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appalachiancowboy99 · 2 months ago

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After Dark

Arthur Morgan x CurvyFem!Reader Established relationship, high honor, grumpy Arthur in desperate need of release, 18+, MDNI (Minors DO NOT ENTER)

Arthur comes back to camp later than usual, with nothing but a bad disposition and a desperate need to release his pent-up frustrations.

Warnings: longer read, sexual content (oral, unprotected p in v, rough sex), mentions of violence, mentions of anger, and dabbles in sensual fluff.

Gif by: @sunwingsunset

A/N: Thank you so much to @photo1030 for not only being my sounding board in the never-ending chaos that is my writing process but also for being such a wonderful friend through it all. So grateful for you, don't know what I'd do without ya, C! <3 Thank you so much to @rivetingrosie4 for being an inspiration for my little works and being so supportive of my creative endeavors, not to mention the kind generosity of your friendship! Forever grateful for to have met you! @tortureddpoett I'm so excited to explore this budding friendship with you! Thank you so much for showing so much excitement for my work, IT MAKES ME EXCITED (EEP!). It means an absolute ton to me <3 @mr-inkslinger your friendship has been an absolute delight to explore! Thank you for posting that toe-curling smut that always has me giggling and kicking my feet! So happy to have met ya! And thank each and every single one of you for liking my first drabble and expressing interest in this next one. I'm so sorry it's taken me forever to publish this post, but hopefully, the next ones won't take me as long. I'll forever be grateful for your patience and kindness <3 But now, enough of my babbling, y'all enjoy yourselves with this one- I know I did ;)

Fuck. From the second he opened his eyes, he knew that the day was going to be fucking awful; his neck had a crick in it, his head was pounding from what little sleep he’s received over the last few nights, and now he had to trudge back out into the goddamn muggy heat to work. One disaster after another had piled up; everything that could have gone wrong, went so terribly awry that he wound up farther away from camp than he originally intended and managed to add a solid fifteen-dollar bounty to the mounting collection resting atop his head. Dutch had sent him out on a wild goose chase, following a lead from Micah that, of course, ended up being a complete waste of time. And that meant he was coming back to camp empty-handed, which almost certainly meant he'd be on the receiving end of another one of Dutch's lectures on the endless responsibilities placed upon his shoulders. He dreaded it, wanted to avoid spiraling down another conversation that would end in Dutch questioning his faith in the ever-evolving plan he’s found himself working on these days.

As if he needed any of that horseshit tonight. All he wanted was a moment of peace and quiet, a chance to catch his breath after the disaster of a day he'd just had, but instead, he was headed back to camp with nothing but bruises, a bloody lip, and a bad disposition to show for his efforts. Trees and other bits of scenery whipped by in a blur as Arthur spurred his horse onward, his surroundings melting together into a muddy mess of shapes cast by moonlight. He passed through New Hanover, his furious pace leading him down the familiar roads of Lemoyne, reaching the clearing outside of camp. Lenny and John are the first to spot Arthur approaching the thicket of trees disguising Clemens Point's main entrance. “Hey, who goes there?” Lenny’s voice echoes through the forest, bouncing off the thicket until it reaches Arthur’s ears.

“‘S me.” Arthur grunts out through gritted teeth, clearly not in the mood for any chit-chat. Even underneath the shadow of leaves and limbs, the scowl etched upon his face is easily distinguishable, a clear sign for anyone with any common sense to give him a wide berth for the rest of the night. Lenny and John, both, had a pretty good idea of what might happen when Arthur steps foot into camp and they don't want any part of it. As a result, they give each other a little knowing glance and stay in the treeline, preferring to avoid the impending shitstorm and let Dutch or Hosea deal with it instead. He strides past them in a fit of frustration, dismounting his mare with a jerky movement before she's even come to a complete stop. Kieran spots him and hesitantly approaches. That poor fool. "H-Hey, Mr. Morgan. Would ya like me to unsaddle the 'ol gal here?" Kieran's question was nothing more than an innocent query, but his expression turned the young man into a nervous wreck. If looks could kill, Arthur’s certainly could; his steely eyes are set ablaze with annoyance and irritation as he casts a hateful glance in Kieran's direction. Even Kieran knew better than to talk to Arthur when he was in this state, knowing that it would only lead to suffering at the hands of his unbridled wrath. Kieran’s eyes immediately darted to his feet, desperate to avoid Arthur’s icy gaze as his fingers trembled with the frayed ends of rope in his hands. Quickly as to not start any trouble for himself, Kieran took hold of the mare's reigns and led her away to the field of horses, putting as much distance between himself and Arthur as he could. A slight pang of guilt runs through him when he sees the way that Kieran high-tailed it out of his line of sight. He doesn't want to be harsh to the boy, he's been a useful asset to the gang, but his temper is just too far gone for him to muster up an apology. As fast as the angering thoughts snapping through his mind, Arthur turns on his heels and storms into camp in search of Dutch. His boots furiously hit the grass and reddened Lemoyne dirt as he passes by a few of the wandering eyes from those still awake at this late hour. Charles casts him a wary glance, and so does Sadie, but neither of them cares to look long enough to entertain what's about to happen. He passes by his own wagon and heads straight to Dutch's tent. Dutch is nowhere to be seen, yet the lamp light inside casts its soft golden glow upon the closed canvas flaps of the tent, indicating that he might be inside. Not wasting any more time than he has to, Arthur approaches the tent, not bothering to stop and think until it's too late. His hand raises, readying to peel back the canvas flap, when all of a sudden he hears the sweet amorous sounds of lovemaking echo through the night air. Molly’s sweet voice gasps out between each movement of their squeaking cot, calling out for Dutch as the unmistakable sound of skin slapping skin penetrates through the thin canvas walls, revealing exactly what’s occupying Dutch’s time tonight.

“Oh, Dutch. Don’t stop,” she encourages through strained, unabashed moans of pleasure. Dutch’s deep, husky voice murmurs back something unintelligible, but the increased squeaking of their bed and the filthy little noises coming from Molly are a clear indicator that Arthur should be stepping away to give them some privacy. Embarrassment washes over him, causing a faint rosy flush to heat his face and bloom across his cheeks. For once, he's grateful for the distraction from his current frustration. On most nights, he'd find comfort in your presence, seeking you out to vent his grievances as a distraction from the ever-present aggravation that seemingly follows him around these days. But tonight, he just wants to retreat to his tent, away from everything and everyone, to try to calm down before he says or does something he regrets.

He strides past the dying campfires and tables that are askew from daily camp activities, and his mind tirelessly races from thought to thought, stealing his attention away from his surroundings. If Arthur had even bothered to look, he would have spotted your sleeping form laid out upon his bed the moment he stepped inside. You had been waiting for him all evening. After working yourself to the bone doing laundry, dinner prep, and other camp chores for Ms. Grimshaw all day long, you wandered your way over to Arthur’s tent in search of a quiet place to sit. Part of you wished to find him seated right there on his cot, wanting to simply have a conversation with the man who has stolen your heart, but to your disappointment, he wasn’t anywhere to be found. So, you waited for him.. And waited until the very idea of waiting became too tiresome and you unknowingly fell asleep.

Sneaking away from the gang for private talks with him has been one of your favorite things to do since you joined the gang so long ago. Y'all have always had a knack for avoiding the company of others. But somehow in the midst of squirreling yourselves away, both of you have come to find that you'd prefer being alone together. Eventually, this led to many nights where Arthur would seek you out just to speak his mind, allowing you to see the world through his eyes for a short while. You have not only embraced Arthur's thoughts, but in doing so, you have captured his heart all the same. If it weren't for you, he's certain he'd have lost his damn sanity long ago.

Arthur takes that dusty old gambler's hat off his head and runs his fingers through his hair, taking a moment to calm himself down. His eyes glance over the things laid out upon his bedside table before catching a glimpse of your figure awash by the pale moonlight in his periphery. Your hair is sprawled out over the small blanket you've rolled up into a makeshift pillow; curls flowing like a roaring waterfall, laying a mess, and finally free from the bun that was atop your head earlier in the day. His eyes rake over your voluptuous figure, noting every dip and curve from your plump waist and hips to the ample swell of your breast hidden by a layer of clothing. The moment his mind registers that your presence isn't a dream, his eyes soften and his mind no longer races with anger. You are his peace, the only thing in this world that he cherishes above all else.

Sighing softly, he finally discards his hat from his hand and places it onto his nightstand before working off his worn leather jacket and satchel, resting them on the back of the chair nearest his shaving mirror. And while he's on his feet, he takes the time to carefully roll down the canvas walls of his tent, unraveling them with the quiet precision of a mouse, and securing them in a few simple knots to hide you two away from the world.

It's quite dark by the time he wanders over to the cot, dark enough not to notice himself brush against your legs as he takes a seat on the edge of the old creaking bed. The familiar, welcomed-warmth of his body pressing against your shins rouses you from your restful slumber. Your eyes flutter open to find his figure perched next to you, shrouded in a darkness so thick that you are sure you're still dreaming. His head and broad shoulders are slumped over as he begins working off his dusty boots, caked with remnants of mud and manure.

"Hmm... Arthur?" Your voice floats through the quiet darkness, laden with fatigue and clearly carrying the lassitude of someone who could fall back asleep at the drop of a hat.

He quickly glances over his shoulder at the sound of your voice, his eyes already adjusted enough to the shadows to see your tired face staring back at him with confusion. He silently curses himself for waking you. "Shhh, Darlin'. Don't wake up on my account. I'll be done in just a minute," Arthur lightly grunts out the last word as he struggles to remove his right boot.

Even in your own weary state, the exhaustion in his tone isn't lost on you. Thinking it best to rouse yourself as quickly as possible to free up his bed for him, you sit yourself up and will yourself awake with a slight stretch. "'S okay. You need rest more 'n me."

"No. You was restin' 'fore I got here. Go 'head and lay back down." He isn't having any of your courtesy tonight. He's worn out, far too tired to argue with you about whether or not it's appropriate for you to share his bed for the night.

The rest of the gang, aside from John, Abigail, Susan, and Hosea know nothing about the true nature of y'all's relationship. Although, the rest of the girls have picked up on the changes you've brought about in Arthur since your arrival so long ago now. Seeing him get all soft and doey-eyed at you over these last few weeks has most definitely tipped them off about what y'all really get up to when you're out running errands together. But they catch wind of you sleeping in his tent tonight, it will all but confirm their suspicions. And yet, you just can't bring yourself to move from the comfort of Arthur's cot with him sitting so close to you.

"What time is it?" The question falls from your lips, carried on the soft currents of a gentle breeze pushing through the tent flaps. Fine sinewy muscles flex beneath his shirt as he leans over to work off his other boot and you are powerless to admire the shape of his body beneath.

A muffled grunt escapes his mouth the moment he finally frees his aching feet from the confines of his boots, "Late," he simply replies.

You take a deep, cleansing breath, allowing the tranquility of the night to settle around you like a soft, comforting blanket. Outside these walls, no sounds of chatter or lively activity can be heard, aside from the gentle hum of crickets by the riverbank and the faint sounds of a squeaking cot stopping abruptly. The gang is unusually quiet, the air filled with repose now that Arthur's returned safely to you. Only a few stragglers tend to the campfires, their focus solely on themselves, interested in anything beyond the flickering flames; not even the sounds of Dutch and Molly or Arthur's irritation can disrupt the peaceful bubble encompassing Clemen's Point tonight.

The plush heel of your palm rubs over one of your eyes as you flit them toward the tent entrance, watching how the wind slightly ruffles the bottom of the canvas. It's only then that you realize that Arthur has tied down the walls for privacy on your account. Normally, he wouldn't bother setting up the walls before collapsing on the cot for a few restless hours of sleep. But tonight, he's gone out of his way to ensure your comfort. Your heart couldn't feel any more full of love for this man by your side, a man who puts your well-being above all else, even above his own. Never did you think that love would have been like this for you: sitting in the comfortable silence of privacy for lovers when that luxury is rarely afforded for women like you. But despite your gratitude for his thoughtfulness, a pang of guilt gnaws at you knowing he made the extra effort while you took up residence in his bed, a cot that's barely big enough for the two of you given your plump frame.

In an attempt to make up for taking up so much space, you roll yourself forward along the thin mattress and quickly slide past him, crawling toward the foot of his bed where his trunk of clothing is kept. You've decided to give him his space for the night, even though in your heart, you'd prefer to stay. Before your foot even slides off the trunk to touch the soft grass below, you're reminded of John stopping by Arthur's tent earlier in the day.

Through a half yawn, you speak, not giving Arthur the chance to catch-on to where you're headed, "'Fore I forget: John stopped by while you was out."

Arthur slightly leans back as his fingertips mindlessly fumble with the buckle of his gun belt. The slight clicking of the metal rings out as he works to remove the clunky accessory from his body. His strong back brushes against you as he moves with the comfortable ease he's come to enjoy over these last few weeks of secretly being yours.

"What about it?" His concentration is split half between himself and the presence of your body behind him.

Your words don't register in his mind until he's completely removed the belt from his body. He figures it was that stagecoach job he reluctantly handed off to John; it had completely slipped from his mind until this very moment, much like yourself. The cool metal filigree atop his trunk moves under your feet as you rest them just shy of slipping off its edge, causing the hazy memory to play out behind your tired eyes.

You were just settling yourself in, resting your weary body on the edge of Arthur's cot, just as you're doing now. Little beads of sweat accumulated on your forehead from working out in the intensity of Lemoyne's miserably humid heat. Grimshaw had you and the rest of the women working on camp chores, which you hadn't complained of, since it usually occupies the time until Arthur's usual return. However, the day was far too hot for you to not complain about the harsh conditions she had y'all in. Eventually, evening came and you were finally finished with the laundry, allowing you a moment's rest to seek out the comfort of Arthur's cot.

In the midst of wiping your brow down with one of his neckerchiefs you'd secretly swiped, the hard thump of boots hitting grass caught your attention. You'd anticipated Arthur's arrival, but something didn't feel quite right. The boots didn't move with Arthur's measured stride; they scuffed the grass and dirt, signaling a different, but familiar presence. The moment you look up, you spot John standing at the entrance of the tent, not at all surprised to see you sitting upon his cot as if it were your own.

For a brief moment, his brow furrowed in a mix of frustration and exhaustion. It was as if he was caught between the two warring emotions, each pulling him equally. Clearly, he expected Arthur to be back already.

"He not back yet?" The gruffness of his voice has you believe the former, rather than the latter.

"Not yet," you say in kind, hoping to ease some of his burden. "Was you needin' him for somethin'?"

John did and the news certainly wasn't going to sit well with Arthur at all.

When the thoughts finally coalesce within your fatigued mind, you internally grimace knowing that Arthur isn't going to like the reality of the situation. Gentleness has always been your strong suit, especially when it came to dealing with half of the bull-headed men in camp. So, you lace your words with the softest tone you can manage, "Said it weren't as much as y'all had planned on: about fifty-dollars tied up in what little him 'n Charles found."

And you were right. The news doesn't sit well with him at all. All of the compiled frustration of working a nothing-lead and now knowing that the other job didn't pay well either boils beneath the surface of his skin until he explodes like a whistling kettle. Preventing himself from lashing out at you, Arthur kicks his boot toward the other side of the tent, knocking it into the chair. The loud thunk of its sole hitting wood claps harshly and causes you to flinch, startling you fully awake from the suddenness of noise and his movement.

"Every goddamn day it's some shit," he spits through his teeth.

Although you know he'd never intentionally hurt you, the anger in his voice sends a cold shiver down your spine and your stomach flips and churns in knots. Usually, you'd blame yourself, reprimanding your big mouth for even opening up to mention something that you knew wouldn't bode well for his weary mind. But you're in too much of a shock to even consider self-deprecation as an option. Your wide eyes search through the darkness, watching the shadowed outline of the man you love heave in a deep breath to steal his nerves. His shoulders slump forward and head hangs low as he rests his elbows on his knees, utterly defeated from the compiled anger and exhaustion coursing through him.

It's at this moment that you remember the job Dutch sent him on earlier in the day; Arthur didn't want to go and had very little sleep after working on yet another lead that barely got them anywhere. If it had been left up to you, you would've made Arthur stay right here in this bed to get some rest like he deserves. You would've taken care of him so tenderly, but, as usual, what Dutch wanted would have far outweighed any of your concerns. You've learned to recognize the pattern of these situations by now, and given Arthur's aggression, assuming that today's job didn't go quite as planned would be hitting the nail right on its head. You test the waters with a quiet question, "Lead didn't pan out today, did it?"

The soft shake of Arthur's head, coupled with the shadow of his palm running over his face tells you all that you need to know: no, it hadn't gotten him any farther than where he had started. Another useless effort. Your heart aches watching him struggle with so much weight on his shoulders. No matter how strong Arthur might be, he's just a man struggling to carry his own burdens, let alone everyone else's. Ever since settling down here, Dutch has placed so much responsibility on him that you've wanted to scold the man for even mentioning Arthur's name in passing. He's worked himself thin and thread-bare, barely having any time for himself outside of the time he spends on the road traveling from place to place at Dutch's convenience.

Empathy for the man that you've fallen in love with so long ago breaks your heart, aching in desperation to relieve some of his pain. Instead of walking away, keeping to yourself, and silently shouldering any of the blame for setting him off, you choose to stay the night. Despite knowing full well that the girls will have their gossip circulating by morning, Arthur's needs are far more important than any snickering comment or playful jest that'll inevitably come your way.

You scoot back where you were and lean toward him with less apprehension than what your words had suggested. Resting your delicate palm between the broad expanse of his shoulders, you feel him tense at the soft slip of your tender touch over his shirt. The tips of your fingers glide over his shoulder and silently take purchase on the taut muscle there. With a gentle, yet firm pull, you coax Arthur back toward you.

"C'mere. Lean back 'n talk to me..." Your dulcet tone pierces through his irritation, encouraging him to rest in your awaiting arms.

Arthur slowly reclines back, allowing himself to unwind in your embrace as his much larger body sits snugly against your plump bosom. Relaxing doesn't come easy for him. Hell, you'd be surprised if it had, given the high tensions between him and Micah these days or the tiresome back and forth between the two rival families in Rhodes. He has every right to be terse and tensed up like a snake ready to strike, but you aim to comfort him even if that means you risk getting bit. Silence hangs in the air between you, aside from the gentle breaths and the occasional strained grunt catching in the back of his throat while he struggles to get comfortable against you, due to the remaining stress insisting on clinging to his tired body. Your loving hands splay out over the firm expanse of his chest, feeling the steady and reassuring thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms as you try your best to soothe your brooding lover. It's as if your mere presence cracks away at the anger lingering in the stiff tendons and taut plains of muscle along his torso until he relents and finally lets go. His body relaxes back into you as if he were sinking into the plush, luxurious drapery and bedding found in the finest hotels of Saint Denis; much like the bedding of the room he'd paid for the very same night he had whisked you away to bed you properly for your very first time.

He's silent for a long while, almost reluctant to burden you with his troubles. So, you take it up on yourself to start the conversation by spilling what had happened to you earlier in the day, thinking it might earn a laugh or two, "Well, I'm sure my day weren't as rough as your'n," you hum. "But I did fall off the dock, landing my hind-end right in that water."

The image would usually cause a humorous snort to escape him, but the irritation still bristling at his nerves prevents him from reacting with anything else other than a huff of annoyance, "I told ya to watch your footin' out there. Ain't no use to nobody if you get yourself drowned."

Fortunately, as he chides you his words begin to lack much of the anger from moments ago. But you sigh softly anyways, relenting to his incessant need to protect you from life's dangers, despite being able to handle your own, "I know, I know..."

With a few buttons of that old blue work shirt popped open by your deft fingers, the smallest opening there is just big enough to slip your hand inside and rest it up on the soft but wiry hairs at the very center of his chest. "You shoulda seen me, though," you murmur as you lean down toward his ear, lowering your tone as you press your cheek to the side of his head. "Was drenched head to toe, clothes clingin' to me like feathers on a wet chicken."

He sulks, trying to stay mad at anything and everything he can to give into the bristling anger at the back of his mind, but he can't. No, not when he can clearly envision you all soaked and surprised from falling into that cold lake. A faint smile curls up the corners of his lips and then, just as he almost chuckles, he clears his throat, holding his laugh back. However, you catch on far too quickly for him to play it off so easily.

You gasp softly in mock surprise as if offended by the idea of him laughing at you, "Arthur Morgan. Are you laughin' at me?"

