severely paled as you realize you might lose each other forever. Tags |  sexual content 18+ minors dni, angst, fluff, smut, graphic description of violence and wounds Word Count | 17.5k A/N | Hello everyone! It’s about time I posted the second part of this fic, which will be the last part. Sorry for taking craaazy long to write it, but I have been working a lot recently, so it’s been taking me some time to put it together. I had some trouble writing this and didn't really know where I wanted to take the story, so I hope it’s still readable. Thanks for reading! Part one

You saw love for the first time in that cold, desolated cabin. However, the moment was brief when it was swept away from you, too fast for you to bask in the warmth it brought to your untouched heart. Just like the candle lit up the cold house with its all-too-quickly fading light, it had ignited something in you - something you hadn’t felt in a long time. You had been sure it was a good dream finally coming to you, a dream to heal the troubles that plagued your mind endlessly, saving you from the hold your memories have on you. Every touch of Arthur’s fingers had done that, and they had been so kind, so gentle. They grasped every part of you, filling you with a comfort that made you feel completely safe, even though it had felt like the whole world was against you outside of the wooden walls. 

Eyes have a language of their own; you were sure of it. Though it’s hard, you’re always trying to grasp that actions and thoughts may not match. It has made your perception of the world more straightforward, allowing you to see people for what they are. Just like you - but with unique experiences and thoughts. Despite all this, you failed to consider Arthur’s thoughts as you basked in the warmth and safety he emitted to you. That’s why it wounded you to see his eyes speak so differently from the words that left him. He spoke indifferently, but his eyes were angry, ever so stoic. A whisper of shame taints the memories as his now obvious disdain towards you weighs heavily on your mind. You had stepped too far, misunderstanding his signals, turning his kindness into something it wasn’t. 

It was selfish; you knew it. And now, you had to pay the price for being greedy with a man who didn’t even want you–a man who couldn’t even look at you anymore. Was his touch a momentary weakness he now regrets? You fear that in seeking refuge within his arms, you’ve shattered the already fragile bond between you. The small crack you had made in his tall, stony walls once again filled, this time sharp thorns creeping around the surface and prickling your skin as you tried to grasp the edges so you wouldn’t fall off. 

You and Arthur were just like you had been in the beginning, treading carefully around each other like the other didn’t exist - like it was inconvenient to be in each other’s presence. You ache with every second of the prolonged silence, replaying every stolen glance and shared breath. Arthur was the fire that kept you warm that night, but did you scorch his heart in return?

The night air still lingers, but now it’s wrapped in a chilling fog as the morning breeze hangs heavy with unspoken words as you prepare to leave the shelter of the cabin. Your encounter still weighed deeply on you, and although you tried to keep your mind on other things, it proved futile. With every thought of him, it was as if the ghosts of the night before hovered between, whispering secrets that danced just out of reach.  

You hadn’t slept the rest of the night; instead, you spent the small hours before dawn treading quietly through the house to distract your mind from the constant thoughts that circled in your head. The atmosphere was calm but uncanny, a lingering sense of emptiness filling you while striding through the distant memories you knew lay deep within these walls.

It was a smaller cabin, and nothing exciting hid in the dressers and side tables, as you might have hoped. You don’t know what you were looking for–maybe some letter or long-forgotten notes. Although you found nothing, everything else was in perfect shape despite the dust laying like a blanket over every surface, meaning the only person who probably knew about this place was Arthur. The house was lonely enough, and through your adrenaline-filled ride, you knew the site strayed far away from the path as only tightly grown trees surrounded you, right in the middle of the woods.

As you stepped into what looked to be the bedroom, you saw the bedside table filled with smoked cigarettes and ash surrounding it in heaps. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Arthur often stayed here, his not-so-healthy smoking addiction being a telltale sign. 

“So, this is where he stays? And, smokes?” Your observation made you giggle through your lingering sadness at the thought. He was here more often than he had insinuated, it seems. 

There were traces of him everywhere, more than you had seen in the camp. It wasn’t often he left shirts to clean or dishes to wash, nor did he have many possessions littered around. When Arthur was out, he was gone for long periods; when he wasn’t, he kept to himself most of the time. But here, his presence was overwhelming; the warm, familiar scent of him lingered, hitting you intensely. You could even see a gun lying on the floor and his all-to-familiar, blue, worn-out shirt hanging on the chair. 

Filthy was an understatement, as the dirt and sweat on it made you scrunch your nose, a displeased noise leaving you. The amount of holes in the fabric made you want to gasp and gasp even harder when you saw the blood on it. What had Arthur done to the shirt? And what had he done to himself to leave the shirt looking like that? Striding hastily from the door, you picked it up, examining it with wide eyes. You could almost fit your entire hand through the patch. 

Judging from the blood fading to a faint brownish color, it looked like the shirt had been here for quite some time. You could see a horrible attempt at stitchwork as you examined the blue fabric, but the moment you stretched it slightly, the stitches came undone as the needle that still hung from the thread fell to the floor. 

A loud voice brought you away from your thoughts as the shirt fell from your hands. Arthur shouted your name, and suddenly, you were brought back to your current predicament. The thought made you sigh heavily as you stared out the window, now blurry with frost. Facing him right now didn’t feel entirely right, but you didn’t have a choice; if you didn’t want to walk back, of course. 

With one last glance around the room, you quickly closed the door behind you and fished up the jacket you had borrowed on your way. Stepping out on the porch, you felt heavy and aching in the brisk morning breeze, gazing beyond the trees as the warm lights of the sunrise painted your surroundings with a golden hue. In front of you, Arthur was silent as he stood tall and formidable with his back towards you, adjusting the reins of Boadicea. With a clenched jaw, the brim of his hat cast a shadow under his eyes, obscuring the thoughts that churned beneath. 

The horse shifted in front of him, restless, as if sensing the charged atmosphere. You knew he heard you step out, but he made no incantation of acknowledging your presence as anxiety filled you, words leaving you before you could stop them. 

“Do you think it’s safe to go back now?” How he heard you was beyond you as your voice was slightly above a whisper, your insecurities wrapping heavily around your words. You shamed yourself for the stupid question you asked, mentally hitting yourself on the head. 

His response was a quiet grunt, barely audible, and if you were facing him, you would see the brief flicker of uncertainty that crossed his face. It was a rare glimpse of vulnerability, a crack in his armor as his heart ached at your voice. Unbeknownst to you, of course. Seeing you so careful around him now made it seem like you had just met, your anxious gaze staring uncertainly at the outlaw in front of you like the day you met.

Hesitating momentarily, you searched for the right words, but the weight pressed against your chest, choking the words before they could form. You felt so tiny where you stood, like a small ant before a giant bear. The choking of tears waited to pour out, so you kept quiet. With briefly closed eyes, you took small steps down the porch, nearing him slowly, like he would leave if you moved too hastily.

He didn’t help you up the horse, and the action made you hesitate. Usually, Arthur would have been there, a steady presence at your side, always doing his utmost to help you. Instead, he swung onto the horse briskly and waited for you to climb on behind him. You moved tentatively; you weren’t sure if your overthinking or his daunting presence made you clumsy, but it was a challenge. 

With a shaky breath, you attempted to swing your leg over the saddle, but the simple act you’d done countless times before suddenly felt impossible. Heart pounding in your chest, you cursed how your hands seemed to have a mind of their own. 

Your foot slipped, and you stumbled, your heart skipping a beat as you fought to regain your balance. The horse shifted before you, sensing your unease, and you bit down on your lip as embarrassment burned your cheeks.

Suddenly, you heard a sigh above you, and you dared to steal a glance at Arthur. His gaze remained fixed ahead, his expression unreadable, but there was a resignation in how his shoulders sagged ever so slightly like your struggle was the last thing he had the patience for. 

Without warning, a warmth enveloped your waist. Your eyes widened as his hand gently steadied you, his touch firm yet gentle. He held onto you for a fleeting moment, his fingers warm against your skin as he helped you into the saddle. Quickly, he released his hold on you, like scorched by fire. 

Now, you were the closest to him you had been since last night, although the chasm between you felt wider than ever, a gulf of unspoken emotions that you were too afraid to bridge. With a gentle nudge from Arthur, the horse moved, the rhythm of its hooves a melancholic symphony.

You stole a glance at Arthur, his jaw still set, gaze focused on the path ahead. His unreadable expression starkly contrasted the vulnerability he’d shown you just a few hours ago. What was going through his mind, you wondered to yourself. 

You could have never guessed the shame that littered his thoughts with every move; the thought of you now acting apprehensive made him want to disappear into the ground. He had shown you a part he always kept to himself, a part he only relished when the last light of day disappeared.

 God damn it, he was so foolish to think it was a dream since you had felt more real than you had ever felt. His mind raced as he tried to wreck his sense of what he could have said in his sleep for you to wake him up suddenly in the middle of the night, wondering if he had been talking about you.

He felt embarrassed, not letting himself touch you for a moment more than necessary, as he knew it would make you uncomfortable. Now, he longed for how you acted around each other before the night came, with you blabbering adoringly on with some nonsense that seemed to always lighten his mood, even though he didn’t respond most of the time. He felt stale now, shoulders hunched and hands gripping tightly on the reins as he tried to shake the thoughts of you away from his mind, unsuccessfully as per usual.

Still wary, you soon realized you didn’t know where to put your hands, fearing to touch his rigid body that tensed at every jump and unexpected movement from the horse. With a tentative exhale, you finally rest your hands on your thighs, fingers tracing the fabric of your skirt. It was a slight gesture, a silent admission of your uncertainty. The thought saddened you, and you should have appreciated his allowance of your touch the night before when you rode with him. It had been comfortable, and it was like neither of you had minded being that close to each other. It felt like years ago, but it was only a few hours. 

As the horse’s movements continued to sway beneath you, a gust of wind tugged at your hair, sending strands dancing in the breeze. Instinctively, as if seeking an anchor, your fingers brushed against the fabric of Arthur’s shirt. The touch was unintentional, almost accidental, and your heart raced as you realized what you’d done. When Arthur didn’t react, your hands stayed there, the cotton of his shirt soft against your skin.

You didn’t exchange a single word for the rest of the way, both fear and apprehension filling the air around you as it breezed. The journey felt longer than you remembered; the anxiety and adrenaline had probably clouded your judgment last night. Although it felt longer, Arthur had set a fast pace, and you wondered if it was because he wanted it to be over and to escape your presence quickly. The thought hurt you deeply, and you wished for nothing more than to be back at camp.

-

And that’s how it went; the pair of you grew further apart the longer time went on, choosing to ignore every chance of reconciliation, instead opting to go about your day as if nothing had happened. The embarrassment inside of you should have grown into disdain for the man as you brooded at the thought of his actions. Instead, you couldn’t change your thoughts about him. You adored him, even though you know he didn’t share the same feelings. It all feels melancholy, but you can’t help how you think; your emotions always have the upper hand.

Like before, all traces of him grew faint as time passed, and to be honest with yourself, you missed him. As days stretched into weeks–an unsettling awareness that Arthur’s presence was becoming ephemeral, like a fading echo in your day-to-day life. 

It started with the little things, the subtle traces of his existence that usually wove themselves into the fabric of camp life. His worn hat resting on his bed was absent. The constant smell of tobacco that lingered in the air was no longer there, replaced by the emptiness of his absence. The worn books he used to read lay untouched, collecting dust, pages waiting for fingers that never turned them anymore. The cup of coffee he’d drink in the early morning hours as you watched him from your place by the tree was now empty, cold, and abandoned. 

Insignificant as they were, these traces spoke volumes to you. They were remnants of a man slipping away, consumed by a world that demands his attention at every turn. You had noticed how the weight on everyone’s shoulders had grown heavier recently as if treading down those mountains had unleashed an avalanche on your unsuspecting shoulders. 

The workload was severe, and it seemed more often than not that things went wrong nowadays. Although it had appeared to lighten the mood for everyone to have some distance from the law, you didn’t feel like the recent time had been doing you good. More so, the lurking shadow of Micha that now constantly lingered seemed to dampen your mood even more. 

Having to move from Horseshoe Overlook was one big reason you felt uneasy. You had grown quite fond of the place but were also used to change, which made it less arduous. However, dealing with Pinkerton’s and Cornwall’s men made your stomach turn. 

All of you appeared to be in more trouble than before, and it seemed like you only increased your danger with every turn you made. You couldn’t argue that this place was better, though; the area’s remoteness makes you feel safer than you had ever been. Enclosed by a thick forest and looking out at a bay filled with small islands, you felt as if you were miles away from the closest living person. 

