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moeitsu · 6 months ago

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The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Ch 15 - When Up The Hilly Slope We Climbed

Summary: Arthur struggles to adjust to his new disabilities. Meanwhile Kate finds a job outside of camp for them, providing a few days respite and some much needed alone time. Arthur finally reveals his feelings.

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A/N: Sorry this one has taken me a bit long folks! I've been super busy w/ work and moving into a new apartment. This chapter was supposed to be broken up into two days, but it's super long already (12.5k words). So day 2 will be apart of chapter 16.

TW: Slight nsfw, some steamy moments and kissing but nothing graphic. Implied ptsd and anxiety, night terrors.

Tag List: @photo1030 @ariacherie @thatweirdcatlady @ultraporcelainpig @marygillisapologist @eternalsams

**please let me know if you would like to be tagged in future chapters!

Story Tags: Widowed, Original Character(s), High-Honor!Arthur Morgan, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby!Arthur Morgan, Canon Divergence, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Sex, Eventual Romance, Emotional Sex, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort,Touch-Starved, Sexual Tension, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Infant Death, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Torture, Blood and Violence, Survivor Guilt, Aftermath of Torture, Caretaking, Injury Recovery, Period-Typical Racism, Anxiety, Self-Hatred, Night Terrors, Emotional Constipation, Self-Doubt, Men Crying, Bathing/Washing, Sweet/Hot, Romantic Angst, Romantic Fluff

Wide open plains stretched out as far as the eye could see, a sea of golden grasses swaying gently in the breeze. The cool wind rustled through Arthur's hair, carrying with it the scents of earth and freedom. Beneath him, the powerful, rhythmic breathing of his horse was a comforting constant, each hoofbeat a reminder of the boundless horizon that beckoned. The cold iron on his hip, always loaded and ready, was a familiar weight, a testament to the life he had chosen—a life of danger and defiance, a bandit perpetually on the run from the law. His deadeye and quickdraw ability were crucial in these untamed wild lands.

Nights were always spent around a crackling campfire, the warm smell of fresh meat sizzling over the flames mingling with the rich, smoky aroma of burning wood. Somewhere deep in the heartlands, under a blanket of swirling, twinkling stars, the heavens seemed to watch over them with a knowing smile. A beautiful woman sat by Arthur's side, her voice a soothing melody that wove through the night air, her eyes reflecting the flickering firelight with a bright, mesmerizing glow.

These were the moments Arthur cherished, the simple yet profound pleasures of a life lived on the edge. It was not a perfect life, but it was his, and he owned every moment of it. This was the life Arthur had always known—a life that now is nothing more than a distant dream.

—

It had been over a month since the day he was bushwhacked by Colm’s men, a day that had shattered the illusion of invincibility he had once held. The wounds on his body mirrored the scars on his spirit, each one a reminder of a brutal reality that had forever altered his existence.

Arthur’s fever broke shortly before the last of the antibiotics ran out, a small victory that brought a wave of relief. The gang, though worn down by worry, had always believed in Arthur’s resilience. His recovery, quicker than anyone expected, seemed almost miraculous. Kate remained by his side those crucial first few days after he woke up. She helped him walk on his injured ankle, offering a steady arm for support, and guided him through exercises for his left shoulder, her presence a constant source of encouragement. To her, Arthur was nothing short of a miracle. To Arthur, however, it felt more like a punishment. If not a death sentence for his sins, then a disability.

The feeling in his hand gradually returned, but a persistent dull ache haunted his arm whenever he moved his shoulder too much. And a warm throbbing often emitted from the site where the bullet had lodged into his flesh. On particularly strenuous days, an obnoxious tingling in his fingers, as if millions of tiny pins were stabbing into his skin, tormented him. Despite Kate’s efforts with physical therapy, he found himself unable to lift his arm above his head. No matter how hard he tried, his arm would tremble with the strain of effort. Kate assured him that it might improve with time, but Arthur was already swirling in doubt.

