#loves wheat grass so so so much

[lumpofbird]

just a baby playing in the grass

[msbunnat]

🌾~𝘕𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥, 𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦

The golden hair Demeter, with wheat hair that blows in the wind and soft grass skin (like, fuzzy I guess). I imagine she loves mortals very much and is a survivor of the kind who is not ashamed of her past or the vulnerabilities she has experienced. Farming is such a hard job that requires quick thinking and even faster problem solving, so I imagine her always getting her hands dirty too. But this natural appearance camouflages her connection with death, that it is still present due to the fact that the wheat in her hair 'dies'/'dries out'.

Demeter made me think a lot about how we focus on Zeus, Poseidon and Hades, as if they were 'bigger', the big three… But man, she was very worshipped, she was the goddess of fertility and agriculture and DEATH. Was she left aside in the modern era due to pure misogyny perhaps? Because so there re many myths and tributes to her make me think that the real 'big three' were her (Earth), Zeus (Sky) and Poseidon (Sea). Or that there wasn't even a big three at the end...

As for her approach as a controlling mother to Persephone, I don't hate it, sometimes it's interesting, but it seems like just a shadow of Demeter… She's not perfect, but what mother is? Even so, I can't see her as controlling, but rather desperate just to know how her daughter was doing. And it's good to remember that she had more children!! And she was a great mother to them ;w; so, let's see what I'll do with her… but she's a crucial piece!

[cece693]

Hiii!

I just recently saw your PJO fanfics about Nico and I loved them.

And I also noticed the severe lack of PJO x male reader fics in general. So I was hoping if you could write a fanfic with son of Demeter reader x Percy Jackson. (Can be a fanfic or just headcannons ur choice)

You don't have to do this request but it would be nice ^-^

Alright ty for listening to my Ted talk

Wildflower (Percy Jackson x Son of Demeter)

Thanks for the request :) You really had me dig out my books to remember how Demeter was portrayed, and surprisingly, she's kind, so it wasn't much trouble doing this request. It seems I got carried away, so I hope you enjoy!

tags: fluff, some angst, overprotective Demeter, who knows who your father is, headcanon and fanfic, mentions of calypso, break up/make up

Being a son of Demeter is a big deal. Because although she wasn't a virgin like Artemis or Hestia, it was rather difficult for a mortal to catch her attention. So not only are you a demigod but also cursed (lucky) to be a descendent of such an esteemed goddess.

Compared to other campers, you don't hate your godly parent. Sure, your mom is absent for many things and your memories of her are rather scarce, but, on the flip side, you are made aware of just how much your mother loves you. Afterall, you are her youngest child and she must keep an eye on you.

So, when news reaches her that you've begun dating Percy Jackson, she grows overprotective. What do you expect? After the whole fiasco with your sister, Persephone, she wants the best for her son. So expect the goddess to keep an eye on you two.

Percy doesn't mind your mother's overbearingness. In fact, it reminds him of his own mother. However, this doesn't mean that Percy is reckless. Demeter might be kind, but inquiring her wrath was stupid. So, he's extra careful and strives to show respect to the goddess—never stepping on flowers, always keeping a respectful distance from sacred plants, and treating every piece of nature as if Demeter herself is watching.

It takes some time, but your mother comes around. In fact, she's pleased you found someone 'worthy' of your affections. This might or might not have something to do with the fact that Percy has begun helping you tend a garden dedicated to her. Growing flowers known to be sacred to Demeter, like poppies and wheat. They work on it together, Percy’s hands clumsy but earnest.

Not everything in your relationship is easy. There are times, winter and fall especially, when your mood is foul and Percy is no help at all. His recklessness and impulsivity always ticks you off, but none more so when he keeps secrets from you. Like how Calypso kissed him before departing Ogygia.

The moment you saw him walking down the hill, something was off. He had that nervous look in his sea-green eyes, the one he got when he was about to face something dangerous—only this time, it was you. You crossed your arms, trying to root yourself in place, like your mother, Demeter, had taught you. But the anger simmering inside made that hard.

Percy reached you, giving a half-hearted smile. “Hey, I—”

“You kissed her?” Your words cut through the air like a sharp gust of wind.

Percy blinked, looking caught off guard. “What? No, it’s not like that—”

“Don’t lie to me, Percy.” You felt your fists tighten, your connection to the earth deepening as the grass beneath your feet curled and twisted with your emotions. “You let her kiss you, didn’t you?”

His brows furrowed, and he stepped closer. “It wasn’t like that. Calypso was—she was saying goodbye. It wasn’t…I didn’t want to hurt her.”

“You didn’t want to hurt her?” You repeated, the words feeling bitter on your tongue. “What about me? Or did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

Percy exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly frustrated. “I was stuck on her island. I didn’t ask to be there! She kissed me because she had to say goodbye to something she couldn’t keep. It wasn’t my choice.”

You laughed, but it was bitter, like the taste of dry soil. “Maybe not, but you didn’t stop her either.”

Percy’s eyes flashed with frustration, the sea’s storm brewing behind them. “Come on, that’s not fair!” he snapped, his voice rising above the whispering trees. “I was stuck on a cursed island, not on some vacation! What was I supposed to do? Tell her no? I didn’t exactly have a lot of options.”

You took a step back, the sting of his words making your chest tighten. But anger pushed you forward again, overriding any hint of reason. “No, what’s unfair is me thinking you were gone, Percy!” Your voice cracked, but you didn’t care. The pain had to come out somehow. “I waited here for weeks, wondering if this was the quest that would take you away from me forever. Did you even think once of me while you were away? Or was Calypso the only thing on your mind?”

Percy opened his mouth, but for a moment, no words came out. The guilt that flashed across his face was brief, but it was there, plain as day. “Of course I thought of you,” he said, his voice softer now, though still tinged with frustration. “I thought about you every single day. But I was stuck on that island with no way out. It wasn’t about wanting to be with her. I was just trying to survive.”

“And that’s supposed to make it okay?” You could feel the vines creeping up again, brushing against your ankles like a reminder of everything you were trying to hold in. “You were trapped; I get that. But a kiss, Percy? Do you know how that sounds?”

“I didn’t want this to happen,” he whispered, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You looked away, blinking back the sting of tears you refused to let him see. “Well, you did.”

The silence between you was heavy, thicker than any storm. Percy stared at you, guilt and regret etched into every line of his face. “I don’t know how to fix this,” he said, almost to himself.

You swallowed hard, forcing the lump in your throat down. “I don’t either, but right now, I need to figure out if I even want to.”

To say Demeter was mad at Percy is an understatement. The goddess's wrath casted a dark cloud over Camp Half-Blood that left even the bravest demigods feeling uneasy. Percy found himself stuck inside his cabin, trapped by an invisible force of nature, the very flora that usually thrived in the camp now threatening to attack him.

Not even Poseidon, the god of the sea, could ease some of Demeter’s anger. He tried to vouch for Percy and his love for you, yet the mere mention of Percy's name caused your mother to shake the ground beneath him. That was the first and last time he meddled in your affairs.

The campers were worried for both of you—the fight had clearly affected everyone, their agriculture suffering greatly, but they truly believed you guys were it. So it pained them to see the perfect couple at the verge of going seperate ways.

It was Annabeth who managed to get you two to talk things through. With her acting as the mediator, you three were locked inside a room and forced to speak about your feelings. Looking back, it was comical how it closely resembled marriage counseling.

The room felt thick with tension, every breath heavy as if weighed down by the unspoken emotions swirling between you, Percy, and Annabeth. You sat on the edge of the worn-out couch, legs bouncing anxiously, eyes fixed on the floor as if the threadbare carpet held the answers you desperately sought. Percy was beside you, close but not close enough. The usual warmth of his presence felt distant, and though you could sense his guilt radiating off him, it wasn’t enough to bridge the gap.

Annabeth stood before you both, arms crossed over her chest, her expression a blend of sympathy and frustration. She was here as a mediator, but even the daughter of Athena couldn’t easily navigate this emotional minefield. “Let’s just go over the events,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. She turned to Percy, urging him to explain. “What led to the kiss?”

Percy sighed deeply, running a hand through his unruly hair as he gathered his thoughts. “Calypso gave me some items—supplies, food—and made sure the raft was stable enough to withstand the ocean’s currents. I was grateful; she’d done so much to help me. So, I turned to say goodbye and thank her when she…when she suddenly kissed me.” He glanced at you, his eyes pleading. “M/N, please believe me when I say that I didn’t reciprocate—I didn’t want it.”

You finally looked up, eyes locking onto his with an intensity that made him flinch. “That’s not the problem, Percy,” you said, your voice surprisingly calm but laced with hurt. “What hurt me was that you didn’t push her away, that she thought you were interested enough to even try.”

You paused, swallowing the lump in your throat as you tried to keep your composure. “During your time on Ogygia, did you ever once mention that you had a boyfriend? Did you ever think of me when you were with her?”

Percy’s eyes widened in panic, the hurt in your words cutting deeper than any monster’s blade ever could. He reached out, but his hand fell short, hovering between you as if afraid to cross the fragile line that now separated you two. Desperation filled his voice as he finally spoke, each word trembling with urgency and raw honesty.

“I did tell her,” Percy blurted, his voice cracking. “Gods, I talked about you all the time. From the moment I set foot on that island, I told Calypso about you. Every single day. I told her how you were waiting for me, how you were my anchor—my reason for fighting and my reason I couldn’t stay with her. She knew, M/N. She knew you were my everything.” He ran a hand over his face, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill.

Annabeth’s expression softened as she glanced at you, silently urging you to listen. Percy’s words were coming from the heart, and even she couldn’t deny the sincerity in his voice. But the pain in your eyes remained.

“When I first got there, I was barely conscious,” Percy continued, his voice softer now, tinged with a mix of sorrow and desperation. “I was so beaten up, so tired, and all I could do was mumble your name. Over and over, even in my sleep. She heard me say it—Calypso heard me calling out for you, asking for you.” He paused, swallowing hard. “She knew there was someone else. She knew how much I loved you. I made it clear, but I didn’t push her away fast enough. I was stupid, and I’m so sorry.”

You felt your heart twist at his confession, the image of Percy lying on that distant shore, broken and alone, but still calling out for you. It was the kind of story you had dreamed about before—the hero fighting impossible odds, returning home to the one he loved. But now, hearing it from his lips, the romance was stripped away, leaving only the raw truth of a mistake made in a vulnerable moment.

Annabeth cleared her throat, trying to diffuse the tension, but even she seemed at a loss. “Look,” she said gently, “what matters now is where you go from here. You two have been through worse together. If you still want this—if you still want each other—then you’ll find a way.”

Percy reached out again, hesitantly, his fingers brushing against yours. “I’m not perfect, M/N. I screw up, and I hurt you, but I want to make this right. I love you, and I’ll spend every day proving it if you’ll let me.”

Even if you forgive Percy, you take baby steps to rebuild your trust. You agree to talk more openly about your feelings and avoid keeping secrets from one another. Percy goes out of his way to make you feel valued, leaving you notes, planning small dates, and constantly reminding you how much you mean to him.

Percy knows he didn't only need to seek forgiveness from you, but your mother. To truly show his commitment, he request a chance to speak to the goddess. It’s terrifying—facing the goddess’s wrath head-on—but he humbly apologizes and explains how deeply he loves you, promising to never let you feel sidelined again. Demeter doesn’t forgive easily, but she appreciates Percy’s bravery and sincerity, granting her reluctant approval with a warning not to hurt her son again.

To solidify his commitment, Percy organizes a surprise picnic in the strawberry fields—your favorite spot. It’s filled with your favorite foods, and Percy shyly presents a flower crown he made himself, though it’s a little uneven. It’s simple but heartfelt, symbolizing his renewed promise to always cherish you.

After reconciling, you and Percy start talking about your future together, beyond Camp Half-Blood. You both decide that New Rome is the perfect place to build a life after everything you’ve been through. The idea of living among other demigods and having a peaceful life feels like a dream finally within reach.

The move to New Rome is filled with excitement and nerves. You find a cozy apartment together, and even simple things like grocery shopping or decorating the space feel like small adventures. It’s a fresh start, and every day feels like you’re building something new, hand in hand.

One evening after a particularly good day—whether it’s celebrating an exam passed or simply enjoying each other’s company—Percy gets down on one knee. He doesn’t have a grand speech prepared; he just tells you how much you mean to him and how he can’t imagine a life without you. The ring is simple, with a small gemstone that reminds you of the sea, and you say yes without hesitation.

Surrounded by your friends from Camp Half-Blood and New Rome, you and Percy get married in a beautiful ceremony filled with flowers and ocean-themed decorations. Demeter attends, blessing the union with flourishing blooms, a sign of her approval and happiness for you both. The ceremony is intimate, filled with laughter, tears, and the undeniable feeling that you’ve both found your forever.

[anacdoce]

A soft breeze of summer

Pairing: Astarion x you (f!reader)

Rating: T

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff

Summary: "Suddenly, you turn to him, a mischievous smile spread all over your face. “Can you catch me?” You shout at him. And then you start running into the field.

Astarion feels his heart swell with love. He loves you deeply. That is one of the few certainties in his life. 

He smiles. And slowly gets up, giving you time to flee. He will play your game. And he will catch you, like he always does."

a/n: summer is ending, and I already miss it! So, this is my goodbye to summer, like a serenade, if you like.

I was inspired to write this piece by the beautiful screenshot from @casualya, and from Terrence Malick style, one of my favorite movies director.

I hope you like it as much as I loved writing it!

The divider used is from @saradika-graphics

Lots of Love to all of you 🖤

Read on ao3

Astarion is lying on the floor, over the blanket that you carefully had spread over the summer's dried vegetation in the shade of an oak tree. One of his hands rests beneath his head, while the other holds your back, feeling your steady breathing, while you take comfort in his embrace, nestling against him.

He savors this moment, basking in the simplicity of just being with you. 

The sun is high in the sky and the day is hot, but there is a soft breeze of cooler wind that comes and goes, from time to time, soothing the heat.

Here, with you, he has no obligations, no burdens. The only thing he has to do is to enjoy your company on this perfect day of summer. To feel your heart beating against his chest, listening to the wind blowing against the field of wheat near you, that lovely sound of the dried wheat bustling against each other. 

He closes his eyes, relaxing his body to the music of the cicadas nearby, singing nonstop a love song to summer. It’s peaceful. It's perfect.

Your breathing is heavy and even. You fell asleep in his arms, and he can’t help feeling the amazement of this simple and precious act of yours. It's still a surprise to him the safety that his arms can offer you. Just months ago, he couldn’t have dreamed of having these perfect moments in life. To have something so precious to care for. To have you. He. A vampire. Living a perfect and quiet life. Filling his undead heart with such a great love for this lovely being who chose him over everyone to spend the rest of your days with. 

Astarion smiles at his thoughts. A genuine and contented smile. It's so nice. He is happy. Truly happy. 

He breathes in deeply, summer scents all over. And yours. Your familiar and unique scent. Not your perfume. The smell of your skin, of your sweat. He can't help but to squeeze you. Are you really there? Are you even real? Is this happiness his to feel?

You stir, and he feels guilty for waking you. You were so peaceful…

You yawn, stretching your arms. “Was I sleeping for too long?” 

“For some time, yes.” He replies, softly.

“Oh, I'm sorry.” 

“Nothing to be sorry about, my dear. My arms are yours.” He says sincerely.

You move and sit beside him, and Astarion feels some kind of emptiness when you leave his embrace. He could have stayed like that forever, holding you close.

He watches as you stand from his side and walk straight to the edge of the wheat field. Your bare feet, moving slowly through the dried grass. You stop when you reach the first strands of wheat, brushing your hands through the golden ears, tilting your head slightly upward, enjoying the soft breeze.

Astarion shifts to properly look at you, leaning on his elbows. And what a beautiful sight you are. You stay there for a while, with your dress swaying gently in the wind. Your free hair dancing in the air. You are like a living painting, another sweet memory to guard in his memory.

Suddenly, you turn to him, a mischievous smile spread all over your face. “Can you catch me?” You shout at him. And then you start running into the field.

Astarion feels his heart swell with love. He loves you deeply. That is one of the few certainties in his life. 

He smiles. And slowly gets up, giving you time to flee. He will play your game. And he will catch you, like he always does.

He starts running, chasing you. He doesn't see you, but he can hear you laugh, your joyous, nervous laughter. And he keeps chasing.

After a while he spots you, with your back turned to him. You don't see him, so he takes that advantage and puts in practice his stealth skills. Astarion crouches, concealing his presence between the wheat, approaching you slowly and silently.

You search for him, but he is nowhere to be found. But he sees you, and he knows you are waiting. You are waiting for him to catch you. Oh Gods! How he loves you…

He is close to you now. And he can hear your racing heart, leaving a tender smile on his lips. When he finally is close enough he leaps to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and rolling with you to the ground. 