Huffing to yourself, you closed your eyes momentarily as you leaned back into the makeshift chair you made from some boxes behind your tent. Although you had a bed, which you made yourself stubbornly since you refused to sleep on the ground, you found work more peaceful here. You were deathly scared of bugs, and if you slept on the floor, you were sure you would become a nest for the filthy, petty demons. 

Although not a proper bed, just a blanket over some boxes, it wasn’t too comfortable, but you had to pick your poison despite the chuckles you got from your newfound friends. Oh, how you envied the others who had a proper bed. The thought made you sulk, but to be fair, the workload on the ones with a bed was heavier than yours, naturally.

Once again, your thoughts led you to him. It was the case more often than not recently. Although you had both had some more distance between you with Arthur never being around, it had only made you think about him more than you wished. You guessed it would give you more space and room to breathe, but it made you feel cramped like the surrounding air had become tighter as the days passed. 

You had also been pondering how well you had fallen asleep in his arm that night with no hint of a nightmare following the closing of your eyes. It was strange to you, and you couldn’t help but miss the shut-eye that had made you feel more at peace than ever since you were a child. There was something so comforting about his arms around you, and you felt safer than ever knowing he was there, and you had missed it and now longed for it.

Over time, it felt like the hinting of love had been creeping towards you as you tried with all the strength you had to push it away, but your efforts remained useless as the thought of him only made your heart race. It felt hopeless to you that you had to go around pining for a man you rarely saw these days, but you couldn’t help the longing from your heart that prompted you to run into his arms whenever you caught sight of him and worry immensely when you didn’t see him return to camp. 

Without Arthur’s knowledge, you had been eying the shirt you brought back from the cabin, wondering if you should fix it. If you did, he would know you stumbled into his room. You don’t know why, but you pondered if doing so would make him mad. He would probably view it as an intrusion on his privacy, but he didn’t tell you not to go in there. You had concluded that you would stitch it up for him but not give it to him. 

The stitching proved difficult as the fabric’s tear was just as massive as you noted when you first saw it, along with some smaller holes that were easy enough. Apart from your troubles with it, you were pretty proud of your handiwork, and the shirt now looked wearable again. Well, it’s wearable enough for a cowboy, at least. With a sigh, you let the fabric fall on your lap and ran your hand through your hair as you gazed into the tightly grown forest towering before you. 

“I didn’t take you for the lovesick type.” A giggling voice reached your ear, and when you turned your head to look beside you, a smiling Mary Beth filled your vision. Your brows arched at her words, surprised. “Lovesick? I’m not lovesick.” You said calmly, feigning innocence. You knew indeed what she meant, but you were not lovesick. The guilt from that night still filled your every thought, just like the embarrassment at your actions rose in you every time you heard his name. You didn’t know your actions mirrored your feelings, but to be fair, Mary Beth was always reading those romance books that probably gave her a picture of the signs of being in love.

“But maybe you are, seeing as you’re mending his shirt for him. It’ll make him happy, you know. He wore it an awful lot before.” A faint blush spread on your cheeks as you made no move to hide the shirt; the damage was already done. She was more observant than she looked; you had to give her that. 

“Mending a shirt is hardly a sign of love, Mary-Beth. If that were the case, we’d all be married by now.” Your words grew into a giggle, the thought amusing you and your romance-obsessed friend. 

“Could you imagine? I married to Bill? Or worse, Uncle?!” You erupted in a loud laughing fit after Mary-Beth whispered the words to you when she sat beside you, eyes around you now observing you. Putting her arm against your back, you both gossiped the evening away enthusiastically as you hid away from the rest of the camp, cheerfully blabbing til the darkness filled your surroundings. It was nice, the conversation you kept keeping your thoughts away from the sadness that had lodged itself in your chest, a now constant reminder. 

In moments like this, you appreciated having a close friend like Mary–Beth around, for she was incredibly clever and better at knowing when you needed distraction. You hoped she thought the same of you, knowing her life wasn’t exactly rainbows and sunshine. You also knew she valued Arthur greatly and knew him well, much more than you did. The questions churned underneath, as you had to stop yourself from spilling your situation to her as you laid all the cards on the table, begging her to make sense of your emotions. You weren’t familiar with relying your feelings on others. Instead, you took pride in your extraordinary listening abilities.

He appeared in the corner of your eyes as you glanced up amidst your hushed voices. Menacing, he looked where he sat tall on his mount, body slumped backward as he lazily swayed with the horse’s movements, leaning back in the saddle. A sigh left you as he appeared unharmed, and the slight fluttering that spread in your body made you feel like throwing up. A sharp shiver rushed through you when his blue eyes met yours, the distance doing nothing to reduce the coil that twisted your stomach at his gaze. They were fiercely soft when they met yours, dark even through their vibrant shine. He looked intimidating; there was no doubt about that, and you cowered under his stare, eyes flickering between his and the dirtied ground before you as he disappeared into camp.

It reminded you heavily of the day of the robbery and how his gaze had pierced dangerously into the poor man’s frame. Somehow, you had convinced yourself that despite the severity of his actions, he was a good man. You were unsure if it was to justify the feelings you harbored for him or the will to think of everyone as good-natured that made that the case. 

It had made you second guess what you were doing here, wondering if it did you any good to stay, but every time you pondered walking out, you found yourself unable to. You didn’t want to admit that Arthur was the reason for your staying, but somehow, the thought seemed to linger in your mind, reminding you of it every so often. 

You felt Mary-Beth’s hand circle your forearm as she waved at the other men coming back, although glancing at you as she did. Straightening your back, you looked away. This time, you kept it that way as his eyes did more damage than good to you, a warmth having spread low in your stomach at the look of him.

Clearing your throat, you raised from your spot beside Mary-Beth and gave her a tight-knit smile. “Let’s get something to eat, yeah?” Nodding, she dusted off her lap slightly before hooking arms with you, humming as you walked off. You headed deeper into camp, finding Arthur’s eyes examining you as he spoke to a beaming Mr. Pearson, joined by a pessimistic Dutch. 

Scratching his beard with his thumb, he looked deep in thought, like he wasn’t even recognizing that he was looking at you. For the first time, his eyes didn’t avoid you; instead, he looked at you shamelessly as your frame grew closer. Staring ahead, you felt your heartbeat pick up–it felt nice to have him looking at you again, although you couldn’t quite figure out what could be the reason for his stare. 

You found yourself in a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts, the questions tumbling through your mind like a storm. Mary-Beth’s voice grew into background noise, her words a distant echo as you tried to steady your racing heart that only grew faster as the world became stifling. 

The atmosphere had shifted, charged with a tension that seemed to envelop everything. As you continued the short distance, you couldn’t help but steal glances in his direction, each filled with curiosity and uncertainty despite you telling yourself to pay him no mind. God, you felt like a teenager again with no self-restriction.

“Hey.” A deep rumble traveled through camp as the distinctive voice reached you, your mind going numb at the possibility of him speaking to you. Mary-Beth turned her head towards you in confusion while you raised your shoulder slightly in uncertainty, head turning towards the ground as you came to a halt. You heard the clanking of footsteps draw near as the conversation between the three men ended.

“I’ll let you speak in private. Join me later?” Nodding slightly, you kept your head down, wishing you could shrink and run out of sight of the man towering behind you as your friend left you to your demise. You cursed at her under your breath as she half-ran to grab a bite to eat, probably to watch the entertainment before her unfold. 

A short, rough cough brought you out of your thoughts, and straightening your spine, you turned around to face Arthur, motioning for him to speak as a slight smile graced your lips politely. 

“I- we brought Ada back. I’m sorry we couldn’t get her until now, but roaming around there could get us into quite the trouble.” Scratching his neck slightly, he grabbed his belt buckle like he always did when he didn’t know where to put his hands. 

You almost gaped at him when he spoke to you, used to him ignoring you, but recovered quickly by nodding slowly to show him you heard him. Eyes flickered up to yours soon before they faltered just as fast, sniffling before continuing.

“She seems alright, so you don’t gotta worry about that.” Suddenly, his words sunk in, your mind too focused on seeming indifferent to realize. Relief washed over you as you glanced towards the trees, and there she was, unhurt and now safe. Your legs began moving towards her before you could stop them, but before you got too far, you turned to the man who had brought her back to you.

“Thank you, Arthur, really. I know you have a lot on your shoulders right now, so…” You wanted to continue, but your mind grew blank as his blue eyes stared straight into yours. Nodding hastily, he told you not to worry about it and left you with Ada. 

Smiling broadly, you ran up to her to thread your fingers through her mane, soft as it was when you last saw her. 

“Welcome home, Ada.”

-

After your small interaction, the days passed, the slight contentment you felt bled into settled panic nestling in your stomach. Dread filled you as you walked towards the men saddling their horses, not giving you a second glance as your quick steps grew closer. 

“I rarely involve myself in your business, as it’s not my place. But I and many others deem this to be a set-up!” Panic laced your words even though you tried to hide it, hoping they couldn’t detect it as you tried to keep a steady voice. Abigail trailed behind you, putting her hand calmly on your back. 

She had seen the unsteadiness on your face when she told you of their recently planned actions to make up a deal with Colm O’Driscoll and end the year-long feud between them; worry also heavy on her face as she told you of her doubts about the situation. 

“Now, now, my dear girl. You have nothing to worry about. We are just going to chat with old Colm, nothing more, nothing less!” Dutch’s ardent voice was loud as he spoke confidently, patting your shoulder as he walked past you, not failing to give you a reassuring smile only he could give in a situation like this. You felt like rolling your eyes at him but decided against it; the action was not like you and most definitely disrespectful towards the man.

“I get I might not know much about his character, but from what I’ve heard, he’s not the most reliable man. I’m asking you to consider instead of hasting through it.” Chuckling slightly, the man raised himself into his saddle expertly, beckoning Micha to do the same as Arthur stayed firmly on the ground as you spoke, staring indescribably at you. You could see the thoughts that ran through his mind. Who did you think you were to talk to in Dutch like that? With shame long forgotten, you stood your ground.

“My, my. You could give a man the wrong idea by worrying like that.” Sneering down at you with a sleazy smile, Micha crouched his form down towards you as he pulled on the reins. “I’ll return to you in one piece, darling.” 

His offensive breath reached your nose as he leaned in close to you, and with an appalled face, you stepped back quickly to put some distance between you, back-hitting Arthur’s chest by accident, unaware he stood so close. His hand closed around your upper arm to pull you away from Micha. Sending him an unimpressed look, he grabbed your shoulders and turned you around as he stared you down with raised eyebrows.

“Listen, we know what we’re doin-” Before he could continue, Dutch interrupted him. 

“Just a talk, darling.” Flashing you a suave smile, he beckoned the horse forward with Micha on the trail. “Come on, Arthur. We got a deal to make!” Hands left your shoulder as you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. 

“Arthur, please listen to me. I have a bad feeling about this! What if you get hurt?” Your tries of reasoning grew into pleading as you trailed behind him, grabbing onto his leg as the horse, who kept a slow trot, rose still, huffing at the abrupt standstill. Staring up at Arthur with begging eyes, you thought you might have seen a slight hesitation deep within them.

“Hey, we’ll be alright, darlin’.” Leaning down, he grabbed your hand firmly on his thigh with a tight squeeze. “I wouldn’t dare get a scratch on the shirt you fixed for me, so I’ll have no choice but to return unharmed, do I?” With that, his warm hands left yours as the dirt swirled around him, gazing ahead with a small smile you failed to see amidst your confusion.

Shirt, you pondered for a second. Glancing behind you, you now noticed a few more had walked up a few meters away as they watched the men leave, Abigail pulling you back towards the camp with a sad gaze. Amidst them, you found a smug Mary-Beth shrugging her shoulders as you gave her an accusatory look, shrinking away quickly before you could question her.

A palpable tension stayed after their departure; it had continued into a sleepless night as anxious whispers and worried glances punctuated each passing hour cast toward the horizon. 

Ultimately, it turned out that they all had been wrong, and you had been right. Despite this, Micha and Dutch returned in one piece, but Arthur did not. Arthur was the reason you were worried about this meeting from the start. Whenever you thought about the severity of the situation, your heart picked up, and the feeling of having to do something filled you but being held back by various gang members. 

“We can’t just sit here! What if they have Arthur!?” You walked around restlessly with your hands trembling slightly in worry. 