That's when his temperament breaks, giving way to the huff of laughter rumbling through his chest. "I ain't laughin' atchu, per say..." he counters. "Just maybe at the thought of what ya mighta looked like comin' up outta that water: madder 'n hell, hair clingin' to your head," and as if to illustrate his point, Arthur reaches his hand backward and turns his head to try and catch a glimpse of you in the thick shadows, barely making your face distinguishable to his eyes, as he brushes his fingertips over the bits of hair clinging to your forehead from the muggy heat.

Though you narrow your eyes in mock annoyance, you lean into his calloused fingertips, accepting the gentleness of his touch while a giggle of your own creeps up into your throat, "Oh? Is 'at so? Maybe next time I find you out on that dock, I'll think 'bout pushin' ya in 'n lettin' you see how it feels."

He huffs out a skeptical breath and raises an eyebrow at the very thought of you even trying something like that with him. It'd be a futile effort and one that you truly wouldn't consider without the clear consequence of him pulling you right down with him.

And just as soon as the laughter came, it was gone again, replaced instead with a comfortable silence that settles between you two once more, giving him some space to think about what's happened to himself today. Long before the days of your arrival, Arthur would keep to himself and dwell on the ever-present burdens troubling his mind, brooding for hours. But with you, he feels a safety that men like him are rarely afforded.

"Well, if ya think fallin' in Flat Iron's bad..." he continues, "Try goin' halfway 'cross the state lookin' for a man that don't exist. Then when ya find someplace to get a drink, ya end up catchin' a few stray hits from some drunken bastard."

A soft gasp enters your lungs at the revelation. Another fight? You lean over his shoulder, reaching to take his scarred chin into your hand. It's hard to see through the inky-black darkness of the night, but even in the haziness, your eyes can make out the bruising along his jaw, the harsh scrapes of knuckles cutting over his cheek, and the jagged cut on his upper lip. It isn't a rare sight to have him come back battered and bruised by some job from time to time, but that still doesn't quell the uneasiness in your heart at him going through such pain and aggravation.

Your eyebrows furrow in sympathy for your rugged cowboy, eyes softening to match as you breathe out, "Oh, Arthur."

He's quick to dismiss your concern with a soft sigh, pulling away from you to lean forward and distract himself from your sympathetic gaze, "Ah, don'tchu go 'n worry yourself over me none, Darlin'."

Being fussed over or thought of so tenderly still isn't something he's used to; he's shown you that time and time again. But it never deters you from trying to make things better, to make things easier on him however you can. Whatever turmoil Arthur's got rolling about in his mind is far from the usual and it takes patience to understand; a patience that he finds only you can give.

You reach your hand out toward him. The delicate ends of your fingertips reach up to brush over the nape of his sun-kissed neck, grazing over the ends of his slightly overgrown hair, silently making a note to yourself that you'll trim it for him tomorrow. His body shuffles slightly backward, leaning in to accept your touch while he slips off his suspenders: pulling them down his shoulders heavy with burden, before taking his time to unbutton that tattered old work shirt you're so used to seeing around his muscular frame.

"'Sides..." he starts. "I did have some good that came from today."

"What's 'at?" you hum softly with a lilt of dryness. "Hittin' that feller back?"

He can't help the chuckle rising in his throat at the dry sarcasm touching your words. Arthur shakes his head softly, "Nah, Darlin', " the last word strains from his lips as he rises to his feet with a groan, leaving the safe comfort of your touch as he stands to undo his pants.

He glances over his shoulder, peering down at you through the darkness with a smirk curling up at the right corner of his mouth. Watching as your sweet eyes follow his every movement, Arthur turns to face you, allowing you to gaze at him as he slowly pushes the brass button through the eyelet at the top of his riding pants. The fabric opens effortlessly, revealing the red cloth of his union suit underneath. The sight of him before you, suspenders hanging loosely on either side of his long legs and his pants aching to be peeled from his strong form has your lips parted in awe at the man standing mere inches away from you.

He continues from just seconds before, "Seein' you laid out on my bed, purdy as a dream."

After stepping out of his pants now crumpled around his ankles, Arthur lowers one knee upon the cot nearest your thighs. He leans over you, using his thick fingers to tilt your chin upward, meeting his crystalline eyes. "Was one helluva sight I could get used to seein'."

The low timbre of his voice sends a shockwave of desire straight through your heart and into the aching pit of your stomach. Your lips draw up into a shy smile, and a faint dusting of pink envelops your cheeks just like the moment you'd first professed your feelings for him under that canopy of trees he led you through so blindly. Although it hasn't been long since that fateful night, the closeness of your relationship has escalated so quickly that your head and heart dizzy at the mere mention of his name.

Arthur's calloused thumb brushes over the supple swell of your bottom lip, enticing you to part them just for him. You comply, of course, unable to resist how a ghost of his touch makes you so pliant beneath him. And when he leans down to meet your lips with his own, your heart swells with tender affection. Those warm, slightly chapped, but pleasantly plush lips are heady as they connect with a passion that stokes the burning coals of desire in the very base of your core.

"Been waitin' to use that one for a while, hmm?" You hum contently while blindly guiding your hands toward the flare of muscle encasing his ribs. God, how you could worship this man and never tire of feeling how warm, how strong he is beneath your palms.

"Depends. It workin'?" He murmurs, smirking cockily against your lips.

Your mind begins to spin as the calloused pad of his thumb dips from your chin and swipes over your jawline. His fingers splay out over the side of your neck, fingertips gripping you with tender passion to hold you in place. He could easily break you, bend you with his finger and thumb as if you were nothing more than a twig beneath his rough and weathered hands. Never have you felt so small and fragile, always knowing in your heart that you took up much more room than other women. But, when you're with Arthur, he makes you feel as delicate as the petals on a beautiful flower, something so precious and worth loving; it's so much more than you'd ever experienced in your whole life. He touches you so tenderly as if you were made from nothing more than ash, a veritable pile of matter waiting to slip through his fingers at any moment.

You want to hum your praises to your lover, to let him know exactly how much you've wanted this, how much you've missed him, how well he's kissing you, touching you... But you can't. There are no words. He's stolen them from you, drawing all the air out of your lungs with his lips, leaving you gasping for the air coated in his divine masculine scent: sweet tobacco, wood ash, and mossy earth. He encompasses you, wrapping one arm around your waist as he pulls you close to his body, all the while shuffling himself forward to join you on the small cot. Your back presses against the hard wooden frame of the wagon making up the other half of his tent. He presses against you, holding you close to his strong body as he slides his right hand from your jaw, trailing it down over the soft skin of your neck, and down to your chest, where he heatedly palms your breast hidden just beneath your blouse. To have him touch you like this, like a man frenzied and dying for a taste of intimacy, has your head spinning and your heart on the verge of exploding if it hadn't already; for all you know, you could've died the moment his lips crashed into yours, and all that's left is a heaven you'd only dreamt of.

A low growl of appreciation rumbles through his chest for the plumpness of your body. Most men do not know the fine pleasures that extra curves on a woman can bring. But Arthur sure does. And oh how he worships your full figure, despite your opinions about yourself. His large, calloused palm shifts his attention to your other breast, kneading you tenderly while his lips work from your mouth, and instead, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses over your jawline and supple neck.

His name is a breathless sigh across your trembling lips as you allow your hands to explore his body in return. Touching over the large expanse of his torso and gliding your fingertips over the worn fabric of his union suit, you desperately search for the button that would bare him wholly to you. In the time it takes you to undo one of his buttons, his skilled fingers undo two of yours. Button after button unthreads upon both of your bodies, though his hands are much quicker at ridding you of your layers, leaving them strewn about on the ground until he's stripped you down and laid you beneath him in nothing more than your chemise and bloomers to conceal your decency. Arthur then crawls over you, his movements deliberate and enticingly slow as he cages you in with his hands pressed into the thin mattress on either side of your head. Shadows danced and shifted restlessly, playing tricks on your perception as you try to focus on what little of Arthur you could see through the haziness, making the absence of light feel alive. To feel him above you like this has your stomach in knots, tightening with a firey passion that's ready to snap at any given moment. Hearts are pounding, thrumming wildly against your ribcages like birds desperate to escape the confines of your chests. You hear it, hear how his breath shutters with each wild thump of his heart, and you feel it in his breath as it puffs over your cheek. He's losing himself to you and you him, slipping so quickly that rational thinking is no longer of use. You need him and he needs you.

The flaps of his union suit hang loosely from his body, allowing your hands to reach in and press flat over his heated skin. He shivers slightly at the contact, his muscles tensing and flexing beneath the tender meeting of your palms placed upon his scarred, goose-pimpled flesh. Your fingertips ghost over a scar on the right side of his ribcage, causing your face to crinkle with sorrow for what hardship your lover, this great outlaw, has had to endure in his lifetime. The damaged tissue is the result of a nasty fight he had as a young man: when someone stabbed him with the broken end of a beer bottle; they had aimed to kill him, but he had survived. The spot still aches with the memory of Hosea digging out the shards of broken glass from the angry, bloodied wound. But somehow, the way your delicate touch brushes over that old scar with such love and care causes the outlaw's skin to tingle, and his cock to ache with the pride of knowing that you love him so.

He takes his time with you here, laid out beneath him like a perfect little thing he's captured and kept safe by hiding you away in the privacy of his tent. After the day he's had, he wants to savor every bit of loveliness he's blessed with in your presence, so he can't rush this with you, not now. Arthur takes his time admiring you, letting his eyes rake over what he's able to see, and feeling what he cannot. Leaning down close enough to your face to capture that seductive glint in your glittering, lust-blown eyes, Arthur searches for any change within them as he maneuvers his right hand away from the mattress to trail along your sensitive flesh. The rough pads of his fingers ghost over your thigh, caressing the plump deposit of flesh along your middle, snaking up over your collarbones, and over your neck in search of your delicate face before sealing your mouth with his own in a kiss so tender you whimper from the initial contact.

Shivers of anticipation roll through him as your body responds to his touch: back arching off the bed, hands pulling on the nape of his neck to hold him down and assure that his lips won't leave yours, and the way your bloomer-clad hips roll upward in search of some much-needed friction. God how he could spend hours with you like this, letting his hands roam over your body to make you shiver and plead for any ounce of affection that he can give you. Your needy state is only exacerbated by the slight tremble in your thighs as he snakes his hands down over the pillowy flesh, seeking out the waistband of your bloomers. Ridding you of the cloth separating your pussy from his line of sight is an easy feat: the clad, slightly damp undergarment peels away from your plump hips with ease at the help of his precision; the Lemoyne heat causes the clothing to stick to your slightly dampened skin, but dammit if the temperature pales in comparison to how heated Arthur makes you feel. He tosses them down onto the ground, and places his hands upon your knees, spreading them apart as he sits above you to admire the feeling of your plump body beneath him.

His hand is unhurried and exacting, gently brushing his calloused knuckles down over your inner thigh, then lightly petting them over your soaked need covered by a soft thatch of hair. He can't see you fully, but that does nothing to stop his mind from envisioning how your cunt glistens with slick, all for him. The moment he presses his fingertips to your seam, parting you with the practiced precision of a lover, he lets a low, ragged breath escape his nose in appreciation for how wet you are. You shiver and instinctively try to close your knees from the pleasant surprise of his touch, and fuck does it feel good to have him brush over your folds like that.

"Always so ready, ain'tchya?" He murmurs, a teasing lilt to his voice as he takes his time in savoring the feeling of your slick upon his fingertips.

Your hips involuntarily twitch, bucking upward into his hand, seeking out his fingertips to make him swirl them over your aching little clit. You want him to touch you right where you need him, feel him right on that little spot upon that nub of nerves that makes your mind swirl and your body careen into a blissful orgasm. But he doesn't give that to you, not yet. He wants to work you over slowly, savoring every little sound he can draw out of those pretty lips. You're far too shy to answer him directly, instead favoring to cover your face with your forearms as he takes pleasure in taunting you like this. But the moment his fingertips threaten to part your folds, you let out a delicate little noise, someplace between a whine and a prayer to let him know that you're in no mood to endure his teasing tonight, "Arthur... Please."

Oh, how he loves to hear the sound of you begging; he's already half-hard at the idea of you wanting his touch, let alone hearing how desperate you are for it. He answers your prayer with a long, smooth stroke of his thumb parting your puffy, wet folds. You keen at how just a simple touch causes your stomach to flutter and your slit to clench around nothing at all. Your thighs, thick with strength, covered by a layer of squishy softness, part for him, relaxing lazily as he guides his thumb over each of your labia.

It was nearly impossible to get you to lay like this for him a few weeks ago; you'd been concerned about the unsightly appearance of your inner thighs: scarred over with dimples and imperfections, as well as the slight discoloration of having them rub together after so many years of being a larger woman. Most women that you've seen naked, don't have the same ailments upon their bodies as you have on yours. Just the other day when bathing with some of the girls in the lake, you'd noticed that even on Karen's body, a woman closer to your size, still didn't have the scars or discoloration across her skin in the same way that you have. And that night that Arthur had you laid out for him for the very first time, he'd noticed that apprehension in you, taking it as having second thoughts. But once you had explained how you felt about your own body, he hadn't even given the idea a single thought; his own body is mauled up, covered in old and ugly scars, and carrying more than three colors from all his time spent out in the sun. So, he couldn't have cared less about some scars, a little extra hair, weight, or even the discoloration over your thighs. What he did care about, however, was making sure that you felt loved in spite of it all. And now, it feels no different. To have you spread your legs for him like this, without a single worry holding you back, is a goddamn treat.

Fuck how good it feels to have the soft press of his thumb tease over your cunt, tracing the delicate path between your weeping entrance, to your swelling bud with a pressure so teasing and light that you squirm to feel more. Your plush lips tuck between your teeth to hold back any sounds that give away what you two are doing in here after dark, but it's useless; the lewd sounds of his thumb circling over your clit echo throughout the tent: a dead giveaway to anyone that dare walk by. Holding your breath like this isn't easy, not when the pounding of your heart echoes in your ears and your chest feels as if it's being seared from the inside out. A ragged gasp finally inhales through your nostrils, desperately trying to fulfill your body's need for air when you can no longer restrain your breaths.

He huffs out a low chuckle in amusement at the state he has you in: clearly desperate and in need to have your clit rubbed just the way you like it.

"Hmm.. Hear that?" He rasps out before going silent, letting you hear the sounds of your own slick being spread over your soaked cunt. He only continues when he finally reaches your clit, circling over the throbbing little nerve-ending to make you sigh out in pleasure for him. "So goddamn wet. All for me."

In a blur of movements, Arthur's chapped lips and teeth skim over your knee, slowly working their way down over your inner thighs. He nips at you, earning a few little squeaks and giggles until he kisses over your plump mound. His thumbs take hold of either side of your cunt, spreading you open to let the night air hit your wet skin. It's pleasant like this, to feel yourself spread out beneath him like a meal ready to be devoured and dammit if he ain't starved for a taste. Being eaten out has quickly become one of your favorite acts of intimacy in recent weeks; his tongue is so skilled at finding spots on you, making you come so deliciously, that most days it's all you've been able to think about. Hell, it's all you're thinking about now as his head sinks down to your core and his hot breath fans out over your aching need. His tongue slips out of that perfect mouth and flattens out over your seam, lapping at you once to earn him that little sigh of pleasure escaping your throat.

Your hands immediately seek out his head, combing through his slightly sweat-dampened hair as he swirls the blunt tip of his tongue over your clit.

"A-Agh, Arthur.. N-Not so fast," you whine out in protest, yet your hips bucking up into his mouth says otherwise. But he relents, nonetheless, giving you a moment of reprieve before he delves back in at the same pace.

He's aiming to make you cum quick and hard: slithering his tongue over your clit with the precision of knowing exactly what side and spot makes you writhe beneath him. Just left and then a little upward beneath that little hood of skin and he has you singing for him. Explicitves roll off your tongue one after another in between sweet little sounds that praise him for what effort he's putting in just for you. To hear you, feel you crumble beneath him like this is better than any robbery or score he gets out on the road. But just before he lets you come, he pulls his head back slightly and puffs cool air over your clit, making you whine.

"Shh.. Shh.. 'M gonna let ya cum, Darlin'. Don'tchu worry 'bout that none. 'M gonna take real good care of ya," he hums lowly as his lips and bristly scruff brush over your quivering inner thighs.

His promise isn't far off from fulfillment, not when he sinks his tongue into your heat and presses his opened mouth over the entirety of your cunt. He sucks hard, feeling your walls constrict around the wriggling muscle of his tongue as he laps inside your spongey center. Your thighs tremble with need as he fucks you with his mouth and slurps up your slick, drinking in as much of you as he can and relishing the tangy sweetness of your delectable taste. You throw your head back against the rolled-up blanket you had been using as a pillow earlier in the night, all while he eats you out like a man who's desperate to consume you.

But the aching throb of his cock, constricted by the thin fabric of his union suit, is far too angry for him to ignore. He's got to have you, now.

As he shuffles back up to his knees, leaving your cunt longing to cum on his tongue, you flutter your eyes open and snap your head up to try and catch a glimpse of what he's doing. Clearly, you ain't pleased with him teasing you like this, but when you feel his fervent movements, you realize that he's trying to work off his union suit. He wastes no time it peeling it away from his torso, but the moment he starts to tug it down his thighs, allowing his weeping cock to spring free, he nearly topples over and just about slams head-first into your body. Thankfully, he catches himself in the knick of time, grunting out a few curses as he grows impatient with his incapability to slide that damn fabric off his legs.

Amid his struggle to bare himself, you can't hide the giggle creeping up your throat as he curses under his breath, frustrated with how the fabric insists on clinging to his muscular legs. You help him slide the old red union suit off his body by digging your heels against the back of his thighs and pushing it down the long length of his legs until it reaches his ankles. The undergarment hangs loosely off his feet, causing him to kick it haphazardly off the side of the bed, letting it fall onto his trunk to skirt down on the grass below.

The instant his turgid length brushes over your inner thigh it twitches with the anticipation of feeling your tight, wet walls clamped around him, milking every drop of spend nestled away in his balls; spend that he so desperately wishes he could drain right inside of you. For now, however, just a single brush of your fingertips against him is enough. He has to hold his breath as he guides your delicate palm over his velvety shaft to stroke the needy ache away; if he isn't careful, he'd cum just like this. He hisses, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth as your fingers wrap around him and your thumb seeks out the weeping slit of his blunt tip. Arthur is, by no means, a small man: his legs are long, torso strong and wide, feet and hands are like bear paws, and his cock.. God, his cock is big. You could use both of your hands to stroke him and still, there'd be enough room for his tip to be entirely untouched. But you make sure as you stroke him with one hand, you pay extra attention to his tip, smearing his drooling precum over as much of him as you can, even down to the dark and wiry curls along his base and balls.

He's trying so hard to hold himself back, but with each tender pass of your thumb over that sweet spot along the underside of his tip, the last remnants of his patience crack away. You feel him crumbling like this, crumbling into a frenzied mess of low-hummed breaths and grunts through gritted teeth, and you fucking love it. Before you can even think about the desire roaring in the cavernous pit of your stomach, aching to be quelled, he smashes his lips into yours so hard that you're sure one of you is bleeding. The pain of his busted lip splitting back open is an angry reminder of the frustration still lingering at the back of his mind; he's as tensed up, pent-up, as a taut rope ready to snap.

With a quick movement, he swats your hand away, preventing you from jacking him into a fast climax. Then, in one swift motion, he grabs hold of your thighs and forcefully yanks you toward him, making the round swell of your plump ass plant firmly against the hard front of his strong body. Your thighs spread out, squishing over and conforming to the contour of his hips, the intimate contact leaving you both ragged and breathless. Your heart drums a frantic rhythm in your ears, drowning out all other thoughts and sensations that belong to you alone. It's as if your mind has descended into a tangled web of strangled noises and glorious sensations that only Arthur seems able to untangle or soothe. The faint outline of his body nestled between your thighs is a constant reminder that nothing beyond this moment, beyond him hidden away with you inside of this tent, matters.

The hard length of his turgid pride parts your folds, gliding over the slick thatch of curls usually concealing your cunt from his eyes, but with his sight hindered, he can explore every single nook, roll, and crevice without you shying away. His weight bares down on you as he holds your legs into the crook of his arms, nearly bending you in half as he drags his cock over your seam. It feels so good like this, even though you can hardly breathe with the thickness of your thighs pressing against your already plump stomach, but when the tip of his cock knocks into your clit, it makes the strained pain well worth it. The back of your hand flies over your mouth as he continues on like this, pleasuring himself and you with each agonizingly slow thrust. Hearing your ragged, strangled half-breaths, he releases your thighs, leaving them to splay out lazily on either side of his hips as he leans down to steal a tender kiss.