Astarion positions himself above you, basking in your image while you laugh, with your glittering eyes. But not because of the sun, but because you are looking at him.

“It’s not fair Astarion!” You protest, tapping his chest, leaving there your hand to caress his skin.

“I don’t play fair, Darling.” He smirks, entangling his fingers in your hair.

You stay like that for a while, only gazing at each other. And Astarion sees how your eyes smile at him, how your lips crave for his. Your mouth, slightly open. Waiting. Inviting him. And he obliges, kissing you gently. He closes his eyes and he feels your lips in his. And he feels how you hold your breath at his touch, at his much-desired touch. And he waits, brushing his lips softly on yours. Finally you gasp, and you hold him. You hold his head, gripping his hair fiercely, pressing him against you, pressing his mouth against yours. Your lips, urgent against his. 

He doesn’t know for how long you kissed, and he doesn’t care. He is not in a hurry. 

When your lips finally part, you glare at him, leaning your head to the side. You don’t speak, but no words are needed. Astarion can feel your warm love embracing him.

You reach for a wheat ear, plucking it from the ground. Then you tuck a strand of his hair behind his pointy ear, as the wheat you just plucked.

“There. My beautiful summer elf.” You cup his face and kiss the tip of his nose softly. No one else has ever kissed his nose before. Just you. Only you.

Astarion smiles. A big wide smile, revealing his fangs. He feels light. Light like a feather. And he feels loved. Truly loved. You make him feel this way, always.

“Do you love me?” He hears you whisper, a faint of fear in your voice.

“My sweet little girl… I love you. I love you more than I ever thought possible. And today I love you more than I did yesterday, and less than I will tomorrow. I love you, Darling. Don’t you ever doubt that. Ever.” Astarion rests his hand in your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb, and you lean into his touch, pressing your face against it. And you smile, a sweet and tender smile, full of love and reassurance.

You make him happy, a happiness he never believed he could have. You care for him, in a way he thought no one ever would. And he will do everything in his power to watch you smile, like you just did, for as long as you bless him with your presence in this world.

Thank you so much for reading my story. Likes, reblogs and comments are very welcomed!

[makeitmingi]

Empty Promises

Genre: Romance, Angst, Violence, Sad, Forbidden love (?)

Pairing: Mingi x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Doctor!Reader, Gangster!Mingi. Mentions of Gangster!Ateez

Summary: Mingi has resigned to his fate that he brings misery and misfortune to those around him. So he isolates himself and lives his life, playing with the possibility of not waking up tomorrow. Until he meets a doctor that is determined to heal all his wounds. But all Mingi wants to do is spare her of his ill fate.

Word count: 3.9K

Story warning(s): Mentions of su*cide, character death, depression, waiting/ longing for death, gang activity, hallucinations, smoking and other potentially triggering topics. This is heavy story which can be triggering for some readers. Please exercise your own discretion before and when reading.

With a small jolt, Mingi woke up. He let out a groan at the stiffness in his neck. This was the new normal for him, to wake up and feel like his body had been through the wringer. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he closed his eyes, swallowing and feeling how dry his throat was.

"Damn..." He leaned forward on his hand. As much as he wanted to stay in bed for the rest of the day, he forced himself to stand up. He grabbed his cardigan and pulled it over his shoulders.

"Mingi, you're not in any condition to go out." The oldest of the gang, Seonghwa, stopped him in his tracks. Mingi grimaced and chewed on his bottom lip.

"I won't be back for dinner." Was all Mingi said before he left the mansion.

As Mingi sat in his car, he made no move to start the engine. He felt the dull ache in his sinuses and leaned against the steering wheel.

There it was, the throbbing in his head.

Finally, he broke out of his thoughts just to start the engine. He pulled out of the driveway and drove. There was no need for any navigation, Mingi knew where he was going.

He drove past all the skyscrapers and office buildings of Seoul until they disappeared behind him and soon, all the Mingi could see out his window were tall fields of grass and wheat. Due to the drier winter air, they were a light brown instead of their usual lush green.

Mingi rolled down his window to let the cold winter air in. It was crisp but the speed of the car made it feel like it was cutting his skin.

"Do you have to open the window? It's freezing!" He turned to the passenger seat, seeing the tall male smile back at him.

"It's not that cold." Mingi rolled his eyes.

"Because you're wearing a cardigan." The male scoff in reply but made no further protest to make Mingi roll up his window. He was usually the 'kinder' one, giving into what Mingi wants.

"You don't have to be so self sacrificial all that time, Yun." Mingi grumbled, bringing his window up halfway.

"I'm fine giving in to you." He chuckled with a shrug.

Mingi let out a small scoff but continued to drive until he reached his destination. From the gap in his window, he could hear the gravel crunching under his tires.

"What are you waiting for?"

"I... don't know..." Mingi replied, leaning back into the driver's seat with a slump, a soft sigh escaping his lips. What was there to be afraid of? But honestly, Mingi didn't know if what he was feeling was fear or something else.

But his stomach sank, his chest tightened and he felt like there were nails in his throat. If that wasn't fear, what was it?

Taking a deep breath, Mingi opened the door and stepped out. The gravel and debris crunched loudly under his feet as he approached the structure before him.

"The weather is nice, isn't it?" Mingi turned his head, seeing the taller male stretch his arms out, taking a deep breath.

"No. It isn't." Mingi replied with his jaw clenched.

"Then why did you come out, silly? Should have just stayed indoors." The male smiled, staring at the wood cabin in front of him. His smile was always so infectious and kind.

"Because of you, Yun. I'm here because of you." Mingi frowned slightly, feeling a familiar anger stew within him.

"Me? Why me?"

"Because you died here, Yun. You died here and left me. But everyday, I come back here to you." Mingi finally found it in him to say it out loud.

It wasn't perfect. The picture Mingi saw before him was only a snippet from his memory. The wood cabin wasn't comforting and warm, it was unrecognisable, half of it charred and burnt. There was no one beside him, his best friend wasn't there. And Mingi knew it because he saw his best friend get engulfed by the flames.

'In loving memory of Jeong Yunho'

A plaque had been erected by the front of the house. Mingi hated it, he hated the smiling photo Hongjoong chose of Yunho. It was like the photo was mocking him.

"Why did you have to die?" Mingi clenched his fists, asking what was left of the wood cabin.

This used to be their escape, long before they joined Ateez together. When they were teenagers, they used to hide here after school.

But now, the charred remains of it stands as a bitter memory. Every time he closed his eyes, he sees it on fire with Yunho standing in the middle of it all, a soft smile on his face as he bids Mingi goodbye.

Were their lives perfect? No, far from. But they made a pact, a promise, to stay by each other, to suffer together.

"I'll never believe you again." He glared up at the cabin.

Mingi wanted to hate Yunho, he really did, but he couldn't. If Yunho could abandon Mingi, Mingi could do that too, right? Wrong. Each time Mingi swore he would forget and get over Yunho, he would still wake up, get in his car and come back here.

With a soft sigh, he moved to sit on the front steps of the house. Or rather, what was left of it. The moment he placed his hand down to steady himself, he recoiled, feeling the ash stick to his palm.

"After a year, it's still as it was." Mingi sighed, wiping his palm against his thigh.

"Well, you could clean it up if you're so bothered."

"And then what? You'll suddenly come back to life?" Mingi snapped back at his hallucination of Yunho, who smiled back tauntingly at him. Mingi closed his eyes with a sigh.

God, he hated that smile now. That smile that could light up a room or make Mingi's day feel brighter. Yunho's signature, warm smile.

Ever since they were younger, Yunho was always the 'cheery' one while Mingi was seen as the 'broody' one, the black sheep. Mingi didn't really care about that. He'll be the broody, bad influence. He takes pride in the fact that he taught Yunho to let loose and have fun. And in return, Yunho's the one that bails Mingi out of trouble.

"I'm crazy, I'm talking to myself or worse, a hallucination." Mingi slapped his cheeks.

He was right, it was a hallucination. Because this cheery, happy Yunho was the 'old' Yunho. It wasn't the same Yunho that Mingi saw before he died.

Because when was the last time Mingi saw Yunho genuinely smile?

Ever since Yunho learnt about his brother's tragic death, he was never the same. His smile no longer reached his eyes.

Mingi witnessed Yunho's spark diminish into smoke. But did he do anything about it? No. Mingi chose to live in denial that his best friend's will to live was being etched away.

Maybe that's why his punishment was witnessing Yunho get engulfed by the flames.

The image mocked him, reminding him that he wasn't enough to save Yunho, that happiness didn't belong to him.

"It's all my fault, isn't it? And now I have to live with the punishment of it all." Mingi sighed, pressing his arms onto his knees as his head dropped. Life was cruel.

"Why is it your fault?"

"You were sick, Yun. And I didn't do anything about it. I still depended on you when you should have been depending on me... You always saved me and the one time you needed me to save you, I couldn't. I was selfish and drove you to your death." Mingi breathed out.

Maybe that's why Mingi keeps coming back. To remind himself that this was all his fault, that he drove his best friend to his death.

All he does it bring misery and hurt those around him.

"Bye, Yun." Mingi looked back at the house before getting back into his car. Looking up, he saw Yunho standing there, waving at him. Yunho would always go with him but Mingi will always leave alone.

"I'll see you soon, Mingi ah."

Those words were Yunho's last words to Mingi before he died. Mingi could barely hear it, the sound of his own yelling and heartbeat was too strong then, it echoed painfully in his ears.

"Get out of there! Jeong Yunho!" Mingi screamed, trying to run into the burning house but was held back by the other gang members.

"Come back here! Please!" He yelled until his screams were silent.

Mingi shut his eyes and slammed his fists against the steering wheel. A tear trailed down his cheek, which he harshly wiped away. Taking a shaky breath, Mingi started the car and quickly peeled out of the makeshift drive way with an empty promise that he's never going back there again.

However, deep down, Mingi knew this was part of his routine now. He won't move on, he can't.

And honestly, Mingi knew that his behaviour and disrespect would get him kicked out of Ateez sooner and later. He was waiting for them to kick him to the curb.

But their leader, Hongjoong, seemed to be able to put Mingi's life resignation to good use.

All the jobs that Mingi has been assigned to were the most violent and least merciful. Because he was numb; he didn't feel remose, regret and wouldn't complain if he got beaten up.

Because everytime Mingi got into a fight, he silently hoped that the enemies' hit would be the one that takes him out. But it never came.

Fate just hated him too much to give him an easy way out. And a part of Mingi was too prideful to take his own life.

"Work time." Mingi stopped outside of the warehouse for his first job of the day. He took a deep breath, brushing aside his wallowing feelings from mourning over Yunho's death. Reaching into the glove compartment, he took a cigarette out to smoke.

Mingi watched as the thin trails of smoke fade into the air. Was Yunho looking at the smoke wisp away when he died? Did the heat bring him comfort like a hug would?

When was the last time Mingi hugged Yunho?

Yunho always did the hugging because Mingi didn't think something like a hug could express how much Yunho meant to him.

"Tch." Mingi stepped out of the car, his cigarette hanging from the corner of his lips. Tucking his hands into his pockets, he walked into the warehouse.

-

"Good work today. And good luck." You and your team exchanged fist bumps with the team that was taking over the Emergency Department for the rest of the night.

"Hi, Nurse Kim. Can you help me check on the status of that grandpa that came in earlier? Lee Yuwon?" You asked the head nurse.

"Oh, Dr (y/l/n), I guess we've been so busy that you didn't see the update... I'm sorry but Mr Lee didn't make it off the table." The nurse informed with a sad look, pulling up the patient's records on a tablet and passing it over to you. You nodded and patted her on the shoulder before going to the lounge.

"Hey, you good?" Your colleague asked.

"Yeah, just one of my patients earlier. He was stable when I sent him up but I guess he didn't make it off the table." You frowned, reading the report.

"I'm sorry to hear that. But you know, it happens..." He wrapped an arm around your shoulders to hug you.

"Yeah. He was just different... He was so nice and compassionate." You sighed.

"I get it." He nodded. You both put your coats in your lockers and you returned the tablet to the nurses' station as you were heading out for the night. Standing at the hospital entrance, you took a deep breath.

The exhaustion of being a doctor is never easy. You can train physically but the mental and emotional stress never goes away. And it's true, you could save a thousand lives but the one that you didn't save will always get you.

But at the Emergency Department, you didn't have time to stop and mourn. It was constantly going, someone always needed you somewhere.

"Triple shot over ice, please." You ordered at the 24 hour cafe.

"Long night, doc?" The familiar barista asked. You nodded your head with a tired smile.

Usually, you had your coffee in the cafe, spending 2 hours to catch up on reports and paperwork. Something about doing all that home irked you. But tonight, something told you not to.

"Sorry, can I have my order to go instead?" You called out. The barista gave you a thumbs up and poured your coffee into a to go cup.

"Have a nice day." She smiled and handed you your cup.

"You too." With your cold, bitter coffee in hand, you made your way home. For some reason, as your apartment came to view, you felt your heart rate begin to pick up. Suddenly, it was like you couldn't breathe. You didn't know what this feeling was, some sort of twisted anticipation of sorts.

"Work is done. It's time to rest." You told yourself with a slow exhale, taking a sip of the coffee. The bitterness and suddenly intake of caffeine was felt in your bones.

It was a long day.

Trudging up the stairs, you headed to the third floor where your apartment was. You stopped in the hallway, a sigh leaving your lips.

Once you got your front door opened, you dropped your bag on the arm chair and went to put your coffee on the counter, along with the stack of folders you were carrying in your arms.

"Do you need help coming in?" You asked, realising your front door was still open.

"No..." The deep, gruff voice groaned from the hallway outside.

You moved to your office to get your usual equipment as you heard the front door close. No matter his condition, he always would close the door and lock it behind him, you never knew why. Then he'll sit on the couch and wait for you.

When you came out of the room, you saw his lanky figure laid out on the couch. You pulled your medicine cart with you, something you got with how many times this has happened.

"Let me clean these first." You spoke softly. His eyes were still closed, not acknowledging or replying you.

The first thing you did was clean his superficial face wounds. He didn't look like he was bleeding anywhere else so the rest could wait.

There was a gash on his cheek and a bruise by his mouth. You were gentle, carefully watching for any reactions of discomfort on his face. Any eyebrow crease or nose wrinkle.

"Sorry." You whispered when you saw his eyebrows press together.

But once again, he didn't say anything. He didn't even suck in a breath of pain, nothing.

"Could you... your shirt..." You still never knew how to ask him to lift his shirt. But he grunted, pushing himself to sit up slightly to raise his shirt. There was some bruising on his ribs, that was normal. You began to percuse and listen with your stethescope. Then you gently felt around his ribs.

"I... I need to tape your ribs... They're broken... After that, eat these painkillers." He never understood why you bothered to explain to him these medical things.

He heard you put two pills into the small cup then you rummaged around your little medical cart to find the tape. You gently applied it on.

He was used to this. You just did your doctor thing and he never moved, questioned or doubted what you did. He appreciated that you never tried to make small talk.

Until he heard you sniffle.

Mingi opened his eyes to see tears lining your eyes, a small frown on your face as you tried to focus on finishing taping up his ribs.

He has never seen you cry before. For some reason, you looked so beautiful and precious. But at the same time, Mingi's chest tighten seeing you cry.

"I'm so-" Your voice was shaky, you were really trying your best to hold it together. You moved to wipe your face but he grasped your wrist in his hand, stopping your movements.

When you looked up at him with such sad eyes, he couldn't help it and caved into his desires. His other hand came up to hold your cheek, wiping away as many tears as he could with his thumb. You leaned into his touch as you wept softly.

Mingi didn't say anything as his eyes searched yours. Then he guided your head to his shoulder.

As you cried into your shoulder, his hand came to rest on the back of your head. Even if he didn't say anything, he brought you such comfort and warmth.

You didn't understand why. You didn't understand him.

You spent every single day, trying to help people escape death. Whereas it seems like he seeks death out on purpose.

Maybe you should yell at him, scold him, hate him, for being so reckless. But you couldn't. He just shows up at your door, beaten up and each time, you let him in, trying your best to heal his wounds.

Only for him to show up again, after days, weeks or even months, to repeat the whole ordeal again.

You asked yourself what's the point in fixing something that'll always come back broken?

But at some point where you found yourself missing him, even if you barely interact because Mingi never spoke unless it was necessary. The two of you never made an attempt to get to know each other more. However, with how Mingi shows up at your place, maybe it was best you didn't know.

Time seemed to stop as you leaned into Mingi's embrace. He held you for as long as you needed. He didn't push you away, he didn't tighten his hold.

You didn't realise how time had past until you fell asleep in Mingi's hold. If he wasn't injured, Mingi would have carried you to bed.

Although, Mingi didn't mind this. Yes, you smelt like antiseptic but he didn't mind.