“And they might not have him. We don’t know. If we don’t see him back before tomorrow, we’ll go out after him.” Charles’ calm voice did nothing to ease your stress. Glancing up at Dutch in the distance, you grew weary as you didn’t see a trace of worry on his features. “This happens sometimes; we have to wait it out for a while. Arthur would have said the same thing.”

The only response Charles got was a clear view of your back as you stalked off to your tent, restlessness coursing through you amidst your slight panic. How they could be so aloof about this made no sense to you. From the moment when Dutch and Micha returned to camp, it was as if everything had returned to normal, with only a few inquiries about Arthur’s whereabouts. 

Were you overreacting? They had been exposed to these situations for much longer than you had, so was your worrying unnecessary? Charles might have been right. Maybe you should give it some time before the worrying was justified, choosing to believe he was safe and sound. It would be the more logical thing to do, which didn’t surprise you since the thought came from Charles, but your head refused to work with it. 

As night and day passed, your thoughts were consumed by the man now absent, everything you did useless since you couldn’t focus. It blurred past you, a fog-like cloud covering your mind. 

Only when the moon cast a silver sheen over the camp could you hear it—a distant, solitary set of hoofbeats approaching. Your heart leaped into your throat as you swirled around with the half-packed bag. It was the unmistakable cadence of Arthur’s horse you had grown to remember. 

With a sense of urgency, you rushed to the camp’s perimeter, your eyes fixed on the approaching silhouette. Arthur’s unmistakable figure emerged from the shadows, hunched over in pain, one arm clenched tightly to his side. He looked battered and bruised, the soft glow from camp revealing the weariness on his battered face.

As he drew nearer, your heart constricted in your chest, the relief of seeing him again, nothing against the fear now flooding your senses. The world seemed to slow to a crawl as you watched him approach, his usually steely resolve replaced by a weary vulnerability. The sight of him wounded and weakened, stirred emotions within you that you struggled to put into words. All you could do was stand in shock, frozen in time, as he emerged.

Arthur’s horse carried him closer, but his strength gave out, and he tumbled from the saddle to the ground with a painful thud. You felt a shiver of anguish as the impact sent you rushing forward, and others from the camp alerted by the commotion joined you. In the dim moonlight, you could see the strained lines of Arthur’s face, the sweat that clung to his brow, and the pallor of his skin being drained of its usual color. His clothing was stained with dirt and dried blood, and his breaths came in ragged, pained gasps.

Amidst the concerned voices and hurried footsteps surrounding him, Arthur summoned the strength to speak. His words were laden with exhaustion and a grim determination as he recounted the treacherous encounter with Colm O’Driscoll. His suspicions about betrayal were tragically confirmed that he had relied on Dutch before despite his reassurance to you. 

“Ah, I told you they would betray us, Dutch!” His voice was strained as he spoke, his eyes shut tight. Your hands trembled as you knelt beside him, your fingers itching to reach and touch him, to reassure yourself that he was here and not a figment of your imagination. The fear that had been gnawing at you during his absence, the dread that he might never return, had taken a toll on your nerves, and now that he was back, it threatened to spill over.

“We were comin’ for you, Arthur,” Dutch shouted as he made his way over, his voice tinged with relief. “But you made it back. That’s what matters.” As he spoke, your gaze remained locked onto Arthur’s face, your heart aching as you ignored his words. The sight of him, usually the epitome of strength and resilience, brought low by his injuries, shook you to your core. 

The campfire’s flickering light cast eerie shadows on his battered form, accentuating the wounds and weariness on his face as his eyes stayed on you. Pain and exhaustion dimmed his usually vibrant eyes. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead as his face scrunched up in pain, and your heart ached at the sight of him in such agony.

You moved closer to Arthur, inspecting his injuries as discreetly as possible. His injuries were rough, and the gun wound in his shoulder was cauterized. Instantly, you grew worried when you realized he had sealed the wound on his own, but you shook the thoughts away for now. 

Leaning closer to Arthur, your fingers moved carefully; you swept away the sweat-dampened strands of hair that clung to his forehead, your touch a soothing caress against his heated skin. The sensation of his sweat-slicked hair sliding through your fingertips sent a shiver down your spine, but you pressed on, driven by an irresistible need to provide him with some relief.

“You’ll be all right, Arthur. Just hang in there.” You whispered, your voice filled with warmth and worry, trying to discern his pain despite knowing words wouldn’t do the job. Your fingertips traced a path down to his cheek, where the roughness of his stubble met your touch. 

Miss Grimshaw’s voice cut through the tense atmosphere of the camp like a whip crack, her stern tone leaving no room for argument. “Enough of this dawdling!” she barked, her eyes blazing with authority as she glared at the men gathered around Arthur. “Get him to his cot, now!” The urgency in her command left no room for hesitation, and the men scrambled into action, realizing the gravity of the situation. They carefully lifted Arthur, who winced in pain and carried him to his cot.

“Miss, you know what to do?” Her stern voice grew softer as she looked at you, already gathering materials you kept by your tent in a calm frenzy. You stilled as you looked at her, absentmindedly nodding as you pondered how to keep the man alive.

As you set to work, the camp grew into a tense silence; you preparing to tend to Arthur’s wounds when everyone had finally left you alone. Despite this, you could almost feel the tent vibrate with the heaviness of the other’s curious and worried eyes, closed flaps not helping.

Cauterized. That’s what Arthur had done. You closed your eyes momentarily at the horrifying thought. “What a fool you are, Arthur Morgan.” As the anger-rid panic spread through you, the loud buzzing in your ears grew louder. The flickering glow of the campfire cast shifting shadows across his worn face, highlighting the pain etched there. With anger and concern fueling your determination, you gathered the supplies, each movement deliberate.

As you sat on the chair beside the bed, the scent of smoke and charred flesh lingered in the air, a haunting reminder of what he had done to survive. Hastily, you unbuttoned the top of his union suit–the once white material a dark red, wet with blood. The wound was now exposed, the charred edges and angry redness a testament to the dangerousness of his actions. Your heart ached at the sight, emotions swirling within you as your fingers traced the contours of the wound with gentle reverence, feeling the heat that radiated from his skin. 

“Why in the world does it look like that?” Miss Grimshaw had crept up hurriedly behind you through the closed flaps of the tent but stopped when she was presented with the sight before her. Her gaze was set straight on where the bullet had dislodged from his right shoulder. The flesh was both burned and black. A gruesome sight, indeed. 

She handed you a clean cloth, her hand hovering over her mouth as you dipped it in the cold water Pearson had handed you. Gently, you cleaned the wound, the fabric stained with a mixture of dirt, ash, and dried blood. You made sure the touch of the cloth against his skin was tender as you glanced up at his still contorting face, pain heightening as time passed now that the adrenaline had lessened. 

“Cauterization.” You told the woman, disbelief still brimming through your mind. “It’s not a very common practice, and many aren’t aware of it. A good thing, though, I would say. It’s only used when there is no other way to survive.” The thought made you hesitate as you wondered what could have happened to Arthur for him to think that was the only way. 

You got a confused look as you peered up at Miss. Grimshaw. Sighing lightly, you continued. “To avoid bleeding to death, you remove the bullet lodged in your skin from your wound and then blow up the skin with gunpowder to seal it. While it theoretically works, gunpowder is unpredictable, meaning you could get into more damage than you first were. When you blow up the skin like that, the skin tissue dies–and the immune system doesn’t work on that area since the skin is dead, essentially.” You glanced at him again as you shook your head, finding his eyes already on yours. 

“With no immune system, the infections you can get are severe. There’s no way for your body to help protect that skin. In the end, it leads to death, most of the time.”

With a steadying breath, you reached for a bottle of alcohol salvaged from the camp’s supplies. Soaking the cloth in the liquid, the potent scent fills the surrounding air. “If the fever doesn’t take him, the infections will, Susan. How in the world did he think this was a good idea?” Though steady at hand, your voice shook as you found it increasingly difficult to speak. 

You placed one hand on his forehead that felt worryingly warm under your palm as you glanced around to see if you had brought a wet cloth. Catching your drift, Grimshaw handed you one she got from the bedside table. Giving her an appreciative smile, you place it on his forehead. 

“I can hear you, you know.” Gritting the words through his teeth, he spoke in a slur amidst the sharp pain, keeping his gaze locked on you. As you stared at each other, a silent exchange passed before you gently pressed the alcohol-dosed cloth against the wound. His inhale was sharp, a flinch betraying his efforts to remain composed, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of empathy for the suffering he endured.

Looking at you, Grimshaw shook her head slightly as appreciation shone in her sharp eyes. “Well, good thing we have you here, miss. God knows how he would have fared if that weren’t the case.”

 For the first time since you met her, Miss Grimshaw appeared wildly unsure of herself, uneasiness coating her every move. If not for the severity of the situation, you would have found humor in her now ghostly pale face contradicting her ever-so-harsh interior. She probably felt so, too, for she put her hand on your shoulder encouragingly and left you to tend to Arthur, promising to call for her if you needed anything.

Her words were encouraging, yet the fear stayed persistent. What if you couldn’t help Arthur? Trying to stray from the thoughts consuming you, you focused on keeping a delicate balance of care and caution in your hands. The alcohol someone handed you before served as an antiseptic. Although not as valuable as a legitimate antiseptic, you had to make it work to sterilize the wound and ward off the threat of infection. 

Arthur’s eyes remained fixed on yours throughout—a gaze that seemed intense and challenging to describe yet unwavering in its focus as they grew tired. In another instance, it might have rendered you nervous about being so heavily observed, but the adrenaline that still coursed through you made your focus solely on his wound. When everything appeared clean, you grabbed the bandage you brought to wrap it around his shoulder cautiously.

After some time, you carefully withdrew as nothing more could be done, but your fingers lingered against his skin for a moment longer than necessary. Despite his fatal injuries, feeling his skin under your hands had been an immense comfort–a constant reminder that he was still with you for the time being. 

The moonlight glows gently over you, soft shadows dancing across his features as you gaze over his form. He appeared to be knocked out now, eyes closed and breathing even. Indeed, this was a common enough occurrence in this gang as you thought back to all the other misfortunes they had to be saved from, but the thought of Arthur being the one at the receiving end of it made your chest cramp slightly tighter. Sure, he had been in scrapes before, but never this bad.

Shaking your head, you tried to get rid of the thoughts bothering you and instead worried about how you were about to keep his fever down. He was still burning up, face red and layered with sweat. As you glanced at Arthur again, pity settled low in your stomach. His expression was laden with discomfort and pain, even though sleep had rendered him motionless on the bed. 

Bringing your hands away from his smoldering skin, you quietly threaded over the ground to the bedside table to grab the supplies, now soaked in blood and ash. Preparing to leave, you took what remained of the alcohol so you could sterilize the small portion of materials that were still usable. 

That’s when you heard a barely audible, hoarse grunt piercing through the night’s stillness. Surprised, you looked behind you, and staring at you were a pair of blue eyes, half-shut with exhaust coating them amidst a desperation you had never witnessed before. Your breath hitched as the moment suffocated your lungs, the air around you growing thicker. 

“Don’t go.” Arthur’s words were a whisper, laced with a quiet vulnerability that made your heartbeat pick up its pace. As you looked down at your blood-soaked hands to avoid his gaze, a calm moment passed where you assessed where the following string of actions would lead you, but ultimately, you sat back in the chair beside him.

Gently, you brought your still trembling fingers through his hair, combing it away from the cloth covering his forehead. His half-closed eyes watched you, and the warmth lodged in them almost made your breath stop. 

Humming slightly, you remained beside him until your soothing caress lulled him closer to sleep. His breathing gradually slowed, the pain-filled haze lulling him into a fitful slumber. Features relaxed, his body finally succumbing to the desperately needed rest.

–

The camp grew shrouded in quietness. Arthur was still lying in his fever-induced haze, features now softened by the gentle pull of slumber. By his side, you sat with a tired mind, a flickering lantern casting a warm light that danced across your features. You had been awake for a few hours, watching over him in hopes his fever would stay down. Although your eyes showed intense fatigue, you combated sleep with determination and worry. How could you possibly leave him now? 

Frankly, you were just as terrified now as when he stumbled into camp. As told before, if a severe infection took hold of his body, you had no way to help or treat him like you would if you had the suitable materials and not in the middle of nowhere. It was severe, not the usual gashes and bruises you were used to tending to with your time with the gang. 