From the moment he woke up, Arthur insisted on being up and about. Having spent too much time confined to his cot, he longed to feel useful again and be a part of the group. Kate warned him that he still needed time to rest his ankle, but Arthur didn’t listen. Determined to regain his independence, he pushed himself to move around the camp. Kate, seeing his stubbornness, fashioned a crutch for him to use when he wanted to walk.

Arthur ignored the throbbing pain shooting up his leg for as long as he could. The first few days were the hardest, each step sending jolts of agony through his body. He clenched his teeth, determined not to let anyone see how much he was hurting. The gang watched him with a mix of admiration and concern, most of them offering support whenever they could.

Yet, the pain never seemed to cease. It became like a parasite gnawing away at his resolve. Whether it was the persistent dull ache of his shoulder and arm or the splintering agony in his ankle, Arthur’s body was never granted a moment's rest, not even in sleep. His nights were fragmented by vivid nightmares, a cruel reminder of the torture that had shattered his once peaceful evenings. Sleep, when it came, was fitful and brief, leaving him exhausted and irritable.

Arthur’s misery seemed to contrast sharply with the relief of the other gang members. They commended his survival, their laughter and cheer as a stark reminder of how isolated he felt. He knew he should be grateful, but instead, he felt like a different man—a shell of his former self. The transformation turned him into a frustrated grouch, snapping at those who simply wanted to help him.

Every attempt to regain his independence was met with well-meaning interference. “Let me get that for you,” someone would say, whether he was trying to fix a meal, complete a chore, or simply light a cigarette. Each offer of assistance, though kindly intended, only deepened his sense of uselessness.

Arthur now sat alone, perched upon a wooden chair outside his tent, nursing a cup of bitter hot coffee. The morning air was refreshing, the brief release before the dry heat of Lemoyne settled in for the day. The sounds of mourning doves waking up mixed with the usual clatter of morning camp activities, as everyone gathered for breakfast and prepared for the long day ahead. Arthur watched them move about from beneath the brim of his hat, its shade shielding his eyes from the bright golden sun. He idly flexed his left hand and rolled his wrist, a new habit he had formed to find some relief from the constant tingling sensation in his fingers.

The camp buzzed with familiar routines. He watched the girls collecting laundry and bringing heavy baskets to the water's edge. Javier and Lenny were engaged in a lively game of dominos, their laughter punctuating the morning air. Behind them, Pearson hummed softly to himself as he cracked eggs over a pan, the aroma of cooking breakfast wafting through the camp. In the distance, Bill’s voice could be heard taunting Kieran as he tended to the horses. Everything was as it should be, exactly how Arthur remembered it. But now, instead of being a part of it, he simply watched with growing envy.

Arthur was so deeply lost in his thoughts that he didn't hear the sound of Kate returning to camp. She had been gone with Charles and Sadie, hunting together for nearly three days. He missed her presence dearly; she was one of the few people he could tolerate amidst his pain. Arthur knew of the sacrifices she made for him, and continued to make. He could only hope to be given half the chance to repay his gratitude. She had become a constant source of relief and comfort. Kate’s brief absence had left a void, one that he felt acutely every day.

Kate approached quietly, taking in the sight of Arthur sitting alone. She could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he flexed his recovering hand, and her heart ached for him. She knew how hard it was for him to feel sidelined, to watch life go on without him being able to fully participate. But she couldn't help but feel immensely relieved with each passing day, Arthur was alive after all. A testament to his spirit, as well as her own dedication.

“Good morning,” Kate called out softly, her voice a gentle intrusion into Arthur’s trance.

Arthur’s gaze was distant, his side profile illuminated by the golden morning sun. He seemed lost in thought, his mind wandering far beyond the bustling camp around him.

“Arthur,” she repeated, closing the distance between them. This time, he looked up, surprise and relief washing over his features.

“Kate,” he greeted, his voice still hoarse and groggy from a restless night. “Didn’t hear ya come in. How was the hunt?” He lifted his silver cup of coffee to his lips, the steam mingling with the crisp morning air.