A part of him wanted to stay like this forever. But he knew he couldn't, he wouldn't do that to you. So for now, Mingi would just indulge, be selfish and live this delusion.

He pressed his head against yours and closed his eyes. And for the first time in a long time, Mingi was able to peacefully fall asleep.

Mingi was irresponsible and reckless with his own life. However, he wouldn't be that way with you. When it came to you, he was more careful and cautious. Of course, he knows that he shouldn't here, possibly putting you in danger. He couldn't help it.

Why does he lock the door after he comes in?

In case he wasn't in the condition to protect you if there was a home invasion. You would always be so quick to try and fix his wounds, you won't even think to lock the door behind him.

An enemy could have followed him to your place and you wouldn't be the wiser. He won't risk that.

Deep down, he knew you were so different from him, you didn't belong in his world.

And Mingi was constantly reminded of it. The awards, certificates and other accolades that lined your walls. That was your world, the high achieving world where you had dreams and goals.

He was the opposite. He never sought to achieve anything in life. There was no dream, no end goal.

You flew high while Mingi stayed low.

The last time Mingi saw someone so full of life, it was Yunho. The Yunho that Mingi grew up with. Maybe that's why Mingi was so drawn to you, you were the reminder of what Yunho was like with a kind heart and warm smile. Right before he found out his beloved brother died. Then it all came crashing down.

The day Yunho's brother died, many things died along with him. Yunho's strive died, his will to live died and his friendship with Mingi died too.

Mingi saw his best friend's spirit wither away, leaving just a shell of the person he once was.

And one day, he just went missing. But Mingi always knew where Yunho disappeared to.

His car pulled up to their beloved hiding spot, a smile on his face at the thought of finding and greeting his best friend after a whole day of them being apart from one another.

Until Mingi saw the sparks and he was pushed back by the roar of the flames, the heat prickling his cheeks.

And that was the last time Mingi genuinely smiled.

He still wishes the rest of Ateez didn't tag along with him that day. Then there would be no one to stop him from rushing into the fire. To tie his fate to Yunho's.

Because if Yunho came out of the fire alive, Mingi would follow him. If Yunho perished, Mingi would gladly perish alongside him.

But then again, the universe put you in front of Mingi. Or maybe it was Yunho that sent you to him. And if this was a second chance, Mingi doesn't want to take it. He wants to distance himself from it, knowing that he can never have happiness.

After watching Yunho's spirit die, he didn't want to stick around and witness the same thing happen to you.

He knows it'll happen. He knows that all he'll do is bring you down with him because that's all he does. He'll destroy himself but he won't destroy you.

So, when Mingi woke up because of the sunrise, he looked down at your still sleeping form. He carefully moved his body away and laid you down on the couch, draping the throw blanket over your body.

For a few seconds, he stood over your sleeping form, admiring you.

Seeing you sleep so peacefully brought Mingi some sort of peace too.

Reaching over, he downed the painkillers you prepared. He knew that you'll probably worry if you saw them uneaten because you usually fret about whether his wounds were healing properly.

But he didn't want you to worry about him or even think about him. You shouldn't be occupying yourself with him.

Because Mingi knows that his wounds will never heal, no matter how hard you try.

Maybe even before Yunho's death, Mingi was already broken. He just lived in denial with his best friend that was so full of life. Then, Yunho's death broke the fever dream waking Mingi up to the reality that he was destined to be alone. There was nothing for him, no hope, no future.

And he was fine with that, that's the life he was meant to lead until something eventually kills him.

So, against his own heart, he forced himself to tear away from you and leave to head back to his own home. And once again, with the sun rising, the daily cycle repeats itself.

And as Mingi walked away from your apartment, he made yet another empty promise that he'll never come back again.

~

Masterlist

[florencemtrash]

Flame, Shadow, Beast : Flame

Azriel x Reader x Eris

Summary: Years after Eris frees you from his father’s prison, you’ve managed to find a new love, new friends, and build a life for yourself in Autumn. But when a certain Shadowsinger stumbles upon your home, dragging in painful memories of betrayal and longing, you’ll have to face the things you left in the past and make choices about the future you want.

Warnings: Fluffy Eris x Reader and our favorite monster, Bryaxis, makes an appearance.

Flame, Shadow, Beast: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

It was a cruel irony that winning a war was the easiest part of ruling. Eris thought about it often, doubts invading his rare moments of quiet; Maybe he’d made a mistake. Maybe the lives of thousands of Autumn Court members - both those loyal to him and to his father - hadn’t been worth the weight of the crown now sitting on his head.

The wood and gold had been harvested from the body of one of the Old Gods to whom some of the rural folk still owed their ultimate allegiance; the rubies had come from a land beyond the western seas as a declaration of war back when they’d been ruled by a more ancient race of beings - the predecessors to the Blood Rubies the Summer Court was so fond of doling out. Eris wondered if he’d ever get used to carrying so much history on his body. 

The sun had barely crested over the treetops, blanketing the forest floor with streams of liquid gold, when he came across your village. The first fae he saw - a female with short elk horns extending gracefully from her temples - nearly dropped her basket at the sight of him. Eris gently bowed his head in greeting and her face flushed as crimson as the red garment dye that stained her hands. 

“My High Lord,” She breathed out, dropping to her knees despite the prickling straw that perpetually littered the roads.

Heads of varying shades of chestnut and scarlet appeared behind closed windows like candlights. During the harvest months everyone woke and slept with the sun. 

One by one fae streamed out of their homes, each of them carrying tribute in the form of freshly baked bread, baskets of apples and peaches, sheepskin cloaks, and barrels of mead. 

“Stand.” Eris gently commanded them as they fell to their knees, “We’re just passing through.” He could see the hesitation in their eyes. They feared disrespecting him. 

Eight years of being High Lord and he had yet to perfect the delicate balance between distance and familiarity with his people. 

Halvor coughed from beside him, eyes raised from beneath the shadow of his bronze helm.

Get off your horse and talk to them. His eyes said, repeating the mantra that you liked to say around the royal pair.

Eris understood and dismounted with grace and power. With his scarlet and gold riding cloak, flaming hair, and ruby crown he looked like the spirit of Autumn come to life - all sharp edges and burning stoicism. He was a living fire.

But fire could give warmth as much as pain - nurture and grow as much as it could raze the world to the ground. So Eris took his time to speak with the people. He sampled their mead and ale, complimented the pixies who wove threads of warm oranges, yellows, and reds with their nimble fingers, and visited the rolling fields of corn, barley, and wheat that waved in the brisk breeze. The gray-tinged sky above tasted of power and freedom. 

Under Beron’s reign, the fruits of the fields would have fallen entirely under the purview of the High Lord with little remaining for the people who tended the long grasses. Now that they were allowed to own their own land and keep what was due to them, the air was lighter here, happier. It was the first harvest in a long time where they’d feel comfortable enough to celebrate properly.

The mask ebbed away, leaving him feeling lighter than he had in ages as he walked through a town.

A familiar face stared out from behind the small crowd that had gathered by the wheat fields. Talk of this year’s harvest festival rose in the air until everyone could taste the spiced rum, roasted pistachios, caramelized apples, and pumpkin with fresh cream on their tongues. It was still months away, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t get excited now. 

Eris broke away - an easy task when they parted ways for him like a hot knife through butter - and approached your smiling figure.

“I was wondering what was taking you so long.” You said, clasping your hands behind your back and smiling at Eris.

“So you came all this way just to investigate?” Eris arched his brow. You were no stranger to these people (and much beloved), but you preferred to keep to your little cottage beyond the town.

“Surprisingly, yes. For you, I would come all this way. And,” You shook the small parcel in your arm, “For Aliona’s candles.”

He grinned and offered you his arm, which you accepted, and quietly began to walk back to where Halvor had been dutifully waiting with the horses… and taking more than a few samples of drinks from beside his stead. 

“I also wanted to make sure he hadn’t killed you in your sleep yet.” You said, tilting your head towards his brother. 

“Careful, Y/n.”

Halvor was the youngest of Autumn’s trueborn sons, and had grown to become Eris’s second over the course of the war and the years that followed. Cruelty was still hammered into his bones - a disfiguring mark left by their father - but disloyalty was not one of his many negative traits. He’d been the only one to come to Eris’s aid in the war, and subsequently the last of Eris’s brothers to survive. That counted for something in your book.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it seriously, but I could’ve poked fun in a better way.” You said softly, gently leaning into his side. He forgave you quickly. He could never stay angry at you - he wasn’t even sure it was possible.

Halvor tipped his head towards you, eyes the color of freshly brewed coffee staring at you with mischief.

“My Lady.” He said half-mockingly, sweeping out his arm into a shallow bow. 

You rolled your eyes. “How many times have I told you not to call me that?”

“Why not? Is my brother not a good enough romp for you? If you want better company I could-” 

Eris cut off his words with a growl of warning. Halvor only tipped his head back and laughed - a grating sound that eight years of peace under Eris’s rule still hadn’t managed to file away.

“We’ll be walking to her home from here.” Eris said, slipping into his High Lord voice, “Try and keep your distance and be on the lookout.” Halvor nodded, turning serious at the shift in his brother’s voice. There were countless enemies who would be happy to snatch the crown away from a new, as of yet untested, High Lord.

He followed obediently, keeping his distance as you and Eris both bade farewell to the townspeople. 

You lived on a patch of land too far to even be considered the outskirts of town, but you were a familiar face to everyone. A healer by trade and Eris’s most trusted advisor and friend, you were the one they called upon in the dead of night when evil whispered nearby or sickness fell upon them. 

Evaldre, they called you in one of the Old Tongues. The exact meaning had been lost to time, but it spoke of someone cherished and highly regarded. Some of the bold ones even went so far as to call you “Our High Lady.” 

Ten years ago uttering those words would have meant the swift swing of a sword on one’s neck. If High Lord Eris knew of it, he never seemed to mind.

Bryaxis waited for you on your doorstep, pleasantly lounging in a patch of light and watching the gentle fall of crisp leaves from the trees above. Both Eris and Halvor’s horses groaned low in their throats, hooves pressing into the soil to stop before the clearing. Halvor whistled at them to move forward, but they refused.

“It’s that devil dog of yours,” Halvor said, dismounting and tying off the pair on a low hanging elm branch, “Makes them anxious.”

He whispered words of comfort to them, sliding his hands along their thick necks until they stopped bucking against the reins. Eris had his dogs and Halvor had his horses.

“He’ll stay inside then. Wouldn’t want you to have to walk back to the Forest House with your tail between your legs because you lost the horses.”

Eris smirked when Halvor threw an obscene gesture your way. 

The dog in question, black as night with shining silver-blue eyes, stretched and nuzzled into your outstretched hand as you reached your front door, Eris following closely behind. 

“Will you be long?” Halvor called out to Eris, raising his eyebrows suggestively with his hyena grin. 

“Go home if you’re so impatient. I can make it back on my own.”

“I’ll wait til noon.” If Eris was finished by then, it would mean they took care of business… if Eris wasn’t finished by then, it would mean they were taking care of other business, business Halvor would do no good sticking around for. He snorted at the thought, then lost himself in imagining the other females he might be able to seduce back at the Forest House.

You both passed through the enchantments woven into the wood of your home, feeling a rush of power pour over you like water over stone. 

Eris snapped his fingers and the candles you’d placed on your dining table and mantle burst to life, fluttering about like dancers. The fireplace followed suit, sending a wave of warmth throughout the house. Firelight bounced off the rich velvet and creams that adorned your home - a cleaner mimic of the Autumn lands that existed behind the walls and flooded in through the open windows.

The Forest House was a place of luxury, massive enough that it would take you an entire morning just to walk from one end to another, and filled to the brim with treasures of gold, bronze, and enough precious jewels to sink a ship. It was a palace fit for a High Lord. But this was a home, so he took off his crown and hung up his cloak.

“What happened to him?” Eris said, kneeling on the ground and giving Bryaxis a well-deserved scratch behind the ears. The millennia-old creature closed his eyes in satisfaction. “The last time I saw him he was a cat.”

You chuckled, bustling about in the kitchen for a tea set that would match and piling pastries on a plate. The smell of browned butter and strawberry rhubarb jam waltzed in the air.

“He’s been experimenting with new forms.” You said, smugness and pride warming your chest. Not so long after Eris had freed you from the mountain and given you a new home, Bryaxis had found you, drawn to your power. Twin bargain tattoos snaked up from the bridges of your feet to your ankles like vines up a trellis - the first promised that you would do no harm to one another in exchange for dual protection, the second allowed you to take a portion of his power, giving him to opportunity to mold his being into a form that could experience the world in a more physical sense. 

Gone was the shapeless creature of shadow and nightmares. Enter Bryaxis the wolf-dog (and occasional housecat) who still radiated enough power to scare away any creature (wicked or otherwise) that dared to disturb the peace of their home. But he could curl up by the windows and watch the night sky uninhibited, and in his heart he was a creature of violence and simplicity in equal measure.

“I like this one better than the cat.” Eris said with a grin, for the monster had copied the shape of one of his prized hunting dogs. Bryaxis seemed to growl in appreciation when Eris straightened up.

He sighed in contentment, feeling the stress of his crown melt away when you wrapped your arms around his middle, burying your face in the crook of his neck and breathing in the scent of cedar, smoke, and cinnamon.

“Hello.” He murmured softly, turning in your arms and pressing his lips against your forehead.

“Hello.” You whispered, brushing your lips against his with a sigh, “I missed you. Where have you been all this time?” The finished reports on your desk, much like your empty bed, had been waiting patiently for Eris’s next visit.

He hesitated, pulling away to look at you. He brushed aside a few stray strands of hair that had fallen out of your braid. “The Night Court.”

You stiffened, “Keir?” 

He shook his head, frowning, “Rhysand.” 

You blinked, and he saw darkness pass through your eyes. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I wasn’t sure how you’d take it.” 

Twelve years. 

You’d been Beron’s prisoner for decades before. Then you’d escaped and managed a couple of years of peace. You’d found a home and a family… or so you thought. And then twelve years ago you’d been betrayed - handed back to the now deceased High Lord on a silver platter and trapped beneath the mountain for four years. It made your blood boil to think about the people who helped put you there. 

“You’ve been dealing with them for years now,” You forced out in a diplomatic tone, “It’s good for you to have allies, especially strong ones like them.”

“Y/n-”

“You should've told me. I don’t want you to worry about my feelings when it comes to these things. Autumn comes first and-”

“I’ll always worry about you.” Eris said, tilting your chin up and catching the moisture gathering in your eyes that you’d furiously tried to blink away, “And there’s no choice between you and my Court. You belong here. To protect Autumn - to protect you - are the same thing, my love.” 

Your cheeks burned at the careful way he spoke, the sincerity in his voice he reserved solely for you in moments like this.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Y/n. I promise it won't happen again."

Fury burned in his stomach, a continuation of the anger that had steadily been eating away at his patience during his visit to the Night Court. To see the Inner Circle look so safe and happy in the bubble they’d carved for themselves in Velaris, naive to the pain and suffering they’d caused you, had made him want to burn The House of Wind to the ground. Alliance be damned. 

He hated them nearly as much as he had hated his own father. 

“I don’t want to think about them.” You declared, setting your jaw and smoothing away the lines of anger that had formed on Eris’s forehead, “To hell with them.” 

Eris smirked, loving the determination that settled in your eyes as you dragged him over to the living room and finished setting up the tea that had started to whistle on the stovetop. You would carve out a space for yourself in this world and be happy, even if it killed you.

“To hell with them.” He repeated.

Business and pleasure. The two were impossible for him to separate, which is why he cherished time spent with you. The pair of you spoke easily together, seamlessly transitioning from discussions of grain reports, treaties, and trade deals to banter about the Harvest Festival and the latest court gossip. Halvor was long gone, and Bryaxis off hunting, when the talking ceased and Eris found himself comfortably spread out on your velvet couch, shirt unbuttoned, and head resting in your lap as you wove your fingers through his hair.

He opened his eyes, lazy and slow, and quietly took in your features - the slope of your nose, the gentle curves of your cheeks and lips as you smiled at him, the contentment in your eyes that shifted into deep thought. 

He waited for you to share them with him.

“I’ve been thinking about your proposal.” You said carefully and he froze beneath your hands.

“You-you have?” Eris swallowed and sat up, keeping his distance even as he dared to hope. You’d both been keeping your relationship secret, visiting each other under the guise of court business and court business only. It had certainly started out that way, but things had quickly shifted into something far more intimate and worthy of secrecy… Then Eris had asked if it could stop being so secret.

You nodded, searching his face for something more than the neutral mask every High Lord learned to master. 

You moved onto his lap, laying your hands on the sides of his face as his eyes widened ever so slightly, “My answer is yes.” 

“Yes?” He asked in disbelief. 

Yes to living with him. Yes to going to court with him. Yes to showing the world that he was not alone in his duty. Yes to being by his side wherever either of you went.