As you gently switched the damp cloth on his forehead for a new one, its cool touch contrasted his heated skin greatly. Arthur’s eyelids fluttered open slightly, revealing eyes clouded with fever and something else–perhaps even warmer amidst the haze. Chastising yourself for not being careful enough, you stroked his cheek softly with the back of your fingers, cooing at him calmly.

“Go back to sleep.” Your voice was calm, praying that he would fall back asleep. He didn’t answer you, only looking at you in that indescribable way. A fleeting vulnerability had seemed to wash over him in the quiet space between wakefulness and dreams as his fingers stirred.

Before you could fully grasp his intentions, his trembling hand found the one you had been resting on his cheek, his touch warm. A rough thumb brushed against your inner palm in a tender caress as he brought the soft skin of your hand to graze it over his lips. Your heart raced a tumultuous rhythm as his action surprised you tremendously.

Despite your attempts to stay strong, the weariness that washed over you and the toll of the day’s events fell from your shoulders when his eyes stared so tenderly into yours. The fear that had knotted your chest when you first saw him writhing in pain, the nagging anxiety that had gnawed at your insides during those uncertain hours of tending to his wounds, and the overwhelming relief that he was now here, still with you—all surged to the surface at once. 

Silent tears welled in your eyes, their shimmering trails tracing the contours of your red cheeks. Your breath quivered, and your shoulders shook with the sheer intensity of the emotions building inside you. It was as though a dam had burst, releasing the pent-up feelings that had threatened to overwhelm you throughout the night. In the soft, dark tent, you surrendered to this moment of vulnerability, letting your tears flow freely.

​​Arthur’s lips, usually quick with wit or stern in resolve, now held a slight parting as if he wanted to speak but found himself at a loss for words. Witnessing him in such a state was rare, his gaze carrying a depth of emotion without explanation. Though trembling with the lingering pain of his injuries, his fingers maintained an unwavering hold on your hand as he pulled on it, beckoning you closer to him. 

“No.” You mumbled through your tears, eyes clouded with a panic-induced frenzy when you understood what he wanted from you. “I need to watch over your fever.” Sobs mingled with your words, shaking your voice as tears glided down your skin, hand leaving in hesitation as you tried to create distance between you. A sigh escapes Arthur as he stretches his arm towards you and grabs your hand yet again, pulling you closer to him. 

Although the pull was weak, it didn’t require much strength to succumb you to his will. Your determination disappeared instantaneously as your mind longed to be comforted despite the man before you in more need of it, leaving the chair to be embraced by his scorching body, the smell of sweat and blood filling your nostrils when you felt him underneath you. You didn’t care, though, the feeling of his bare skin against your cheek letting you know he was alive as you rested in the crook of his neck.

In the peaceful silence, you could hear the labored rhythm of his breaths, still showing signs of pain and the toll his injuries had taken on him. His heartbeat remained steady, though, a reassuring cadence that echoed in your ears like a comforting lullaby as you rested your hand on it. You grew aware of the rise and fall of his chest, the gentle thud of his pulse against your ear. Your heartbeat slowed as his cradle unconsciously calmed you, the tears not as persistent as they once were. 

His uninjured hand found sanction on your waist as he gently stroked it with his thumb, the action comforting. If that meant he was alright or not, you could not tell, but likewise, you basked in the moment of having him close to you.

You looked up at him and stroked his temple soothingly as you wiped away the sweat that ran down his face. Arthur was already observing you when you met his gaze, the look in his eyes making you warmer than you already were, as the stifling air in the closed tent made no way for the chilly breeze to come through.

“You scared me, Arthur.” As the moment grew more intense, your eyes fell to the scruff on his neck as you spoke, fearing to look at him after your revelation. You felt the coarseness of his hand land on your cheeks in a gentle motion, the pads of his fingers gliding across your skin thoughtfully.

“You ain’t got to be scared anymore,” His raspy voice spoke out as his touch slowly caressed your lips, eyes zoned in on the soft curves. “I’m right here.” 

Then, as if guided by an impulse deep within him, he raised on his unhurt arm and leaned forward as the back of your head found sanction in the crevice in his arm, his lips finding yours in a kiss as delicate as it was poignant. 

The world seemed to recede in that instant, time slowing to a standstill as the feeling of his lips against yours sent a jolt of emotions coursing through your veins. The exchange was not fleeting; it was a lingering dance of lips and breath, a dance that ignited embers that had been smoldering between you for longer than you dared to admit. 

When he pulled back, his eyes locked on yours with a blend of sleepiness and an ember of awareness that pierced through the fog of his haze. You grabbed his shoulders softly, beckoning him to lie down again and rest on his already shaking body, quivering from the power of trying to stay upright. His fingers retreated to the bed, his gaze unwavering, as if he was etching you into his memory. A hand came to rest in your hair when he softly brought you to his lips again, your breath hitching as you fell into his arms again, your legs on either side of him when he pulled you closer.

His lips moved with more fervor this time, the arm holding you tighter against him as a deep hum left his throat at the feeling of your hands on his neck. His eyes were half-open as he kissed you, gazing softly into yours as the candle beside you flickered its light deep into his eyes. Together, your lips massaged one another, now desperate, as your hands gripped the strands of his hair at the nape of his neck. 

The feeling of him gripping your hips against his middle made you squirm, the bed creaking underneath you as you moved your legs further up his sides to reach him better. You didn’t give yourself a chance to ponder what you were doing, feeling delirious and too exhausted to question your actions.

“Arthur.” His name came out in a breathless whine; though desperate, it was quiet. There was no reaction as his lips barely left yours to breathe, then once again warming your insides as you felt his tongues slip into your warm cavern, a nonsensical rumble deep in his chest going through him.

“Arthur,” Once again, you whispered; this time, despite your will to keep falling into him, you removed your hands as you tried pulling away. “You need to rest.” He placed his hand on your back and pushed you back towards him, stroking down to your waist as his palm caressed your curves.

“I’m serious!” Yet again, another whine left you, words contradicting your body as your hips moved hesitantly above his. Biting the bottom of your lip at the pleasant feeling creeping up your stomach, you returned to him with an urgency that rendered both of you merciless as you found comfort in each other’s arms. 

“I thought I’d never see you again.” It took a while to process the words he spoke as the moment you shared filled your every sense, but when you did, you froze in his arms. Blinking your eyes slowly, you soaked up his words, and when you glanced up at him, his eyes were shut tight in pain. Your once beating heart slowed down as his confession squeezed it tightly, your breath now heavy as it grew loud through the quiet of the night.

“When, when I…” His forehead creased in frustration as he tried to get the words out. “When I got shot, all I could see was you.” The last few words he groaned out in strained breaths, teeth gritting as his hand flew to his shoulder. “And I, I could see you in front of me like you were right there. You felt so real as you fell into my arms, and I thought that was it.” A long pause endured before he let out a sigh and spoke. “I thought I’d gone to heaven, ya know.”

With now strained, open eyes, he looked into yours, and for the first time, you felt like you could see straight through the thorny walls of his soul as he bared himself to you. He had always been a man of few words, the last couple of days a firm reminder of that, but the way he spoke now filled you with a shock that made your blood run cold despite the scorching heat that surrounded you. 

A long moment passed, and your breathing was barely audible as it mingled with Arthur’s. Despite being the words you have wanted to hear for a long time, they weren’t what you expected. The warm feeling in your stomach turned into a slight prickling as it rose in your chest, and you had to lean back as it spread through you.

“Now, I know.” A loud breath left him, the world growing blurry before your eyes as he continued, stress evident in his words as you put some distance between you. “It’s selfish of me to tell you this, to burden you with having a man like me love you. But I had to feel you one last time, in case I,” A slight hesitation filled his voice as he kept his eyes shut, fearing the look on your face as his hand squeezed your thigh. “Won’t make it tonight.”

The heavy stones resting on his shoulders for a long time fell, and relief shot through him as he finally found himself telling you what he never imagined he would. Could is a more fitting word; if not for the fever-induced haze he found himself in and the near-death experience he had just witnessed, he wouldn’t have spoken a word. He would leave you none the wiser than you were before, still having to live with loving a man who didn’t love you while he would dream of you forever, within a distance but still so far away—a light in his forever darkness.

Now, he was telling the truth. Aware of the fatality of his wound, he was sure dying was a possibility in the coming hours. After all the bad things he had done in life, the man down below had chased him for a long time, and Arthur always escaped him with pure luck. 

To have you one more time as he did in the cabin was his dying wish, to once in his life feel the embrace of someone he loved in the bleak world he had lived in. He felt pathetic as he begged you to stay with him, rest his hands on you, and listen to the pitiful words that made him feel more like a beggar than a man. 

He thought it was for the best when you didn’t speak up. He didn’t want to hear the words that he always imagined you would tell him were he to voice his feelings to you. Instead, he wished to live in blissful ignorance, to hear your breath in his ear as your hands touched him in pity for his pining and longing with eyes filled with anything but love. That’s where his heart had brought him now, craving your touch; whether it was filled with hatred or sadness, he would take it all as he lived his last moments. He would let you do anything to him, only if you stayed close to him.

When he had returned to you at the table in the cabin, the look in your eyes left his heart cold, filled with sadness as you gazed at him. A look that reeked of regret, wishing that you had never let him put his hands on you. He didn’t need you to tell him, for he already knew. To leave you in silence had been the best way for him to protect the small part of his dignity he had left. 

He had wanted so badly for you to keep laughing then, beckoning him to return to your embrace as the monumental fright turned into a laughable memory and a loving one as you held each other warm for the remainder of the night. The thought had brought chills up his spine, and as he longed to return to you, he knew it wasn’t possible. If he put another hand on you, your words would burn his heart into ash on the wooden floor. He was sure of it.

As Arthur’s thoughts raced, yours stood still. What could you say that would make sense? You thought it had to be a dream, for you were sure you would never hear those types of words coming from Arthur. You brought your hands up to his cheeks with your palms against his warm, wet skin as you focused your gaze on his, finding his eyes now looking at you. 

“What?” That’s all you could manage to let out, voice small and confused at his sudden confession. You felt a hand engulf your own, holding it against him as his gaze faltered when you leaned back toward him. You brought your forehead against his cloth-covered one and closed your eyes, soaking up his presence.

Loved you? He loved you? The thought rose fast, and your blood that had run cold earlier was replaced with a warmth that shook you through and through. Had you been so wrong to mistake his love for you with hatred and regret? Looking at him now, you could see that every word he spoke was accurate as he opened up to you and how glad you were that he did; for now, you wished to hear those words leave him forever. Amidst your tear-filled eyes, a toothy smile grazed your lips as you pressed them against his unexpected ones. 

They were warm and inviting, fitting perfectly against yours, as if they had always belonged there, and as your mouths melded together, a profound sense of happiness surged within you. His hand, which had been so gentle with you, cradled your face, thumb brushing against your cheek in a tender caress that sent shivers down your spine. Leaning into the crook of his neck, you shut your eyes as a surge of tears broke through your eyelids from the emotions that wrecked through you.

“Hey now, I thought I told you not to cry.” Arthur shushed you as a choked sound left you, frowning as you let tears fall. You found it unbelievable to imagine that this was why he withdrew from you, and at this moment, you felt the stupidest you had ever felt. 

Why had his thoughts led him so astray? Thinking that you would pity and loath him for the feelings he harbored for you? A damn outstanding actor, he was, for he had you a complete fool. You were sure he regretted everything.

“I thought you hated me.” As you murmured the words meekly against his skin, a scoff shook your body when Arthur glanced at you in disbelief. 

“Now, how in the hell did you get an idea like that?” Even though his words grew harsh, his tone remained soft. He was surprised that that’s how you had perceived him lately. He held no contempt for you in his whole body and wasn’t sure he could, even if he had all the right to. 

“I just, you.” Stammering, you found it hard to explain yourself, now realizing how easily this could have been if you weren’t so stubborn. “I thought you regretted being with me. You know, that night. And I, I thought I’d taken advantage of you and that you didn’t want to see me anymore.”

You were greeted with silence as Arthur let your words sink in, the quietness deafening. You waited for an answer with your head still cowering under his neck. His hand left its place on your waist and covered your cheek under its rough palm. Lifting your head, he forced you to look at him, an incomprehension visible in his expression.

“I’d be a fool if I even considered, even for a second, to regret being with you. More of a fool than I already am.” He saw that his sentence only confused you; a painstakingly labored breath left him before he continued. “Jesus, woman. You should be the one to regret being with me. A man like me should never put his hands on a woman like you, you know.”