Kate took a seat on the trunk at the end of Arthur’s cot, a gesture that brought him a sense of comfort. Her presence calmed his troubled mind. “It went well. We brought back plenty of game. Charles and Sadie are already getting it sorted with Pearson.”

Arthur nodded, his eyes drifting back to the camp. “M’glad you’re back. Place felt emptier without you.”

Kate chuckled, a light, melodic sound that filled the space between them. “I’m sure it did. How’ve you been holding up?” she inquired, her tone gentle but probing. She had been reluctant to leave for the hunt, worried about how Arthur’s condition was affecting him mentally.

Arthur sighed, leaning back in his chair, his tired eyes meeting hers. The vibrant blue of his irises had returned, a sight Kate had dearly missed. “Same as always. Though I haven't moved much from this spot,” he gestured with a shrug of his hand. “Seems like I can’t even pour my own cup of coffee nowadays,” he added with a hint of mockery and sarcasm, his frustration evident.

Kate hummed in acknowledgment, pulling a small folded piece of paper from her pocket. “I’ve got a job for us,” she said finally, not commenting on Arthur’s supposed helplessness.

Arthur perked up slightly in his chair, curiosity lighting up his features. “Really? Doin’ what?” he asked, trying to bite back the eagerness in his voice. He longed to be back in the saddle, away from the confines of camp.

“Seamus sent me a telegram. His broodmare is going into labor soon, and his family is going to be out of town for a few days. He asked me to watch the place for him and keep an eye on her, in case she has the baby.” Kate smiled, hoping the task would give Arthur a sense of purpose and a much-needed break from camp life. She harbored a silent hope that it would also give Arthur a glimpse of what his life could look like, if he abandoned his title as an outlaw.

Arthur’s interest was piqued, and he leaned forward, the dull ache in his arm momentarily forgotten. “That sounds like somethin’ I can handle. When do we leave?”

Kate's smile widened, pleased to see a spark of enthusiasm in his eyes. “Let’s head out after breakfast.”

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Eager to leave, Arthur opted to skip breakfast. Determined to feel like his old self, he made his way to his mare, Belle, without hesitation. He could see her white coat gleaming in the distance, reflecting the golden rays of the morning sun. Abandoning the crutch Kate had made for him, he limped forward, gritting his teeth against the pain. He longed for normalcy, for the feeling of being whole and capable again. The next few days promised him the opportunity to work and contribute, and he was damned if he would spend more time resting when he could make himself useful.

Reaching Belle, Arthur whispered soft greetings to her, brushing her sleek coat with gentle strokes. The mare nickered softly, enjoying the attention. He snuck her a couple of oat crackers, watching with a small smile as she eagerly nibbled them from his hand. As he turned to gather his saddle, he heard footsteps approaching and glanced over his shoulder to see Kate.

“I was thinkin’ we’d take Lorena together,” she suggested kindly, her eyes filled with concern.

A twinge of disappointment shot through Arthur. He ached to ride, to feel that sense of freedom he had been missing. “M’fine, Kate. I can still ride,” he answered, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice. He knew she was only concerned for his well-being, but the idea that he might not be able to ride terrified him more than he cared to admit.

Kate approached Arthur’s side, petting Belle affectionately. “I know you can,” she said matter-of-factly. “It’s Belle I’m worried ‘bout. Kieran and I have tried to saddle her, but she’s still reluctant to leave the camp. I don’t wanna push her if she ain’t ready.”

Arthur gave her a sad but understanding look. He nuzzled Belle’s snout, whispering apologies to her as she nibbled at his hat affectionately. Her familiar warmth and the gentle nudge of her muzzle were comforting, yet a poignant reminder of the torment they shared.

Kate whistled for Lorena, who was only a few feet away, staying protectively close to her companion. “You wanna saddle her up for me?” she asked Arthur, her voice kind but encouraging.

“Sure,” Arthur nodded appreciatively, gathering Kate’s buckles and saddle bags from the hitching post.