No more hiding in this house on the outskirts. No more being afraid of what had happened in the past. No more loneliness.

“Yes.” 

He shuddered under your touch and suddenly he was everywhere. His hands roamed the expanse of your back, pulling at the fabric of your bodice. Red locks as vivid as flame got knotted beneath your fingers, and his body pressed flush against yours, desperate for any contact as his chest continued to shake with laughter. 

You stayed with him on that couch, neither of you wanting to bother with the effort of walking the extra twenty steps to your bedroom, as articles of clothing were hastily torn off and allowed to float onto the floor in crumples of fabric.

A growl from just outside your front door, low and gravelly enough to shake the ground, woke the two of you up. The sun was kissing the horizon on its way down, lateral rays of light streaming through the window and splashing onto the bookshelves and walls like gold paint. Eris groaned with displeasure, pulling you flush against his chest when you dared to draw yourself up on your arms to look at the door. 

You giggled against him, pulling a rare smile from his lips when he felt your laughter. 

He was all warmth and color beneath you as you shouted at Bryaxis to give you more time alone. He could practically hear the rolling of eyes with the huff that Bryaxis gave out. But he eventually trotted away to find a patch of soft grass from which to watch the sun set.

“It’s good to know a murderous beast like him still has a sense of humor.” Eris quipped, practically humming with pleasure when you melted into him. “You would know. You can be funny sometimes.” 

“Sometimes?!”

“Sometimes!” 

“You must give me more credit than that.”

“I will not.”

“You must. Your High Lord demands it.” Eris said, puffing out his chest and deepening his voice.

“Your High Lord demands it.” You parroted in a silly voice that made Eris chuckle and kiss you again.

You laid in the silence for as long as you could, until the sun was once again buried in the ground and the calls of the Forest House could not be ignored. With every piece of clothing Eris pulled back on his body, the vulnerable joy that came from being with you seemed to dim. 

Was he a lovesick fool for asking you to come to court and be with him? Was the protection of a High Lord worth the dangers that came with it? Lucien had been the first of their brothers to fall in love and he had paid for it dearly. Sometimes Eris had nightmares that you would suffer the same fate.

Eris watched you as you laced up your bodice with quick fingers, fixed your hair, and smoothed your skirts. You looked heavenly in the light of the fire. You were everything he could have dreamed of and more… because you were real… and you loved him as fiercely as he loved you. Which meant he could lose you.

“Y/n.” He whispered your name like a prayer, drawing your attention. You drew close to him, pressing your forehead against his as he took a deep breath, “What you’re agreeing to… you know what it will mean, don’t you?”

You closed your eyes and nodded. This was no light decision and it was why you’d taken three months to come up with an answer for him. 

“It will mean people will come for me, and never stop coming for me, just to hurt you and to hurt this Court.” Eris flinched, but you wouldn’t let him open his mouth to dissuade you. You’d given this much thought, and your decision was made.

“It will mean constant scrutiny from the other Lords and Ladies. A life spent in a house known for its history of cruelty and disloyalty. A life that will never fully be my own.”

Eris was beginning to think he’d truly made a terrible mistake in asking you to be with him. But before that cold mask of his could fall over his features, you grasped his face in yours hands and forced him to look at you.

“But it will also mean a chance to be with you. A chance to lead alongside the first person to give me a real home - a real family. A chance to continue to build and protect what I love. I love you, Eris, and I love Autumn, and I’ll be damned if I don’t protect what I love.”

Eris clenched his teeth, holding back the emotion that threatened to spill out like a ruptured damn.

“I won’t be like this at the Forest House.” He said, hating the truth of the words that fell off his tongue, “I won’t be able to show who I truly am when I’m around others, at least not for now. They’ll call you foolish, or cruel, or wicked for being with me. I can’t promise you an established and worthy court. I-”

“Then we’ll build it ourselves.” You said fiercely, pouring your power into the words, “We’ll build a new court, a new life for ourselves and everyone here. I know you’ll do everything you can to fix things, even if it breaks you.” You whispered the next words reverently against his lips, “Let me help you. Let me do it with you.” 

Eris let the tears run rivers down his cheeks, even as he set his jaw, and stared resolutely into your eyes.

“Let’s do it then. Together.”

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______

Author's note:

*shouts from the mountaintops* I just want Eris to be happy! And I want him to have someone he trusts that can rule alongside him!

That's it. That's the note. Oh and let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters.

Love,

Florence B.

Taglist: @nightless @mmb-09 @thesnugglingduck @cleverzonkwombatsludge @kemillyfreitas @logankemaek @the-sweet-psycho @a-frog-with-a-laptop @flameandshadowx @applerubyy

[ladyxskywalker]

In Exile, ch.iii

Anakin Skywalker x F!Reader/OFC

after a tense encounter in the mountains, anakin falls asleep by the waterfalls, completely exhausted of his power. but what he doesn’t expect, is for his kind lady friend to find him there

part one | part two | part four

a choose your own outcome story ! weekly story polls posted at the end of each chapter ! hope you enjoy !💌

Dreams

He could only remember all the ways the entire mountain shook, an all consuming echo of vengeance that no one below could really trace. 

How the cliffs separated into sharpened boulders and flying rock all around. The fading sound of an enemy, disappearing from the swaying trees as debris rushed against them.

And then all went completely silent. 

An eerie kind of stillness that only comes from the force when things suddenly turn themselves dark.

Anakin’s hands were still wound shut into tightened fists, as if he’d been holding on to the overwhelming sense of energy that hadn’t been present inside of them anymore.

“What have I done?” He whispered to himself, slowly opening the palms of his hands, holding them out in front of him.

There was nothing tangible to be found there, only an air of pure exhaustion and sadness.

“Why can’t people just leave me alone?”

Walking nearest to the banks beside the waterfalls, he kneels down by the water; a leftover current from earlier, rippling all of it as if it had been a running creek or river. But instead, this kind of pool became nothing more than a mirror, the reflection of the man staring back at him then, was somehow unrecognizable. 

He couldn’t stand it.

The look in his eyes.

His unkempt hair.

Tattered edges ripped apart from his robes. 

What had truly become of him? He wondered to himself; veering off - drifting.

Tall blades of grass cradling him; finding himself wanting nothing more than to just lay down next to the one part of this place that brought him a sense of calm. 

…

everything’s too bright…

I’m done with this…

I should just leave, find a way out of here…

There’s a field of wheat surrounding Anakin in the light of the afternoon, a golden hour that makes everything look like it had all been just one color. An appearance of stray shadows that passes over all of his crops. He knows things have to eventually get cut down, but he’s too tired and frustrated to care about that enough right now.

I’m sweating…

this sucks…

So often, and against his own judgment, this is the time when he thinks to himself. That full mind of his, a complete mess of memories that makes him spiral. He thinks about the children and where they might have really ended up. If they had been separated, or whether or not they were with families that loved them.

I would have loved them…

Padme would have been a good mother…

He busies himself to try to drown out everything that’s been replaying in his head - her voice; Obi Wan’s…

A final hug shared between two very close friends, the kind that shouldn’t have been the ending between brothers before they had both fought. 

nothing makes sense anymore…

His hair in this type of heat feels matted against his forehead. It’s become too long now, so much so, that it’s falls into his eyelids, spilling over his brow. It makes him look angry and abrasive - the words overheard in the day time that others so often like to use, because they’re certainly not his own.

He wishes he could change his appearance, but what for? Nobody knows him anyway. No one’s ever cared to look. 

not true...

Trying his best to smooth the unruly waves out of his own way, he begins to fuss with tying up the back of it instead of focusing on his work. But the shred of material in his hands is just too short, he can’t seem to get a good grip on it. So easily becoming more and more stressed and frustrated.

If only Anakin could scream.

Shout into the void of clouds, and far away houses.

But each time he opens his mouth, he can only breathe out a huff of quiet.

how is it that there isn’t any sound?

Agitated with everything now, he begins to stare off without blinking, as if in a wordless trance - looking around for something. 

All of the flowers that once were planted, somehow are all gone.

They’ve all just disappeared, turning out beneath his boots to only be a patch of dust.

this isn’t real…

what’s going on?

And so, he grabs hold of his belt, where a pair of shears can be found. They’re the same ones he uses in the Winter to trim his sheep’s wool. It’s one of the only tools that he can reach right now to prove to himself that at least something in this place had been real.

these are sharp.

don’t touch them.

He remembers that kind interaction from long ago, telling you to be careful when working around him. The silhouette of your gentle face looking toward him so insistently, softening always in the light of dawn with a smile. An early morning mist each time adhering to your skin, before catching on.

I don’t care anymore…

I’ll just cut it all off…

enough’s enough…

“Wait! Lars! What are you doing?! Don’t!” you yell out toward him, like a startlingly beautiful sound. You think there must be something seriously wrong - that something else has been pulling at him inside that goes far beyond just getting overexerted at the farm. And so you run, afraid that he might hurt himself.

“Please…” you begin, patiently, before taking a soothing hold of his wrists. His mechanical arm, feeling smooth, and somewhat cold in your palms.

“Please…” you try again, “put those down. Let me, just…” 

So instead, you reach up, watching carefully as his eyes start to close, smoothing all the hair away for his eyes and the dampened skin of his face, careful not to pull at it all too tightly. That when his shoulders relax from all their tensing, he thinks perhaps your touch just might have saved him there - from the plague of all consuming torment; from the daydreams masquerading as all of his waking nightmares.

…

“Lars…Lars, dear, are you alright?”

Stirring himself awake, only then at the sound of your voice does Anakin realize that all the while he must have been dreaming. 

she called me…dear…

ha.

that’s funny.

“Sorry, there was some sort of earthquake. Must’ve passed out…”

“There certainly was. The whole village is somewhat destroyed…I think you actually might have been dreaming.”

“How…how did you…”

“I just had a strange feeling when I didn’t see you back home. Most of the people had already been accounted for. When I couldn’t find you I…”

“You were looking for me?”

“I…well…”

Anakin sits up, finding now that since you’d been here, his inner strength had been enough.

“It’s fine, I just…wasn’t expecting this. I’m still a bit shaken up.”

she’s laughing…

did I just…

“Now there’s a real pun if I’ve ever heard one!”

Anakin smirks, brushing himself off and stretching before standing back up from the ground.

“Like that, don’t you, my lady?”

“Mhmm, almost as much as you calling me that! While you were sleeping, I’m pretty sure you were mumbling my name somehow…”

“I was?”

“Although…I’m probably wrong…”

There’s a slight moment of pause held in the space between you then. It isn’t awkward, in fact, it’s just enough of an enjoyable back and forth for him. If only you had known his true, given name, that would make all of this all the more fun. 

“Not wrong…”

“Oh…well, what were you thinking about?”

“Something awful, and weird. Then you showed up. Made everything better.”

Looking down, suddenly you’ve grown quite bashful.

“I did? Well…that’s lovely…I mean good.”

“You always do that.”

“Do what?”

Anakin steps closer, engaging you with his words as you stand before him, watching intently as you hang onto all of them.

“You always tend to look away from me. Don’t.”

He whispers, finding himself brushing the backs of his fingertips along your face; caressing your cheek, then gliding softly toward your chin.

Tilting it…

But before you are even able to say anything else, he does all the speaking for you.

Through wordless action, and a comfortable safety that comes from being held.

His arms wrapping all the way around you and bringing you further to him.

Your loving hands, reaching delicately for the back of his neck in order just to rest there.

Expecting him to kiss you slowly…

Though, being patient, was never on Anakin’s radar…

Leaving you as breathless as ever just to enjoy the impassioned way in which he does.

…💐

Thanks so much for reading! 💌 the response to this story has been wonderful, and so much fun! Thank you again to everyone for reading & sharing. I would love to hear your thoughts ! what has been your favorite part so far? 💫 xoxo

[meadowtwins]

Tips for broke witches with a budget of 10$/€:

As someone who started with their craft when they were younger, living in a poor household with little to not money for me available, I know how how it is with a budget so low, that being a "true witch" seems impossible.

Well, I just need to remind you all that for practicing witchcraft, you do NOT NEED everything expensive. In fact you only need so little. Sure, the whole witch aesthetic with all the decorations, the cauldrons etc. looks lovely and most of us would really like to achieve that level of perfectionism, but Witchcraft is much more than that. It is a predominately Pagan practice. Nature is one of the biggest, if not the biggest aspect in it. Sometimes you just aren't really knowledgeable about all the options you're available to.

Tip 1: Nature walks:

As mentioned above, Nature is a big aspect. Almost every ingredient and spell componement is seen outside. Take a walk, go into the woods, get off path, you'll find herbs, fruits, flowers, all kinds of decorations. You can find sticks, bind them in any shape and hang them onto your wall. You can cut off (with Natures permission!) Ivy wreaths and hang them up. Pinecones, pineneedles, treebarks, hazelnuts, feathers, wheats all kinds of grass, everything is out there! Take a look on the ground and maybe you'd be lucky to find a few gemstones (yes, they're just out there!) or if animal bones are something for you even that!

Tip 2: Grimoire/Book of Shadows:

Your witchy journal does NOT have to be that expensive leather bound, old journal that the old antique shop sells for 60 dollars because it has a "magical aura". Yes, how can someone pass on that aesthetic, but your book isn't magick by itself. YOU first put the energy into it and make it something magical to you. Without your journaling and time you've spent, it is JUST a book! Therefore a simple notebook that costs like 1.50 max works completely fine! Mine is a notebook if found in my drawer that has a rainbow reflecting surface, trust me, the aesthetic is the thing you should be least concerned about.

Tip 3: Divination Board:

Self-made is always the cheapest option! Again, like your Grimoire, the board isn't the one with with the magical attributes. It's all you! My first divination board was made out of cardboard paper. You have all the options open, it can just be paper or you could even print one out. The material does not devalue the magical properties.

Tip 4: Pendulum:

A pendulum itself is cheaper than you think, look in the right places and you'll see. But if that is too much you can always make one yourself. You have to keep in mind that the item doesn't come with the magic! You're the one making if something magical. Find a pretty stone on the ground (with luck a gemstone!), tie it to a string and wear it as necklace. There you have it!

Tip 5: Cauldron:

A fire bowl, a normal bowl, a plastic bowl etc.! You can use anything. It depends however on what you do with it. Make sure not to use fire irresponsibly if you plan on burning something in it. Keep a window open and don't burn something in a not substitutional material. There's a reason a fire bowl is differencated from a normal bowl.

Tip 6: Gold, Bronze, Silver etc.

This goes for jewelry, tableware, bowls etc. For example in spells/rituals or offerings to a deity. A plate to put your offerings on or to set the spell on. Look into your cupboards! A glass bowl is a popular one to use since it's neutral in it's symbolic and easy to clean. If you'd prefer something golden or any other other material, ask a grandparent or maybe even parent. They usually have some sort of old tableware that is golden or bronze or anything else. If asked (and you're a closet witch!) tell them it's for decoration or putting a candle on it. The same goes for jewerly. Grandparents (or aunts!) usually have old necklaces and earrings they don't need anymore. Or even brooches with imagery you can connect to a deity maybe.

Tip 7: Tarot Cards:

It depends if you believe in the rule that says you cannot buy yourself a tarot deck. I do! Therefore what I did, was make my own one. It took lots of days but in the end I had a full deck! It's lots of work so if you don't want all that from the start, make yourself only the major arcana. Again it can be made out of cardboard, paper etc. The material really doesn't matter. If you're not familiar with the rule, it says your first tarot deck has to be gifted to you, found, or made by yourself. Infact in my case, all three happened to me!

In conclusion, Nature has ALL kinds of componements. You can find so many things all around you if you just look close enough!

But don't forget, cleansing is important! If you take items off the ground out and about, cleanse them off any negative energy before putting them into your household. If anything you need to know I haven't mentioned, just ask.

Happy witching!

[cm-lily]

I read a fanfic once, I forgot which one. But in that fic, they have this idea where Gem and Grian's base has this... Foggy vibe to it. Like compare it to the cherry mountain that's all pink and petals and then you have these two bases which are straight up The Horrors™

I Just love that idea

So much I've been thinking, what if the whole Magic Mountain is surrounded by fog? A magic fog and mist that just always surround the area and got thicker as the sun set further. The area always seems cloudy. As if there is an eternal cloud forever covering the mountains. It's either raining, or storm, or cloudy. The only time it's clear is when Grian finally got his mending book, the pink snail arrive, and it switch to storm when Scar got the mending book. (He got struck by lightning a few time if he reaches that area)

Joel's base not only has lantern illuminating it, but souls as well. They didn't stay idle, but never went too far. Some of them even transform, Into tanuki or fox or wolves and even Koi fish and Axolotl. That fly in the air instead of water, obviously.