“No, Arthur.” You mumbled as you stared at his chest in defiance. So this was why he had been acting like this? Was all that ignoring and indifference just a facade because he thought he didn’t deserve you? You almost wanted to laugh at the thought, but the worry you felt for him for his poor view of himself grew.

“Listen, I can’t be that for you, even if you wanted me to.” Shaking your head, you began to silence him.

“No-.”

“No, you listen to me. Today was a perfect example of who I am and what I do.” He shook your head to get you to look at him as he craned his neck to look deeper into your eyes. “You shouldn’t even be here, for your own sake. You could be safe, married, and live away from all this shit. Every time I see you, I see that you’re too good for us; you’re too kind, too warm.” He stroked your wet cheek with his rough palm as he murmured. “It ain’t something an outlaw like me deserves, alright?”

How do you even respond to that? You had no choice but to gaze into his eyes, the warmth deep within the blue orbs rendering you silent. So you didn’t answer him, lowering your lips closer to his. Your breaths mingled, the enticing distance speaking volumes at the want for each other still lingering in the air. 

Arthur’s breathing grew unstable, and the already heavy strain his body was going through grew bolder as your enticing lips appeared so close to his, both mouths opening slightly as hazy eyes adorned your blushed faces. Everything that had just been said between the two of you disappeared from his mind; the only thing making sense to him now was your plump lips barely touching his.

You heard him rumble your name soundlessly, but it turned into nonsense in your ears as they buzzed, your heart beating so heavily in your chest you were sure you could feel it rattle your whole body when his lips finally touched your own. The first few seconds felt like a song, his fingers on you, picking at the strings of your heart as your breaths turned into a beautiful melody. Your caress was delicate as it ran over his shoulders, avoiding his bandages as they traced over the soft skin of his arms. 

“You’re not dying tonight. You’re staying here with me whether you like it or not.” You let your lips connect again before he could speak, the desire in the kiss growing heavier, electricity zapping in the surrounding air. Now that you had him, you felt your heart soar at the revelation. Arthur loved you. Oh, how stupid you had been to think he despised you and regretted being with you.

You turn your head to the side to catch your breath, but as you do, Arthur takes the chance to place small, loving kisses against the corner of your mouth. Now that he had you on top of him, he only grew desperate for more, even though he knew the meaning behind your willingness was pity seeping through you from his words. 

As you gasped for breath, his wet trail descended from your chin to your neck, sloppily massaging his tongue against your soft skin. Despite your attempts, his touch made it harder for you to regain your composure as a pitiful, quiet whine left you when you felt his teeth gently scrape on the already blushing skin. 

His hand that never left the swell of your hips felt increasingly more lewd now than before, the broadness of his palms kneading the doughy swell of your curves as he spread your cheeks with fingers that grew closer to the warmth of your lower region. Your hands found sanction in his hair yet again, bringing your lips to his as your hips moved against the motion of his hands restlessly. 

“You don’t need to do this.” Arthur’s voice was dangerously low when he spoke through your lips pressed firmly against his, and although laced with want, the uncertainty was noticeable. A suppressed moan left you as his finger accidentally ran over the delicate part of your lower region through your skirt, your face contorting at both the muted pleasure and confusing words he spewed.

“Hmm?” Once more, you zoned out for a minute, completely forgetting his injured state that had only been brought back to camp a few hours ago, and ran your hands down his neck and over the broadness of his shoulders, muscles tensing at your sensual caress. 

“I know you pity me, but-” Barely listening to him, your eyes remain closed as you memorize the curves of his upper body. “-but you ain’t got to do this. I know what I said about having you one last time, but that was just wishful thinking, sweetheart.” Feeling the air thicken as you breathe, you gaze at him with clouded eyes, brows furrowing with bewilderment. “You ain’t got to do this just because you feel bad for me, alright?” 

Raising, you sit down on his middle as you inhale deeply. “What are you talking about, Arthur?” A moment passed when his eyes closed, bringing his uninjured hands to his face to remove the cloth still covering his forehead as he let out a curse word under his breath. “You think I’m doing this in pity? No.” 

Leaning forward slightly as you shook your head, you grabbed his cheeks with both hands to make him look at you. “Ever since you left me in that cold cabin, I thought you despised me, Arthur. I felt so ashamed and didn’t know what to do, but I couldn’t hate you because I love you too much.” Silence followed your words as he stared at you like they had gone in the other ear and disappeared through the other. “Trust me, this is not pity, Arthur.” Softly, you kissed his forehead, lingering there for a while as you didn’t, even for a second, ponder over what you just said. 

You felt two arms circle around your waist tightly as a gasp left your unsuspecting body when you fell on your back towards the sheets, the large body of Arthur encasing you as your lips connected in a hurried kiss. Shocked at the sudden change of events, you grab onto his arms to find stability, the fabric of his bandages reminding you of his state.

With your eyes shooting open, you try to push at the man above you so he would lie down again, the thought of him over-exerting himself a horror in the back of your mind as the severity of his wounds was apparent. This wasn’t good; you shouldn’t have let him move a single muscle when he rose from sleep; instead, prompt him to go back to sleep so he could rest his defeated body. Your emotions had gained the upper hand, and with every stroke from his broad hands, they threatened to take over again, surrendering you to his want.

You were tapping his chest in despair, but he didn’t let a single word leave your mouth as he almost swallowed you whole, a deep rumble going through his chest as he thought your moans of protest were from pleasure. Shivers wrecked through you when you felt his hands drag their way up your sides, thumbs resting just under your bosom as they stroked tenderly, ghosting over your sensitive nipples, the touch electrifying despite the layer of clothing separating you. 

“Arthur! What do you think you’re doing!?” Managing to get ahold of yourself amidst his adamant touch, you find a moment to escape the onset of his lips left on you. Your hushed words didn’t seem to phase him as a lazy grin grew on his lips, staring at you with lidded eyes; no sadness in his gaze, but a deep longing that spread like a fog over his blue orbs. Ignoring you, his mouth enveloped you as a warmth radiated through your whole body, melting like butter in his embrace.

“Say it again.” Caught up in your lips, he begged you to say the three words that fell so beautifully out of your mouth–a sense of euphoria filling his body as he basked in the moment that just passed.

“What? Come on, Arthur, you’re hur-” A had found its way into your hair, tugging slightly as the other held you from squirming against the mattress. “Please, sweetheart. Tell me you love me again.” Your breath hitched when you heard what he called you, something so fiercely pinching your heart at him, yearning for you. You never thought you would have Arthur Morgan, known for his bullheadedness and unyielding ways, begging for you. Yet here you were. 

“Say it.” His words were heavy with a desperation so fierce it backtracked you for a moment, his resilience rendering you motionless for some time. His otherwise calculating eyes grew darker with a deep want, your toes curling tightly as the hold he kept on your hair grew tighter, although not firm enough to hurt you. 

Your body felt afire at his sudden desperation, not understanding how he had the energy to hold you this intensely when his whole body was trembling. The worry you held for him in this moment paled as he rendered you completely willful in his arms, the constant nagging about his state that always seemed to stay in the corner of your mind being washed away by his loving caress.

“I love you.” Succumbing to him like you always seemed to do, the three words fell from your lips earnestly, face contorted as your mouth fell ajar. Your heart beat wildly against your chest like you had just run a marathon and only increased when a loud groan left the man perched on top of you, burying his head in your neck, face now concealed by your hair that was displayed wildly on the pillow. 

“God.” A strangled sound left him as he sucked in a sharp breath, hands coming down to lift your legs to rest by your side so he could fit his hips against your delicious warmth, skirt falling around you as he pushed your plump thighs apart. “Again.” Arthur’s voice grew firmer, not begging now but demanding it of you. Lost in pleasure, you didn’t hesitate to answer him, though this time softer as you observed the frustration filling his expression. 

“I love you, Arthur.” His stomach churned at the warmth that swirled in your eyes when you spoke, feeling like the only thing keeping his miserable being alive was your words as they pierced through his heart. It wasn’t enough, though; every time you told him you loved him, a more profound urge to hear you say it grew, urging him to leave you screaming the words. It would only be enough when he had captured your entire body and soul in the prison of his hands, the only name left in your mind his. Just like it always should be.

Caught up in his intoxicating lips, it felt like there was nothing but the two of you in the entire world, everything having been pushed away by the intensity of the desire now burning within you. Eager to be even closer to you, he sought any friction to alleviate the sharp pleasure he felt spreading in his lower stomach. The hips nestled between yours sunk further so they fit snugly against yours, now unable to escape the blissful sensation that left your mouth open in a silent moan.

“Again.” Almost all his weight was against you now, your body pressed firmly on the mattress as he almost seemed to melt into your grasp when your hands gripped his shoulder blades in wavering suspense.

“Oh, Arthur. I love you so much.” You whimper out, finding it more challenging to keep quiet as he now ruts his hips against yours like in a trance, heavy puffs of breath leaving him as he struggles against the force of his actions.

His head fell limp on your shoulder as his arms circled your waist tight, sweat dampening the cloth of your blouse immensely, seemingly having trouble breathing as he panted loudly. 

God, it felt so good, but seeing his arms shake in exhaustion showed you it was certainly taking a toll on his body. It took much of your self-control to try to get the rugged man off you, but the mere thought of him falling dead on top of you didn’t appeal to you even though every fiber of your being longed for him to continue despite his state.

“Arthur.” You got no response even though you ran your fingers through his hair to coax him away from you, whining when he rubbed against that one spot that made you jerk slightly. “Arthur, listen to me. We shouldn’t be doing this right now.”

 You weren’t even sure he had heard you as the groans leaving him made your voice a distant reminder, but it proved to have gotten to him as the pressure of his body lifted from yours. Seeing he was out of your face, you felt your mind clear when you took a deep breath, though the pleasure he warmed your body with still left you in shambles, your voice shaking every time you spoke.

Grunting, he rolled over beside you on his back, eyes closed as he tried to regain his composure. As you looked him over, his whole body was covered in a deep blush, muscles flexing in exhaust. 

“Arthur.” You sighed as you saw his appearance, still high on his touch, that left your whole body sensitive. “Why won’t you listen to me?” As he opened his half-lidded eyes, the determination you had failed to see before shone brightly in them as he raised his shaking arm toward you. 

“Ah, come here, sweetheart.” He cooed at you, his voice irresistible even though it came out in a slur, speaking like he didn’t understand why you were so resilient. “Let me take care of you.” 

Your eyes shot open as he spoke, growing speechless as the obscenity of his words backtracked you. A blush covered your face, and you grabbed your hands on your chest as you shied away from his poignant stare; suddenly, the embarrassing motion of clenching around nothing made you whimper out a no. Although your words contradicted your actions, Arthur knew, and an acknowledging grin spread lazily on his lips. 

“I’m alright, darlin’, promise. I’ve got in worse scrapes before; this is nothing. Now come here.” He said, patting his thighs as he coaxed you closer. That was a lie. Never in his life had he been so close to death as he was today, and never had he been gripped by a fever that seemed to shake up his whole body as bad as it was now. The world around him was blurry as the slightest motion made him dizzy, every fiber begging him to rest, as he could feel his psyche and body hanging on a thread. 

So, he understood where your hesitation came from, but he’d rise from the dead again and take you if he passed away without having you. Especially now that he knew you loved him. So it didn’t matter to him if he was half alive as he pounded you; he would see it through and ruin you for every man you came across.

“You’re lying to me.” You exclaimed aghast, remaining seated on your knees beside him as you gave him a concerned look. It was easy to see, for he looked more dead than alive, and while every fiber of your being begged you to force him to rest, you knew you had no chance against him. You have never had the strength to stay away from him.

When he realized you weren’t giving up, he pushed himself up on his elbows, eyes set heavily on you like you were his prey. It made you feel small in his poignant gaze, breath hitching slightly as you felt like backing away, only to be dragged closer to him. He winced as his shoulder sent a searing pain through his body at the pressure, so you had no choice but to crawl towards him in panic and push him back on the bed as he resigned, trying to put his bandage that had slipped back in place. 

Ignoring your worrying tendencies, Arthur grabbed your more petite frame in contentment when finally having you closer again, hoisting you up on his lap as his arms pushed you to lie on him, hands resting on his chest.