Upon breaking his lips away from yours, the low hum of his voice finds its way through the haziness of your lust-broken mind as he murmurs against the shell of your ear, "Gonna take ya just like this..."

Chapped lips skim over your jawline and trail to your lips, where he gives you another tender kiss filled with gentle affection: polar opposite to the rough sex-driven outlaw you've gotten a taste of tonight, but aligning perfectly with the man you fell in love with all those years ago. Scraped knuckles skim against your slick heat as he slips his hand in between you both and presses flat over the thick, dark curls at the base of his throbbing length. His fingers spread wide over his pubic bone, holding his cock between his middle and ring finger, stiffening himself outward to seek out your clenched entrance. With a slight pullback of his hips, he guides himself to your slit, catching right on the taut muscle before pressing forward and splitting you open.

A soft cry hums in the back of your throat and he shushes you so tenderly, sliding his hands over your knees and down your shins to soothe the ache he knows you're feeling. You're so fucking tight, hardly different from the first night he took you and bedded you properly back at the Saint's Hotel. It nearly shatters him when your walls flutter around him, squeezing and pulling him in inch by inch as if you were carved out just for him to sink into. He stills only for a short moment, letting you feel him nestled up against your cervix before he slides himself out and enters you again with a sharp snap of his hips. Lingering anger and frustration from the shit day he's had still pulsates at the back of his mind, desperate to be released as the tension in his body rises.

The tight walls of your cunt clench onto him for dear life as jolts of pleasure and pain rack through your body.

Behind the shield of your palm, you cry out, "A-Agh, Arthur!"

You're trying your best to be quiet, to still your ragged breaths and hide your whimpers, but he's making it incredibly difficult. Each slow drag of his cock coming out of you with a satisfying pop, only to pierce you with a hard roll of his hips, sends you reeling. You're seeing stars, shaking from the pleasurable burn of the passionate fire he's stirring within you. Strong hands grip your hips, keeping you still as his thrusts guide you into a steady rhythm that makes the old wooden frame creak and groan with every subtle and sharp movement that your bodies make. Being discreet has left his mind entirely, no longer concerned with what sounds are coming out of his tent as he fucks you good and proper. No, he couldn't care less when the sounds of your slick pussy squelches as he presses himself flush against you and groans against the pulse point of your neck.

"Don't want ya hidin' them purdy sounds, Darlin'. Let 'em out for me," he grunts out between slow but hard thrusts.

Usually, intimacy like this is savored in the shaking breaths and whispered little sounds only audible to your ears, but tonight... Tonight Arthur is something else entirely. Primal. A damn, dirty outlaw. You love this new view of him, but you can't allow yourself to let the others hear. What if someone were walking by? Or Hosea or Dutch hear you two going at it? You wouldn't be able to look at them for a week! But he doesn't give you much choice in the matter: snaking his hand down between your bodies, his muscular forearm presses against your plush belly while his thumb immediately finds your clit.

"O-Oh, God," you whine as the pad of his thumb circles over you, followed by his name dripping off your tongue like the sweetest honey. "At's it... Such a good girl takin' me so deep. Mmm.. Gonna cum 'round me ain'tchu? Gonna give me a real good one, baby?"

God damn him if his mouth ain't filthy. The way he croons out those little praises and words of encouragement has your climax building faster than you ever could have anticipated. And the swirling of his thumb? It has you shaking, whining, pleading, practically begging for your release as he talks you through it, "C'mon, Darlin'... I feel ya squeezin' me real tight," he praises, "'At's it. Focus on me."

With one more swipe of his thumb over your sensitive clit and his cock hitting that sweet spot right against your cervix, you're tensing, digging your heels into the thin mattress, and cumming around him so hard that you see white. It takes everything in you not to scream, but the strangled sound coming out of you is loud enough to warrant some head-turning if anyone were awake. The moment your walls flutter and start milking him, he falls forward and drops down onto his elbows to cage you in. His thrusts are relentless as he takes his anger out on you in this way, using every movement of his body to release the bristling anger clutching onto his mind like a damn vice grip. No matter how fervent and frenzied, he's still careful not to hurt you, always thinking about how good he's making you feel while chasing his own release.

Arthur isn't a man of many words, but when you're gripped around him like this, clutching him with your arms, legs, and your fluttering pussy, he is downright mouthy. "Oh, such a good girl for listenin' to me. Shh.. Shh. I gotchu, baby. I gotchu."

His mouth hovers over yours, claiming your lips as he kisses you hard and possessively. Moans spill out of you, traveling through the expanse of his throat until it hums within his chest and he echoes one back. To talk like this with him, in a language only two lovers could understand, is far more intimate and pleasurable than anyone could ever know. Arthur is yours and you are his, no ownership or proprietary claim, but just the pleasant knowledge that both of you choose to love each other is enough.

With a few more rolls of his hips, he's nearing his own orgasm: length twitching and engorging as his balls tighten. In desperation, he quickly climbs off of you and pulls his cock out from your core. His right hand tightens into a fist around himself, and although you can't see it, you hear the lewd, effortless slide of his hand vigorously pumping over his tip like his life depends on cumming for you.

Finally, his orgasm hits him, working its way out of his tightened balls and spurting over your plump mound and belly. If he could see his spend on you like this, it'd be enough to make him cum all over again. But both of you are far too exhausted to even consider that so soon. You're still shaking, panting heavily as he lowers himself down onto you, not caring that his sticky spend is now covering the front of his body as well, as your sweaty bodies come down from such an enormous height.

His touch traces a slow, deliberate path down your leg until his fingertips reach the softness of your hip, where he gives your flesh a gentle but firm grasp. Reveling in the smoothness of your skin and the feel of your curvy form beneath his palm, he lets out a slow exhale through his nose. The heat of his breath spills over your neck and shoulder, doubled by the heavy breaths leaving his lips as he lazily peppers your clammy skin with kisses.

After a long stretch of quiet spent nestled into his hair, breathing in the comforting remnants of campfire intermingled with his musky scent, your breathing finally begins to steady. Slowly, your senses return to you one by one, like pieces of a puzzle falling back into place. Shock and disbelief jolt through your entire being as it finally hits you how easily he manipulated your body with his own strength and skill as a lover. You'd heard of men being rough with women, but never did you think it could be this pleasurable.

Your voice finally cuts through the relative silence, carrying a deep sense of satisfaction and astonishment with it, "Wh-here in the hell did that come from?"

An amused chuckle rumbles inside his chest, slightly huffing out of his nose as he slightly pushes himself off of you to gauge your reaction, "Reckon I were a little pent up. Why? You like it?"

To say you liked it was an understatement, but you'd like anything as long as Arthur were right there with you to experience it just the same. While his right hand slides up over the plump contours of your body, appreciatively grabbing at the plushness of your stomach and breasts, he lovingly brushes a few stray strands of hair off your forehead stuck there by the sweat covering your body. You hum softly in agreement to his question, deciding that you did enjoy this different side of him you hadn't expected, despite his rough exterior.

"Mhmm.. 'S always good with you," the loving words you murmur cling to his heart and earn you a pleasant kiss that tastes like the remnants of his busted lip.

As his lips trail back down over your jawline, his beard delightfully scratches over your sensitive skin, causing you to hum in appreciation for him loving you like a man who worships the very ground you walk upon. Your own body follows his lead, fingertips glide down the entire length of his back, tracing the contour of muscle that hint at the immense strength lurking beneath. You can't help but marvel at his shape, this man you love so dearly, and how his body was molded for love and carved from such a hard life. While your fingertips glide across his muscled frame, you can feel the subtle shift of his body as he adjusts himself on top of you, notricebly more relaxed than before: a clear testamanet to the calming eddect your touch has on him.

Curiosity peaked, you murmur, "You relaxed now?" as your fingertips idly trace the two little dimples that grace the base of his spine, just above the firm and muscular curve of his ass.

An amused smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, obviously enjoying the path your fingertips are carving out over his back. He'd never admit it, but he loves it when you grab him unabashedly, palming his ass like he so often does to you. The warmth of his cock brushing over your leg, hardening much faster than he expected for a man his age, tells you all you need to know.

He agrees with you, humming softly against your chest as he inches himself down to where his mouth hovers over the plump swell of your breasts, "Thinkin' that we just might need a little more time for relaxin', don'tchu?"

A/N: Big thanks for the divider from @saradika-graphics and the beautiful gif from @sunwingsunset, please go send them some love for their work! <3

Other creators that expressed interest and drew inspiration from: @subpopizzy , @cassietrn , @coltermorning , @redwritr, @zae-heeyyy, @twola , @amorgansgal

Please do go check all the blogs I tagged! You surely won't be disappointed!

As always, sending my love - M. <3

#Thank you for reading - from the bottom of my little Appalachian Heart <3 #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x reader smut #arthur morgan #rdr2 community #grumpy #fluff #arthur morgan rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #john marston #rdr #dutch van der linde #molly o'shea #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you

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entitled-fangirl · 3 months ago

Text

The midst of death and destruction.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

Summary: Bolton takes Winterfell in the dead of the night, leaving the Starks to fight in any way they can.

Summary: BOLTON IS A FUCKING CREEP!!!!! Blood, cursing, threatening, perverted talk of reader, attempted s.a.; Def read at your own discretion.

A/N: based on an ask! I totally fooled you guys and finished this earlier than I thought! SUPRISE!!!

Masterlist

part 2

.....................................................

Her eyes cracked open at a sound deep in the castle.

She sat up, forcing herself to wake up and noticed Cregan's absence from the bed.

His side was still very warm, signaling that he had just left.

The sound that made the hair on the back of her neck stand was sword on sword.

An imminent fight in Winterfell.

She pushed herself out of bed in a hurry, throwing a robe loosely over her shift and opened the door to her chambers.

The entire hall was dark, save for her lone guard that stood outside of the door.

The guard, Ser Henry, stood vigilantly, but she could see the facade he put on. He was scared.

"Lady Stark, I'd advise you return to your quarters. It's not safe," he urged quietly.

"Where is my husband?"

Ser Henry sighed, "I do not know. Somewhere in the midst of it all, I'd assume."

Her face paled. "I cannot stand here while he fights."

"I was instructed to keep you here until I receive word from Lord Stark himself."

She leaned against the doorframe, trying to block out the sound of grunts and slicing swords. "You won't let me leave?"

"No, my lady."

"I'll refuse then."

"I'd advise you don- MY LADY!"

Y/n had set off in a dead sprint, her small dagger in her hand. A sturdy blade, the handle carved intricately. A gift from Cregan, along with the lessons of how to use it.

Her guard followed behind her as she ran.

She paused her steps at an all knowing sound.

Liquid hitting the floor behind her.

She turned her head slowly, unsure of what to expect.

Her guard stood there in the dark, illuminated only by moonlight, a dark liquid spilling from his neck and onto the floor.

He fell to the ground dead, and another man stood behind him.

Lord Bolton.

There was a bloodthirsty look in his eyes. For once, she felt fear in the home Cregan had made her.

She stepped backwards carefully like a frightened rabbit that would run at any moment.

Bolton stepped forward in tandem with her, his head cocked to the side.

"Where ya going, pretty girl?"

The moment was now.

She fled as quickly as her legs would take her, anywhere but there.

Consequentially, it was toward the sword fighting at hand.

Through every dark hall, she prayed for a savior. Bolton was no doubt not far behind.

So when she ran into her brick wall of a husband, she thanked the gods.

His free hand reached up to her cheek, a touch of relief to both of them. "What are you doing, you foolish girl?" He yelled over the sounds.

"I won't stay in my room while you're fighting for our home. What is happening?" She asked as she grabbed his arm in support.

"Someone's betrayed us. I just don't know who-"

He paused as his eyes locked on something behind her. His chest puffed out as he spun his longsword, Ice, in his hand. "Lord Bolton."

Bolton stood confident, only a few feet behind Cregan's wife.

Cregan moved suddenly, grabbing Y/n's hip and practically shoving her behind him as he stepped forward to Bolton.

The two swords clash, and their fight began.

Cregan was one of the best swordsman in Westeros. It was evident in his confidence behind the weapon, and the look he always gained in his eye.

But the fight was cut short when a hand grabbed Y/n's dagger from her and the another hand pulled her hair. The dagger was then placed at her throat. She couldn't tell who it was, but judging by the burning sensation at her scalp and the knife to her neck, it was foe.

She cried out at the sudden pain when the hand tugged her hair, "Cregan!"

His head turned, and his eyes flooded with concern.

Bolton lowered his sword with a smirk, "Drop your sword, Lord Stark, and surrender Winterfell."

Cregan looked back and forth, a deep contemplation in his mind. "Let her go."

Bolton's smirk only grew, "I don't believe we shall."

Tears filled Y/n's eyes.

Bolton moved passed Cregan and grabbed Y/n by the chin, pulling her to him.

"A pretty wife you have, Stark," he mocked. "Don't you think?"

Cregan took an angered step forward, but stopped himself when Bolton pulled her closer to him.

"Don't touch her," Cregan growled lowly.

Bolton let out a chuckle as more of his men appeared. "Tell me, Stark," he said as he studied the girl up and down, "Does she bed well?"

Cregan rushed forward in pure anger, Bolton's men moving forward to grab him, two to each arm and one wrestling Ice out of the Lord's hand.

He grunted and yelled as they did so, "Don't fucking touch her!"

Y/n tried to pry Bolton's hands from her face, but to no avail.

He took joy in her attempt to flee from him, "Tell me, girl. Do you bed well?"

Y/n spit at him, the saliva hitting his cheek.

Bolton smirked widely as he wiped the spit from his cheek. He let go of her for just a moment to pull his hand back and slapped her across her cheek.

She fell to the ground with a shriek, covering her face.

Cregan began to yell now, "LET HER GO!"

"The Starks have ruled the North for generations. We've all been trampled on by their cold boots for far too long. I think it's time for a change." Bolton lightly kicked Y/n's leg as he stepped over her. He stood inches from Cregan's face in full confidence, "Surrender Winterfell to me."

"DON'T!" Y/n yelled from the ground.

"Quiet, girl."

Cregan's eyes moved back and forth from the man to his wife in contemplation. "And if I don't?"

Bolton knelt down and pulled Y/n up by the hair. He taunted the Stark, moving the girl's face close enough for her husband to feel her breath on his face.

Cregan's eyes didn't stray from her when the proximity neared. He saw the fear that was evident in her eyes, and the angry red mark on her cheek.

"Bolton, we all know you'd be pummeled into the ground if I was not restrained currently."

Silence filled the entire hall, a strange feeling in the man's gut.

Y/n's mouth moved, no voice coming out. She shook her head lightly, "don't. Please don't."

What were the man's choices truly? Either way, she would remain in danger.

"Too late," Bolton sneered.

He pulled the girl to his chest, yanking on her hair to make her look at him. His other hand caressed her face, "Be good for me, yes?"

Both of the Stark's brows furrowed at his words, but the confusion was quickly gone when Bolton quickly untied her robe.

Her hands moved to his to try to prevent him from moving further, but she was no match for the man. He grunted, "Don't fight me."

Her eyes moved to Cregan in pure fear.

Cold had never shivered through Cregan Stark. He had always thought that's how he knew he was meant to rule the North. But now that it moved down his spine uncomfortably, he began to question his right to Winterfell.

He immediately began to fight the men holding him down, "Stop. Stop now."

Bolton continued his movements against the woman. He practically wrestled her out of the robe, leaving her in her shift.

His hands shot out and grabbed both of her wrists, keeping her there as he studied her lustfully. "Does Stark even know how to pleasure a pretty woman?"

Y/n found new strength at the questioning of her husband and she fought against his hold.

Bolton found joy in her fight and he pulled her to him. His voice spoke so quietly in her ear, that she had wondered if she'd heard him correctly, "Let me have you and I'll let him live."

She froze stiffly. It felt wrong. It all felt wrong, but what else could she do to save her husband?

She looked up at the evil lord, her thoughts racing before their lips connected.

Cregan roared, the men barely able to hold back the man's reckless movements, "YOU BASTARD! STOP!"

Y/n felt bile rise in her throat as she felt the man's hands wander. One of his hands moved up to her collarbone, moving the neckline of her nightgown until it was pulled taught at her shoulder. He then yanked, ripping it down her arm.

She pulled away from him with a whine, pulling at the scraps of her sleeve, trying to cover herself.

"YOU FUCKING BASTARD! I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!" Cregan continued to roar.

Tears filled the girl's eyes as she sank to the floor in pure embarrassment. She began to lightly weep, holding her face in her hands.

Bolton knelt down and cooed mockingly at her, "Oh, you poor little thing." His face hardened, "Some fucking Stark you are. Nothing toughens up a woman like a Bolton's seed."

Cregan stopped his fighting for a moment, his eyes beginning to take on a new flare of fire behind them.

When Bolton pulled her face up, his eyes glowed predatory, "I'll make sure carry as much of my seed as it takes to turn you to stone, girl."

His hands then moved back to her gown, pulling on it anywhere he could.

She fought with what strength she had out of self-preservation. "STOP!" She cried. "Please," she began to beg, "Please stop."

Cregan was quick to move, overpowering the men from pure adrenaline. He began to swing at anything that was near him as his vision turned to a bright scarlet.

He's not sure how, but he really came back to reality when he hit his knees on the floor, Bolton under him with a bloody nose.

Cregan then grew a bright smile. He leaned down to the man's face, his voice low, "You touch my wife? I'm going to skin you alive and wear you as a fucking coat."

He began to swing at the man's face, not caring where the punches hit or how hard. The sight of more of the red liquid pooling around them only made him continue.

"Cregan…?" Her voice rang out.

He snapped out of it. His head shot up in front of him.

She sat against the wall, her clothes barely covering her, that much obvious by the shaking of her body- from the cold or fear, he wasn't sure. Tears still fell down her cheeks in a steady rhythm.

Cregan looked down and determined Bolton was dead enough.

He stood up, his muscles aching and his clothes stained in the bright color.

He stepped to her and held his arms out, "C'mere."

She hiccuped and shook her head.

Disappointment ran across his face. He knelt down next to her and slowly pulled her limbs away from herself, making her open up to him both physically and mentally.

She let him.

"Can I take you to bed?"

His voice was soft, sweet. Hoarse, but calm. A complete change to what it had been only moments before.

She immediately moved to him, throwing her arms around him and sobbing into his neck.

"Love, I'm covered in-"

"-Don't care," her muffled voice spoke.

His kissed the side of her head, pulling his comforting arms around her waist. "I've gotcha."

"Are… are we going to be alright?"

Cregan pulled her face away from him so he could look at her. His fingers brushed over her cheek. "I'll always make sure we are."

"Are you angry with me?"

He wanted to scoff, but he restrained himself. "No. No, my girl. I'm anything but."

She slowly inched her lips closer to his, as if waiting for him to decline her.

He wouldn't dream of doing such a thing.

Their lips connected softly, the two Starks finding love in the midst of death and destruction.

..................................................

Cregan Stark taglist: @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @callsignwidow, @8812-342, @nyxbranwenn, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest

Part 2

#fanfiction #game of thrones x reader #house of the dragon fanfiction #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x you #game of thrones x y/n #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones imagine #cregan stark #house of the dragon #cregan x reader #creagan stark #cregan stark imagine #cregan fanfiction #cregan stark x female reader #cregan stark x y/n #game of thrones #game of thrones fic #house of the dragon fanfic

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cherryl4na · 4 months ago

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❥•°❀"tears on my birthday cake"

abstract || it's midnight and you're feeling the birthday blues. thankfully, you have lando there to help.

female!reader || angst. fluff. comfort. soft!lando. crying. 1k words

The clock struck midnight, and with it, the arrival of your birthday. The room was cloaked in darkness, save for the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains. Lando stirred beside you, his arm instinctively drawing you closer as he roused from his slumber.

"Happy birthday, love," he murmured, his voice laced with sleep.

You managed a faint smile, but it quickly faded as the weight of another year settled upon your shoulders. Birthdays were supposed to be a time of celebration, yet this year, it felt more like a reckoning—a stark reminder of dreams unfulfilled and the relentless march of time.

Sensing your unease, Lando shifted closer, his fingers gently trailing along your arm in soothing strokes. "Hey," he whispered softly, " What's wrong baby? Are you okay?"

You hesitated, the lump in your throat making it difficult to articulate the swirling emotions within. "I don't know," you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I thought I'd have it all figured out by now."

His embrace tightened around you, offering a silent reassurance as he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. "You don't have to have it all figured out," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. "Life isn't a race. It's okay to feel lost sometimes."