Sometimes there's things passing by on Impulse's build. Something tall and slender, with long limbs and sharp claws. They're not Enderman, Enderman don't crawl. Impulse said they're cool if you pretend they didn't exist and just let them... Lurks around.

Something is wrong with Mumbo's base. I want to call it decaying, but it's not. It's more like redstone veins appear around the blackened grass, the air smells like gunpowder and something acid. Or maybe copper.

Many hermits had reported seeing the sight of a statue angel that just appear on top of Skizz's unfinished Pyramid. It appear when they're looking at it, but then they look around and it's gone. The statue has never been in the same position everytime someone look at it.

Most people don't like going to Scar's base at night, not only because of how creepy it look like surrounded by those fog. Like the rest of them, something strange always happens. Like animals looking bigger and more beast-like the moment night arrive, ever seen a cow just grows multiple horns and it sounds like those horn are breaking out of it's skull? Or that one time, one time his horse stand up on two feet? Probably not. Scar said they're harmless. Except for the snail—he said. The snail isn't his. That's why they damaged his build and become a nuisance.

(There was once a time, a time where clouds whirled around his ore pillar, clouds that are made of limbs and hand and eyes and it just stretched and climb down from the pillar. It never reach the ground, fortunately.)

Grian never stopped fishing. Even if it rains or stormed outside. He's smelly and that's why snails like him and his horse don't. Totally not because Pluto saw him turn into giant mer-man with many eyes and tails and sharp tooth. Definitely not. Don't feel weird when you feel like you're being watched. Or because shadow-like silhouette wander around his wheat farm, or a silhouette of something massive that was illuminated everytime lightning strikes, looking down from the cherry mountain toward his and Gem's base and, occasionally, you felt like you found a body you recognize in the water—

And that's where Gem comes in! Gem is someone who stopped you before you decide to jump in the water and check who's that corpse is. And the one who shooed off the many eyes that lurk in the muddy river side of Grian's base. Grian hates her for that but there's nothing he can do. Gem, like Grian, is someone who can walk in the middle of the storm unharmed. Most of the time, she make sure that none of the hermits fell into the trick of her other neighbors.

just don't let that distract you from the fact one of her build is actually sentient and breathing and is always staring at you. Or the fact there's blood around the rocky shores if you squint into the dark river/soon-to-be-ocean. Or the fact that, just like the angler, the skull always felt like it's watching even if there's no actually eyes in it's socket. Gem is always present when you want to have a tour or just so happened to passed that area, but... If she's not there to guide you, would it even be worth it to be stabbed with a trident and got dragged into the water?

[uhohdad]

I need the most mundane, useless headcanons for the characters in tgwctm NEOW

⌜ KONIG X READER HUNGER GAMES AU ⌟

• Konig has a secret lil spot in District Nine he’ll go to be alone on his days off. it’s a pond almost big enough to be considered a lake. He’ll sit on the grass near the forest line and just. Think. Mostly about reader.

• He feels so dumb about it and he would never ever admit it but he craves human connection so bad he’ll pretend he’s got friends with him. Or imagine Reader’s there with him. :(

• At lunch at school, Konig would sit by himself and listen to nearby conversations and pretend he was apart of the friend group. Like an IRL comfort podcast 😭

• He doesn’t have much time for it, but Konig loves reading. So enamored with the idea of getting sucked into a different world and pretending he’s someone and somewhere he’s not.

• Plucky gets detention in school regularly. She’s tight with the warden the poor underpaid schmuck who’s gotta watch the unruly kids

• If she didn’t have your birthday, Plucky would be an Aries

• She gets away with a lot more than she should because she’s just so hard not to love. how you supposed to stay mad at a bitch this funny.

• Price has always wanted to be a dad but he doesn’t feel right bringing a kid into such a cruel world. It also makes it extra hard for him to not get attached to his tributes because he can’t help but put himself in the father figure role.

• Price often passes out on the couch and Ruby will put a blanket over him and tuck him in :)

• If weed is a thing in the HG AU, Plucky would smoke big doinks in amish. smokin grass in the wheat fields like a lil degenerate yknow what i’m saying.

• Konig always gets post-nut clarity baaaad but he didn’t when he fooled around with reader 😭 He only felt bad bc he didn’t last long.

• Konig is so… gentle. With everything. He’s always so afraid of misjudging his strength - breaking things, hurting people, etc. He’s just extra cautious of his surroundings in general.

• Konig’s stomach hurts pretty much all the time. It’s the anxiety.

• Konig & Plucky’s backstory heavily inspired by this green text:

⌜ KONIG X READER HUNGER GAMES AU ⌟

⌜ MORE TGWCM HEADCANONS & FUN FACTS ⌟

[to-the-stars8]

Love and Neighbors

Clark Kent x Reader Chapters AO3

Absolutely MDNI 18+

38-The Pick Up Truck

You sighed as you stopped bouncing to catch your breath. As you did, Clark peppered kisses on your neck and breasts, asking if you wanted to take a break or switch positions. You found it sweet that he asked, but you were determined to finish riding him. Shaking your head, you slowly began to move again 

“You never take breaks,” You said breathlessly.

Clark groaned then chuckled as you stole another kiss. He squeezed your hips, helping you bounce up and down on his cock. He shouldn’t have been doing this in the bed of the pickup truck, but, after some sweet coaxing from you, there was hardly a chance to say no. It was too nice of an evening to waste by simply staying inside and, as you had pointed out, he was already hard. So, when you practically ripped open his plaid shirt and threw his belt into the fields of tall wheat grass, he sat there as you took everything you wanted. 

He would have been lying if said he didn’t notice your struggle to keep going. It had nearly been twenty minutes of you bouncing nearly non-stop, and you had already cum on his cock once. Your legs had to be burning from the strain, and all Clark wanted to do was to give you some relief and cum. 

“Fuck,” You mumbled, grinding harder than before.”

Clark’s eyes rolled back from the pleasure, feeling your pussy begin to clench and tighten around his cock. Every time you sank, he knew there wasn’t much longer until he was finished and spent. More than willing to sink into that sensation of you, he was ready to fall off into that ledge until you pulled off. Subconsciously, he tried pulling you back down, but you firmly sat on his thighs in quiet protest. 

“I thought you didn’t want a break,” He said, smirking. 

“I don’t,” You simply stated. 

“Then why stop?” 

You smiled but didn’t answer. Instead, you moved onto your knees and leaned over until your lips were barely inches from his cock. Clark swallowed, watching as your eyes flickered up to his for a brief moment before looking back down. Tentatively, your tongue flicked against his tip before you popped it into your mouth. 

Clark wanted to cry out, to moan about how good it felt to be in your mouth, but he couldn’t. The two of you were well away from the house, though the risk wasn’t worth the harsh embarrassment of being caught. Yet, as you took him down your throat inch by inch, until you couldn’t take anymore, he could hardly not make any noise. 

“Shoot, honey,” He whispered, a whimper leaving his throat. “Keep doing that. Oh, damn, hon’.”

You moved your head up and down in his lap, swallowing him so easily until you felt him begin to twitch. That was what you had been waiting for. Clark was close to cumming again, and you were going to love keeping his orgasm at bay. 

Pulling off, you sat back as you watched Clark cuss under his breath and look so desperately at you. Smiling, you inched up again to sit back down on his cock. Sliding down, you moaned loudly, causing Clark to capture your lips in a kiss to keep you quiet. His cock just hit all the right spots for you, so you struggled to keep your voice down between breaths. 

“Fuck,” Clark said against your lips before sloppily kissing you again. You tried not to grin because another giveaway that what you were doing was right was when he let the “harsher” words come out. You pulled back from the kiss, putting your forehead against Clark’s, and held onto his shoulders as your orgasm tore through you suddenly. 

You didn’t have a chance to escape, because Clark was quick to grab your hips to hold them against his. He gasped out that he was cumming, latching his lips onto your neck to muffle his loud groans. It felt good having him deep, and, if had moved any more, you would have been coming again. As the feel of your orgasms subsided, he finally let you go. 

You ran a hand through his hair and breathlessly said, “My thighs are going to be sore tomorrow.”

Clark laughed, the sound ringing out against the stars and fields, before pulling you into him. “Then take a break when I ask, honey.”

—

You would be taking Clark’s advice next time because when you woke up that morning you could hardly walk. Luckily, your sweet, sweet boyfriend was quick to tell you to rest and he would tell his parents that you were sick. Gladly, you took the excuse. 

When Clark went downstairs his parents were sitting at the table eating breakfast. After breaking the news that you weren’t feeling well, Ma Kent went on about how she was going to make you the best breakfast to make you feel better. As Ma left to check on you, Clark sat at the table. 

“Son, I need you to do somethin’ for me today,” Pa Kent said, eyes trained on the newspaper in his hand. 

“Sure thing, what is it, Pa?” 

When Pa Kent looked over the paper there was a ghost of a smile on his face. “Wash the pickup truck.”

Now, Clark was starting to not feel too well.

[lumpofbird]

wheat grass for mulb

[river-in-the-woods]

i have a similar situation - i'm struggling to make my own correspondences, and i'm trying to draw from my pagan practices as well as my ancestral asian practice. i'm having a bit of difficulty with systematically going through a small dictionary, but maybe this can provide some ideas (and of course, if you have any critiques, i'm totally open to that as well!)

I usually just pick up any reference book and choose whatever I like the sound of and can get my hands on. I have a copy of The Encyclopedia of Natural Magic by J.M. Greer which I use a lot because it has minimal tangential waffle and is neatly laid out. I like Llewellyn's Charms, Spells and Formulas for the same reason.

For culturally relevant things, I like chinasage which has a symbol index of various flora and fauna. I'm not aware of similar resources for other parts of East Asia, apologies.

While I do think that different materials are endowed with particular virtues, I also think this is another area of magic where people get a little obsessed with categorisation.

It's not like Pokemon where lavender has +10 sleep magic points and chamomile has +12, or roses are exclusively for love and attraction and black pepper is only for cursing and banishing, and so on... It's a little more like cooking where there are many possibilities of creating a satisfying meal and yet it still depends on the individual tastes of who's partaking in it.

Cypress, yew and asphodel are strongly associated with the underworld; mugwort and wormwood are associated with night-time and dreams, but these plants will still die without the light of day. Sunflowers and oranges are very solar, but they still have roots that reach into the earth to anchor them. Chilli peppers are incredibly fiery, but they still die without water. Yarrow is for youth, love and beauty, except when you're allergic to it.

Every herb is a herb for protection, and wealth, and attraction, and fertility, and banishing – and so on, because every plant has its own strategy to survive, thrive and proliferate.

(And that's just plants, not even touching on the properties of minerals, animals, elements, colours and so on.)

They do have their specialisations, yes, and I wouldn't use mint to call on the element of fire, nor would I use coffee beans in a sleep spell... What I'm trying to say is: they're all multi-faceted, so set aside the reference books now and then, and just observe and make connections intuitively.

Reference books might tell you that basil or cinnamon or citrus (or whatever) have wealth-drawing properties.

But grass, plain old common grass, completely dominates the greenery of the earth. Crops like rice, wheat, barley and corn are staple foods that support the world's population. And dandelions, with their solar and ouranic qualities and how quickly they proliferate across an open field, are oft overlooked.

These never get listed in books, yet their literal and symbolic powers are undeniable.

Put these – grass seeds, rice grains and dandelion seeds – into a wealth working with a simple prayer. "Bless me with as much wealth as there are blades of grass on this earth, as there are grains of rice that sustain humanity, as there are dandelion seeds that fill the air in spring."

Correspondences are only part of what makes magic work. There's also your own ability and experience, the spirits you call and the relationship you have with them... I strongly favour the relationship part because reference books become less and less important, when you can just ask and the spirits will tell you what to use. Or even better when you don't have to do a spell at all, because you have spirits to take care of it in exchange for some cake.

It took me a long time to open myself up to receiving that kind of inspiration, but... honestly, don't overthink it. You know a lot of correspondences already because you interact with the world every day.

Good luck 🌿

[photo1030]

Leather and Lace - Chapter 19: Second Time Around

Summary: You and Arthur settle into your new relationship and try to find some more time alone together. 

Warning: 18+ please. Minor - DNI; NSFW

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*This beautiful image comes from @regwishesshehadmagic . I know it's Sadie in the image, but this just captures the tone of this chapter perfectly.

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*I tagged people who expressed interest in the continued story. If you’d like to be added or removed, please let me know. There are a few that would not let me link, so I apologize if this doesn’t ping some people. 

The next morning you wake up early to the faint breeze of someone’s breath dancing across your forehead. Reluctantly opening your heavy eyes just a sliver, you realize that you have your face snuggled up and tucked under Arthur’s chin. You notice the heavy weight of his strong arm draped over your middle, holding you in place close to him, even in his sleep. It is a most comfortable position to find yourself in first thing in the morning. 

A serene calmness settles over you as you take a moment to appreciate where you are and who you are with. Your drowsy eyes roll up to look at Arthur, careful not to move your head too much. You note with affection all of those little red marks scattered across his face from broken capillaries under his skin caused by years of sun exposure. In his sleep, his face doesn’t carry those deep worry lines that seem to constantly decorate his features. His hair is slightly rumpled from his slumber, locks twisted like summer wheat swaying in the wind. His eyelids don’t even twitch with any sort of movement from a possible dream-like state. He is utterly out to the world. And it is with a slight feeling of pride that you acknowledge Arthur is able to rest so peacefully because of you lying by his side. 

You think of the whirlwind of events that have taken place over the last few days. Your mind replays with such fondness the tender moments of the previous evening. While you were not able to be intimate last night, just the closeness and sweet whispers in the darkness mean volumes to you.

Your attention is briefly pulled away from your rough outlaw to the subdued movement outside of the oasis of his tent. There are a few voices muttering softly in the camp, but it’s still early enough where it’s only Mr. Pearson getting food together and Ms. Grimshaw puttering about to help him. The faint hint of fresh-brewing coffee is already carrying through the air to usher you to another day. 

The morning sun isn’t too high yet, not even breaking the treeline, casting the camp in subtle grey and lavender hues as the mist rises off the grass. The songbirds are scattered throughout the trees overhead and softly singing their own little songs to welcome the new dawn. You relish these quiet moments in the morning before the camp is awake. But as much as you’d love to stay here forever, you should probably get back to your own tent before anyone sees you creeping out of Arthur’s. 

With a reluctant sigh, you carefully roll back from the man, gently lifting his arm and setting it back down in your place. Arthur is so tired that he doesn’t even flinch from your movement. You’re not sure if you are thankful or worried about his state of exhaustion, but there’s not much you can do about it now other than leave him be to get some much-needed rest. 

You slowly sit up on the edge of the cot, stretching your arms over your head and cringing at the popping sound from your shoulder. Turning back, your gaze falls to Arthur as he sleeps. He is so handsome. Just looking at him lying there so serenely makes your belly flutter. You are anxious for his hands to be on you again; to feel those large, weathered hands that reached out and touched your heart to be all over you once more. But unfortunately, you are not in a space conducive for love-making whenever you please. With a quiet disappointed sigh, you turn back forward and try to slip away when an arm suddenly snakes around your waist. 

“Where you think you’re goin’?” Arthur gruffs out in a sleep-hazed voice. 

You quietly giggle as you affectionately wrap your hands around the burly forearm. “I should head back to my tent before I’m noticed.” You look over your shoulder again and see his blue eyes now open, thick with sleep, yet still twinkling at the sight of you.  

“I think people have a good idea that we’re together now,” he murmurs as he blinks his eyes to try to keep them open.

“I know. But we should still try to be discreet about it. At least this part, anyway.” Your voice is low and hums in the air, as if trying to keep him all to yourself as you run your fingers over the hair of his arm, drawing lazy circles on his skin.  

“I suppose you’re right.” Arthur doesn’t retract his arm, but reluctantly allows you to escape his hold of you.

You stand up and shiver a bit as the brisk morning air envelops your whole body. It's damp and chilly this morning, a sure sign that colder weather is coming soon. Arthur rolls onto his side, his eyes following you as you rub your hands over your arms as goosebumps begin to decorate your skin, popping up like effervescent bubbles. 

“See? If you’d stay in bed with me you’d be warm,” he smirks smartly.

“I’d also be late,” you reply back with a grin as you begin to finger-comb your hair into submission. “I wouldn’t want to get up.”

“Hmm…that’s the bitch of it, isn’t it?” That impish grin of his forming on his plump lips. “Well, what can you do about it anyhow?” And Arthur leans forward to grab your hand to try to pull you back onto the cot, which you playfully swat away. 

With a slight groan, Arthur moves as if to get up with you, but you are quick to put your hand on his shoulder, halting him in his place. “Ah, ah. You stay right where you are, mister.” He looks at you in confusion.  “You could still get away with another hour or two of sleep. And you need it, too. Go back to sleep.” 