Choosing to resign when you realized you couldn’t get your way, you placed a few nimble kisses on his neck under his ear where a gash had been reopened, now a deep red running down his side. He pushed you flush against him, knees raising suddenly to pull you further up his body so he could gather your skirt above your waist. Arthur’s rough hands ran over the softness of your behind before wandering up to grab your underpants. Gasping at the sudden tug, you felt the material slink down your legs, the sudden exposure covering your face in a deep blush as you kicked the material off your ankles. 

“Rest your arm, Arthur.” You reminded him quietly, feeling both his arms at work as they ran over the flesh of your inner thigh tenderly. If you were going to do this, you had to ensure at least he wouldn’t hurt himself more than he already was. 

Pleased when you saw him put his arm to his side, you raised on your knees so you could start unbuttoning your blouse. It was too warm here as the night air could not enter the tent, and you hadn’t realized how scorching it left your body until now. The material clung to your wet skin as you removed the buttons, sighing in relief as you grew more exposed.

That’s when you felt him rise, helping you remove the blouse over your head as you stared at him with a bemused expression because he didn’t listen. He didn’t pay you any mind, though, burying his face in your chest as his hands ghosted over your inner thighs. Trying to stay quiet, a hushed whisper of his name left you when you felt his cheek rub against your nipple when he placed a few kisses between your breasts. Your body was running in anticipation, already on high alert, as you had gone too long without feeling his hands on you, remembering how he had touched you before.

You gasped as his tongue circled your nipple, the wet touch gliding effortlessly along your sensitive skin. Immediately, your face contorted into pleasure as your hands tangled themselves in his hair while you gripped tight on the strands, back arching as his fingers ghosted over the wet lips underneath your skirt.

God, it felt like he was eating you alive as he let his mouth feast on the soft skin, hearing your attempts at quieting your small noises with your plush thighs pushing against his sides. One of his arms travels to your hip, trapping you in the enclosure of his hand as he grinds you down further onto the bulge, erection straining painfully against his pants. 

An audible whine leaves you amidst your panting as you bring one hand to your mouth, chastising yourself for being unable to be quiet. It was impossible, though, when you could feel his clothed bulge under your exposed cunt that grew moist–slick now, rubbing against the fabric. 

He helped you drag yourself back and forth as his hand fell to the side in resignation to the pain, his movement slow as he savored the feeling of having you entirely at his mercy. You felt him mumble something against your skin as he rolled the sensitive bud on his tongue, huffing as he felt your hands grip tighter on his roots. The sudden drag of his finger against your slit made a whine leave you, pulling his head closer against you as the pleasure now running through you rendered you unable to control your body. 

“Good?” He mumbled as he massaged your clit with his fingers, although not adding enough pressure as you tried to move your hips against his hand. A quick nod left you as he planted his mouth at the juncture of your neck, wheezing as he felt your body go limp in his arms. He brought his thumb lower to feel how wet you were, the rough pads of his fingers so good against your heat as they made warmth spread through your whole body, toes curling when he suddenly spread your lips and pushed his middle and index finger into your entrance. 

Gazing down from your shoulder, he grabbed the fabric that had pooled around you and lifted it up hastily so he could see more of you. The sight of your bottom moving against his hands made him want to scrunch his eyes tight if he didn’t try to memorize the sight in front of him. The soft plumpness of your thighs looked so beautiful against his bloodied and dirty clothes, skin clean and soft. Ignoring the pain growing harsher, his other hand raised so he could run his hands along the warm skin, your back arching slightly as you rose on your knees. 

Placing soft kisses against the side of your waist that was now presented in front of his face, his hand trailed over to your bum as he slowly pumped his fingers into you, kneading the flesh roughly as he pushed your middle against him.

“Arthur.” Your quiet whining made his vision blurry, adding one more finger into your clenching hole as your nails marked half-moons into his skin. The tent was becoming scorching hot as you could feel the fever emitting heat from Arthur’s body, but his touch made you forget all about it, as you could only see white pleasure when his fingers massaged your inner walls. 

Grabbing his shoulders, you tried to push him down, but your protests were in vain as he slowly withdrew his fingers from you and gently laid you down on the mattress. For a moment, he stopped in his actions and stared at you, your blouse discarded on the floor as your plump breast had grown red from his assault and the skirt resting on your waist exposing your heat as slickness from your arousal covered your cunt and the sides of your thighs. 

But your face grabbed most of his attention as your eyes, which he had grown to love, stared back at him lovingly amidst the pleasure and want. A blush covered your face and ran down to your chest, which raced with your breath, hands restless as they seemed to almost reach out for him again. God, never had he thought you would actually look at him like this. 

An appreciative rumble left his throat as he grabbed your skirt and hoisted it down your legs, casting it hurriedly to his side as he grabbed your ankles and pushed you towards him, where he sat before you. To you, he didn’t move quick enough. Instead, he placed small, tender kisses on your ankles as he stared you down, seemingly etching you into his memory. Growing shy under his intense gaze, you try to push your legs together as he runs a finger down your slick heat, suddenly feeling very exposed without your skirt and the thought of someone entering the tent lingering in the back of your mind.

“Shh, shh, shh,” Arthur cooed at you as he pushed your thighs apart gently, your strength nothing against his as he did it with ease. “It’s okay.” A short moan left you at his words, staring at him through lidded eyes as your hands gripped the pillow under your head, not knowing where to put them. “Come ‘ere,” He whispered as he lowered himself over you, pressing his weight slightly against you as his bare skin against your nipples made your body jump, another moan leaving you from the pleasure. 

“Easy now, sweetheart,” As he rested his arms on either side of your face, he lowered his lips to yours as he pressed them against the soft skin, humming when he felt your legs wrap around his waist automatically. “You gonna be a good girl for me, hmm?” He asked when another blissful whine left you as his hand stroked up the softness of your stomach to your breast, gently rubbing your nipple with his thumb. 

“I will.” The words left you breathless as you suppressed the moans that wanted to escape you, your body growing restless against his teasing as your legs tightened against his waist, prompting him closer to you. The friction against your core felt incredibly good, but only lasted so long for Arthur to raise his hips to remove what was left of his union suit. 

As he pushed the fabric down to rest on his thighs hurriedly, your hands crept over his shoulders to run over his back, the skin still wet from the sweat running down his body under your fingers as they grew filthy from the dirt covering him and blood that had dried on his skin earlier. Grunting at your actions as you momentarily distracted him, he returned his hands to rest under your back so he could grip your shoulders. He’s probably going to get killed shortly, and if not from his injuries, from the sweet, hazy memory of you planted underneath him, staring at him like he was the only man in the world. 

You were his obsession, if not a full-fledged addict, after tonight, and he had trouble keeping his hands off you even though he knew he shouldn’t have you. Although, those thoughts were far gone now, for he yearned after you. Craved to bury himself into you–like injecting himself with that sweet high only you could bring him. 

Unable to help himself, he captures your lips again as he feels you giggle when his beard scratches your skin–a stark contrast in texture. The sound made him smile amidst his desperate actions as he tickled your waist slightly to feel you squirm against him. God, he had become soft. 

You are interrupted by the slow drag of his cock running over your puffy lips that glisten with want, eyes scrunching together as the anticipation of feeling him inside you grows more intense. He prods it around as it slips between your cheeks; you’re so slippery that it drives him right through and slides smoothly between your thighs, coating his hardness with your wetness.

Your eyes are blown wide as you look at Arthur through hazy eyes, gazing at his heaving chest as his whole body trembles. You could almost taste his desperation as the same one course through you when he grabs your hips and bends his own so he can find you–holding the weight of his cock as he slips it right in.

A gasp leaves your mouth, and he swallows the noises by planting his lips over yours. Immediately, he feels you clasp around him as you clench, the spongy, slippery walls hugging him tightly as he curses. It felt painful to press something so ugly into someone as beautiful and kind as you, but he was far too selfish to care; the need to keep the end of his promise of fucking you good was not something he was going to break, even though he could feel the lingering exhaustion threatening to make him pass out any second from the pain littering his shoulder.

Gritting through his teeth, the combined feeling of pain and pleasure coarse through his body as he slowly dragged himself out before sheathing himself into you fully. You welcomed him openly as your hands gripped his shoulders, his hands hustling your thighs up to rest beside your body as he almost folded you in half. 

Your mouth opens wider, lids dropping to cover half your eyes, with no hint of pain on your face. It leaves Arthur satisfied as he reminds himself to be gentle with you, his cock throbbing as his gaze flickers between your breast bouncing with each thrust and eyes hazy with pleasure–pleasure he was bringing you.

The lewd sound of him entering you fills the tent, and while he hopes it’s not audible outside, he isn’t sure he cares now. Although your quiet whimpers that you couldn’t help but let out, he wanted to keep to himself, pressing his hand against your mouth as he pounded into you harder.

“Tell me, sweetheart. Tell me how I make you feel.” He fails to conceal the possessiveness in his words as he mumbles out without thinking, too drunk in the feeling of your moans vibrating against his hands and pussy fluttering around his thick cock. He grits the words through clenched teeth, lifting his hands from your mouth so you can answer him. 

You look at him as he keeps thrusting, eyes glistening with unshed tears as you swallow him more profoundly into your cunt. “Arthur.” His name comes out in a broken, almost nonsensical voice as you find it hard to speak amidst his harsh thrusts that push you further up the bed every time. “Please, so good.” 

Your confession makes his eyes roll back, uninjured arm gripping the headboard as he repositions his hips, suddenly plowing into you harder as his face rests on your neck, body trapping you to the mattress to keep you in place. A slight sound left you from the sudden force, biting into your hand in desperation so you wouldn’t make a sound.

“Arthur!” A quiet gasp left you as he only groaned into your skin, breathing in your scent as his hips stayed relentless. “Ah, Arthur! Be careful!” Amidst your pleasure, you couldn’t help but worry when his arms extended limp beside you, and his weight grew even heavier on top of you as he almost laid down entirely if it wasn’t for his legs keeping him going. He was far too gone to comprehend what you were saying, though, as he fucks you hard but sweetly amidst his pain. 

You shudder with every thrust now, his uninjured arm on the bed circling around your waist as he pulls you tighter against him. You weren’t going anywhere from him as he planted a wet kiss against your pulse, the sweet sound of your pleas from both pleasure and worry surrounding him. God, if he didn’t know any better, this felt like a dream, your soothing hands caressing his skin as he panted above you, sweat running off him like a river and soaking the bed underneath you. You made a sound through your broken whines like he was torturing you with his cock, even though you were offering your cunt to him so willingly, the thought making his body grow taut.

Arthur’s hair was soaked entirely as you gripped it, hand looking for something to hold on to as your legs tightened around his waist. You couldn’t even move with his thrusts now–only able to lie there and let him take you. 

“Arthur–god!” You tighten around him one more time, and all you can see is white as he buries his head in your neck, groaning desperately as he ruts into your heat at a pace you didn’t think was possible in his state. Raising himself up on his knees, with the last ounce of his strength, he grabs your hips and lifts up your lower half as he rams his throbbing cock into you, balls unbearably tight as they slap against your skin.

“Jesus- that’s it, hold on to me,” He grits out as your cry is muted by his hands when your walls flutter around him as you come, shattering all over him through broken sobs. Your tender hands, made to mend people, both heart and skin, grip onto his rough ones, created instead to destroy. The feeling of them running so softly over his battered body made him feel like the most undeserving man alive. Despite this, he reveled in the thought of being the one to feel your hands on him.

When you came, it became the final straw for him as he could finally feel the pressure release into a sharp pleasure that nearly blinds him. Falling helplessly into your arms, he pushed your lower half into his as he ruts mercilessly into you, walking you through your own orgasm as the first spurt of cum seeps into you.

He almost felt like a dog as you pulled him deeper into you, unable to help the way his hips pushed against yours as he thrusts into you, a white ring of his cum seeping out from your hole as your hands gripped his waist tightly. His cock still moves slightly even when there’s nothing left as the high still courses through both of you, you lying limp and frail underneath his weight. 

Arthur knew he should move, but he spent all his strength, noticeably as the black dots that had filled his vision for some time grew bigger, panting like he had run a hundred miles into your skin as his body grew heavy on yours. 

Every dream he had of you could go to hell because this was the only remedy needed in his unlawful life. Now that he had a taste of you, you grew into his own brand of morphine as the haze Arthur found himself in would erupt his whole being into an addiction. It was heaven, unfiltered and raw and so beautiful to be inside you, and he knew that if he died now, heaven would be no match for what he had in his arms.