Tears welled up in your eyes, betraying the facade of composure you had struggled to maintain. "I feel like I'm falling behind," you confessed, your voice trembling with raw vulnerability.

Lando's fingers gently tilted your chin up, his gaze searching yours with unwavering sincerity. "You're not falling behind," he insisted firmly. "You're on your own path, and it's okay if it's different from what you imagined."

A sob caught in your throat, releasing years of pent-up frustrations and fears. "I just... I expected more from myself," you whispered brokenly.

You clung to Lando, the weight of his words and the warmth of his embrace grounding you in the present moment. The minutes stretched into an intimate silence, broken only by the soft cadence of his breathing and the occasional whisper of reassurance.

"I just feel like I should have accomplished more by now," you admitted quietly, your voice trembling with vulnerability.

Lando's arms tightened around you, as if to shield you from the weight of your own expectations. "It's okay to feel that way," he replied gently, his fingertips tracing soothing circles on your back. "But remember, success isn't measured by a checklist. It's about the journey, the lessons learned along the way."

You nestled deeper into his embrace, finding solace in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your cheek. "I'm scared of never reaching my full potential," you confessed, your words a whisper against his chest.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as if to imprint his love onto your skin. "You're capable of more than you know," he murmured, his voice a soft reassurance. "You've already made a difference in my life, in so many lives. That's no small feat."

Tears welled up in your eyes again, this time not from sadness but from the overwhelming swell of emotions his words invoked. "Thank you for believing in me," you whispered, your voice thick with gratitude.

Lando pulled back slightly, his hands framing your face so he could look into your eyes with unwavering sincerity. "I'll always believe in you," he promised, his gaze searching for yours. "Even on your darkest days, I'll be here to remind you of your strength and resilience."

You nodded, a silent acknowledgment of his unwavering support. "I love you," you said softly, the words a declaration of trust and vulnerability.

He smiled tenderly, brushing away a tear that escaped down your cheek. "I love you too," he replied, his voice filled with tenderness. " And I'm here, always."

You leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hand against your cheek a balm to your weary soul. His words echoed in your mind, a constant reassurance that despite the uncertainties of life, there was one thing you could always count on—Lando's unwavering presence and love.

In the quiet of the night, wrapped in each other's arms, you found solace in the simplicity of being together. His embrace was a sanctuary, shielding you from the doubts and fears that threatened to overwhelm.

"Thank you for being here," you whispered softly, your voice barely a breath.

Lando pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as if to imprint his love onto your skin. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else," he murmured, his voice a vow against the darkness that lingered at the edges of your thoughts.

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to simply be, to absorb the love and comfort he offered without reservation. The weight of your worries felt lighter, carried away by the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

As the minutes ticked by, Lando remained by your side, his presence a comforting anchor in the tumultuous sea of emotions. He listened as you poured out your heart, offering solace in the form of understanding nods and gentle touches.

By the time the darkness began to give way to the soft hues of predawn, you felt a glimmer of hope flicker within your soul. It wasn't about erasing the doubts or fears—it was about embracing them, acknowledging them as part of your journey.

As you curled up with Lando in the quiet hours before dawn, his arms around you, you felt a deep sense of gratitude for his unwavering presence. Birthdays weren't just about celebrating milestones; they were about reflecting on growth, on resilience, on the love that held you together when everything seemed uncertain.

And as sleep finally claimed you, lulled by the steady rhythm of Lando's heartbeat and the whispered promises of tomorrow, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them with Lando by your side. Together, hand in hand, heart to heart, you would navigate the complexities of life and find solace in the simple moments of love and understanding.

an || okay so this one made me tear up a bit. hope you liked this as much as i did. till the next one!

#f1 x reader #lando norris x reader #f1 drivers x reader #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #lando norris #lando x reader #lando imagine #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris comfort

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mothandpidgeon · 21 days ago

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Nine Lives (witch's familiar!Ezra x witch!f!reader) - Part 2

Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: witch's familiar!Ezra x witch!f!reader

rating: T (evenual E) MDNI

summary: As you came into your powers and your curves filled in, Ezra realized he feelings for you were more than just affection. The only problem? He's a 300 year old crused witch. Oh, and he's a cat.

contents: age gap (like 300 years), alcohol, jealousy, angst, slow burn, yearning, probably anachronistic witchy stuff, love triangle (quadrangle?), Ezra is a cat, he won't be forever, this isnt a beastiality thing, moth never uses y/n.

wc: 3.4k

a/n: Thank you to everyone that read part 1!! I'm so pleased that you're enjoying it so far! I really would've liked to let this part simmer a little longer but I'm holding myself to this publishing schedule. It's time to yeet this into the world. I'd love to know what you think. Your comments and reblogs give me so much joy!

Thank you @lowlights for the beta and help with witchy stuff. Thank you @moonlitbirdie @schnarfer and @whocaresstillthelouvre for listening to me bitch about this and supporting me always.

“Don’t you look nice,” Aunt Margot says.

You’re putting the finishing touches on your make up in the Page’s office. Usually you’d go back upstairs but you don’t feel like hearing it from Ezra.

“Thanks. I have a date,” you say, packing your mascara in your purse.

“Oh,” she replies, not hiding her disappointment in the slightest.

You hadn’t intended to see Connor again but when he texted you, you couldn’t think of a good reason not to. He invited you to his place to check out his vinyl collection which sounds like an insufferable version of Netflix and Chill but you have no plans to listen to a single record. You just want to fuck in his bed and avoid any drama with Ezra.

“Well I hope you’ll put as much effort in for the equinox,” she says. She flips the sign in the door from open to closed then snaps her fingers to turn off the overhead lights.

You and Margot host the coven for the equinox each year which already means extra preparations in addition to work at the bookshop.

“Why would I do that?” you ask. You don’t wear make up for moon rituals, don’t wear much of anything at all.

“Esme is bringing River,” she says with a casual shrug.

“No” you groan.

“He’s visiting from Ireland,” she tells you.

The last time you saw Esme’s grandson you were both in high school. River was built like a string bean, his upper lip dusted with the saddest mustache— if you could even call it that. He reeked of some badly brewed potion that was supposed to attract lovers. You still gagged when you smelled licorice root.

“Good for him,” you say. “Please do not set me up with River.”

“I’m not a matchmaker, dear. I’m just trying to expand your sexual horizons,” Margot replies.

Suddenly, Connor’s vinyls don’t sound so bad after all.

—

Ezra pads through crystals and altar bells. Everything’s been laid out on Aunt Margot’s paisley scarves— scrying bowls and athame blades and jars of rain water all waiting to be charged by the moon of the autumn equinox.

It’s just after midnight and the witches of your coven are gathered in a small clearing far enough into the woods that stray mortals won’t stumble upon them. The air smells fresh and cold like mountain spring water. A bonfire crackles, layered with herbs and pine needles.

The waning moon feels heavy and close like it might just fall out of the sky and nick Ezra’s ear. It makes him feel uneasy. Then again, it’s hard to enjoy these rituals when he can’t participate the way he once did.

Ezra watches you offer mulled wine to Esme and River, steaming cups scented with cinnamon balanced on an antique silver tray. You look beautiful in your simple white dress. It glows in the moonlight and he can see your body silhouetted beneath the fabric of its long skirt by the fire.

He’s never cared much for Esme but, then again, he doesn’t have many kind words for any of the Elders even if the ones that cursed him are long dead. Even if he deserved that curse. She wears her long hair coiled on top of her head, a jade hair pin perched in its nest the same way her familiar, a tired old owl, watches from the branch of one of the trees.

Ezra’s attention isn’t with Esme tonight. He’s keeping a close eye on her grandson.

“He totally sucks. Please don’t leave me alone with him,” you’d implored.

Ezra would be wary of him whether or not you’d asked. River is nothing like how you’ve remembered him to Ezra. He must’ve done a lot of growing up since your last encounter. Tall and lean with thick waves of auburn hair. He’s the kind of witch that even Ezra would have taken to bed when he was human.

He sees the way River looks at you, watches him turn the charm on as he smiles. River’s eyes travel down your body and Ezra knows exactly what he sees. Waves of hot jealousy consume Ezra from nose to tail. For a moment, he worries he’ll get another thousand years added on to his sentence.

After some small talk, Esme wanders away and that's Ezra’s cue. He slinks up between you and River, rubbing up against your legs to let you know he’s ready to bail you out.

River swallows his drink with a chuckle.

“That tastes just how I remember it. Me and Moss used to sneak glasses of Ariadne’s mulled wine when we were thirteen,” he explains.

“Me too. Although I’m pretty sure Margot knew,” you say with a laugh.

“Little mage, you asked me to fetch you when the oils were ready,” Ezra says.

“Oh,” you say, throwing a self conscious smile at River. “I’ll go in a minute, Ez.”

“Margot could use your assistance,” Ezra adds.

“Why don’t you go help her and I’ll be there soon,” you suggest.

Ezra can’t help but glare up at River.

“Would that I had opposable thumbs,” he responds.

You laugh. River doesn’t. You crouch down and glide your hand down Ezra’s spine.

“It’s okay, Ez. I’m good,” you tell him and you wink at him.

His blood turns molten as you turn back to River and continue your conversation. He wants to hiss and claw at him, draw blood. It feels like you’re slipping through his fingers not that he ever held a claim. Not that he even has fingers anymore. He’s completely powerless, standing at your feet like the dumb animal he is.

Rather than watch you moony over River, Ezra turns away and slinks off to the edge of the gathering to sulk. The fire’s warmth doesn’t quite reach and he presses back his ears to stave off autumn’s chill. He can’t run off into the woods the way he’d like to, not without raising questions from the other witches, make you look like you can’t control your familiar.

He can’t stop his eyes from wandering back to you. Your head thrown back in laughter, your hand on River’s forearm. Each moment of your joy is like a knife in his heart.

Ezra’s eventually relegated to the circle where the familiars commiserate. River’s is a jet black bird named Rhea who turns her beak up at him. He’s not one of them, not really. He was human himself with a familiar of his own but that’s not the only reason why they scorn him. They all know that he’s the worst kind of witch.

There are many reasons why a witch might be turned into a cat but there’s only one crime that was punished with 1000 years— murder. And not just any murder. Ezra desecrated the life of another witch and, no matter how loyally he serves you, he’ll always have that stain.

The rituals are done, the chanting. The embers from the fire float up through the trees towards the fat moon. Then the dancing begins. It’s erratic and joyful, Ezra can remember the ecstasy of it in his bones. Esme lets down her white hair and one by one the witches disrobe.

He hears your laughter as you spin, shoulders shrugging with the pulse of the magic that swirls around the bonfire.

He knows he shouldn’t look at you like that. Not you. Not here. You’re not putting on a show, you’re doing your magic. But the way your body moves against the glow of the fire is its own enchantment. He could worship you like the moon.

The spell is broken just as quickly. River’s right beside you, bare skin radiant, muscles rippling with his own rhythm. His fingers tangle with yours and Ezra feels acid in his throat.

The whole night becomes an assault on his senses. The sound of chanting rises, the old words frantic and savage. Amber and patchouli mix with the woodsmoke to choke him. Grotesque shadows fall over the faces of the witches like a carnival of horrors. And then there’s you— incandescent and naked and whispering something in River’s ear that has him grinning. Ezra’s hair stands on end.

“Come dance with me!” you giggle as you leave the circle of merriment. Your teeth are stained purple, drunk on wine and magic.

“I’m quite content here,” Ezra lies.

“Are you having fun?” You ask but you don’t wait for his answer. “River is…wow. He did not look like that when we were kids.”

You pick Ezra up and whirl around in a circle. He smells the incense of your skin, the alcohol on your breath.

“You’re going to get your wish. I’m finally going to fuck a proper witch!” you say.

You toss Ezra in the air and catch him. The bile has come so far up his throat it’s an absolutely nauseating sensation.

“Enough!” Ezra hisses. He swats at you with his claws bared.

You yelp and drop him. Before he even hits the ground, he feels it— a searing hot pain that makes his back arch. You’re defending yourself with your powers like a reflex. He lets out a yowl and just as quickly it passes.

Ezra staggers and looks up to find you with tears in your eyes. He’s never seen you looking so hurt, betrayed. Your jaw quivers. Ezra landed on his feet but he feels upside down. He’s realizing what he’s just done, that he tried to hurt you because he’s pathetic. Jealous.

“Ez,” you say, your voice strangled.

Like a coward, he takes off, ignoring you as you call after him.

—

It’s the sound of the cat flap that wakes you sometime after sunrise. You’re sprawled out on your bed, head aching, eyes swollen. You’re still wearing your white dress, you threw it on before going after Ezra but it was no use. He was as black as the shadows in the forest and had slipped away under some bushes.

You abandoned the equinox celebration and went home in hopes he’d be there. You waited. Alone with your guilt and anxiety.

I’m sorry. Please come home. You were never very good at telepathy but you tried to reach out to him with your thoughts.

The sound that he made echoed through your mind as you paced the floor. Strangled, terrified. You tried to stop yourself from picturing him out there in the dark shaking with pain.

You hadn’t meant to hurt him. It was involuntary. As soon as his claw grazed your skin, your powers flared. Maybe if you hadn’t been drunk you could’ve controlled it. It happened so quickly you still can’t be sure of how strong it hit him.

Even if it was just a momentary shock, you saw just how much damage that moment did. His hair standing on end, his tail rod straight. But what really crushed you was the look in his eye.

Suddenly you were just as horrible as every other witch that he’d served. You’d used your powers to punish him, to harm him. Every promise you’d ever made to him had broken in that instant.

You see Ezra’s slim form dart to your doorway. In a flash, he slips under the bed and your heart sinks into your ankles.

“Ez,” you say, your voice ragged from the night’s festivities.

He doesn’t answer. You press your eyes shut and swallow hard then crawl to the edge of your mattress. Your stomach lurches as you look over the edge. On top of everything else there’s a hangover churning in your gut. You guess you deserve that, too.

“Ezra, are you ok?” you ask. Whatever words of atonement you pieced together before you cried yourself to sleep have dissolved.

He’s in the furthest corner beneath the bed, tucked against the wall with his tail wrapped tight around his body. You think you might burst into tears again seeing him cowering away from you.

“I hope I didn’t make you fret,” he says.

You want to scoop him into your arms and hold him as tight as you can but it feels like you’ve lost that privilege.

“I’m so sorry, Ez,” you say, climbing down to the floor. “I shouldn’t have done that. I'm sick over it.”

“You were well within your rights. You’re my master and I struck you,” he says. “I’m the one that should beg forgiveness.”

To hear him call you his master makes you feel even worse than before. There’s no amount of tuna belly that will make this right.

“No. It was my fault. And I promise I’ll never use my powers on you again. Ever,” you say.

His gold eyes shift away.

“Keep your apologies,” he says. “And I see I’ve kept you from your new paramour. Another act to add to my contrition.”

“I don’t care about that.” If you hadn’t been so caught up in the prospect of taking River to bed, none of this would’ve happened.

“Nonsense, little mage. You’re a witch. Be with other witches,” Ezra says.

–

River’s in the bookshop when you arrive, standing opposite Aunt Margot. When you couldn’t convince Ezra to come out from under the bed, you decided to give him space. Maybe you could distract yourself re-alphabetizing the cookbooks. You were hoping for some quiet but you’re confronted by the very attractive witch you’d been flirting shamelessly with the night before.

You know you look a mess, your face still feels puffy. River, on the other hand, looks like the definition of a sight for sore eyes. Freshly showered and dressed in a well pressed shirt that’s rolled up to the elbows, the sun is streaming in the front window outlining his still-damp hair like he’s Prince Charming himself.

“There you are!” Margot calls.

You smooth your hand across your top nervously as she appraises you. You threw on a more than slightly wrinkled shirt that was languishing on the floor of your bedroom, too preoccupied to put together a real outfit.

“Looks like we had too much of Ariadne’s little potion,” she says.

“I have a tonic that’s great for that,” River says with a smile. “But coffee’s faster.”

He hands you a steaming paper cup from the cafe down the street. He and Margot have their own perched on the counter. You take a sip and are surprised to find that it’s your regular order.

”Are you clairvoyant, too?” You ask.

River blushes. “Nah. Margot told me how you take your coffee,” he chuckles.

It's so thoughtful and you’re not feeling very deserving. You swallow down a lump in your throat.

“I wanted to go foraging around here but I really need a local,” he says.

“That sounds fun,” you say half heartedly in an attempt to demure. You’re not really up for a good time but it feels like a real asshole move to turn River down considering he brought you coffee after you ditched him at the bonfire. Margot is beaming at the register.

“Doesn’t it?” she asks. “Why don’t I get you a basket?”

—

River carries the basket now overflowing with mushrooms and wild herbs. You’re deep in the woods, branches crunching beneath your shoes. Nature’s sounds echo around you, starlings and chipmunks, the constant whoosh of the breeze through the turning leaves.

This path is overgrown but you know it well. You spent your childhood getting lost in these woods. They have their own magic.

Your guilt overshadows the date. If it is a date. River seems to think it is if the way the back of his hand keeps brushing against yours is any sign. It’s hard to enjoy it especially when your mind keeps drifting off. He doesn’t seem to notice that you’re only half-listening as he tells you just how mystical the vibes are at Stonehenge.

You stop at a stream, sitting on a fallen tree that’s overgrown with moss. It’s one of your favorite spots. The water sparkles where the sunlight spills though the branches, peacefully trickling over rocks. You pick up one of the smooth stones and trace its wet surface with your thumb.

You’ve sat in this very spot before feeling just as shitty. Heartbroken then, too, trying to figure out if you could call it a break up when you hadn’t actually been anything official. She hadn’t wanted anything complicated and you swore your feelings wouldn’t get involved. Unfortunately they had their own plans.

Ezra found you there, sulking by the stream, wondering if anyone would think you were worth breaking their own rules for.

It struck you how quiet he was. There were no anecdotes about what the witch scene was like in 1924 or tips for mouse hunting, indoor versus outdoor. He just padded into the water and nudged a little stone towards your feet. It was just big enough to fit in your palm and it was cool against your skin as you held it there.

“A thing of beauty,” he said and he head butted your shins affectionately.

It was. Round from years, maybe decades under the water’s friction. A dull gray cut through the middle by a wedge of some crystalline mineral like shards of broken glass. You recall exactly what it looks like because it still sits on your night stand. Each time you see it you’re reminded of how Ezra slumped down beside you, his warm body weight like a cozy blanket, a faint purr reverberating through him.

“You’ve got a big heart, little mage,” he said.

You choke up at the memory, unsure if Ezra would ever think that again. You certainly wouldn’t say it about yourself today.

“Either you’re really hungover or something’s bothering you,” River says gently.

You laugh tearfully and he rubs a circle on your back. You try to shake your head but River doesn’t give it up, looking at you with a soft concern.

“I really fucked things up with Ezra last night,” you admit. Telling him what a cruel witch you are might be a huge turn off but the feeling of his palm through your shirt makes you feel at ease.

“Ezra?” he asks.

“My familiar,” you remind him.

“Oh.”

“He scratched me and —”

“He hurt you?” he asks, face painted with righteous indignation.

“No. He barely got me. I totally overreacted,” you say. “I used my powers on him. It was just a reflex, you know? But…I just feel awful.”

“Don’t beat yourself up,” he tells you with a relieved chuckle. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

If that’s true then why do you hate yourself?

“If Rhea was out of line I’d do the same,” he goes on.

You wince at the thought.

“You’d hurt her?” you ask.

He shrugs. “I’ve never had to. She knows who’s boss.”

You’ve always considered Ezra a partner. Of course, there are plenty of witches that think of their familiars as nothing more than servants. It’s an old school way of seeing it. You hadn’t expected River to use words that remind you of the way your grandmother used to talk.

“Maybe it’s different,” you say, trying to give him the opportunity to walk it back. Ezra’s not like Rhea. Maybe you’d feel the same way River does if your familiar hadn’t once been as human as you are. Still, it doesn’t feel right.

“You’re a funny little witch,” he says with a grin.

“What does that mean?” you ask.

“Crying over your familiar. It’s sweet.” He says it as if it’s a compliment but the condescension makes you frown in disgust.

“If you want to make it up to him, why don’t you find him a lady cat that can make him feel good,” he adds with a laugh.

“Is that what you’re into?” you ask with venom.

“What? That was a joke,” River says.

“I don’t think it’s funny. You know, just because Ezra’s a familiar, it doesn’t mean he should be treated like shit. And he’s not a cat. He’s a human,” you tell him.

“He’s a witch killer,” River spits back. “So I’m sorry if I don’t have a lot of sympathy for him.”

Your stomach turns. It’s the truth. Ezra’s served as a familiar in your family for centuries, his history has never been hidden from you and he’s never shied away from it.