Arthur shifts back down to the canvas of the cot, tucking his arm behind his head like a pillow as he smirks up at you. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Don’t worry, Arthur, you won’t miss anything. I won’t let anything happen while you’re asleep,” you tease, knowing full-well how he has to be up and watchful over everyone at all times. Always the protector. 

You tug at your skirt and blouse, making sure everything is straight and where it should be, running your hands over your hair one more time in check. When you're content that you are presentable again, you turn back to place a simple yet sweet little kiss upon Arthur’s lips, pausing to sweep your thumb over his cheekbone before heading over to the tent opening. You discreetly poke your face out to check to see if anyone is watching and then quietly scuttle back to your tent. 

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

As the morning progresses, you and Arthur try to be discreet, but the stolen glances and distractions continue. Trying to stay focused on the daily chores becomes difficult. The girls giggle and tease you about it and you shake your head, trying to wave them off at their nonsense, but it doesn’t stop their curiosity and fun. 

With the afternoon sun high in the sky, you are walking with a laundry basket sitting on your hip, picking through the contents, when a hand like a vice grip suddenly clamps down on your arm, pulling you behind a wagon. Your heart jumps up into your throat as the sharp motion causes you to drop your basket and you stumble to keep your footing. A panicked yelp is quickly stifled by someone’s hand over your mouth as you flounder before being spun around and pushed back against the wooden slats of the wagon. When you finally get your bearings, you rapidly blink to see that familiar silhouette in front of you.

“Jesus, Arthur, you scared the hell out of me!” you hiss at him, slapping his chest. He can only reply with a playful, mischievous laugh, those brilliant blue eyes of his dancing back at you. He places his left hand over your head onto the wagon and leans over you, encasing you in towards him. His other large hand comes up around your neck, his thumb pushing your chin up so that your tender lips are easily accessible to him. He leans in and plants his warm mouth onto your own, inhaling as he does as if drawing out your soul.

As your kiss quickly deepens, Arthur pins you against the wooden frame with his own body. His mouth eventually leaves yours and begins nuzzling up on you, leaving a trail over your jawline and down your neck. Your eyes roll back into your head as you submit to his will, quickly getting lost. You slowly bend your leg to rub in between Arthur’s as your arms extend over his shoulders, lacing your fingers behind his head as he leans further down your neck, sucking lightly on your clavicle.

“I want you in the most sinful ways, you know that?” Arthur whispers in your ear. Your only response is a soft little groan. He gently lays his forehead to yours. “When it comes to you, there’s no doubt about it. Just this crazy need to make you mine.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I am yours, then, Arthur.” Your eyes lift to his, giving him that look, an eyebrow arched with all of the permissions and suggestions behind it. It's enough to melt his brain. “I was always yours.” Your fingers slide down from his neck to curl around the open collar of his shirt, the tips of your fingers teasingly grazing across his collarbone underneath. “It just took awhile for you to find me, is all.”

You lean up on your toes to catch his lips again and kiss him heatedly before he dips down once more to your neck to that spot behind your ear. You giggle again as his beard scratches across your sensitive skin and you roll your face into his as you cradle your arms around his head, snuggling him closer to you. 

“Ahem!” 

Suddenly out of nowhere, you hear the sound of someone clearing their throat. You and Arthur both freeze before slowly turning to the side to see Ms. Grimshaw standing there with an oh-so annoyed look upon her face. 

You quickly drop your hands to your sides, face turning bright red at being caught, as Arthur drops his head down, looking sheepishly at his feet. Suddenly you feel like kids being caught sneaking out of the barn by your mother. 

“Aren't you supposed to be doing something, Miss Y/L/N?” Ms Grimsahw barks, eyebrows arched expectantly at you. 

“Yes, Ma’am,” you confess, biting your lip nervously.  

She then turns her bubbling temper to your partner in crime. “Arthur, do you need something to do?”

“No, Ma’am.”

Ms. Grimshaw stands in silent judgment for a moment and you can see the gears turning in her sharp head. “Is this going to be a problem?” She huffs, waving her finger at you both before firmly planting her hands on her hips. 

“No, Ma’am”, you both respond in unison, trying not to laugh under her intensifying scrutiny.

This isn’t the first time Ms. Grimshaw has caught people messing about, and frankly she couldn’t care any less who’s diddling who in this camp. As long as it doesn’t interfere with her work, that is. (She has a hard enough time keeping Karen and Sean focused.) But you and Arthur are new at this, acting like a couple of love-dumb teenagers, so she’s trying not to be too harsh about it.  To be honest, it kind of warms her black heart. 

After a few more awkward moments of silence, Ms Grimshaw turns and walks away, shaking her head. But unseen by you and Arthur, a little grin pops up on her stern face. “Idiots”, she mumbles.

When you are in the clear, you and Arthur both exhale with relief to be spared the matron’s wrath any longer.

“Thanks a lot, you got me in trouble,” Arthur jokingly swats your shoulder with the back of his hand. 

‘What?! Me?! You started it!” You smack his chest back.

“You’re a bad influence, you know that?” he smirks. “I mean, really, the nerve of some people. You should be ashamed of yourself, Miss (Y/L/N). Attacking me in broad daylight like that. I have a reputation to uphold, you know.” He plays innocent, placing his hand on his chest and feigning offense.

“Arthur, I swear to God…!” You bend over and snatch up the bar of laundry soap laying in the grass and whip it at him. Arthur hops up on one leg, quickly dodging the projectile to avoid being pelted with it.

“You move pretty good for an old man,” you tease, tucking that always-stray lock of hair behind your ear.

“Woman, you have no idea yet. Just you wait.” He flashes those eyes again at you. The taunt alone makes the butterflies in your stomach swirl. Arthur leans in to you with a suggestive grin as his thick fingers trail across your stomach and over your hips. “Now get back to work.”

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

For the rest of the afternoon, you and Arthur manage to behave yourselves. Now that Ms. Grimshaw is wise to your antics, she has been watching you like a hawk. She doesn’t need another “Karen and Sean” in camp, especially if it’s two of the hardest working people there. Of course the woman isn’t going to be heartless about it. But she does have a camp to run, afterall. 

Currently, you are over by the food wagon. With the autumn vegetables coming into harvest, you are trying your hand at a corn chowder to serve the gang. You’re hoping it will be a welcomed change from Mr Pearson’s usual stew that is served more often than not. Hopefully if it is well received, you’ll be able to can some of the thick soup for the upcoming winter months. 

A plethora of spices and herbs permeates the air as you stir the simmering mixture in the large cast-iron kettle that hangs over the fire. You sing quietly to yourself, watching the golden mixture bubble hypnotically as bits of bright orange carrots and deep brown potato skins dance as they soften to a delightful texture. Satisfied with the state of things for now, you set the ladle aside and walk a few paces back to the work table to cut up the fresh biscuits you baked earlier to go with your dinner. 

As you work, Arthur walks over to you, casually leaning his shoulder into the side of the wagon. He takes the cigarette that dangles precariously from his lips between his thumb and fingers and flicks it into the cool grass. “Hey you.”

“Hey you,” you beam back at him. “What are you up to?” 

Every time. Every damn time, that look of brightness and excitement in your face to see him sets Arthur’s tired soul alight, bringing him back to life just a bit more. 

“Nuthin.” The corners of his mouth tug up into a grin. He folds his arms over his chest, watching your hands for a moment as your delicate fingers sort the fluffy biscuits into a basket and cover them with a white muslin cloth. 

His watchful eyes dart around as he tries to act inconspicuous before he leans in a bit closer to you. 

“So I was thinking, maybe we could get together again tonight?”

You give him a questioning look at first, but when those crystal blue eyes flash at you and the corners of his lips begin to pull up even more, you know exactly what he means.

“Oh! Here in camp?” you ask surprised, your face dusting pink at the thought of it.

“Gonna have to sooner or later, right?” Arthur tilts his head with a slight shrug of his broad shoulders.

You think about it for a moment, contemplating the option. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” you say slowly, letting the idea sink in a moment. You’ve waited so long for him, so the thought that you could be together whenever you want now is exciting. Plus, your first time together was just so heavenly, you honestly can’t wait for another go at it. 

“Okay, then.” Your face lights up as the blush of your cheek deepens. You turn to look about as well, sharing in this cute little secret plan of his. “I can come by your tent later tonight? After everyone turns in?” you suggest, an air of hushed eagerness in your voice.

The elated expression on Arthur’s face is priceless. “Alright. Sounds like a plan, then.” Like a little kid waiting for Christmas, you can see him trying to contain his excitement. Arthur didn’t think you’d be quick to spurn him, but he has to admit, he wasn’t so sure if you’d be so readily willing to fall into his arms again so quickly. 

He holds your gaze as if there is something else he wants to say or do, but only simply nods. He runs the back of his forefinger along your upper arm as he pushes himself up and off the wagon and leaves you to finish what you're doing, heading over to the fire. 

You smile brightly and nibble your bottom lip as you watch Arthur stroll over with a swagger in his step as he joins Javier at the nearest fire, his attention keenly refocused on the gun in his friend’s hand. It must be a new one Javier found as Arthur takes the gun and flips it around in his hand, evaluating it. He opens the chamber and squints to look through it, checking the straightness of it. He spins the barrel and evaluates the weight of it in his oversized hand. 

Watching Arhtur handle this gun as if it were a simple kitchen utensil, you are suddenly filled with a bit of apprehension. You have never been afraid to be in Arthur’s presence, but it fills you with a sense of dread to hold him so dear to your heart like this, knowing that any moment could be the last time you set eyes on him. Being with a wanted outlaw, being with Arthur Morgan of all outlaws, is going to come with that level of fear. He warned you of this and it wasn’t until now that you fully comprehend his caution. It makes the fire within you that burns for him all the more intense. As your feelings for Arthur deepen by the very hour, if that’s even possible, this is something that you are going to have to be mindful of. And, take advantage of the time together whenever you have it.

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

Night has fallen across the camp, the sounds of chirping crickets and the occasional hooting owl echoing in the background as you stand in your tent. It’s another chilly night yet you are warm with exhilaration. The idea of being with Arthur again tonight has been all you could think about all day since he mentioned it. 

You dress in your newer nightgown for your amorous rendezvous, one that is a simple white cotton with white silky ribbon sewn into the hems. It has wider shoulder straps, leaving you arms exposed and hugs your bustline nicely as it cascades over your chest, creating a white waterfall of textured fabric and falls to mid-calf length. 

You look yourself over in your little mirror, primping and touching-up. Voluminous locks of hair spill over your bare shoulders, but you have pulled the sides back with a white ribbon to match your nightgown. Deft fingers comb through your hair, curling the pieces just so. Slightly trembling fingertips dab a bit of red rouge to the apple of your cheeks, as well as your soft lips. 

Your hands fidget over your body, smoothing everything out, as you wince just a bit in self-consciousness at your curves. You wish you had a more attractive body to offer, but it is what it is. Arthur has already seen you naked, so there should be no surprises, yet you are still thankful to have the modest covering of your nightgown. You grab the green shawl that took you several months to ineptly knit and wrap it around your shoulders as a finishing touch. 

Suddenly, you hear your name softly called out in the darkness outside of the tent. A smile instantly blooms across your face at the sound of your lover’s gravelly southern drawl. You skip over the few paces to the opening and pull back the tent flap to see Arthur standing there. 

“Hey you,” you whisper in a hushed tone, careful not to wake anyone. 

Arthur nods to you in greeting, the crow’s feet around his eyes crinkling at the sight of you. “Can I come in?” he asks, his gruff voice equally as hushed as yours.

“Of course!” and you step aside, allowing his large frame to slip inside your space unnoticed by the others as you quickly close the opening behind him. 

“Change of - woa!” he exclaims, instantly distracted once he finally turns and gets a good look at you in the lamplight. His eyes dance up and down the length of your whole body, drinking you in from your beautiful hair down to your delicately slippered feet. The golden glow of the oil lamp gives you an even softer look about yourself, the orange flame flickering in your large, sparkling eyes as you look up at him. 

Arthur’s reaction catches you off-guard and you self-consciously look down at yourself, wondering what you missed or could have done to yourself so quickly. “What? What’s wrong?” Your hands immediately start to smooth over the nightgown, searching for the offending item.

“You…you look…amazing!” he stutters in wonderment. Even with his earlier new-found bravado, it still floors Arthur that someone so beautiful, so wonderful, could be waiting for the likes of him. You are a white lily flower standing in your tent, graceful and delicate. And it comes as a stark reminder of just how damn lucky he is. Arthur wonders if you truly have any idea what sort of a man you have invited into your tent. 

Astonished eyes blink back at him, speechless at his response for a moment. Your cheeks flush ruby-red and warm, and you cast your eyes down with a grin, nervously tucking that same lock behind your ear. 

Clearing his throat, Arthur shifts his weight from hip to hip and gives his head a quick shake in an attempt to refocus his train of thought. “Change of plans. Not gonna work in my tent tonight. Dutch and Molly are still awake and fightin’ again. And that usually leads to ‘other things’ as well.” He rolls his eyes. For whatever reason, the last time the gang moved, Arthur’s tent, which he usually likes to be setup away from other people, was placed closer to Dutch. There was alot going on at that time, and it was probably for Dutch’s convenience and easier access to his right-hand man. But now, it is causing a bit of a “logistics problem” for the two of you. 

“Maybe we can stay here?” Arthur poses hopefully, waving his hand towards your cot. 

You bite the inside of your lip at the thought of it. “We’re kinda close to the girls,” you worry, tilting your head in the direction of their shared tent just on the other side of yours.  “Do you think we can be that quiet?”

A laugh huffs out of his nose as a smirk creeps across Arthur’s face.“You forget, I’m used to taken care of myself that way before you came along.” He shifts his weight on his hips again as his thumbs settle confidently onto his belt. 

You raise an eyebrow at him, giving him a humored look. “Right, because only men need that,” you say with that signature hint of sarcasm before the eyeroll comes. The statement causes Arthur to look at you in surprise, not expecting such a thing from a woman. The thought of you touching yourself in the solitude of your tent at night causes a sudden rush of blood to his groin. 

“I can be quiet if you can. But history says otherwise,” he snickers.

“Hey, I’m not the only one who was making noise that night,” you remind him with a look that is equally as smug as you cross your arms over your chest.

God, you are just so fiery. You have a spark in you, a fire about you that Arthur finds so irresistible. He hopes that you never let anyone extinguish that part of yourself. A sense of pride begins to bloom through his chest, knowing that he’s the one that you’ve chosen above all others for yourself. 

Arthur steps up closer to you, placing his large, strong hands on your hips and looking down at you expectantly with that look of escalating desire as your own hands unfold from their place on your chest and float up to grace his forearms. Your fingers wrap around the lower part of his arms, your fingertips barely able to meet due to the bulk of muscle there. The feeling of his skin beneath your fingers is enough to ignite the awaiting heat in your stomach and you have to take a deep, steadying breath to calm the thundering in your chest.

“Okay fine. We can try it here,” you shyly concede. You let go of him and walk a few steps to the large trunk at the foot of your cot that Arthur and Charles had pilfered off of a robbery for you. You quietly open the lid and pull out the large winter comforter that you are saving for colder weather. Shaking it out, the thick material waves in the air, and floats down flat on the ground, making Arthur step back a few paces to make room. 

“What’s this for?” he asks as he watches you pull your blankets off your cot next. “We picnickin’ now?”

“My cot is even squeakier than yours,” you joke as you start to pull any pillows and blankets you have to lay down as well. “Any fooling around we do on that thing is sure to let others know what’s going on in here.”

As Arthur watches you fix your literal “lovenest”, a troubled look suddenly clouds his handsome, chiseled face.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You casually look up at him out of the corner of your eye as you get the make-shift bed ready. 

“What if it's not as good the second time around? I mean, what if the first time was a fluke?”

The hesitation is heavy on his face. That first night together in the hunting shelter was so perfect, so divine. He can’t imagine anything shattering that little slice of heaven that he’s saved for himself in his mind.

As you stand straight again, you offer him such a radiant smile. “That night was amazing, Arthur. Absolutely amazing,” you agree emphatically. “So if we are even half that good this time, it's still going to be pretty damn good.” 

Arthur breathes a sigh of relief. You’re right. Nothing is probably ever going to compare to that night. But, he’s certainly up for the challenge. 

With his mind at ease, Arthur opens his arms to you and you stride over and curl up against him. You inhale and sigh deeply, taking in the notes of leather and cigarettes mingled with his own scent. He holds you close and affectionately kisses the top of your head before lowering his chin to reach your lips with his own. His hands gently land on either side of your face, pulling you in closer for the kiss. Your own hands instinctively find their way to Arthur's ribs, fingers splayed around the mass of him to feel as much as possible before tightly fisting up the material of his shirt to pull him closer to you. You can feel the warmth of him through the fabric. You feel safe here. You feel looked-after and cared for in his arms. And this is just what you need. 