As your high lessened and your mind grew more apparent, you cradled Arthur’s head. You nuzzled your face into his hair, rubbing his shoulders tenderly as you basked in the aftermath, finally having him in your arms after months of uncertainty and pining. You rested your heels back on the mattress, sighing as his now softening member moved inside you, leaving you both satisfied and full. You stay like that for a while, basking in the afterglow, until you notice his whole body shaking terribly as he struggles to breathe.

“Oh, Arthur!” A worried expression filled your face as you tried sitting up, although his weight made it difficult for you to move him. “Arthur, I can’t move you on my own.” Resting your hand on his cheek, you try to examine his face as he buries it further in your neck, forehead scorching under your palm.

“Shit.” You rarely swore, but now you chastised yourself for letting this progress, although you knew you did at least put up a fair fight against the headstrong man. Strained breaths left him as he rose slightly from you and rolled on his back, a short gasp leaving you as he pulled out of your suddenly too-empty walls. 

Shaking away the feeling, you turn towards him as you realize his shoulder is bare, the bandage discarded on the bed. His wound looks wildly irritated and inflamed as a harsh redness surrounds his injury. “So stubborn.” You whispered as you threw the bandage down the bed, crawling over him to grab some fresh ones you had planned to take with you when you had tended to his wounds before. “You should be resting, but instead, you think it’s the perfect moment to have sex?”

As you looked over at him while redressing his shoulder, you found him gazing at you with humor in his weary eyes. You couldn’t help but lift the corner of your mouth as the reality of the situation dawned on you, chuckling as he poked your sides–your hand coming to slap his away jokingly. 

“God, you’re so beautiful.” His voice came out in a shudder as he stared at you, tripping over his words as a groan of pain left Arthur, having not let his body take the rest it desperately needed. Setting into motion, you swing your legs over the bed and grab the bottle of alcohol. 

“Here, drink up.” He raised his eyebrow as a strained smirk played in the corner of his lips. He got a bemused look at his attempt at lightening the heavy mood that had washed over you. 

“You try’na get me drunk?” Sighing at him, wondering how he had the energy to make jokes, you brought the bottle closer to his lips. Hesitating, though, you questioned yourself if Arthur waking up with a hangover tomorrow amidst his pain was a good idea, but there was no other way to dull his pain. 

“Do you want me to knock you out instead so you won’t feel the pain from overexerting your body?” Feigning horror, he still complied as he chugged the bottle empty. You grabbed it from his hand when he was done.

“You already did, darlin’,” He rumbled as he beckoned you to lay down with him, your head resting on his outstretched arm as you stared up at him. You grew quiet for a while; the only sound audible was your shared breathing as you traced circles on his stomach. Despite you worrying to death, you felt more content now than you had ever been. His confession had filled you with more happiness than you had ever thought possible, and now, as you lay in his arms, you felt dumb for ever thinking he despised you. 

You had been so stupid, but you also pointed some of your anger at Arthur for being such a brickhead and thinking you felt less of him for who he was and what he did. Well aware of who he was, you weren’t so innocent either to be too good for him, but you knew he didn’t see it that way. You could never leave him now that you had tasted how wonderful love could feel, especially after the scare he had brought you tonight. 

“I dreamed of you, ya know.” You turn your head to look at him as you are brought from your thoughts, hand ceasing its motion on his skin as it rests on his hand. Leaning his head down to the top of your hair, he kissed against it as he breathed in. You were like raw whiskey straight to an empty stomach. The way his mind goes blank from sliding his nose over the softness of your hair.

“What? Me?” 

“Mmh.” He rumbled out, chest shaking as the indistinct sound of his voice vibrated through his body. “Every night, you came to me like a goddamn angel or somethin’.” He knew he wasn’t good with words, and as the words left him, Arthur realized they didn’t do his clumsy confession justice, but the way you looked at him like he was the most wondrous thing you had ever seen made him believe it wasn’t too bad.

“Every night, I dreamed of you. Your eyes when you stare at me in that way you always manage to do, your hands that are always so unknowingly soft-” His eyes glint with mischief as he continues. “-your round ass pressed against me-” 

Gasping, you motion to hit him, but retract your hand when you remember his injuries. “Arthur!” You whisper harshly. “-your big words that make you look smarter than you are-” Raising onto your elbow, you give him an unamused look as he chuckles slightly at your reaction to his blatant teasing.

“If you’re planning on being so funny all the time, maybe you should have become a jester instead of an outlaw.” Squinting your eyes at him, he only brings his arm around your back to push your body against his once more, still shaking slightly from laughing. Settling down, he continued. 

“Christ, I longed for you in ways you couldn’t even imagine, sweetheart.” As his voice grew low, he returned his half-lidded eyes to you while stroking your hair softly. You felt a lump in your throat forming at his words. The sweet words that felt so unfamiliar coming from his mouth did nothing short of making you putty in his hand, now finding it hard to be mad at him for the apparent strain he had put his body through.

“Every night felt easier when I had you to dream about, but that was all I let it be, for we both know I really don’t deserve you.” This was unmistakably true to Arthur, for even though he had you in his arms right now, he knew you shouldn’t be. 

“Don’t stop, Arthur.” As you whispered, you gazed into his eyes, a fluttering erupting in your stomach as you wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him slightly as he pulled the blanket over your naked body. “Never stop dreaming of me.” Your voice trembled slightly.

“Why would I dream now that I have you?”

[the-fiction-witch]

Sweetling

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Jacaerys Velaryon Couple - Jacaerys X Reader Reader - Y/n Rating - Smut Word Count - 2670

Smut (18+) - heavy kissing/ nudity/ nipple play/ bitting/ fingering/ Full sex/ Penetration/ unprotected/ PinV/ praising/ maidenhead (Virginty)/ creampie/ O/ Forced O/ (I think that's all of them)

Jacaerys sat in his chambers deep within Dragonstone, a storm hung over the castle, rain battering every high window, Jace sat by the fire with a cup of wine. Tomorrow he will be married. He felt so strange about it but he knew he must do his duty. He took his time contemplating the life he was to have, to one day be king with a queen by his side, heirs of his own. All of it began to feel so horrid in his heart. A knock came upon the door of Jacaerys' chambers, an unexpected one. "Come in!" He calls unsure whom he could expect,

The door opened to Y/n one of the castle maids, she was often the maid he found himself closest with, he did find her very beautiful and kind but he forced such thoughts away as he knew his fate in the morning, she held a flagon of wine in her hand as she came into his chambers, "I hope I am no disturbing you, prince Jacaerys,"

"No, not even in the slightest." He smiled gently as his eyes fixated upon her face. "What brings you here tonight?"

She came over and set the flag on the table "I wanted to deliver you a fine wine from the kitchens, Prince Jacaerys, I'm sure tonight weighs on your mind…” She said pouring him a goblet,

His hand grasped the goblet and slowly lifted it to his lips, the sweet and fruity taste of the vintage red wine washing over his tongue. He swallowed slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on the maid. "Thank you, Sweet Y/n..." he smiled even if he wanted to say more. The name rolled easily off his lips in a honeyed whisper, though his eyes remained fixed on hers. A smile curled at the corner of his mouth.

she blushed "You’re welcome, Prince Jacaerys,"

His eyes fell from hers and to her dress. It hugged her waist as it fell to her ankles, her body on full display to his eyes. She was a lovely maid, no doubt. And she was here. in his privy chambers… A small mischievous smile curled at the corner of his mouth, his fingers brushing past hers, as he took another sip of his wine.

She moved slightly fiddling with her nails as she spoke up again "Forgive me Prince Jacaerys, but I... I must admit... I did have a motivation for visiting you and bringing the wine this evening"

His mouth parted slightly at her confession. His eyes flickered from her hands to her mouth, then back up to her eyes once more. "And what is this motivation, sweet Y/n?" He took another sip of wine as she spoke, the red liquid filling his mouth once more as he waited for her to answer.

She held her breath her eyes on the floor before finally meeting his, she waited for him to take the goblet from his lips and swallow the wine and as soon as he did she said,

"this."

She closed the gap between them resting her hands on his doublet and pressing her soft lips to his, His eyes widened slightly as she closed the gap with a kiss, and his hand instinctively dropped the goblet and moved to cup her chin as she pressed her lips to his. Seven Hells… he thought, their bodies close enough for him to feel the curves of her breasts against his chest, her breath warm on his face. Eventually, he pulled back from the kiss, his eyes searching hers before falling back down to her mouth. She turned bright red her fingers gripping his doublet as she looked at his eyes

"Please do not send me away Prince Jacaerys, I know I shouldn't do such a thing but I-"

"Quiet." Jacaerys' voice was firm and firm as his hand moved to settle under her chin, tilting her head upwards to meet his eyes. "You will not be sent away, sweet Y/n." His gaze was piercing as he spoke, his thumb gently brushing her lips as if savouring the touch. "You are a beautiful young woman, why shouldn't you get what you want?"

"Because you are the prince... I am... Nothing but a maid." She said sadly, "Forgive me for my foolishness but... Tomorrow you shall be married and, for just a single moment I wanted to still believe in my dreams. I knew I would never have a chance again,"

"Shhh. Shhhh." Jacaerys' thumb moved from her lips to her cheek, gently brushing it. "I may be a prince but I am still a man with desires." His brow furrowed and a dark look came over his face. "Besides, I... I was forced into this impending marriage." His thumb now gently caressed her neck, feeling the smooth flesh. "And I would not say you're nothing." The Prince's lips pressed to hers once more, hungrily, the taste of her sweet as the wine they drank and twice as delicious. "What is your dream, sweet Y/n?" He asked when he pulled away again, his body pressing against hers, his fingers toying with the laces of her dress.

She blushed and trembled in his arms as she whispered against his lips, "To be yours. Utterly. To give you my Maidenhead and share a night of lovers as if there was some hope that we could ever be,"

"Then we have something in common," he whispered back, a soft smile on his lips. His head gently dipped to the crook of her throat, leaving kisses on the soft flesh, his hands on her stomach. "For we have tonight and I would not waste it, sweet lady."

"We have tonight and I would wish only for this night to be endless," she muttered pulling his lips to hers and kissing him once more she moved his hand to the laces of her dress

“Gods, please let it be so…” His hands worked at the laces of her dress, pulling at them until the fabric fell to her ankles. He felt her warmth and her bare flesh against his hands and it sent a shiver down his spine. "You are beautiful, no doubt." He murmured between kisses, leading her towards his bed, "Your flesh is as sweet as honey."

She giggled slightly at being completely exposed, she turned them both and gave him a sweet kiss before she knelt on his bed with a wide and Eager smile "I am yours Prince Jacaerys. To do as you wish until dawn. I will not argue or protest whatever will please you. I swear my utter devotion and offer myself as I am,"

Her submission and devotion to his will caused his breath to get caught in his throat for a moment, his eyes locked to hers. "You're far too sweet for me, sweetling." He whispered as he began to remove his clothes. "If only the Gods would allow us this moment forever." He sat down on the bed and pulled his shirt off, discarding it before crawling over her, his hands on her bare flesh. "How do I even begin with so much beauty…" he growled, His mouth was on hers again, his lips desperately searching hers, before moving lower and lower, and lower still until they were upon her collar, and then her breast, his tongue upon her darker peak as it hardened and stiffened in response to his touch. His body pressed against her and all he could feel was silk skin on his flesh. She squealed in excitement pulling on his hair, A low growl escaped the Prince’s lips, his mouth pulling at her nipple. “Gods… do you even know how much I want you?” His mouth continued to lavish attention upon her breast, his body shifting over her until he hovered over her,

"It is not wanting that I feel for you Jacaerys but need," she muttered, "Please have mercy on my foolish innocence! But even your mere mouth is already sending my body to the edge of pleasure!"

“Mercy? Mercy…” His mouth pulled away from her breast, his eyes dark as his lips curled into a predatory smile. “Oh sweet Y/n, if you think this is a pleasure just wait till I am fully inside of you. My mercy will be far from your mind.”

She screamed at his touch, her body shaking, "I will not pray to the gods for mercy but for your satisfaction of the needs of my prince. Whatever it is you desire you may take from me. No matter how sick. How cruel. How... Depraved" she muttered

“Gods…” He muttered, his eyes wide as she spoke so shamelessly. He had a mind full of sinful ideas now, each one more perverse than the last. The Prince felt as hard as the iron throne and his body pressed against the maid’s, his eyes fixated upon her mouth. “Tell me, You’re Maidenhead?” His free hand slipped between her legs, feeling her warm lips upon his fingers.