But his punishment has never made sense to you. A thousand years, so many lifetimes, watching his friends and family die as he toiled in servitude for witches as backwards as River. It’s cruel, that’s why the Elders changed the laws years ago. And yet Ezra’s remained a cat, a familiar, disdained.

Suddenly, the anger you’ve been tormenting yourself with turns outwards and you think your powers could set fire to the dry leaves at your feet. It’s all so unfair. The Elders turned him and witches like River scorn him and none of them feel a lick of shame. The back of your neck heats with a protective rage.

“He’s my friend,” you choke. “And you’re a fucking asshole.”

And you leave River speechless in the middle of the woods.

🐈‍⬛

Part 3

Thanks for reading! Comments and reblogs appreciated! My inbox is always open.

#ezra prospect #ezra x f!reader #witchy #ezra prospect x f!reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #ezra x witch!reader #halloween

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serverusslaype · 7 months ago

Text

Shameless, pt. 15

Severus Snape x professor!reader fic

Shameless Masterpost

hey guys.................. dont kill me. i'm so sorry for the incredibly lengthy hiatus.... i had no motivation, each time i opened the file to type i'd type a couple words, maybe a paragraph and close it. i finally found the motivation to finish this chapter recently, i'm hoping it stays. it's been a rough couple months, so hoping this can help me feel a bit better!!

i felt really guilty for sort of abandoning the fic where it was, but i couldn't force myself to write anything, there was no creative juice, i think i sort of burnt myself out. and for the previous posts saying i was back, i thought i was, but i'd have the smallest spark of inspiration and try to write, but then nothing happened, and i felt bad so i didn't want to say something like, sorry, i lied. :(

hopefully this chapter is okay, i know most of you won't like it, but i'm so glad i finally finished it, it was one of the hardest to write because i had so many ideas on how it'd end and effect the whole story itself, so i had to make sure it made sense.

i can't believe you guys are still here after so long, it made me emotional to see all of your asks and comments and likes, i was just floored to be honest, so thank you so much for your unwavering support. i love you all so so much. honestly. holy shit. this has been a journey. <3 i hope you guys are all doing brilliantly.

warnings: lack of snape, swearing, mentions of adultery, slight domestic violence, verbal abuse at the end

You didn't know where to go. You felt... lost. You couldn't exactly go back to your quarters, not with Ben there, you didn't need more questions about why you were crying your eyes out at this time of night. It's not like you could tell him the truth.

So, you did what anyone would: go for a midnight walk. Well, at least that's what you thought anyone would do when they had nowhere to go. You'd hoped that the fresh, cold air would soothe your burning lungs, and the gentle breeze would dry your teary eyes. In an even deeper, darker part of your mind, you also hoped that Black would find you. Perhaps that would make everything... easier.

With tears still streaming freely from your eyes and heavy feet, you padded towards the large, magnificent doors that led to the outside with your arms wrapped around your body tightly; trying your best not to breakdown until you were alone. Your hands were still shaking as you pushed them against the doors, opening it a tad as the cool wind blew through the crack and into your face. You gasped a little at the sharp breeze, but nonetheless you slipped out, and made your way into the courtyard. The temperature was a little more biting than you had anticipated, and so you squeezed your arms around yourself a little tighter, walking towards the infamous wooden, crooked bridge.

As you sauntered through the courtyard, the only noises you heard were the owls hooting in the distance, the gentle breeze brushing through the burnt-amber leaved trees and the faint clack of your heels against the cobblestoned ground. In all honesty, it did feel a little eerie to the say the least, but at this very moment that was the least of your worries. All you wanted was a little time alone to cry, or grieve what could have been with ...Severus.

Gods, it hurt to even think his name, let alone speak it.

You reached the wooden bridge, and you stopped in the middle of it; leaning against the intricately carved columns to gaze out at the highlands. The moonlight casted a gorgeous glaze-like reflection upon the Black Lake, and it twinkled beautifully, almost hypnotising you like an illusion. Your eyes flicked up to the moon and glanced around it, staring at the glittering stars surrounding it like a perfect painting. Only times like this did you miss teaching Astronomy. As your mind reeled back to your first year teaching at Hogwarts, you relished in the time where you did not know the man named Severus Snape, and suddenly your heart sank in your chest like an anchor dropped at sea. You were so naive back then, unknowing of what was to come.

As the memories of you and Severus flooded your mind like a dam breaking, you let yourself cry. You could still feel his lips on yours, his fingertips gently tracing the curves and grooves of your skin, the words he'd whispered into your ear - it was all there, stained on your skin, like a tattoo - or perhaps a branding. And now you had to live with it. You weren't sure if you'd survive this time, especially not with how deeply you felt for him. You were torn between pretending he didn't exist and trying to talk to him, perhaps even telling him how you felt, but truth be told you were petrified of how he'd react. Would he even look at you again with those glittering black eyes you'd come to adore so hopelessly? Would he dare speak to you again, knowing that he'd charmed you? Maybe he'd relish in the fact that he'd done so, take pride in bewitching you, and make you hurt for it. You knew Snape could be rather cruel, your school days here with him as your teacher was enough for you to know that.

All these unanswered questions swam through your head and you felt yourself becoming suffocated from them, and it suddenly felt as if your lungs had filled with water, drowning you. You sobbed helplessly as you slid down the wooden wall behind you with your hands against your face, the rough edges scratching your back through your clothes rather uncomfortably.

"Y/N?" A voice came from beside you, and you froze. You turned your head away from them and quickly used your sleeve to wipe your eyes, drying the tears that had fallen from them. Only one person has a voice as soft as the one you had just heard.

You gave yourself a moment to gather yourself before even attempting to use your voice.

"Hello, Remus." You croaked quietly, sniffling.

"What on Earth are you doing out here so late?" He questioned gently, and you heard him take a step towards you. "Are you alright?"

"Quite dandy," you sarcastically quipped, sighing deeply, "I'm brilliant..." You turned your head to face him, and immediately, his face softened at the sight of your own. You were sat up against the side of the bridge, knees up against your chest and your arms wrapped around them; nose and eyes red, wet with tears. Remus quickly dropped down to his knees beside you, placing a soothing hand upon your forearm.

"What happened?" Remus asked, careful to keep his voice quiet and soft. With empty eyes, you stared into his worried ones, and instantly you felt terrible. The last thing you wanted was people worrying over you.

You looked away, down at the ground. "I..." you mumbled, sighing, "it's a... long... story." You spoke slowly. From the corner of your eye, you saw a small smile quirk up on Remus's lips.

"I've got time, my dear." He replied as his thumb brushed your forearm, silently encouraging you to talk. You felt at ease in Remus's presence, it was almost like he had a calm aura around him, and naturally your body relaxed beside his. You took a deep breath.

"Erm," you choked, sniffling again, "it's Se... Snape." You couldn't bring yourself to say his first name without crumbling into a million pieces.

Remus let out a gentle breath. "Snape, of course," He tutted, glancing between you and the ground. "What's he done?" The fact that Remus reacted like he had expected Snape to have hurt you, further broke your heart. Were you the only one to have seen through his icy exterior?

"Broken my heart," You laughed dryly, and you had to fight back another bout of tears. Remus's brows furrowed in confusion at you. "We... I... Look, I'm not sure how to explain this to you. But... I fell..." You trailed off, unable to finish your sentence. Your heart hurt too much. You only hoped that Remus knew what you were about to say.

Remus blinked and stared at you, shocked. Clearly, the two of you had hidden your 'relationship' well - so well that everyone was oblivious to it. "You fell...?" He frowned.

"In love... with him..." You almost whispered, avoiding Remus's eyes. You weren't sure if you'd be able to handle the look in them.

"You're in love with... Severus?" Remus repeated, and you squeezed your eyes shut at his words. They were like daggers, stabbing your bleeding heart. It was almost like you could feel it trembling inside of your chest, begging you to free it from this cycle of torment. "But... Aren't you with... Ben? And... Severus... he's..."

"I know," you sighed, noticing his confusion, "I had feelings for Severus before I met Ben. And it sort of just, like, spiralled out of control, and now, erm, here I am- Gods, I should have just listened to Minerva, I wouldn't be here right now, hurting like this." You ranted, another strangled sob leaving your throat. Remus watched you, and his eyes softened. He felt terrible for you. "She warned me, Remus, why didn't I just listen to her?!" You cried, letting your head fall into your hands.

"Y/N," Remus whispered, reaching out a cautious hand to pry your face from your hands. With a soft gasp, you looked up with teary eyes, and he wiped a stray tear from your cheek. "We don't get to choose who we do and don't fall in love with. We follow our hearts blindly, most of the time, unknowingly." He said, and moved his hand from your wet cheek to your shoulder, rubbing it soothingly. "It's beyond our control who we love."

There was a moment of silence.

"...What do I do, Remus?" You sobbed softly, sniffling, looking at your knees.

"Have you told him?"

"No."

"I think you should."

"But what about Ben? Shouldn't I... deal with... that first?" You sniffled again. "And what if Severus doesn't feel the same way about me? Then what?"

Remus paused for a moment, thinking. You looked up at him. "What if he does?" He said, a small, comforting smile tickling his lips as he stared at you.

"Well- from the way he treated me earlier... I truly doubt it, Remus." You scoffed, glancing away from his pitying brown eyes.

Remus sighed, and you clenched your jaw. "Regret is a terrible thing, Y/N," he said, "it's such a short word, yet it stretches on forever." Your eyes were glued on the ground and your body was still, but your mind was running a million miles an hour.

You sat there in silence for a short moment, thinking deeply. Remus was right. You'd regret it for the rest of your life if you didn't tell Severus how you felt. That chance of him reciprocating your feelings was small, but it was still there. If he didn't feel the same, fine, you'd move on. Eventually. And if he did?...

"...Alright," You nodded sheepishly. "I'll tell him. I just... need to, erm, work out when and more specifically, how. Like, do I just straight up blurt it out? Work my way up to it? H-how do you know it's the right time?" You rambled with tears still falling from your eyes, glancing through them at Remus who sat beside you with a soft expression upon his features.

"You'll know." Was all he said before slowly standing and holding out a hand for you to take. Graciously, you took it, and Remus pulled you to your feet. "Feel better?" He hummed, casting a glance out at the moon, then a worried look suddenly struck his eyes. You noticed and frowned slightly at his behaviour.

The moon?

"A little." You forced a smile upon your lips, and lifted up a hand to wipe the remaining stray tears upon your red cheeks. Remus looked back at you, and returned your smile. "How come you were out so late?" You asked curiously, brushing off his odd reaction to seeing a moon.

"A walk in the night does me good," Remus shrugged, and began to walk back towards the castle with you beside him. "Clears my head."

"Ah, well, I suppose I'm glad you found me, then." You chuckled awkwardly, folding your arms against your chest.

Remus smiled at you and placed an arm around your shoulders, giving you a squeeze. "Let's get you back to your quarters, Y/N, you look like an ice block." He hummed and lead you back to the castle, but not before throwing another glance over his shoulder to the almost-full-moon.

Faint, footsteps trailed down an empty corridor, and a billowing black cape followed with it. As Severus marched, his chest felt horribly heavy, almost like there was a boulder chained to it, weighing him down. He couldn't figure out why he felt like this, and it was starting to make him a little irate. He knew it was something to do with you since it had started after you'd stormed out of his office.

As Severus was about to round a corner, the sound of familiar, sweet laughter rattled through his bones, and immediately he froze. Without a doubt, he knew it was you. Only you could have laughter that sounded like the sweet songs that birds chirped in the summer mornings. The breath in his lungs suddenly vanished and he quickly swooped himself behind a bookcase, poking his head out from the side of it to see who you were with.

The moment you appeared, that boulder chained to his chest became heavier, and he felt himself lean against the bookcase he hid behind. Severus's eyes widened as they glued themselves to the man beside you - Remus Lupin. His blood boiled at the sight.

What could have Lupin have said to make you laugh like that? He'd only heard you laugh like that when you were with him, not Lupin.

From a distance, he couldn't make out what the two of you were talking about, but it was obviously hilarious. Severus's jaw clenched as he watched Lupin place a hand upon the small of your back, guiding you.

Guiding you... inside your quarters?

Snape hissed silently to himself as he stared, his sharp and hardened eyes welded to the back of Lupin's head like molten metal. As your door shut, Snape could only huff in disgust with bared teeth. What were the two of you doing in there? It was past midnight and you and Lupin seemed happy as Larry to go into your quarters. Snape couldn't bear the idea of you and Lupin alone together - let alone the fact that Lupin had had his damned, grubby paws on you. Severus clenched his jaw in a violent fashion, very clearly upset at how you'd moved on so quickly, especially with another professor at Hogwarts. Was this your thing? Bewitch every lonely professor that you laid your wretched eyes upon and then move onto the next? Did it make you feel better about yourself in some fucked up way?

An uneasy, bitter feeling twisted inside of his chest as he pictured the two of you alone and he whipped around out of spite; the swoosh of his long, black cloak filling the silent hallway. How could you move on so quickly, so... easily?

"Never did I think I'd see the day that someone told me they fell in love with a man like Severus Snape." Remus laughed softly as he waddled to your sofa, glancing at you as if to ask if it was alright to sit. You nodded at him.

"And yet here we are." You hummed with a flat mouth, clearly not as amused as your friend was. "Sometimes I wish I was as emotionally guarded as he was, but then I remember how bloody miserable that would be." You mumbled, earning an abrupt laugh from Lupin who'd settled on the couch with a soft sigh.

Ben was nowhere to be seen, so you assumed he was asleep in the bedroom.

"Severus is an interesting character, most definitely," Lupin nodded and you turned around, walking towards him to join him on the sofa. "And I applaud you for being able to tame him. If it's any consolation, only one other woman had been able to, though I think it was... unintentional, if you will."

"Unintentional?" You questioned, your tone curious. Though almost instantly, that curiosity was killed as the thought of Severus with another woman stabbed at your fragile heart. "Actually, I'm not sure if I want to hear this right now." A dry laugh slipped from your lips and you exhaled sharply as another wave of tears prickled at your waterline.

"Alright." Lupin said softly, taking notice of your quivering voice. He stood up with a breathy groan and shuffled towards you, slinking an arm around your shoulders to pull you into his chest. It was calming, and the way he hugged you reminded you of all the times your parents would comfort you as a child. As Lupin gave you a supportive squeeze, it was as if he'd accidently pushed the button for the waterworks - hot tears began to stream down your cheeks once again, and you sobbed quietly into his wrinkled shirt.

"Hey," Lupin sighed as he watched your shoulders shake with sorrow. His hand sat on the top of your arm, squeezing it gently: a dire attempt at consoling you. "Don't cry, Y/N, it'll pass."

"Idon'twantitto-" You mumbled into his shirt, sniffling loudly. Lupin's brows furrowed together in confusion as he paused for a brief moment, silently trying to decipher what you'd just said.

"What?" He asked gently, leaning his head down so he could hear you a little better. You lifted your head from him, sighing, another heartbreaking sniffle sneaking out of your reddened nose.

"I don't want it to." You repeated yourself, lifting a hand up to wipe your wet eyes lazily.

"I know. But it will." Lupin sighed too. "Severus is... a very... damaged man," He cringed slightly at his choice of words, but he continued, "I'm not even sure that you could help him- or fix him."

At this point, you were staring soullessly at the floor, and the only thing you could feel was Lupin's chest against your shoulders. Were you and Severus really a lost case? You felt like you'd made so much progress, he'd opened up to you, he'd... he also ran away again. Perhaps your friend Remus is right.

"I think I want to be alone." You suddenly blurted out, slowly glancing up at the professor with glossy, red eyes. Lupin blinked at you, confused for a moment, though he quickly came to. He didn't blame you for saying such a thing - you'd just had your heart ripped out, to put it simply.

Remus didn't say anything, he only nodded, offering you a kind, yet pitiful smile - and that hurt you slightly. You didn't want his pity, in fact, you didn't want anyone's pity. "If you need anything, you know where to find me." He muttered, brushing a hand through your hair softly. You shut your eyes for a moment and sighed, a small gush of guilt filling your body. Here Lupin was, trying to console you, and you're kicking him out. You hoped he didn't take it personally.

"I'm sorry, I... I just need to be alone." You quickly offered. Remus shook his head and frowned at you.

"No, I understand. See you in the morning, Y/N. Feel better soon." The professor smiled at you and this time it wasn't rich with pity, but kindness. He tipped his head at you and began to shuffle his way towards the door, opening it with a quiet creak from the oak. Before he disappeared out of your chambers, Remus turned around and smiled at you once more, slipping away.

Seconds after the door shut, a drowsy-looking Ben opened your bedroom door, popping his head out. He squinted at the bright light, clearly having just woken up. That settled your nerves slightly, since you'd just spoken about Severus with Remus, only a few metres away from Ben.

"Are you crying?" Ben yawned, his bushy brows furrowed in either confusion or annoyance - at this point you couldn't tell.

"No," You coughed and turned around to pretend to do something else as you wiped at your eyes. "I'm fine, go back to bed, Ben." A curt sigh fell from your lips, and almost immediately you heard footsteps padding closer to you. "I'm fine." You repeated, listening as his feet stopped behind you.

"What happened?" Ben asked, the tiniest hint of sympathy in his voice made you shiver slightly.

"Nothing, it was just a rough day at work, honestly. I'd rather not talk about it." Your brows shot together as you tried to keep the tears at bay, but you couldn't help but think about Severus as Ben placed a hand on your waist in an attempt to pry you away from the countertop and towards him. You didn't want anyone else's hands on you but his.

"Hey," Ben said softly, though it felt heavy in your chest. "It's work. It won't matter in a day or two." You were silent. "Y/N?"

"I need a drink." You muttered and forced yourself to look at Ben, cringing slightly as you walked past him and towards a glossy wooden cabinet in the corner of your chambers. You rarely drank, and if you did, it was to either celebrate something, or forget something.

Another uncomfortable silence fell on top of the pair of you.

"Want one?" You asked with no emotion in your voice.

Ben hesitated for a moment, his groggy eyes staring at the back of your figure, silently trying to deduce you. "...Sure."

You were going to regret this.

You'd changed into comfier clothes, more specifically a pair of forest green silk shorts and a matching camisole top. Sitting on the edge of your bed, you faced Ben as he was sat on the windowsill opposite you, nursing his glass of wine. After a few strong sips, the pair of you were chatting and reminiscing like old pals. "Remember that time when I turned Peter Kipling into a weasel in McGonagall's class?" Ben giggled drunkenly, elbowing you gently as you nodded with tears in your eyes, an amused grin spread across your face.

"Oh my- I forgot about that!" You wheezed, smacking your lips together. "Didn't you get... like... at least- like a month's detention for that?" You laughed, slurring, taking another sip of your glass of Elven wine. You winced slightly at the strong aftertaste as it burned your throat. That was to be your last drink, you couldn't take much more.

"Ohh, yeah, I d-id," Ben hiccuped, his laughter dying out as he sighed; his tired eyes falling onto you. Shuffling under his gaze, you felt slightly uncomfortable. A brief yet thick silence suddenly engulfed the two of you like a slow-burning fire. Ben stood from where he'd been sat, stumbling over to where you were, stopping just in front of your knees.

"I miss talkin' to you, Y/N." He sighed, taking his hand and placing it upon your cheek; carressing the apple of it with his rough thumb. The strong scent of alcohol on his breath made you gag a tad - you were drunk as well, but the smell of it wasn't pleasant, especially from his mouth.

Your breath hitched slightly at the sudden contact.

"..Yeah." You answered quietly albeit awkwardly as you stared up at Ben. Though, all the wine you'd consumed was making him look like someone... else - the darkness wasn't helping either, in fact it was fueling your hallucinations. The dark cast of a shadow from the lit candles behind him made his nose appear larger, and his cheekbones a little more pronounced.

Slowly, he crouched down until you two were eye-level, his hands slipping to your ankles. Your body stiffened slightly at the feeling. "Ben.." You warned, sighing as the drunk buzz and pleasurable tingle from the pads of his fingers was starting to cloud your mind.

"Whaat?" He whispered, heavy-lidded eyes still glued to yours as his fingers began to trail up your calves. Ben began to stand up slightly, pushing his face dangerously close to yours, and so you leant backwards to avoid him, your back gradually making contact with the bed. He shuffled forwards slightly, pressing a knee against the edge of the bed to balance himself.

You shouldn't be doing this, you knew that, but Gods, the alcohol was truly fucking with your morals and mind.

Would it hurt?

Just a little... taste...?