What starts as lazy kisses intensifies with that deep breathing and eventual hip pull. Arthur’s lips show no mercy as they begin to work feverishly over yours, desperate for more. And your own body betrays you as you shiver with each kiss, your knees already falling weak. 

The air fills with muffled sounds of wet kisses and quiet moans as you both try to be quiet. Your nimble fingers start to impatiently pull at the buttons of his black shirt, while his own hands are preoccupied with gripping your arms before dropping to cup the supple flesh of your rear. Layers of clothing begin to quickly become unfastened and discarded as the intimacy rapidly escalates. Restless and busy hands fumble over each other, sometimes crossing the other person’s, fighting for access to the other. 

For a second, your mind flashes back to your previous thoughts of how every moment with Arthur could be your last, and how he could be snatched from you at any time. The idea emboldens you now, making you desperate to keep Arthur to you. You reach down and cup his rapidly growing bulge over his trousers, palming it in your hand, gently squeezing and massaging. A guttural groan of yearning rumbles up from his chest as Arthur angles his hips into your hand. With your lips still locked together and panting hotly into each others’ mouths, you move to make quick work of unbuttoning his pants, pushing the fabric back to get your hand underneath.

Your palm finds Arthur’s thick cock, already half-hard from anticipation. You begin to stroke as much as the confines of his pants will allow, causing his member to twitch in your skilled hand. Your thumb rubs over his tip, already becoming wet, and he breathes hotly against your skin.

His rough hands have already tossed aside your shawl and pulled the shoulder strap of your nightgown down for full access to the soft skin of your shoulder where he has already placed hot, wet kisses and slight bite marks. Arthur pulls the fabric further down your bicep to expose your breast which he immediately clamps his mouth onto, his tongue flicking against the pebbling nipple. Your hand reaches and curls tightly into his hair as your head drops back, your mouth gaped open.You are hardly able to contain the moan that is desperate to escape your throat.

The man already has your head spinning. You’d love to see Arthur completely bare again, like you were the first time at the hunting shelter. You want nothing more than to run your hands along his massive, strong chest and arms; to feel those burly thighs of his pressed around your hips. The idea of rolling around together, completely bare and skin to skin, is so tantalizing to you both. But you are in camp this time with nothing between you two and the rest of the gang except a thin layer of canvas. Plus, you had a fire there the last time to stave off the chill air. So your clothing will need to stay on while you are in camp and you’ll have to work around it. Out of sheer impatience and modesty, you manage to get Arthur’s shirt open enough to run your warm hand over his chest and push his pants down to his thick thighs.

Without letting go of each other for a mere second, you both ungracefully lower yourselves to the ground upon the nest of blankets, lips still locked with each clumsy and impatient movement. You manage to win the dominance of the moment and push Arthur down beneath you, his back up against your cot as you twist around and swing your leg over his hip to straddle him. Your hands wrap around his face and neck, pulling him to you as your tongues wrestle over each other’s. Arthur’s hands knead the tender flesh of your sides before running up your back, clutching at the base of your neck and tightly wrapping around your waist. 

The first time you and Arthur made love together was sweet and passionate, carrying that innocent frailty of being unsure and exploratory. But this time, that seal of the unknown has been broken already. This time, it is more hot and carnal, a desperate need to replenish the high that you both have already experienced and know is lingering under the surface and waiting to be unleashed once again. 

You rock back and forth on the outlaw’s lap, rubbing yourself against his ever-hardening cock. Your mouth breathes hotly into his mouth. Arthur feels so amazing beneath you that, like an addict dependent on their drug of choice, you have to have more of him. 

It's probably indecent how much you want him, but you really don’t care. Because you know he certainly doesn’t, and that’s all that matters. And you realize that nothing is indecent as long as you’re with the right person. And that is when you lose all of yourself to the man underneath you, giving in to your desire so completely, trusting that when you fall, Arthur will be there to catch you. You squeeze his face in your hands, pulling him in to you, squishing his cheeks slightly in the process.

Arthur is constantly on your mind. Your need and craving for him, for his hands to touch you, to press yourself up against his strong body, is a persistent ache, especially after that night in the woods. It’s as if his hands left permanent fingerprints scattered across your body. You yearn for Arthur when you are apart, and when you are together, even in the most innocent of circumstances, you just want to breathe him in and convince him that you are his.

Arthur releases the hold around your waist and hastily pulls the bottom of your nightgown up around your hips. He drops his hand between you two, seeking your heat as his wrist rubs against your pelvis with your persistent rocking. With all obstructions out of the way, his thick fingers begin to rake across your folds, basting themselves in the wetness that is quickly emanating from you. 

With your face squished against his, a soft groan ushers out of your mouth as his middle finger pushes up into you. Arthur slowly pumps in and out, waking up that bundle of nerves that are nestled so gently there. When his second finger joins the first, you have to bite your lower lip at the sheer feeling of it. Your breath quickens and your hands grasp his shoulders, fingers digging into the meat of his muscles. Your eyes roll closed and you begin to grind down onto his hand as he thrusts upward at the same time, shaking his hand back and forth in stimulation. Arthur’s motions draw impassioned squeaks out of you, eventually pulling his name from your trembling lips to be whispered against his temple. His thick fingers write poetry inside of you, rubbing and curling against that perfect spot. 

Just as before, Arthur watches your face and body as he touches you. He is totally mesmerized by how someone so horrible as himself could inflict such pleasure; how hands that could do such damage could still hold something so precious as yourself. He leans forward and leaves nibbling bites along your jaw, making you even crazier with ecstasy.

Arthur holds you so tightly that all of his own anxiety melts away instantly. And he realizes that you are the key; the key to his sanity, to his well-being. His restless hands hold you like you are the missing piece to his broken soul, as if he is trying to mend you into himself. It is here with you, with you entwined in his arms, that Arthur gets to forget the ugliness of your daily lives. The stealing, the killing, the running, all of it; it's a distant thought in his mind right now. All he can focus on right now is you. 

You pull back from Arthur’s face to look him in the eye as you lift yourself up a bit onto your knees. You push his hand from your heat before wrapping your hand around his cock. You give it a couple of slow pumps, relishing the feeling of the hard, thick muscle in your hand. You line yourself up to him and slowly sink back down, allowing his size to fill you so perfectly.

Your mouth gapes and hisses at the fullness of it and Arthur lets out a faint whimper of ecstasy of his own as the two of you conjoin once again. 

Pausing only long enough to meet and hold his gaze, you begin to move atop of him. You quickly figure out that if you grind your hips in a circular motion, it rubs with the most exquisite friction. Arthur’s eyes become heavy-lidded and he lazily clunks his forehead to yours in a moment of pure weakness at the new sensation. 

You move slowly at first, clenching your muscles around his cock as you pull up and down, but you just simply can’t maintain that pace. You are hungry and burning for him, and selfishly you give in to your own needs. You build up speed, each thrust of your hips gaining more momentum. A sharp huff emanates from him as he falls forward even more to lean his forehead onto your shoulder. There, his lips bury into your soft skin and he tries to muffle his uncontrollable moans and grunts.

Arthur doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the sight of you coming completely unraveled before his very eyes. He feels your trembling fingers digging into his skin and watches your face contort with pleasure as you ride him. It's a thing of such beauty, such awesomeness that he has no words to describe it. His head dips lower as his plump lips land to that sweet spot of soft skin on your chest just above your breasts. The sensitive porcelain-smooth skin reddens as his beard stubble scratches delightfully against it, setting your nerves on fire. Arthur clutches you even closer to him as you snap your hips back and forth, chasing that lightning that you know is on the horizon for you.

You begin to moan and pant even faster and louder now.  Your hand desperately grasps at him as your arm encircles his shoulders while the other one reaches behind you and pushes against his thigh to support yourself. A beautiful fog clouds your rational thinking as you get so caught up in the blissful moment.

Too caught up. 

The lines around Arthur’s eyes crinkle a bit in amusement. “You’re gonna have to try to be quieter, sweetheart,” Arthur muses. “You’re gonna get us caught.” His hand comes up to brush a few rogue strands of hair away from your eyes, before cradling your face and smashing his mouth into yours in an attempt to swallow your bewitching little sounds. But being quiet is proving to be easier said than done.

“Do you want…to stop…what we’re doing?” you ask between breaths, slightly annoyed at the light-hearted criticism.

“Hell no.” He pants out matter of factly.

“Then you try to hush it!” And you grind down especially hard to make your point. His stiff cock rams into your back wall; the tightness of your heat clenches unrelentingly around him. Arthur stifles a lustful whimper with your unexpected movement, and his head turns and eyes screw down tightly. It takes a moment for him to regain composure and he slowly opens those majestic sapphire eyes again to stare you down.

“Is that the game you wanna play, little miss?” Arthur growls out, his expression dark and lustful.

Your only response is a suggestive and taunting eyebrow lift as you continue to bop up and down, completely unaware of the beast that you have just unleashed with your salacious behavior.

In an instant, Arthur flips you from his lap to your back, causing a yelp from your throat, and he is quick to roll on top of you. His intense eyes stare you down like a predator. Those eyes alone can fill you with a need and desire like no other, even in the shadows of the night. His firm lips on your body fill you with fire, and the way he works his tongue over yours could easily make you forget your own name. 

Arthur’s grip on you is firm and solid. Not rough, exactly, but not gentle either. He comes up on his knees a bit, and forces his pants down a bit farther on his thighs to give him more flexibility to move. Large hands shove your nightgown up past your ribs. Arthur holds you exactly where he needs you to be, making it clear in unspoken terms that you are not to move. His chest heaves with hunger and you can’t take your wide and shining eyes off of him. He is magnificent. 

One of his hands hooks under one of your tender thighs and Arthur pushes it up to your chest. He holds it there with his broad chest as he leans over you, scissoring you as he wraps his free hand around his cock. When Arthur pushes his solid, heavy member into you once again, it stretches you in a whole different angle, leaving you absolutely breathless. 

He is in total control of your body now as he ruts deep and fast. The new position pulls on the back of your thigh, but it’s nothing compared to the new-found stretch inside of you. Arthur’s massive hand clamps over your mouth in an effort to muffle your moans and whimpers while he supports himself with his other hand set next to your head. Once he gets his bearings, Arthur leans forward even more as his face sinks into the side of your neck, huffing out hot, humid air onto your tingling skin. And you try so, so desperately to be quiet.

You lose all track of your senses as you are completely overwhelmed by them. Arthur is so handsome, so perfect. He is hard as lightning, yet can be as soft as candlelight. His strong, muscled body encompasses your own as he covers you. The very sight of him is enough to make you come undone if you thought about him long enough. You wrap your arms around his neck and shoulders as you angle your hips upward to meet the pounding of his as your breath races to keep up with his relentless pace.

In a brief window of clarity, Arthur makes a mental note to take you somewhere where you don’t have to be so quiet next time. He took for granted how loud you two could be, briefly forgetting how intense the first time was. He absolutely loves the sounds you make for him and he’s a bit resentful that he has to try to silence you and deny himself that simple pleasure. Your little moans and gasps make him grasp you even tighter; to push that much deeper and to squeeze that much harder as his mind is set afire. The hard ground beneath you digs into your back from his unrelenting force, even with the cushion of the blankets.

Athur relishes the way your body rocks back and forth as he rolls his hips into yours. Like a puppet, you move with each of his administrations. He can’t get over how you respond to his touch. Whether he is soft and caressing or rough and lustful, how can you be so pliable, so accepting to him?

He doesn’t last as long as the first time you were together, being too wound up with anticipation this time. But then again, neither do you with that pinnacle coming hard and fast just as before. Once again, the two of you are in perfect sync. Arthur can tell when you’ve hit your climax first, as your body spasms sharply beneath him and a euphoric yet muffled whimper escapes under his hand that is still clamped over your mouth. He can feel your calf muscle tighten sharply against his shoulder as your toes curl as the orgasm overtakes you. Then, your whole body goes limp with exhaustion, no longer able to maintain the energy to stay with him. This causes Arthur to push even faster to chase his own release. A few more greedy thrusts before he pulls his hips back, releasing his warm seed upon your abdomen with a satisfied grunt. 

When he’s sure you have control of yourself, Arthur releases his hand from your mouth, setting it next to your head, opposite his other. His head hangs exhaustedly between his shoulders as he hovers over your trembling body. Panting heavily, Arthur lowers himself to his elbows, cradling you to himself, but trying not to crush you in the process.

Once again, Arthur worries if he’s been too rough with you in his overzealous excitement. But that is quickly dispelled when you lift up to nuzzle your face into his cheek, your arms still gripping tightly around his shoulders. You pull Arthur down to lay overtop of you, eager to feel his warm skin against yours. He hums contently as he comes down from his rapturous high and his heartbeat tries to slow.

“Not gonna lie, but I could really get used to this” he mutters as he places soft kisses to the cuff of your ear and then over your eyebrow. He rolls over to his back, yet still close enough that his arm lays up against yours. You both lie next to each other panting and trying to catch your breath, staring up at the canvas ceiling of your tent. The slight burn between your legs faintly pulsates, leaving you feeling spent and your legs like jelly.

“You’re right though, we’ll have to work on being more quiet,” you giggle softly, turning your head to smile sheepishly at him. Arthur reaches down to entwine his thick fingers with your soft, delicate ones and lifts your hand to kiss them. After a moment, you reach over and grab one of your hand towels to clean yourself before handing it to Arthur and adjusting your nightgown to cover yourself again.

“I’m up for more practicin’. Just so you know,” he snickers as he wipes himself down and proceeds to pull his trousers back up around his hips. 

Arthur leans over you to toss the towel onto your cot then comes up on his side, head propped up on his hand and elbow so he can look down on you. In return, you roll on your side to face him, your arm comfortably tucked under your head as a pillow. 

“I may never leave the tent, if that’s the case,” you reply seductively.

“You’d get sick of me real quick.” 

“I don’t know, I’d find ways to entertain myself with you.” You roll even closer to him and wrap your hand around the back of his head to pull him to you and begin to playfully nibble on his ear.

Another soft chuckle bubbles its way out of his broad chest. “Miss (Y/L/N), you're makin’ me blush.” 

You draw back to see his face again. “If everyone else was unkind to you in the past, then I want to make up for that.” And you deliver a delicate kiss upon his nose.

“There’s a reason for that, ya know,” he raises an eyebrow in warning to you.  

“I’m not too worried about it.” You run your fingers through his hair and stare into his eyes, giving him the most loving smile. Arthur quietly stares into your face, his thumb drawing softly against your hip where his hand comfortably rests. 

“I can’t believe you’re real sometimes.” He kisses the pad of your thumb as you sweep it across his chapped lips as he speaks.

“I could say the same about you.” Another soft giggle leaves your lips.

“You’ll be disappointed when you find out,” he says flatly. 

It takes a moment, but your face turns into a slight frown of disapproval and your eyes catch an unhappy gleam in them. “You need to stop this, Arthur.” Getting a little exasperated, you reluctantly separate from him and his warmth and slowly sit up, leaning back against the cot. You wrap one of the blankets around yourself, drawing your knee up to your chest.

Arthur’s expression quickly turns to worry, afraid he’s already screwed something up. “I’m sorry, did I make you mad?” 

You look down as your fingers nervously play with the edge of the blanket around your shoulders. “A little. This needs to stop, Arthur. I know you’re not used to being treated kindly, but we really need to change that.” Your chin lifts again as you give him a look of slight admonishment.

His eyebrows pull together in shame. “What’s the point?” he pouts.

“What’s the-?” You rapidly blink back at him, totally flabbergasted. “Because I lo-…!” 

And you stop short in your speech, eyes widened. Your heart beats so fast and hard that you can hear it in your ears. It's too soon for you to say those three simple little words. You just got Arthur to admit he has feelings, period. You don’t want to spook him any more than you already have. So you'll have to reel this topic in for now. 

All in good time. 

“Because it hurts my heart to hear you talk about yourself like that, is all.” You quickly backpedal, tucking loose pieces of your hair behind your ear again as you avert Arthur’s gaze for a moment, hoping he missed your slip-up. Fortunately, he’s so preoccupied with your sad face that he missed the intention of what you were just about to say. 

Arthur gives you a guilty look. He never, ever wants to be the reason for any discomfort to you, even if it means he’s going to have to be kinder to himself. You are going to call Arthur out on his bull-shit; that’s something he’s going to have to get used to.

“‘M sorry.” He sits himself up now as well, set right in front of you. He gently takes your chin in between his thumb and fingers. “I’ll try. I promise.” His blue eyes look deep into your own in earnest to try to instill his words and convince you of his intention. He reaches down and takes your hand again and kisses the back of it before engulfing it with his own two in an attempt of an apology. 