She squealed, already coating his fingers, her back falling against his sheets as she squirmed for his touch, "My Maidenhead is preserved my prince, and it is yours to ravish and destroy."

“As it should….” His voice was low, almost like a purr as he watched her squirm and react to the slightest touch of his fingers, the most sinful part of his brain already calculating the next move. The prince was far too tempted to deny her and himself his pleasure. He could wait no longer. He had to have her. “You have no objections about… losing it?”

"no, I'll give it to you. Willingly. And happily my prince!"

“You are a feast before me, sweet Y/n,” Jacaerys leaned down, his nose and mouth on the side of her face, his lips near her ear as he spoke slowly. “And I have been starving.” His hand grabbed one of her thighs adjusting her to widen her thighs for him as far as they would go while he unlaced his britches.

"Then your feast lays out on the table awaiting you to satisfy your hunger, my prince."

“That it does…” His eyes locked to hers and he felt the world spin around for a moment as he took his hard cock in hand, he stroked it a few times but already he was hard as stone so he kissed her neck before he slowly pushed himself inside her. At first, he had planned to take it slowly, to savour this moment, “Seven Hells, sweet girl…” A groan escaped his lips and he felt more feral than he had ever felt…

She groaned, whined and squirmed at the feeling of him making his way inside her, but her sounds became fuel for his hips to move hard and fast a slave to his pleasure, his movements already causing her endless pleasures, her hands sat on his lower stomach as if she prays and worships him in this moment, “Gods… sweet girl… sweet Y/n….” He repeated over and over as he pushed further inside her, “You feel so good…” His eyes were squeezed shut and he was slowly losing his mind. Her moans and whimpers fed a dark, possessive part of him. He wanted more “I’m going to have you again and again…” His pace kept steady, a gentle rocking motion that grew stronger with each passing thrust. His breaths were hot on her neck and he felt her breath in return. “You’re mine now… sweet girl.”

She began to scream and plead, repeating his name like a mantra, her body trembling, "I am yours, my prince. For tonight."

“You’re mine for longer than tonight… you’ll crave this sweet girl…” The words split from his mouth as the world seemed to slowly start to blur around him. His body continued to thrust into her, his hand snaking down between them, to gently brush the bud of her pleasure stroking softly on her clit. “I feel myself getting lost sweetling…”

She began to let tears slip as she squirmed under him, her whole body trembling and gasping as his hips and hands rubbing brought her closer and closer, "I can only be yours tonight... Tomorrow you will wed and I will be nothing once again, your lady will take your bed and you will have only a need for her,"

He felt his body begin to shake as she whispered his fate in his ear, the words bringing a sharp pain in his gut. Yet he pushed through it, feeling her body shiver and respond to him more and more. She was so tight… so tight...gods, I never want to pull away “If only you knew how wrong you are.” He buried himself deeper in her than he had before, groaning lowly. “I can’t think of her like this… with you under me, crying my name.” He worked on her clit, rubbing it, keeping her on the edge of orgasm. “I need you… need you, sweet girl…” His head was swimming. If this is what the edge of madness feels like, then Gods let him fall. “You will be mine for as long as I live. I…”

he was cut off by her loud animalistic scream, her head thrown back her body trembling and contorting out of her control, tightening on him, her nails digging into his stomach, her body floods a puddle of squirt on the bed, sweat across her skin, she groans and moans his name so it echos off the walls,

His head snapped up, feeling her walls tighten around him, her body trembling and writhing underneath him. Gods… oh Gods… The Prince panted heavily, feeling her nails on his stomach, a slight flash of pain that sent him further over the edge. “Keep me… keep me from madness… I’m so close… sweet girl…”

she gasped and whimpered his name riding out her high,

The Prince groaned at the sound of her whimper, his body shaking as he tried to hold on a little longer. He wanted to see her orgasm once more. “Again…”

"What?" She whimpers,

“Again.” He repeated, pressing his lips gently against her neck. “Reach the peak once more… let me hear you, my sweet girl…”

"yes Jacaerys" she nodded already moaning from overstimulation,

It was almost too much for him, her sounds filling the room and filling his ears, her core squeezed him, almost like a vice. “Gods… oh gods…” His body shivered as he worked hard to keep himself from losing his mind. He leaned down and whispered to her. “Beg for it sweetling, plead. Beg me for the release, the pleasure.”

"please please Jacaerys, please my prince, give me mercy from my desperation, give me pleasure from my endless frustration, I beg of you! Give me a release and I will be your mindless slave of a doll for only your use my master. Please! Fill inside me with the seed of house Velaryon and let me mother a thousand of your bastards," she begs between her loud moans,

That was his undoing once and for all, her begging and pleading, the thought of filling her again and again and again, having a thousand of his bastards! His body slammed into her and a low, guttural groan escaped his lips. He felt euphoric like he was floating, his mind finally crossing the edge and becoming lost in bliss. His seed split into her and he trembled, feeling her flesh against him, her moans and whines in his ears, Gods… his high was what tipped her over screaming louder than the first as she reached her second her body contorting under him as his hips jerk oddly and uncontrollably as his sweat coats his body and his breath hitches, “Sweet girl…” He whispered as he panted heavily, collapsing his body on top of hers.

She was beautiful and perfect, and he wanted this to be his reality forever. But the truth was that come morning his life would come crashing down on him. She had made that clear. He pushed those thoughts aside for now, his mind on the bliss he felt at this moment, their bodies so close…

“I’m so glad you knocked on my doors tonight Sweetling,” he whispered, kissing her shoulder lazily, one of his hands gently stroking her stomach. 

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Fiery Reunion: Part Two

(Part One) (Part Two)

From the moment the Demon Bull King opened his eyes, he had assumed the worst. How could any father not? After five long centuries spent in stone slumber, he had awoken to nearly everything a conqueror could desire.

His prodigal son, grown and proud. His loyal wife, composed and ever-gorgeous. An army of reminiscent machines ready to obey his every whim, obedient and powerful.

All that a man could crave stood before him, with one singular exception. He had scanned the area subtly, eyes narrow and intense, searching for his youngest child, who was very conspicuously absent.

And when his search came up empty, he considered you dead.

It was not an easy fact to accept, but his children had not been born equal.

His son had come into this world with a dangerous abundance of power, so great that it had to be ripped out and split into pieces for his own safety. And although some inherent, internal flame still burned within his elder child, it did not hold to a torch to the strength of the Samadhi Fire.

You, though…

You could not have been born further from grace.

Sick from your very first breath, you were born into a body unfit for life. A deathly pallor clung to your skin from conception, proof abound of weakness and frailty.

And you had not made a sound.

Even when Princess Iron Fan held you away from her warm chest, or shook you, or; wearied from her post-partum state and frayed from desperation, struck you across the thighs- you had not cried. Nor would you scream. Not when you could only barely manage your own weak breathing.

It was only when your older brother Red Son; still just a child himself, clambered into your crib and held you that you made any noise at all.

He wasn’t supposed to be in there. He wasn’t supposed to even be in your room, let alone your crib… but curiosity had overtaken his obedience and led him right to you. With unsure hands, he had scooped you up and lifted you towards his face, inspecting his newborn sibling.

Nearly inaudibly, you had sounded a feeble giggle, pulling at his pince-nez glasses and reaching for his eye-catching crimson hair.

With wide eyes and careful arms, Red Son held you against his small chest, a long-lingering warmth left behind by the otherworldly fire keeping you cozy in his arms. Just a few reaches towards his face and scalp had worn your sickly body out, drifting off to sleep without any further sound.

In the morning, Princess Iron Fan and Demon Bull King had awoken to find you in your brother’s arm, alive and breathing, if barely.

And they hadn’t the heart to separate the two of you from one another.

———————————————————————

Demon Bull King and Princess Iron Fan alike knew that you would never become a great warrior. The notion was contradictory to the make of your flesh, foreign to the skin of an ill body.

It was impossible to train someone so young, to teach someone so physically impeded.

It had taken you six years to speak your first word, seven to take your first step.

Both of them had been for your prodigal elder brother.

And though your (severely delayed) milestones had managed to somewhat quell the long-standing fear that you’d forever be weak and helpless, you remained ill- thus, your family remained worried.

It had been hard for you. Perhaps it had been harder for your family, living in fear that by the next time they woke you’d be cold in your bed. It wasn’t a good way for any family to live.

Red Son had grown particularly protective of you in your youth, rarely letting you out of his arms or lap no matter how much you would protested. No amount of arguing, squirming, or struggling would free you. The most you could of was strike at him with your open palms, and even then, your uncoordinated hands bounced right off of his skin.

It was a convenient way to keep an eye on you, so your parents never intervened, setting what would become a long-lasting precedent: allowing Red Son to do as he pleased with you, because it was probably best for you anyways. He kept you out of trouble, and kept a close eye one you. There wasn’t anything wrong or harmful about it, after all.

Not back then, at least.

Red Son would only grow more protective as you aged, as it turned out. You went from being a helpless infant who genuinely had no way to escape his well-intentioned coddling to a child that was capable or arguing or hiding away from him. This shift had prompted him to grow more vigilant and insistent on your safety, even when it meant clumsily strapping you to his chest and bundling you around as you shrieked and bit him.

It was harmless. A little bit cute, even.

And then your father had been buried under a mountain, sealed by a staff that only one known living being could wield- who then disappeared from the world for centuries on end.

Red Son had changed in seconds. From a bright-eyed boy who was a little too eager to follow in his father’s wicked footsteps to an angry pyromaniac with a short fuse.

And his leash on you had only grown tighter. One family member that he had lost, and one that he could lose at a moment’s notice. An admittedly reasonable and well-intentioned protectiveness had quickly morphed into a much less tolerable possessiveness.

There’a a nasty dichotomy here for Red Son: his little sibling is weak and frail, and therefore needs his protecting, making them useless. But they’re also his little sibling, and therefore unimaginably valuable and precious, requiring him to protect them at all costs.

So he keeps you at an arm’s length while also keeping you under his thumb, attempting to satiate both aspects of his feelings, all while he strives tirelessly to free his father.

A strange distance grows between the two of you, Red Son both viciously protective and distantly standoffish.

For a time, you seek his affection and attention, vying for his warmth and praise. Even if it was annoyingly overbearing, your brother’s prior love was important to you. Try as hard as you might, Red Son’s response is always to order a Bull Clone to take you (gently) back to your room.

You’re still a bit too young to understand why, however, so you take his restriction of love much worse than he would expect- you shut yourself away in turn.

In time, you grow distant from your mother, as well. Iron Fan hadn’t pushed you away, per se… but her unwavering determination to free her husband left the two of you distant.

You had changed with them.

The effect of isolation has settled in deep, rooting through your mind, reflecting on your body- you look tired and sad, weary from the constant reminders of your result, guilty for not remembering your father.

“How can you dare to call them your family, if you contribute so little and remember even less,” a wicked voice within asks.

Do you deserve to call them your family?

“My Queen,” you say for the first time, and Princess Iron Fan raises an eyebrow and frowns. Her hand softly cups your cheek, dark eyes peering into your own. It’s impossible to miss the fatigue plaguing your face. Your mother wrongly assumes that it’s your own way of coping, that you’re trying to distance yourself from them, and therefore from your father. Given that it’s still respectful and proper, she’ll allow you to refer to her as such.

“My Prince,” you say for the first time, and your brother laughs, loud and harsh. Red Son thinks you speaking to him so formally is funny- for a while. He’ll allow a few uses of the phrase before he cuts you off and informs you very clearly that the ‘joke’ has turned stale, and you should really stop.

“It wasn’t all that funny to begin with,” he informs, sharply flicking your forehead. “And it’s certainly lost what little charm it had by now. Give it up, Y/N.”

And he’ll send to you your room to ‘lie down or whatever’, because he’s still desperately worried for your safety, deep inside. He just won’t admit it.

“My King,” you say for the first time, and Demon Bull King is left with few words, getting to see just how much you’ve grown without him, speaking clearly and standing steadily. How much has he missed? Have much have you grown without him?

But none of that really matters to you.

“Titles are more appropriate,” that little voice reminds you, keeping you insecure and humble. It keeps you from noticing how badly your family wants to be a whole unit again. It keeps you from seeing how much they love you.

And it will keep you blind, until everything builds to a single tipping point-

and you drown in obsession.