You shut your eyes as you became lost in the feeling; his fingers reaching the backs of your soft thighs, a breathy sigh falling from your lips. Slowly, you opened your eyes again as Ben's smalelr nose pressed into your neck, followed by his wet lips. You gasped as his hands found your torso, his fingers pressing a little too harshly into your flesh.

Severus.

Memories of him suddenly flooded your mind like a reservoir breaking a dam, flushing out anything that didn't embody him. All the times Severus had attacked your supple flesh beautifully; pulling gorgeous moans from those pink lips of yours. Your brows furrowed together as your body silently yearned for his touch. It hurt.

You were stuck between stopping this and just shamelessly indulging in the dark, twisted fantasy of pretending that Ben was Severus. You were being so selfish. And yet, you didn't care, all of the emotional turmoil that you'd been through tonight was pushing you to the edge - all you wanted was the man who didn't love you, who only saw you as a quick fuck, maybe some midnight company.

You shut your eyes again and tried your best to imagine him. With a sigh, you ran your hand up Ben's neck and into his hair, though it wasn't the same. You missed the way you'd tangle your fingers in his raven-black locks, gripping on it as he'd ravish your neck and breasts like some mad professional. Sighing frustratedly, you moved your hands down to his shoulders, expecting the rough, black fabric of Severus's robes, and yet you were met with the flimsy, thin fabric of Ben's white cotton t-shirt.

You felt so fucking pathetic.

Knock, knock.

You froze, eyes snapping open as quick as lightning. Was there someone at the door?

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Ben groaned drunkenly as he continued to kiss your neck. Unfortunately for him, the feeling had worn off the second you heard those knocks.

"The knocks at the door."

"You're.. imag-ining things, baby." Ben sighed and hiccuped once more, his uncomfortably hot breath on your neck made you shiver. At this point, Ben was much more drunk than you, and so with your remaining energy, you rolled him off of you. "Whoa- heey-!" He groaned as you slipped from underneath him, padding to the door. You didn't bother to check if he was alright, the only thing on your mind was who was at your door at this time of night.

Was it him? Did you want it to be him?

Reluctantly, you reached out your hand to open the door.

Nobody was there.

You frowned and leaned forwards, poking your head out to glance around. The corridor was empty, completely empty. That was incredibly weird, did you imagine those knocks? You sighed softly - perhaps you were a little disapppointed. Turning around, you shut the door, only to be faced with Ben sat sloppily in a chair with a face like thunder.

"Waitin' for someone?" He asked with a flat tone, his head lazily cocked to one side, still clearly drunk.

"What?"

"You know what I'm talkin' abou', Y/N." Ben said with the same tone, standing up, albeit unsteadily. You swallowed as he inched closer towards you, dragging his feet, your toes burying themselves against the hard wooden floor beneath your feet. "I know about the notes you kept. From him." He spat, pointing his finger at your face. Your heart instantly began to gallop; the pounding of its beats echoed in your ears like a harrowing scream in the night.

The notes...

"Excuse me?" You choked out, brows furrowing together in complete shock.

This was not how you wanted this to go down.

"I went through yer little drawers. In yer greenhouse," Ben scowled, his nose turning upwards in what you could only describe as disgust. "All of his little notes were perfectly preserved, and mine? Well-" Your mind was running so quickly that you could barely even listen to what he was saying - the fact that he went behind your back and invaded your privacy was the only thing sticking out to you as of right now. Your skin felt like it was on fire as the anger began to flood your veins.

"You went through my drawers, Ben?!" You yelled, shoving a finger in his face.

"That's the only thing you care abou'?! Not the fact that you secretly- obviously, have some sort of fucked up... thing for a man who treats people like they're the tiniest bit of shit on 'is shoe?!" Ben screamed back drunkenly as he bared his teeth, stomping towards you and smacking your finger away. "The fuck is wrong withya?"

You knew this could get ugly quite quickly, especially as Ben was drunk - a lot drunker than you. But at this moment, your anger was far too hot to even think about cooling things down.

You scoffed at him, your lips twitching upwards into a disgusted sneer. "What the fuck is wrong with you?! Going through my stuff?!" You shouted at him, taking a step backwards as he began to get a little too close for comfort. "That's not okay, Ben!"

"How long has it been going on?" Ben asked, his tone suddenly calm. That put you on edge.

You paused for a moment, pondering on his question. It was probably best that you didn't answer that. "We're done here, Ben." You clenched your jaw, silently readying yourself for some sort of explosion.

"How long, Y/N?!" Ben yelled. The way the whites of his eyes were basically screaming at you made you feel terrified. In this current moment, there was only one pair of arms that you wish you were being held in. The man in front of you backed you up to the door, and you could only stare at him, for your wand was foolishly placed inside the pockets of your robes hung in your bedroom. Tears burned in your eyes as the guilt you'd tucked away was finally waking up and holding your body hostage with it's incredibly heavy weight. "Did you fuck 'im? Is that why ya never slept wit'me for months? Because you were too ...busy being his fucktoy?" Ben slurred, his face red and lips wet with saliva from how he'd been shouting.

"Shut up!" You cried at Ben as the tears began to break free from you and run down your cheeks like melting diamonds. This was so not the way you wanted this to go. "Please, just stop!" You were sobbing at this point as his words pierced your heart, quickly reminding you of what Severus truly thought of you.

"Oh, fuck sake, stop with the cryin'," Ben growled, drunkenly shoving a hand into your shoulder, sending you barreling backwards and into the door. You winced slightly as the bone of your shoulder blade made contact with the metal bar on your door. "Whiny bitch, yer the one in the wrong, not me!" He grumbled with a heavy sigh, turning away from you.

"Shit, Ben-" You gasped as you leaned forwards and pushed yourself off of the door, however, a sharp and excruciating pain shot across your shoulder as you tried to move it. "What the hell were you thinking?!" You whined, stumbling to the countertops of your kitchenette to lean on it. Your shoulder was fucking killing you.

"Me? What was I fuckin' thinkin'?!" A sarcastic, manic laugh fell from his lips and immediately you regretted your choice of words. The man spun on his heel, and suddenly he donned a wand in his hand. Now, you were scared for your life. "You're one to talk... you know what... I'm going to have you fired... yeah... blacklisted. From every job in this fuckin' area! That'll teach you to be a whore!" Ben screamed the last word so loudly that you were sure every sleeping student and teacher heard it. Your jaw ticked, and you had to look away, your face painted an embarrassed shade of scarlet.

Your heart dropped at his words. No way was this happening.

"You can't do that." You whispered, tears still streaming from your eyes as you stared at the ground.

"I work at the Ministry, darlin', anything is possible."

"Fuck you."

"What did you just say t'me?"

"Fuck you!" You cried out hoarsely with one hand on your shoulder and the other gripping the countertop. An animalistic like growl fell from your ex-boyfriend as he stormed towards you, fury burning bright in his eyes. He raised his wand, and you squeezed your eyes shut, bracing yourself for some sort of spell to hit you.

"Stupefy!" A familiar voice commanded, the swish of a spell following it suit. Then, a loud thud.

Reluctantly, you opened your eyes to see Ben laying on the floor, unconscious in a pool of his own saliva. Your chest heaved with fear, and you were incredibly scared to look up to see who had come to your rescue. Frozen, you stood still in your place, though you could feel your knees beginning to buckle. Within seconds you were on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably, your lungs on fire from how harshly you were breathing. Merlin, you could've just died.

uh oh.. who saved her?

i'm sorry if you weren't tagged, i went through the majority of my notes and tried to find you all!! pls forgive me :( there was a lot due to my absence <3

taglist:

@a-laufeyson

@emilynissangtr

@livillain00

@meowskii

@nooneeveryonenoone

@vesperbatty

@biggest-simp-eversposts

@881127fara

@freshmoneyalmondathlete

@sonoluvr22

@v3lv3tvampir3

@lashipperrubia

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@acakius

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@ameliachastain

@setsuna-meiou31

@kateris-world

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@bbykens

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@rockymiles

@joshysloshy

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@ameliachastain

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@daemonwhitedove

@yoongjennie88

@aureum-lepus

@lolwey

@alanalanalanalanalanna

@dystopiaincognito

@rye-flower

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titanrpg · 11 months ago

Text

you got a minute? I need a favor

Hey everyone, it's Lex. Happy New Year to you and yours!

Today, I have a huge announcement about Titanomachy RPG and its future. This month marks 3 years since I joined TTRPG Twitter. I've met so many incredible people and learned so much from y'all. Your support has allowed me to take one HUGE step in my life.

I recently moved to Maryland from Florida to get some basic human rights. I also left my job of 7 years to try and live unburdened by selling hours of my life to some random rich guy. And now, I'm taking Titanomachy RPG full-time.

Here I am, already having taken the leap. I have some money saved up, yes, but ultimately I am trusting in the generosity of others to help me build out a life I can truly love.

So yes, this is a Patreon announcement. And there's a link to Caltrop Core below (if you want to make a one-time contribution). But before anyone exits this email, I want to talk about all the cool stuff everyone can expect from me, regardless of Patreon status or donor status. I have a lot of exciting things coming in 2024, like:

a NEW open license d12 system called DODECA!

physical copies of my games becoming available via Indie Press Revolution, starting with NIGHTHAWKS!

more consistent game & system releases

seeing more of my work in some upcoming Evil Hat projects (look for me in the Girl by Moonlight stretch goal zines)

prints of "prayer to curse ron desantis", bunny girl osr posters, and perhaps shirts/hats/merch?

ttrpg workshops IRL in the Maryland area

and much much much much more!!

Now, here's the link to my Patreon before I forget: https://www.patreon.com/TitanRPG

I have an AWESOME founding patron bonus. There are 3 tiers of membership, and no matter which you choose to join today, you'll get a pre-release PDF of GOLDEN BEETLE PLAYGROUND, my Medabots-inspired TTRPG built on Caltrop Core EX.

This bonus is ONLY for people who join this month. After January, I'll take it down to work on the game further (and eventually do a full release later this year).

For tiers 2 and 3, I'll be releasing one short RPG every single month. These games will remain Patreon exclusives until I can put proper polish on them (or the patrons vote to release their favorites).

There's a bunch more goodies and details on my actual Patreon page. Click that link to see!

Eventually, I'll be putting merch up on that page, so even if you can't support with a monthly pledge, you'll be seeing posters, shirts, hats, all that very soon!

These days, I'm on tumblr every so often, but no other social media. Patreon will be my dedicated page for updates, game mechanics, design discussions, everything! Even if you join at the $3/month tier, I want to provide a ton of value, starting with GOLDEN BEETLE PLAYGROUND!

Click here to see the three membership tiers and support a trans game designer today!

Thank you for your support over the past 3 years. I hope to remain worth of it for many more years to come.

All my love,

Lex Kim Bobrow

Publisher, Titanomachy RPG

P.S. Here's the link again. Take a moment to check out the page please, and if you can't contribute, please tell your friends! I've lost touch with so many people after leaving Twitter, so any help in getting the word out is 10000000% appreciated!!

P.P.S. If you could reblog this post ASAP, I'd really really appreciate it. Thank you!!!

#indie ttrpg #ttrpg #caltrop core

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yourejinx · 11 months ago

Text

Undeniable Bonds

Azriel x F. Reader

Warnings: angst, as per usual. SPOILERS for other SJM series. Mentions of blood, descriptions of injuries, mentions of death, feelings. Not proof read.

Author’s note: Merry Christmas everyone! It took me MONTHS but is finally here, hope you like it. Sorry for making you wait for so long, life has been nothing short of chaotic. I'd like to thank @crazylokonugget , I read your comment. It was the rush of inspiration I needed to get back into writing 🫶🏻

CHAPTER SIX

The moon was shining big and bright above the night sky in the city, there was music being played by the river despite the chilling winds of the winter and laughter filled the air around The Rainbow. It all seemed so livid, so peaceful and merry in contrast with the emotional turmoil brewing in your insides.

You were feeling everything at once, every single thing you had tried to keep concealed for centuries now was ready to combust. You felt confused, and angry, resentful, wary…and underneath it all naively hopeful. It would be a lie to say you had successfully gotten rid of your feelings towards Azriel, if anything all the awful things you've done to each other hurted all the more because of that. He was a friend once, and a good one. Gentle, caring, protective, used to actually enjoy the other's presence, go on walks during the nights when the world felt too heavy, just silently supporting each other. Shared laughs at stupid jokes played at Cass and Rhys, sneaking around while in other courts just for the fun of it, knowing no one would ever find you. You were a team. Until one day you weren’t, he just decided it wasn’t worthy and that was it.

How were you supposed to open up to this person, when he hadn’t even seen the worst in you and deemed you unworthy? How could you ever trust him again? Yet, here you were, walking side by side next to the Sidra like the old times. You could punch yourself in the face just for considering this, every anxious trait screamed at you to leave, you didn’t owe him a single thing, didn’t have to explain anything. So why did you keep walking alongside him?

“So…uhm,” He started, nervously scratching at his nape. Trying. He was trying to be open, didn’t hold up that mask of coldness to conceal his emotions, not once. “You and Lucien..?”

“None of your business.” you snapped out of instinct.

He avoided looking directly at you, focusing on some distant light across the bridge.

You let out a deep breath, this wasn’t going to work.

“Just talk to him.” Amren’s voice rang in your head. Try. You had to try, you didn’t have to let him know much just…let the conversation flow, right?

“It was a long time ago, even before Amarantha..” you started, casting a sidelong glance at him.

He turned to you, features soft under the moonlight. Gods, he was unfairly beautiful when he wasn’t an ass. You fixed your sight on the river, if only to keep on track. “Nothing really happened, we were young and drunk at one of Tamlin’s masquerades, we made out and that was it.”

He nodded slowly and cleared his throat, “And now?”

“Is this what you really want to talk about? He’s my friend, not that I owe you any explanation. Or is this your way to ask if Elain is available now?”

You couldn’t help it, the audacity of this male prying into your private life as if he hadn’t been lusting after Lucien’s mate of all people. Hypocrite doesn’t begin to cut it.

“I don’t care about Elain, I care about you.”

You wanted to laugh. “Since when? If I recall correctly you despised me until a week ago, you were either insulting me or just blatantly ignoring me in favor of her, or anyone else really. Then all goes to hell and suddenly I’m worth living for?!”

He grimaced, “You– you remember that?”

You sighed tiredly and sat down on a bench overlooking the Sidra. “Yes, I remember. I just…I don’t understand you.”

Azriel just stood there beside you, shifting his weight uncomfortably, not being quite sure what to do. When he didn’t move or say anything you continued, “I want to believe you,” you swallowed around a lump “but do you hear how it sounds? After all we’ve been through. I trusted you and you threw that in my face, how do you expect me to believe that you care about me?”

This wasn’t going as he was hoping for, but at least it was something. You were speaking to him more than two sentences, which was a lot more than he deserved to be honest. You could yell at him, curse him, punch him in the face if you wished and he would take it. No complaints. Anything if it meant you’d show him how you truly felt, he wasn’t sure he could endure your silence again, knowing how much he had hurt you. He needed you to let it all out, so he could do something to fix it.

“I don’t expect you to believe me right away, of course not. I know that I have to earn your forgiveness and one day if I’m one lucky bastard I might earn your trust back once more. But I also know that even when I try to make things right you may not forgive me at all, and I’ll accept that too. Honestly? I just want to know how you feel with all that has happened. The only thing that matters now is you.”

You let out a shaky breath, turning away from him. “I don't know what I'm supposed to feel, everything is a mess.”

He moved then, crouching in front of you and grasping both your hands on his own, making you look at him. The earnest way he was looking at you, the desperate feeling swimming in his eyes that traveled all the way through the bond. It made you gasp, with all that’s been going on you forgot to put a shield up. Now you could feel him, all of him, which meant he could feel you.

“I have no damn right to demand such mercy from you, but if for a single moment you find in your heart a spec of doubt, a small sign of will to forgive this coward for wronging you so unfairly, I just want you to know how sorry I am, for everything. I regret it all, I wish I could take it all back. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, until the day I part from this earth I will fight for you.”

You were quite sure your bottom lip was trembling as much as his hands were, trying miserably to contain the unwelcomed tears pooling in your eyes. Those were such nice words, the silly part of you that always longed for his recognition wanted so desperately to believe, but there were still too many unresolved things, too many questions still running frantically through your head. And one recurrent thought…

“Did I really have to die for you to notice?” Your words hung heavy in the air, with a mix of accusation and vulnerability.

Azriel, gaze intense and haunted, looked as if you had just punched a hole through his chest. In that moment, the shadows that bound him seemed to soften, and he confessed the truth that had long eluded you both. It wasn't the brush with death that made him take notice; it was the fear of losing you that shattered the carefully constructed barriers around his heart.

"No, it's not about noticing, it's about realizing what it means to lose you," he admitted, his voice a low, gravelly murmur. Azriel's jaw tightened, a small sign that betrayed the internal struggle within him. "It's not so simple. The thought of a world without your laughter, your presence....Losing you was the worst of my nightmares coming true. I've always cared, but I let my past dictate my actions, and I was cruel to you because I couldn't bear the thought of history repeating itself. But I was wrong, and I almost lost you because of it."

“What do you mean?”

You had unconsciously leaned in closer to him and he swallowed audibly at the intensity in your eyes —obsidian black that sometimes showed swirls of violet and blue. Like lightning striking the midnight sky. They were a rare sight, a beautiful one, he knew that only happened when you felt too much. The telltale sign of the emotions you were so desperately trying to hold back from reaching him.

“I will tell you everything you want to know, in time. I will lay my heart down for you to step on if you wish. But I believe that is a conversation on its own, I wish to explain everything to you and I don’t think I can do it tonight.” He looked almost pleading. “There’s nothing that can excuse the way I treated you, I’ve been a coward, and an asshole and you have every damn right to be angry with me, to hate me. That much I understand. I just hope you’d be willing to listen when the time’s right.”

You supposed it was fair. It still made you uneasy and you pulled back a little, ignoring the hurt that flashed through his eyes. Given how strained your relationship was, you guessed it was normal he was still doubtful about sharing too much too soon. You weren’t that willing to particularly share much of yourself yet, if ever.

Gods, you wished you could rage about everything that has happened, and hated the way his words had soothe an ache in your heart you were making an effort not to acknowledge.

Time. It would take time to heal, and trust, and effort on both sides to make this work. Whatever this white flag he had weaved tonight meant. You knew it was the right call to make, for the sake of everyone, to try and make amends. That didn’t mean it was going to be easy, some things were too deeply engraved in your heart to let go.

Did it make you a weak, spineless female to want to give in to him? What was the cost of it?

“Alright,” you muttered, standing to your feet, Azriel followed you. “If I agree to do this, I’ll need you to be patient. I’m not ready yet to let you in, I still have my doubts about this. I think you understand why. But I want to try to be friends again, that’s as much as I can offer you right now.”

Friends. That was a lot more than he had dared to ask for, even if in his heart he desired more. It wasn’t about him, nor his desires, it was about you and giving you what you need. So if what you needed from him was friendship, he’ll take it. Make the most of it.

Azriel nodded, something sparkling to life in his eyes that wasn’t there before. The bond thrummed quietly with emotion. Hope.

“One step at a time?” you offered, extending your hand to him.

“One step at a time.” He repeated, taking your hand.

It was awkward but welcomed, the feeling of something settling within your chest. The mating bond had been neglected for so long that the weight of it felt weird now, as if a missing limb had been spoken into existence. Azriel seemed to notice too, absentmindedly reaching his hand up to rub at his chest.

You tried not to shudder when he gently tugged at it and opened your mouth to suggest keeping the ends closed for the time being. Unless until you were more comfortable with each other. It was way too intimate and overwhelming otherwise, and that you were not ready for yet.

“Maybe we should–” you stopped as you felt something warm and thick dripping to your lips. Pressing two fingers to the spot and watching them stained red. Blood.

Azriel quickly caught up to the movement, body stilling in alert.

“What's wrong?” he asked, stepping closer.

“I don't know,” A strong pang shot too fast to your head making you gasp and causing you to fall forwards. Azriel’s arms instantly wrapped around your shoulders, holding you to him. His shadows were in a frenzy, surrounding you both while he inspected your face for any signs of injury.

“Y/N? Talk to me, where does it hurt?” He sounded agitated.

You could hear Azriel’s voice being muffled and muffled by the second, could feel his warmth and the firm press of his body against yours, but everything was quickly becoming a blurry image. Like some distant dream everything started to fade from sight, the whole scenery changing, twisting and re-adapting.