“I want to show you what it’s like to be held the way you should be,” you say softly. Your other hand floats out to rest over his heart, feeling how it flutters beneath your palm. “You are nothing that I expected to find here when I first met you, Arthur. But you are quickly becoming everything that I have ever wanted. I know you think that you’re full of disappointment. But I promise you, there’s a huge part of you in there that is worth keeping.” 

Arthur stares back at you, slightly slack-jawed. His head tilts ever so slightly as if he’s about to say something, but whatever it is catches in his throat. His eyes glisten slightly from the mist gathering in the corners. Even in the golden shadows of your tent’s lamplight, you can see the crimson rise from Arthur's cheeks up to the tips of his ears as a smile slowly creeps across his handsome face before he has to avert his gaze from yours to collect himself. 

He places his hand overtop of yours on his chest, holding it there as if afraid you’ll retract your offer. Your words not only cut into him, but they nest there like a seed about to germinate and flower, blossoming into something beautiful for the whole world to see. Sometimes it’s best not to overthink, not to question too much and wonder why. Arthur just needs to stop and take a deep breath, and, as Dutch says, have faith that all will work out for the best. 

“We’re both broken, Arthur,” you breathe, your voice gentle and angelic in the quiet night. “But I think we just fit together so right. Don’t you?” Your glinting eyes burrow into him so deeply when he lifts his chin again to meet your smile. 

“God, I hope so,” he whispers.

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

It’s been several days since you and Arthur have “officially” become a couple. And you are quickly settling into a comfortable routine. While you try to be discreet about the relationship and still have that jovial interaction publically, there is definitely a distinctive difference in how the two of you interact with each other. 

The shy and awkward glances and innocent flirting have given way to more assertive touching and possession. You and Arthur have always gotten on well together and everyone else could plainly see the attraction between the two of you, even when you yourselves could not. And now that it is all out in the open and acknowledged, it is as if the two of you have already been together for years. 

There is the unspoken responsibility for the other one that is always present; one that is tinged with love and respect. It’s a familiarity that usually comes with time and experience. But it is as if you and Arthur are old souls, already having been tied together since before you even met. 

They say that love has no bounds:  not time, location or circumstances can dictate how love will present itself. To have rules and restrictions is a losing battle. Like water cutting through the rocky terrain of a mountain canyon, love will cut its way through and carve out a whole new landscape for those blessed with its presence. 

Today, Arthur has just gotten back from a two-day stint out hunting for food and supplies for the gang. You wanted to go out with him, but since he was doing more than hunting, Arthur had taken Charles out instead, leaving you safely behind. It was kind of annoying at the time, but just as Arthur needs to get used to you being so nice to him, you are going to have to get used to Arthur being so protective of you. You are a precious jewel to him and he will stop at nothing to make sure that you are safe. 

Of course, the minute he’s back in camp, Arthur is called into Dutch’s tent for some damn thing. You sit at the table with some of the girls, mending one of Jack’s shirts, as your eyes follow his tired form lumbering over towards Dutch before returning your attention back to your work. Molly is sitting off to the side of you and looks up from her book as she notices Arthur’s return as well. 

“It’s about time they got back,” she mutters out loud. “Let me know when he’s done in there with Dutch. I need him to run into town for me.” She lifts her chin in Arthur’s direction.

You blink your eyes incredulously at her before a hard frown settles on your face. An irritated sigh huffs out of your mouth as you drum your fingers impatiently on the tabletop. You look at Molly and as calmly as you can, you simply utter “No”.

Molly looks at you for a moment, as if confused by your statement. 

“You’re going to have to send someone else, or wait until later when Arthur has rested up a bit.” You try your best to speak calmly yet firmly to her, as this is a subject that you are not going to yield on.

Molly’s green eyes flash at you as the irritation is clearly visible on her beautiful face. “What?!” 

“I’m sorry, what was the confusing part for you?” You tilt your head at her. “The ‘no’ or the ‘you have to wait’ part?” 

“Who the hell are you to decide anything around here?” the red-head snaps at you. “What, are you Arthur’s keeper now?”

“Apparently, because no one else around here is going to look after him. He does everything around here.” Your own voice begins to escalate as you wave your hand at the expanse of the camp. “The least you could do is give him a break between requests!” 

Tilly and Abigail look at each other nervously as they watch the exchange, not sure if they want to get caught in the middle of an impending catfight. 

At this point Arthur emerges out of Dutch’s tent and slowly makes his way through the camp, the exhaustion evident on his body. Giving Molly a quick scowl, you abruptly get up from the table and walk over to Arthur before anyone can approach him about anything else. You stop right in front of him, causing him to halt and lift his chin at you, a faint smile emerging on his face. 

“Hey you”, you say softly, smiling at him. 

“Hey”, Arthur counters. The minute he lays those blue eyes of his on you, the tension immediately begins to subside within his body.

You reach out and gently grab his gloved hand. “Come with me, please.” And you lead Arthur towards his tent. 

“Um, okay,” he replies, a bit confused. For a moment, Arthur thinks you are dragging him to his tent for some “amorous attention”, but he quickly dismisses that idea when he notices the slight irritation in your step.

Once inside his tent, you sit him down on his cot. You stand in front of him with your arms crossed over your chest, assessing his current state. “You look dead tired.” Your eyes are laced with concern.

“Yeah, I feel dead tired, too. Took me ten minutes to get down from my damn horse, I think,” he complains as he drags his hand over his haggard face that is past-due for a shave.

“Okay, then,” you insist definitively. “You stay in here, lay down and get some rest. I’ll go get you something to eat. Don't you move from this tent, understand?” you instruct as you point your finger at him. “I don’t want anyone asking you to do anything for awhile.” 

“Y/N, I appreciate that, but there’s work to be done around here.” He motions towards the camp before his hand falls limply into his lap.

“Don’t care right now,” as you are quick to shut that idea down. “Either someone else can do it for once, or it will have to wait a bit. If I have to, I’ll take care of it myself.” Your eyes are wide, with your eyebrows launched into your hairline and your body rigid.

“Okay, I guess.” Arthur smiles, pursing his lips a bit. He’s not used to someone helping him, let alone putting his needs first. He can tell by the look on your face right now that there is no arguing with you about this, either. Apparently, he’s not the only one in camp that one doesn’t want to piss off. 

Satisfied with his submission to your request, you turn and head out of the tent. Arthur just grins, shaking his head at your nonsense. His eyes cast down to his boots, half tempted to pull them off, but quickly gives up with the thought of the physical exertion of it. He takes a long, deep sigh, leaning out on his knees with his elbows, letting the stiff muscles of his back slowly unwrap themselves. He slowly wiggles his head back and forth, trying to get his neck to “crack” and release the tension sitting there. 

“Where are you going?”

Arthur hears your voice piercing through the air off in the distance and turns his head towards the commotion. He immediately notices that you’ve caught Sean trying to head over to the tent.

“I was just-” Sean sputters, pointing at Arthur’s tent.

“Nope, no. Don’t even think about it!” you snap sharply.

“Yeah, but-” the little man attempts to protest again, but you just are not having any of it. 

“I don’t care! Whatever it is that you need, go find Charles. And you keep your ass away from that tent! Understand?”

“Ugh, fine!” Sean huffs out a pout and stalks off to find Charles.

The sight makes Arthur chuckle in amusement at your protectiveness. “That’s my girl.” He lays back on his cot with a groan and closes his eyes, tossing his hat onto his chair. 

—------------------------------------

As the late afternoon breeze carries through the camp, it gently lifts a few ruby and topaz-colored leaves to skip across the cool grass. You’ve managed to keep everyone away from Arthur upon his return to camp, allowing him to rest a bit for once. After he’d eaten something, you discreetly tugged on his arm and pulled him away, wandering off to find a quiet spot. You both know it's only a matter of time before Arthur is called away from you for one thing or another, so you try to steal whatever quiet moments you can together. 

You sit peacefully under a tree at the edge of camp with Arthur’s head in your lap. Your fingertips absentmindedly curl themselves in that triangle of exposed skin between the top buttons of his union suit and shirt, playing with his chest hair. His hat is pulled over his eyes to shield them from the bright autumn sun, now starting to make its descent for the day. The sun’s rays sprinkle a peppered sunlight across your nose, gently warming your face. You read your book and hum softly to yourself until you hear Arthur’s soft snores in your lap, making you smile down at him. 

Soon, you see Hosea approaching from the side. The crunching of leaves under his worn black boots causes your head to lift in his direction. He instantly halts when he sees Arthur’s hat pulled over his eyes. You put a finger to your lips in a shushing motion. 

“He’s sleeping,” you mouth quietly. 

“Oh,” Hosea silently mouths in return. He stands there a minute, observing the tranquil scene in front of him. A certain sense of pride and even relief settles over Hosea’s chest as he observes you and Arthur together, sitting so untroubled and content. He wasn’t sure he’d ever see his adopted son so happy again. 

“Well, when he wakes up, let him know I need to see him, won’t you?” the older man whispers.

You smile and nod and Hosea quietly turns around to walk back towards the camp. 

After a few moments, Arthur’s voice murmurs “I ain’t sleepin’, you know.” His hat is still lowered, but you can catch a glimpse of his lips curling into a grin under it. 

“Shhh. I just bought you about another twenty minutes of peace and quiet. Don’t ruin it.” You lift the corner of his hat and peer under it. “And, yes you were. You were snoring.” You playfully drop the hat back onto his face resulting in a light laugh to huff out of him.

He gives himself a few more minutes of calm, but eventually, Arthur rolls himself up with a groan. He casually reaches over and grabs your thigh, tickling it and making you giggle and squirm. He’s slow to stand up, reluctant to move, as his knees make a slight popping sound. He brushes the grass off of his butt and leans over to grab your chin to kiss you on the lips and then your forehead. 

“Thanks for the nap, darlin’” He gives you a wink that makes your heart flutter in your chest. 

The smile you return is one of absolute adoration. “Anytime, cowboy.”

[wsknbfanaccnt]

Happy Birthday Akashi 2024

A birthday drabble for my beloved husband. Love you Sei <3

"It's Yukimaru's birthday tomorrow..." Akashi pondered, sitting on the bed of his Rakuzan dorm. He took a sharp sigh, immediately standing up and packing his things. Just for a little overnight stay.

Oats, applesauce, wheat flour, cinnamon, molasses, and of course carrots for a carrot cake. He thanked his Mother for teaching him how to cook, putting the treat in the oven as he wiped his forehead. Baking was quite tiring in itself, he concluded.

His horse neighed happily with his presence. A quick ride was much needed for the both of them, galloping off into the edges of the Akashi property. The wind through his hair, the rhythm of his hooves. A perfect day.

Even more so, as the redhead did love to spoil his horse. Grooming, massages, cleaning, polishing; he did everything. All the while telling stories of his adventures as a high school student to his horsey.

It ended with a small cake and a thin stick of carrot as a candle. Hiragana of "Yukimaru" written in yogurt. Akashi hadn't even been done singing the birthday song when the white horse devoured the said treat from the plate... but all worth it as he nuzzled his nose against his owner's chest. The latter took a deep breath, smiling softly.

"Happy birthday, Yukimaru."

"Sei-chan, it's not only Yukimaru's birthday today, yknow," Akashi whipped his head around, seeing the people he loved the most. The Rakuzan and Teiko team.

And Reo holding a cake of his own, "Akashi Seijuro" written with icing.

"This was so hard to plan ssu...! We had to get in contact with your butler and arranged time for you and-"

"Shut up Kise, nanodayo."

"Happy Birthday, Akashi-kun," Kuroko stepped forward, rolling out a mat on the grass.

"Let's sit down already, I want to eat cake... You don't mind if I have a bigger slice, do you Aka-chin~?"

"Akashi!! I got you a present!!" Hayama almost shoved a box at the redhead's face. The face that looked stunned. He had no idea that his friends arranged something like this... well, as is the point of a surprise party after all. Akashi hadn't even recalled that today was his special day too.

"Oh yes... it is my birthday today as well, I suppose." he said, his lips curling into a smile.

Remembering his worries of losing his friends back in middle school... the thought seemed so silly now.

I've gained wonderful friends... don't you think, Mother?

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Tags (join my taglist!):

@chosenimagines @souls-heart @padmsanakin @japeneselunchtimerush

[theendless22]

Peeta Mellark Headcanons (Modern Day Technology!):

I got inspired by a titkok I saw this morning that said Peeta would be obsessed with Minecraft and TikTok, I couldn’t help myself. 🩵

My Masterlist

Minecraft

Peeta’s your biggest fangirl, watching you play video games in awe.

This inevitably leads to introducing minecraft to him… and it’s safe to say he’s addicted!

You both have matching skins.

It starts off with a multiplayer minecraft world, you teach him the basics, laughing when he dies from fall damage.

“It’s not funny!” He pouts.

The first night is actual torture.

You best believe he’ll be shrieking at the mobs.

“HELP ME!”

*breadboy12 was slain by zombie*

(Although he’s a fighter irl I’d imagine him to be a useless defender in minecraft, but at least he tries)

Would sacrifice himself for you if you were under attack.

After the first night he’d ensure to make a house for you both.

He’d cry when a creeper blows it up.

You thought he gave up building until you see a small cottage made of birch and cherry wood the next day.

It’s decorated with a wheat farm and animal pen at the side.

“Do you like our house?” He types in chat, crouching up and down at you.

Would giggle when he places his minecraft bed next to yours.

Has every cat and dog he can find.

He’d totally make an animal sanctuary for them, after you complain they take too much space in the cottage.

Definitely makes a bakery where the price for bread is a kiss (only if it’s from you)

Peeta is definitely the flower gatherer.

Don’t be surprised when Peeta whacks you, throwing your favourite flower onto the ground.

“For you :)” is all he’d say before running away into your shared cottage.

You think his antics are cheesy, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. :)

Tiktok

Reposts his entire fyp

Definitely the biggest contributor to his 20+ hour screen time a week.

He’d insist on having a matching pfp with you.

If you say no his pfp would just be his favourite picture of you. “You’re just so pretty baby!”

Apart from bakery accounts you’d be the only person he follows. He doesn’t understand why that makes you so happy.

I’m a firm believer that he wouldn’t indulge in the tiktok thirst traps.

He’d probably block the people making them because the only person he wants to see in that way is you. 🥲

If you posted dancing tiktoks of your own he’d watch it over and over again in awe.

“You look beautiful!” He’d comment. (alongside the other 25+ comments of him admiring you)

Would actually go feral if he saw you make a thirst trap of your own.

His response would totally be: “Gnawing at the bars of my enclosure”. It’s inevitable he becomes victim to the tiktok language at this point, especially when he hears it from you.

Results in Johanna commenting under his comments, telling him to go and touch grass.

He’d get pouty at this, it’s not his fault you’ve got him acting out. :(

A big fan of the “things to do with your partner” videos.

“This reminded me of you”

Would tag you in videos along the lines of “which orange cat am I?”

Leads to a rabbit hole of watching funny cat videos.

His favourites are the cat pov videos, but he equally loves watching animal rescue videos.

He’d stumble across those baby sensory videos (the ones with the vegetables) and unironically be watching them for an hour.

Tiktok would also give him massive baby fever.

“Just the one baby, please!” “Peeta no.”

He’d send you many baby fever videos in hopes it changes your mind.

He’s a sucker for the couple TikTok trends.

“We need to do that together!”

Secretly wants to make a dancing tiktok with you.

Has a private folder full of your reposts, specifically the ones about your special interests so he can educate himself on what you care about.

“No way! I didn’t know you were a Taylor Swift fan!” (his private folder says otherwise) 👀

Results in him becoming obsessed with your special interests.

Peeta would obviously be consumed by breadtok, having thousands of saved videos in his favourites.

You’re no longer surprised when you visit and see his tiktok inspired creations.

“I saw it on tiktok!” He’d beam.

Would definitely start a colony of sourdough after seeing the “100 year old sourdough starter” trend.

Keeps up with the tiktok cake drama (if yk yk)

Scared of the yo ho sea videos (he’d never admit it)

Shits himself when you’re near bodies of water and you start singing it.

However he still watches them to tell you interesting sea facts.

Nobody can convince me that he doesn’t religiously watch the Reddit AITA videos with minecraft parkour or subway surfers in the background.

Gets heated when the person is actually the asshole.

“How could they do that?” “They suck!” “I’d never do that to you baby!”

You laugh, a small smile on your lips because it’s true, he’d never do that to you.

Additional headcanons

Peeta makes a world on the sims, spending hours ensuring you and him look like yourself in real life. In his world you and him are happily married, having multiple babies together and a few pets. He uses the sim world almost as a manifestation of the life he wants with you, as he genuinely sees you both spending the rest of your lives together.

Has a private tumblr account that acts as his diary, he often recalls his day with you, and if that day is particularly good he makes his entries in the same formation as a fan fic (He’s just that whipped) :)

(I’m open for suggestions to make more of these, feedback is appreciated!) This is the first post I’ve made in a few years so I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did making it 💗