Velaris had been replaced for a cold, dark room, the air thick and musty. The sound of crashing waves filling the otherwise silent space. Rusty chains hung wicked and ancient from the stone walls, an iron coffin sitting vacant across from you, open and expectantly waiting for its occupier. You couldn’t move a single muscle, only stare through eyes that were not yours, scent with a foreign nose, the smell of fear, and blood, and immense sadness.

You blinked twice — or rather this…person whose mind seemed blending with yours did— and gazed down to gauntlet-covered hands. Iron, yet again. There was a slight tremble to this other body, a female’s body, from pain so deep from within her guts and the fire blazing underneath, it rose and rose and rose, flaring until it was pushed down and forced to remain still.

She looked up again, to the lone white wolf lying a few feet away, already watching her. The animal tilted his head to the side as if in contemplation and blinked three times.

“Are you okay?”

—----------------------------------------------

Sound was the first thing to return to you, hurried, hissing voices coming from somewhere around you.

“I swear on the Cauldron I'll have their heads on spikes as ornamentations for your throne.” A low, deep growl laced with intent. You recognized Azriel’s baritone voice from beside you.

Violet and blue-ish gray greeted you when you finally opened your eyes, immediately recognizing the Town’s House living room.

What in hell had that been? It occurred to you that you had dreamed about her before, the female, recognized the same lemon verbena and crackling embers scent from previous dreams, although never catching a full look at her. Who was she? Was she in danger? Was this a warning?

Frowning you propped up to your elbows to sit, back resting against the couch’s armrest. Feyre gave you a soft smile, sitting down next to your legs.

“How are you feeling?” She asked, worry staining her features.

“I'm fine, just a little dizzy.” You craned your neck back to look at the male standing behind the couch, one of his shadows slipping away to caress your cheek before returning to his master. “What happened?”

Azriel's honey gaze settled upon you, shoulders sagging a bit from relief at the sight of you awake. “You were unconscious for a few minutes, I flew us back here and called Rhys. I didn't know what to do. Are you sure you're ok?”

“Yeah, I'm alright. Thank you.” You tried to smile softly but barely managed to slightly lift the corners of your mouth. He nodded, unconvinced. After a moment to cringe, you added, “Whose head are we having on spikes?”

Silence.

Rhys cleared his throat. “Your brother’s and Damien’s.” Suddenly the room’s temperature dropped. Feyre shifted uncomfortably in her place. We hadn’t openly discussed the situation yet. “If this is a side effect of whatever they did to you, we need to find the–”

“It 's not.” you interrupted him.

It wasn't like you didn't want to find them and finish what had started two centuries ago. But it was your fight, you didn't wish to trouble your family with it. Didn't want Rhys particularly involved out of anyone, he was the reason they came back. Albeit unbeknownst to him. They still lusted after his crown, his throne, they wanted vengeance. Your blood as well as his.

Azriel stared at you, contemplative. You could sense he wanted to ask more but was debating whether it was pushing a boundary or not. It was all new to the two of you, too fresh to know what was appropriate.

Fidgeting with your entwined fingers on your lap, you decided to offer some truth. Even if they didn't believe you, even if it sounded crazy.

“This has happened to me my whole life. It doesn't always knock me unconscious, most of the time it's just dreams.”

Rhys frowned but it was Azriel who asked, “What sort of dreams are those?”

“I can't fully explain because most of the time I don't understand them. But it is almost like my mind goes somewhere else, like I share one consciousness with another. A female. Though I haven’t figured that out until tonight. I've seen scraps of her mind, and the places She's been, but I don't know her face.”

You could practically see the engines in Feyre’s mind working. She had stayed silent for most of the interaction, paying careful attention to each word.

“And what happened in this…dream? What did you see?” asked Rhys this time.

“Not much, she seemed to be in some sort of mausoleum? It was barely lit, few candles here and there. It had to be some isolated place next to the sea, I could hear waves crashing against rock. The air was thick and musty. There was a wolf with her.”

“Do you think it is possible you're dreaming about someone in the Summer Court?” Azriel caught your attention once more.

“I don't know, could be. But it feels off. There were chains on the walls…and an iron coffin. But she was alive, I think. Maybe she’s a prisoner?” You turned to Feyre then. “You’ve been there when stealing the Book of Breathings, does this sound familiar? Some place you may have seen?”

She shook her head. “No it doesn't. That doesn't mean it does not exist, I didn't get to see much of the Summer Court. But why would Tarquin keep an iron coffin?”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “I don't know, it doesn't make sense. Why would I be dreaming of a female in the Summer Court? How do I relate to that?”

“What if they're not dreams, per say, but visions? Like Elain's…” she pursed her lips, deep in thought.

Azriel tensed beside me, I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. I hadn't seen Elain around that much after Solstice night, coming to think of it. Does he think it's my fault?

“Hadn't thought of it that way. Honestly, I read too much, since I was a kid. I was convinced my mind made it all up until it started to happen during day time. But either way, I don't think this is the case. I mean, nothing that I dreamt of has happened, and if it did, it didn't involve any of us. So we have no way of knowing about it.”

“It still bugs me. There has to be some explanation to it. It clearly affects you, I don't believe it's normal that these dreams cause you nosebleeds and make you pass out. What if it gets worse?” Rhys pointed out.

“Beats me. I know as much as you do.”

“We’ll have to look into it. Whatever this is, and whoever that person may be. Is there something else you remember?” Azriel's brows were pulled together tightly, but his eyes were gentle when he settled them upon me.

“I just…one time I recall feeling her, here in Velaris. I — she— saw you two.” You pointed to your high lord and lady. Rhys stilled. “But it was like she was falling from the sky, or rather falling through. You were pregnant with little Nyx.” You told Feyre and turned your head to look at Azriel. “I don't remember much about it. I must have passed out, you found me in the hallway shortly after.”

Azriel gave a tense nod. “I remember you lying face down on the top of the stairs, your books thrown all over the place. Your nose wasn't bleeding though, I thought you were drunk.” he said apologetically.

I shrugged. “You didn't know, and I couldn't explain either.”

“If this is a person that's been here without us knowing, then we must start to investigate immediately.” Rhys cut in.

“But where do we start?” I asked.

“I'll see if the wards of Velaris had been tampered with, for starters. Maybe we can find some imprint of magic. In the meantime I’d say you learn about bonds and connections, how they work, check your mental shields. If you have access to her mind then there's a possibility she has access to yours, there has to be a link somewhere.”

“Alright, I'll start to look into it right away. There has to be something in the library about mental connections.”

“You should rest now.” Azriel placed a hand on my shoulder. “I'll help with the research tomorrow. We can go to the library after training the Valkyries. If that's okay with you.”

You nodded and relaxed a little. Ignoring the warmth that his touch had spread across your back.

“Yeah, it's fine. Tomorrow then.”

—---------------------------------------------------

taglist:

@cmay25 @brekkershadowsinger @cosmic-whispers @h0peless-r0m4ntic @esposadomd @hannzoaks @tysynn @i-am-infinite @sevendeadlyshins-blog @angelshadowsinger @buckysimp101 @baebeepeach @elsie-bells @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @leeknows-wife @k07-1313 @valeridarkness @fall-myriad @goradgirl @feiwelinchen @katherine-2007 @colorfulwinnerneva-blog @lillithathecat @j-pendragonx @ummmmmwat @eviepeo @thelov3lybookworm @emturtle @chillicrackers @bubybubsters @perseflowers @goldenmagnolias @littleshopofwhore-blog @galla-lotus @weirdo-fun @moonlwghts @t0uch-starved-h0e @wannabewolf @awkwardturtle36 @notbellasstuff @nastynesta

@nohxmanity @yasminsznn @thesnuggliestduckling @anniebannanie07-blog @elsie-bells @highlady-ofillyria @kodokunarisu-blog @starksweasleymain @tcris2020 @obixix @naturakaashi @fanboyluvr @nightless @moonshine147 @marina468 @microwaveallthedemons @artof-aristocracy @harrystylesfan2686 @yasminsznn

#acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #acotar fanfiction #acotar fandom #azriel fanfic #acotar series #azriel #acomaf #acowar #undeniable bonds

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unpopularwriter25 · 5 months ago

Note

Hii may i please request some tanjiro fluff where he's vulnerable to the reader and she comforts him

Hi! I hope this is okay!!

Moonlit Comfort

Summary: Tanjiro Kamado struggles with the weight of his responsibilities and fears of not being strong enough. As he sits alone, feeling overwhelmed, y/n finds him and offers heartfelt comfort and reassurance.

Warnings: None.

Tanjiro sat by the edge of the forest, the moon casting a silver light on his tired face. He had been pushing himself hard, determined to grow stronger and protect those he cared about. But tonight, the weight of his responsibilities seemed heavier than usual. His shoulders slumped as he stared at the ground, lost in thought.

You approached quietly, having noticed his absence from the campfire. "Tanjiro?" you called softly, not wanting to startle him. He looked up, his eyes reflecting the moonlight and a hint of the pain he tried to hide.

"Hey," he replied, forcing a small smile. "I just needed some air."

You sat down beside him, close enough to offer comfort but giving him space to speak if he wanted to. "You know you don't have to go through everything alone, right?"

Tanjiro's smile faltered, and he looked down again. "I know. It's just... sometimes it feels like there's so much on my shoulders. I want to protect everyone, to make sure no one else suffers because of demons. But... it's hard."

You reached out and placed a gentle hand on his arm. "It's okay to feel like that, Tanjiro. You're doing so much already. It's normal to feel overwhelmed."

He sighed, a deep, shuddering breath. "I just keep thinking about Nezuko and all the others who need me. What if I'm not strong enough? What if I fail them?"

Your heart ached seeing him like this. Tanjiro was always so strong, so determined, but even he needed support sometimes. You shifted closer and wrapped your arms around him in a comforting hug. "You won't fail them, Tanjiro. You're one of the strongest, most determined people I know. And you're not alone. We all believe in you and we're here to help. You don't have to carry everything by yourself."

He hesitated for a moment before leaning into the hug, his body relaxing slightly as he accepted your comfort. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I don't know what I'd do without friends like you."

You smiled, resting your chin on his shoulder. "We'll always be here for you, Tanjiro. Just like you've always been there for us. You're not alone, and you never will be."

For a while, you both sat there in the quiet night, the warmth of your embrace providing solace. And in that moment, Tanjiro allowed himself to be vulnerable, knowing he was in the presence of someone who truly cared.

#fanfic #writing #fandom #anime #demon slayer anime #cute #demon slayer #demon slayer imagines #anime x reader #fluff #kimetsu tanjiro #tanjiro headcanons #tanjiro x reader #kny tanjirou #tanjiro kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer ship request #requested #request are open

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trendywaifus · 1 year ago

Note

hey!! i saw that your reqs are open so i'd like to request hc of eula, hu tao, beidou and baal comforting their s/o who thinks that they're annoying and a burden because of their past relationships who made them believe that. e.g the s/o is afraid to talk about their interests because they feel like they're boring and annoying them. thank you so much in advance if you decide to write my request!! i hope the holidays are going well for you!

i like this one! remember everyone, don’t let anyone make you feel like you’re a less of a person. you’re more than they will ever be and you deserve more respect. someone who truly who loves and appreciate you will prove it! doesn’t even have to be a special someone, it can be family and friends. i’m also here for you whenever you feel like you’re at your lowest. (sorry for any errors and whatever im sleepy!)

— eula understands how you feel. coming from a widely—hated clan without any outside support, use to do a number on her. you feel as though nobody isn’t interested in how you feel or your interests. they look at you from outside lens and judge you without personally getting to know the real you—she understands. but don’t worry, she’s here to listen and unfold everything you’ve been wanting to say. she’s not good at comforting others but since it’s you, eula will do her best.

— you think you’re a burden? nonsense, don’t ever think like that; you make her darkest days bright. your smile, your laughter, it’s always engraved in her mind each time she fights and dances under the moonlight. you are one of her main sources of motivation, remember that. she’ll protect you with her life if she has to.

“ (name), that’s rather interesting, i could see you doing that, “ she says with a warm smile as you shyly tell her one of your interests. “ why didn’t you tell me sooner? “ you play with your hands nervously, gazing into her curious eyes, “ well, i’m use to others disregarding my interests. so. .i don’t really bother anymore.”eula’s face cutely scrunches up to a look of disdain and reaches out to hold your hand, her gloved fingers gingerly skimming across your palm. “ how unreal. my love, perhaps you should tell me who these others are? shall i enact vengeance on them? “

— like with eula, she understands how you feel in the realest level. she’s like the clown of the town, constantly getting talked about, judged, all of that stuff. yes, there’s times where she felt alone but she remembers her grandfather, zhongli, the traveller, and the friends she met as she breathes each day. there’s also you, how could she forget you? her special someone she dreams of so often.

— so when you tell her that you felt like a burden to others and to her, her usual cheery mood is gone from her face and hu tao’s serious. she listens, uncharacteristically quiet as she soaks in your words about your history with individuals who showed a lack of interest in you as a person. despite what was told about hu tao, she is a great listener.

“ my butterfly, all of what they said isn’t true, not at all.” her palm touches your cheek tenderly, she frowns. “ your voice is gentle to the ears; it managed to reach down and warm the cold, darkest feelings i’ve buried deep within my heart.” hu tao leans in to kiss between your eyebrows and pulls back with her signature smile. “ aiyah, you’re my muse after all. “

— as someone who’s been fighting for her life ever since she was a child, she understands how cruel teyvat and the people can be. she had to fight for respect and people to look in her direction. but now, she is a powerful captain with an excellent crew. she also has an amazing partner, a invaluable treasure that she would never give away and will protect with her life.

— when you spoke about your hesitance at revealing your interest to others, afraid of being seen as boring and uninteresting, beidou was shocked however she quickly recovered and continue to listen to you until you were done. she tells you how much she loves you with that toothy smile of hers and empathizes with how you feel.

she takes you into her strong arms, rubbing your back in a smoothing manner. “ sweetheart, you’re a strong person for openin’ up to me. don’t let anybody tell you otherwise, you’ve impacted my life in a positive way, i look forward to seein’ and hearin’ you talk everyday about anything and everything. don’t give those fool’s words anymore weight in your head than they already have, let it all be dead weight that you gotta start sinkin. “

— ei would genuinely be confused. it’s more like why could anyone mistreat you when you’re such a wonderful being? no matter how much she pondered at the thought of it even happening, she thinks the possibility is close to 0 and if it does happen, she will wipe the poor soul from existence.

— she is rather ignorant to social cues and not very quick in noticing human behavior unless it’s fear and anger. you have no reason to fear her and there’s nothing she has done to anger you. but when you show clear reluctance in telling her about your past and feelings when asked, she was worried but patient. when you finally unravel everything, ei felt terrible. how could she had not notice the signs? after this, ei’s more obliged to be more attentive towards your needs.

“ i. . see. “ ei grabs your wrist and gently guides you closer to her. her other hand places itself on the back of your neck and she rests your head against her chest in a comforting manner. “ i’m ashamed that i did not ask you this sooner and not being aware of your struggles. i will do whatever i can to make you feel how you make me feel, dear beloved. that’s one promise i will keep until i fall victim to erosion. “

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #ei x reader #raiden shogun x reader #baal x reader #hu tao x reader #beidou x reader #eula x reader

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bluebirdsboi · 4 months ago

Text

Dawn | Connor Rhodes x Male Reader | 18+

Fandom: Chicago Med

Genre: Angst, Implied Smut | Songfic: Haunted by Laufey

Pairing: Connor Rhodes x Male Reader

Warnings: Sexually suggestive

Word Count: 749

~ Requests are clsoed ~ Taglist is open

!! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !!

Key

Italic text = Song lyrics

(Y/n) = Your name

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Hey guys, this did turn out a little shorter than I would've liked, but I'm okay with it. Requests are still closed, but you can still show support with likes, comments and reblogs. My taglist is open, so if you want to be tagged in future fics, send me a DM or an inbox message and tell me which fandoms you want to be tagged for, or if you're okay with anything. In other news, I'm still working on the second chapter of my The Last of Us fic and the first chapter of an Anyone But You fic that I plan on being a trilogy. Both will be on my second blog as well as my AO3 and Wattpad, so I'd appreciate if you check those out. The masterlist for Chicago Med will be up later tonight and Chapter 1 of the Anyone But You fic should be up also later tonight or tomorrow, so until then, thank you for reading <3.

One more kiss, wine stained lips I don't want to go to sleep yet Pale moonlight, misty eyes I'll allow myself to have him just tonight

Connor's hands felt warm against your biceps. His lips, soft, yet passionate against your bare shoulder. You lose yourself in the feeling, savoring every second because you know that it won't last. "Connor-" "Shhh." You felt his chest against your back as he tilted your face to catch your lips. All he wanted to do was stay in that moment for as long as he could. The feeling of his lips dancing with someone else's was intoxicating, and you let yourself become enamored with the sensation.

I hold on to every ounce of sin I know he don't love me quite like I love him

He slowly guides you to the bed as he kisses down your neck, causing you to sigh and moan in ecstasy. His lips and breath continue to trail down your body, but you know that this situation means different things to both of you. You want this to keep going for as long as it can, even past tonight, but for Connor, it's just another way to change up his night. Regardless, neither of you cared and just wanted each other.

I swear to myself as he leaves at dawn This will end, 'til he haunts me again

Just before dawn started to break, you felt Connor moving on the other side of the bed. You rolled over just to see him, even if he wasn't facing you, which he wasn't. An urge to ask him to stay started to rise, but you decided against it. "I'll, uh.. see you later today (Y/n)." Every part of you wanted to grab him by the arm and pull him back in bed, but you told yourself that this was just a situational thing. You just got caught up in the moment and now, that moment has passed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rose perfume, low-lit room I'll pretend you'll stay forever Lay me down, ghostly sounds

"Oh, come on. You know you can always talk to the guy." You were in the break room and telling April about what happened last night with Connor. It was still so vivid in your mind, the moonlight that crept through the window, the way he caressed your arms, you swear you could still feel his lips on your shoulder. You wanted to tell Connor how you really felt about him, but after last night and knowing that he's just going to move on like nothing happened held you back. "It won't matter. It was just a one-night stand type of thing, you know?" April felt somewhat bad for you because she knew how much you wanted to be with Connor. "Well, if you ever feel up to it, you know where to find him. Just find the right time." April gave you a pat on the shoulder before she left. She could tell you needed a minute alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Haunt the hallways as he wraps me around

The evening just began to settle when you heard a knock on the door and decided to answer. Connor standing in front of the door frame was the last thing you expected, but then again, you weren't expecting anything. He couldn't even explain why he was at your doorstep, but you welcomed him in, regardless. Despite your feelings, you could still be cordial with Connor, albeit they peeked through when you sat a little closer to him than you should have on the couch.

And I hold on to every ounce of sin I know he don't love me quite like I love him

The night got dangerously close to a repeat of what happened the night before, and what tipped it over the edge was when his arm found itself around your shoulders. Before you knew it, your lips were intertwined with each other's in your room, both of your shirts cast to the wayside, the rest of your clothes soon to follow.

I swear to myself as he leaves at dawn This will end, 'til he haunts me again

The sunlight was just starting to stream in through your window as you recounted what happened the previous night, remembering everything you did with Connor. You wanted to believe that he stayed this time, but you already know the truth. You didn't bother tuning over because you knew there was nothing to see on the other side of the bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @houndsoforion, @jinniemyl0ve, @zoloft3

#fanfic #fanfiction #fandom #chicago med #x reader #x male reader #connor rhodes #connor rhodes x reader #connor rhodes x male reader #angst #impiled smut #male reader #chicago med x reader #chicago med x male reader #for you #explore

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nariism · 1 year ago

Text

links ➠ event masterlist ✧ rules ✧ send a request!

STATUS: CLOSED

thank you everyone for participating <3

hiii all my lovelies💗 i'd like to give a huge huge huge thank you for 1k followers and friends (!!!), 4.5 months of endless support, and the chance to be a part of such an amazing community of people :')

i've always been on and off with writing because of my self-doubts but i've come to absolutely love writing as a hobby and remember why i enjoyed it so much in the first place back when i was a dweeby 13 year old kid 🫶

i would love to do a small appreciation writing event for anyone who would like to participate. it's open for everyone so don't feel nervous to send an ask! see below the cut for more info.

if you're just stopping by, then i'd like to tell you thank you for everything!! 💐

info — you choose 1-3 prompts/tropes + a character and i'll write a drabble/one-shot! requests can be sent to my inbox like this (preferably off anon so i can let you know when it's up!)

prompt number: fandom/character: additional info: (ex. tropes you want, angst, fluff, platonic, etc. anything you'd like to add that you want to see!)

i will be closing requests for this event on 13 Nov EDT

the same rules apply as my regular writing rules. please see those before you send a request!

note. all writings will be x gn!reader. i have free creative liberty for anything i write and i may not get around to all of the requests if i can't think of anything for the combination submitted. i am also busy with life stuff so it might take me a bit to finish things. remember, this is all for fun!

FANDOMS/CHARACTERS OPEN

blue lock: itoshi sae, itoshi rin, isagi yoichi

genshin impact: open for any characters!

haikyuu: miya atsumu, miya osamu, kita shinsuke, ushijima wakatoshi

other: hayakawa aki, gojo satoru, geto suguru, loid forger (💐)

++ i would consider characters not listed here that you want to see!

TROPES

1. friends to lovers / childhood friends to lovers

2. forced proximity

3. fake relationship / marriage of convenience

4. soulmates (any rendition)

5. coffee shop

6. roommates

7. accidental confession / accidental kiss

8. handcuffed together

9. hurt & comfort

10. enemies / rivals to lovers

11. mutual pining

12. oblivious pining

13. one bed

14. drunk confession

15. second chance

16. unrequited love

17. matchmaking / matchmaking gone wrong

18. domestic

PROMPTS

19. "do we like... hold hands now?"

20. "please, come home."

21. "i could kiss you right now!"

22. "oh no, the power went out, however will we stay warm?!" (/s)

23. "we fell asleep by accident and woke up as a mess of tangled limbs."

24. "i'm done waiting."

25. "i've always needed you!"

26. "you look so beautiful in the moonlight."

27. "i think i'm in love with you."

28. "don't look at me that way."

29. "do you want my jacket?"

30. "wait, don't pull away... not yet."

31. "i can't sleep."

32. "i can't believe it took you this long to admit you like being the little spoon."

33. "your necklace fell off... let me put it back on for you."

34. "i could stay up all night talking to you."

35. "say it again. please."

36. "we're fighting. i'll take the couch tonight." ➡️ (bonus) "we were fighting???"

++ feel free to add any you want! these are just some examples

i'm so thankful to each and every one of you. i hope you enjoy! <3

links ➠ event masterlist ✧ rules ✧ send a request!

#— whispers in the wind: 1k event ✉️#pls don't flop please #blue lock x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #haikyuu x reader #csm x reader #jjk x reader

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zemi-noelle-art · 10 months ago

Note

Your LPS customs are soooo amazing!! Like genuinely so inspiring 😭 I wanna get into it but I have no idea how!!

Thank you so much!!! that really means a lot! And I'm really honored to hear I've been inspiring people with my work<3 I can provide some tips on starting the hobby if that helps! this'll be based on my own experience though of course! I can firstly say that getting into LPS customizing was pretty simple for me, because I already had most of the supplies I use for other projects, and it was only a matter of getting the bases themselves to paint on. Of course I have the LPS I grew up with but I didn't want to ruin those lol. I use those blank bootleg LPS bases they sell on amazon. You can also use authentic LPS but I'd recommend making sure you're not painting over a rare one like a big 5 or Savannah Reed first lol. A good starting point is to draft out the design you want on paper/digitally to see what kind of custom you want to make. for me I use digital templates and paint over them in my art program. Templesta on DeviantArt has some really good ones! For paint I use acrylic. Get a teeny tiny paintbrush for detail work along with a couple other sizes as well and those should be all the basic supplies you need to start! You can also get more complex with it and use chalk pastels, water color pencils and glitters too. Get creative! see what supplies you can use to take your customs to the next level. As a tip, make sure to water down your paint and do multiple thin layers. Patience is key because that paint is not gonna want to stick to the base at first. A lot of the actual painting process does come down to practice and a steady hand.

If you want to seal your customs which isn't necessary but gives them a nice finish, I recommend Liquitex high gloss varnish to seal the eyes. There are some good matte varnish sprays out there but I recommend doing your own research on those, as they can be resin based and therefore need a bit of caution and prep to handle. I personally use Mister Super Clear matte spray to seal the base of the custom, and I always spray outside with gloves and a respirator.

And though I have done sculpting I don't consider myself well versed enough to recommend supplies for clay but I've heard Green Stuff and Apoxie sculpt are good clays to use, but be sure to do your own research on those as well.

The monster high doll customization community is a good place to look for material research! A lot of the process of the face-up is pretty similar to painting LPS. That's actually what got me into customizing in the first place; I just watched a bunch of Dollightful, Enchanterium, and Moonlight Jewel's videos and said to myself "Wait a minute, I could do this with LPS!" I also of course recommend watching other LPS customizer's videos to see the process of how they make their customs, and show them some support as well! Pumpkinscustoms Is a really big inspiration for me and HelloStudios, Mr. Crazy Ray and LPSCobalt have really good videos on making customs.

And once again, if you don't wanna dive right in you can just draw them, whether using a template or not to see if you like the process and the design! You can even make a bunch of designs digitally and once you feel ready to tackle a real custom, start there! ahaha I didn't know I'd be writing a whole-ass Essay but I hope all this helps!! Thank you for enjoying my work!

#zemi's ramblings #ask zemi #lps customs #lpsblr #lpscommunity #doll customization #advice tag #rotten-g0blin

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turtlesocksv2 · 11 months ago

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Liveblogging DFF Ep 2

It's time for Dead Friend Forever episode 2!

Ok I have to say this but it cracks me up every time i watch a Thai show and we get that little disclaimer at the start saying "we do not condone any characters/jobs/actions in this show it is for entertainment only" like what kind of 2003 FF.Net "Please don't sue me i am poor and only playing with these characters like dolls" ass thing to see in front of Mafia Dramas (Kinnporsche), Serial Killer hijinks (Dead Friend Forever) and fucking bittersweet adult midlife crisis vibes (Moonlight Chicken).

Top is absolutely losing it, and they need to leave poor Fluke alone. He is trying his best! What more do you expect from him?!

Oh, Tee is the first to break off from the group. RIP Tee, we'll see how that works out for you.

The mask the killer wears really is very freaky. well done, props department.

Phi the only one awake. I see you. I support you in your killings.

Oh I really thought Top was donefor there. Phi taking control of the group is so interesting. The way he leads everyone down what investigation paths...

Alright just what did you guys do to Non last time??? thank god the 3 newbies to the group are having a little sidebar asking that question. Clearly whatever it was was awful for the group to jump immediately to Non is Dead and his Ghost is Cursing Us and He Wants Us Dead Too for What We Did. But also, i think this rules out All Three Newbies working together to I Know What You Did Last Summer the group, otherwise this scene would make no sense. We'd have another Gossip Girl Dan situation where actions taken when they're alone don't add up to the reveal. So at least 1 of the newbies is not involved.

LOL at Tan trying to get Fluke to spill what the core group knows. If i was Fluke I'd be feeling very very threatened right now. "You think you're going to be next. I'm worried about you." and now Jin is being mean to Fluke too! for the love of god, Fluke is trying! just because he wants to be a doctor doesn't mean he can perform surgery in a cabin in the woods! Leave him alone!

"a good-mouthed and good-hearted man like you doesn't need to remind me" yessss. kill him.

lmao Por has old fucking floppy disks. are these people old enough to have used a floppy disk in their lives. but i know i've got old floppies around somewhere so it makes sense there'd be some at a like summer vacation house that gets used rarely. but also, did i miss that Por hid the footage last episode? because otherwise wouldn't the harddrive that had the footage still be in the room they were all in when Phi hooked it up to the TV?

Was that a mystery medicine bottle in the closet? 👀👀 yeah i'm gonna need someone who can read Thai to to screenshot and tell us what that says.

Oh i really don't need the squelching noises from Fluke tending to Por's wound, please.

Ok, that Por jumpscare with the balcony door got me. and How the fuck does Por have the strength to strangle someone when he's been bleeding out all night?! Obviously a hallucination or something but what caused the hallucination?!

Thank you, White, for bringing back up that they are in the Cult Sacrifice Woods and this might be a Cult Killer or have to do with the cult. a very important thing to remember.

I would absolutely be looking at that footage the second Tee and Top turned their backs, the fuck. No you don't get to act that sus about what happened three years ago and play it off! Phi fighting the fight to keep that footage intact and eventually seen. Tan trying to gently break the idea that the group was bullying Non to White.

oh SHIT the way Uncle Deng got fucking GOT by that wire i screamed! i knew something was going to go down because obviously they couldn't escape the valley mansion in episode 2 but jesus. fucking. christ.

Tee finally remembering he has a boyfriend that he abandoned to the serial killer lmao. Tee and Top keep almost getting away and then going back. they are being herded like cattle. but also, it's kind of sus.

No PhiJin and barely any TeeWhite stuff this episode, which makes sense in that they are busy they don't have time to fuck, but i do find it interesting that PhiJin seem to be on the same page the episode with like no relationship tension between them just situational worry considering Jin was literally biting Phi's dick last episode. Putting aside grudges to stay alive: i'm proud.

anyway that was a really good episode! Tee and Top are the worst. Fluke needs to get the fuck out of this toxic friend group. White needs to dump Tee and get the fuck out of this toxic friend group. Phi and Tan can kill whoever they want i support it. ❤️

#dead friend forever #dff the series

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drvirgus · 9 months ago

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The life you dreamed of

(Series)

Description: Y/n a K-pop Idol of the 5-Member Group Moonlight. But what happens when she falls in Love? How exactly is her life as an Idol and why did she become one?

Idol! Yeji X Idol! Reader

Warnings: Mention of Bullying and Suicide, curse words

Chapter 8:

Masterlist

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Oh my goodness, folks!" I exclaimed as I lay on my stomach, propping up my head with my hands under my chin, a smile on my face. "Have you all heard Itzy's new song? 'Ringo' is absolutely amazing!!" I said as I sat up again.

"I'll play it for those of you who haven't heard it yet. But don't expect me to dance; I'm not really feeling it right now. I've got some serious muscle soreness from hitting the gym yesterday, and, goodness..." I added with a light laugh. I clicked around on my computer and connected it to Alexa. "Anyway, I won't talk too much; I'll just play the song. Here, I'll even put the English lyrics on screen for you," I said as I turned the camera around, pointing it at my computer.

I started playing Itzy's video, but unfortunately, an ad popped up. My eyes rolled immediately. "Why does YouTube always seem to know when you're excited and just want to watch a video? And we can't even skip it," I said, laughing lightly. I looked at the ad; it seemed to be a trailer for a new movie. "Hey... that looks cool. What movie is that?" I asked as I looked at the title.

@KpopLover123: OMG, I can't believe you played 'Ringo'! Itzy slays! 😍🎶

@DanceQueen22: Haha, I feel you on the muscle soreness, girl! 💪😂

@MovieBuff99: That movie trailer does look epic! Anyone know the title?

@MusicFanatic22: Your live sessions are always a blast! Can't wait to hear the new song. 🙌

@GymRatFitness: Props to you for hitting the gym, even with muscle soreness! 💪

@KdramaAddict: I'm dying to know the movie too! It looks so intriguing. 🎬

@ItzyOfficialFan: Thank you for sharing Itzy's new song with us! 💖

@ChillVibesOnly: Your lives are always so fun and entertaining. Keep it up! 🎉

@RingoFanatic: Obsessed with 'Ringo' already! Can't wait for the dance cover next time. 😉

@MovieMania: I think that movie is 'The Shadows Within.' Looks like a must-watch!

My eyes scanned through the comments, but I quickly returned my attention to the video as it began to play. The lyrics were displayed in three languages. I loved it, especially since I didn't understand Japanese at all. Yeji had tried to teach me some, but my Japanese was limited to the anime I watched.

The video played, and I had my mouth slightly open as I immersed myself in the lyrics. When the song finished, I turned the camera back towards me and propped my phone up against the screen, which I had turned off beforehand. I looked into the camera again, wearing a smile.

"You all probably know what a fangirl I am. Mamamoo is my number one and I think they'll always be. But Itzy? Itzy and Newjeans, oh boy... I love their music sooo much, you can't even imagine," I said, laughing lightly, as I raised my arms to adjust the small ponytail I had on.

The shirt I was wearing, with a few buttons undone, revealing a hint of my neckline, was in my favorite color: green. I had on knee-length black shorts and socks. My window was wide open as it was pretty warm.

"Which group is your favorite? I'd love to know more about you," I said with a smile on my face. My eyes went back to the comments as I fell silent to read each one carefully.

KpopLoveAndMoonlight: Y/n, your multifandom love is the best! Moonlight fans are here supporting you all the way. 🌙❤️

MoonlightFanatic: Y/n, your love for Mamamoo and Itzy is awesome! 🌟 But don't forget about Moonlight – your group is fire too!

NotImpressed: Y/n, you're acting like a groupie. Find your own identity, please!

MusicManiac22: Y/n, your love for music is so contagious! I'm a big fan of Stray Kids, but Itzy is high up on my list too.

K-popPurist: Y/n, you're supposed to support your own group, not promote others. Moonlight should be your priority. 🌙❌

KdramaAddict: Y/n, you've got great taste in music! I'm a BTS stan, but Itzy's music is a guilty pleasure of mine too. 😄

TrueMoonlightStan: Y/n, you're fake AF. Moonlight deserves better than someone like you. 🙅‍♀️🌙

KpopFanatic88: Y/n, you're such a versatile K-pop fan! Mamamoo, Itzy, and Newjeans? You've got excellent taste.

MoonlightFanatic: Y/n, I'm all about Moonlight! Your group's music has a special place in my heart. 🌙💫

Sighing, I put on a smile, but then I suddenly received a private message. I read it immediately since it was displayed to me briefly. I chuckled with amusement.

Yeji (10:19): Close the buttons!

I grinned at the camera as I glanced briefly at my neckline. So, Yeji was watching my live stream? She seemed to be the only one who had noticed. Not even the comments were of a sexual nature, so why did it bother her?

I cleared my throat to avoid grinning too much. "Well then, folks. Take a guess at who's watching my live right now? Let's see how many people get it right," I said with a light laugh, my grin growing wider. I adjusted my collar with my hand.

Yeji (10:20): You really want the shippers to go crazy, huh?

MusicFanatic123: Y/n, give us a hint! Who's the special guest? 🕵️‍♀️😍

YejiStan_94: I bet it's Yeji! 🙈❤️

KpopLover_23: It's Yeji for sure! No one else could make Y/n blush like that! 😏❤️

YejiStan_94: What if it's Moonbyul from Mamamoo? 😱

ItzyForever: Maybe it's Ryujin or Yunjin!

Laughing, I glanced at the comments. "Well, I'll leave that to your imagination," I said as I picked up my phone. "That's it for my live. Thank you for tuning in," I waved to the camera and then ended my live stream. I let out a sigh and immediately opened a private chat with Yeji.

Smiling, I called the older woman, and she answered promptly. I could see her with her red hair, seemingly cleaning her apartment. I grinned and said, "Good day, Hwang Yeji," with a light laugh as I gazed into her beautiful eyes on the screen. Yeji laughed a bit, "Y/n, are you really trying to get me in trouble?"

I chuckled softly, "Why do you say that?" I asked as I got up from my gaming chair and held my phone in my hand. "Can you please button up your shirt?" Yeji requested, which made me pause for a moment. I looked at her through the screen. Her request had taken me by surprise. I let out a small laugh and shrugged.

She looked at me with a puzzled expression as I laughed, "Why? I'm about to take a shower, and I have something else to do afterward," I replied with a shrug. This time, I had waterproof headphones on since I knew I had to shower. Yeji's eyes widened a bit, and she asked, "Wait... you want to talk to me while you're in the shower?" Her question made me chuckle.

I shrugged my shoulders again, "Why not? We haven't talked in a while, and you've been so busy, just like me. I kind of miss your voice," I said as I placed my phone on the sink. I could only faintly make out Yeji blushing.

"Okay," she replied softly. I slowly undressed, and I chuckled, "What's wrong? Have you never seen another woman naked?" I teased, laughing. "Don't worry, I won't show myself," I added as I stepped into the shower and turned on the water.

"Do you do this often?" Yeji asked, causing my forehead to furrow slightly. She couldn't see me, just as I couldn't see her. "What do you mean?" I asked as I sprayed some shampoo into my hand to wash my hair. "I meant... uh... showering," she clarified.

I stopped my movements in surprise. I pushed the shower curtain aside a bit and stuck my head out so Yeji could see me. I looked quite bewildered and speechless, which seemed to make Yeji even more nervous. She suddenly burst into laughter. "N-No, I meant... uh... showering and talking on the phone at the same time," she corrected herself, making me laugh too.

"I was about to say. Do you think I'm so dirty that I hardly ever shower?" I asked, laughing. Yeji seemed to look to the side. Her whole face turned red. I couldn't help but smile as I continued to shower. Yeji cleared her throat, "No, it's my first time, to be honest. But Hanni or Yuna are often in the bathroom with me when I shower. Maybe that's why it doesn't feel any different for me right now," i explained, finally answering her question.

"Wait... so... they've seen you naked?" she asked, her voice an octave higher than before. I chuckled as I rinsed away the shampoo. "Yes," I replied, still chuckling as I continued to shower. Yeji didn't respond, and I couldn't move the curtain to see her at the moment.

"Yeji?" I asked after a short while. She immediately hummed to get my attention. I smiled, "Oh no, I just thought you had hung up because I couldn't hear anything," I said, which made Yeji snort with amusement. "By the way, what are you up to?" she asked, feeling a bit embarrassed.

I cleared my throat as I continued shaving, feeling somewhat embarrassed. "Um... please don't judge me," I began, which made Yeji chuckle. "Hey, I would never judge you, Y/n," she replied, making me feel more at ease. I licked my lips nervously and finally said, "Well... I'm meeting up with Yuqi from G-Idle."

I finished showering and stepped out of the shower, immediately wrapping a towel around myself after drying my hair. My eyes landed on my phone as I saw Yeji with her mouth hanging open. "A... date?" she asked, sounding surprised. I laughed awkwardly.

"N-No, well... I don't think so. We're just going out for drinks," I replied, causing Yeji's eyes to narrow. She furrowed her brow, asking, "Don't you have a crush on Ryujin?" Her shock was evident. I wiped my still-damp hair back and chuckled lightly.

"Not for a long time, Yeji. That was just a crush I had," I replied with a light laugh. However, Yeji looked visibly shocked. Her forehead creased as she pressed her lips together. I smirked slightly as I started brushing my teeth. "How did that happen?" Yeji asked, her voice a bit quieter now, her phone a bit farther away from her. I could see Yeji hugging her knees to her chest with her arms wrapped around them.

Her voice sounded really cute right now...

I spat out the toothpaste and looked into the camera. "We got to talking after we did a TikTok challenge for our latest song. Then she asked me out, and I accepted," I explained with a slight smile. Yeji nodded her head, gazing into the camera. She started to pout.

"Why... didn't you ask me?" she sighed softly. I stopped my movements and looked at my phone. I smiled a little and said, "Oh, baby, you don't really look like you can handle much right now," I said, chuckling softly. But Yeji didn't really join in on the laughter.

I stopped laughing and said, "I didn't know you'd want to come. You're probably tired from all the work. You should rest a bit," I added, which made Yeji exhale in frustration. She furrowed her brow and said, "Let me decide that, Y/n." She licked her lips and continued, "Besides, you're tired too! I see those dark circles under your eyes! And I see videos of you all the time. You seem to be working all the time!"

Somehow... she seemed angry...

I placed my phone on my bed and started getting dressed. I bit my lip, unsure of how to respond. "I'm fine," I replied, which made Yeji huff. I swallowed nervously. Was my racing heart due to not wanting Yeji to be upset?

"I'm sorry. Next time, I'll invite you, okay?" I offered, and Yeji let out a sigh. I glanced back at my phone. Fortunately, I got dressed rather quickly. I was wearing tight black jeans and a white crop top that showed a bit of cleavage. Over it, I had a shirt that I left unbuttoned. My hair was tied up in a short ponytail.

"It's not about that, Y/n... I just want to see you again. It's been weeks since we saw each other in person," Yeji pouted. A smile spread across my face. I grinned almost mischievously. "That can be arranged," I replied, causing Yeji's eyes to widen. She chuckled. "But I have to go now, Yeji," I said as I glanced at the clock.

Yeji's eyes widened. "So early?" she asked, checking the time. I laughed, "Daydrinking is the best drinking," I said with a wink, prompting Yeji to roll her eyes. She bid me farewell, and we both hung up.

I made my way to the door, where my shoes were waiting. I put on a pair of white sneakers and headed out.

#newjeans hanni #hanni pham #itzy x reader #itzy x yn #itzy yeji #yeji x reader #hwang yeji #haewon #huh yunjin #shin yuna

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