Arthur worked quietly as he saddled the large black Hungarian horse. There were moments when he faltered, the weight too much for his weakened arm. But Kate never once interfered. He stumbled and cursed under his breath, frustration simmering beneath his determination. Each setback was met with another attempt, his resolve unwavering. It took him longer than he would have liked, but once Lorena was ready, he felt a small sense of victory.

Kate watched him work, her eyes filled with silent support. She knew better than to offer unsolicited help; Arthur needed to do this on his own. When he finally finished, he gave her a small nod, a flicker of pride in his eyes. Kate grabbed the reins and held them out to Arthur.

A moment of understanding passed between them as Arthur realized Kate was doing this for him. She was giving him the tools to be independent again, one small step at a time. His heart swelled with gratitude, and he couldn’t bite back the smile that spread across his cheeks.

He lifted himself onto the horse slowly from the right side, using his good arm to pull himself up. His ankle throbbed under the weight of his body, but he swallowed the pain. In moments, he was in position, like he had done so a million times before. Poised and ready to take off like a bandit in the night, he felt a spark of the old Arthur Morgan returning.

With his good arm, he reached out a hand to Kate, who accepted the kind gesture with a smile. She settled herself behind him, a stark difference from the last time they rode together, when Arthur’s blood had stained the cracks of her leather saddle. She pushed the haunting memory down and playfully patted Arthur’s thigh. The leather of his chaps was warm beneath her fingers from the summer morning sun.

“I’m ready when you are,” she said joyfully, her voice full of light. Arthur glanced back, flashing her a grin that made her heart skip a beat.

With a click of his tongue, they took off down the vibrant green path that led out of Clemens Point. The rhythmic thudding of Lorena's hooves was like a heartbeat, steady and strong. The morning sun cast long shadows over the landscape, the world awakening around them. Birds sang from the treetops, and the scent of blooming wildflowers filled the air.

Kate's arms wrapped securely around his waist, her presence comforting. The warmth of her touch seeped through his shirt, grounding him in the moment. Arthur felt the wind in his hair and the familiar weight of the reins in his hands. Each stride of the horse brought him a little closer to the man he used to be. The pain in his ankle and arm faded into the background as the thrill of the ride took over.

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They rode past fields of tall grass swaying in the breeze, the golden tips brushing against their legs as if nature itself was greeting them. The sunlight spread through the horizon, painting a warm glow over the countryside. They crossed a sparkling creek, the water bubbling merrily as it wound its way through the terrain, a glistening ribbon of life cutting through the earth. Arthur and Kate shared smiles and stolen glances, their anticipation for what lay ahead growing stronger with each passing mile.

Arthur felt the tension ease from his shoulders, the rhythmic motion of the horse beneath him a familiar sensation. He knew he had been petulant the past couple of weeks, his frustrations spilling over onto the camp members. Guilt gnawed at him, but at this moment, all he could think about was Kate.

Her voice was a soothing sound as she pointed out sights along the way, her laughter blending harmoniously with the hum of nature. It was a healing song to his soul, mending the frayed edges of his spirit in ways he could never have imagined. The warmth of her body pressed against his back, her fingers gently hugging his sides as she held onto him, brought a sense of belonging he had longed for.

For a while, they rode together in a comfortable silence, the only sounds the soft clop of Lorena’s hooves and the rustling of the wind through the grass. The landscape unfurled before them like a tapestry, each new vista more beautiful than the last. Arthur felt a boldness stir within him, a desire to express the gratitude and affection that had been building in his heart.

“Kate?” he called, gathering her attention from whatever had caught her eye in the fields. Her gaze shifted to him, a soft hum of acknowledgment escaping her lips.

“I’ve said it before, but—” Arthur breathed deeply, sincerity filling his tone. “Thank you. I know takin’ care of me wasn’t easy.”

Kate squeezed his thigh affectionately, her touch a gentle reassurance. “Nothing in life is easy, Arthur. But I would do it all again in a heartbeat if it meant you’d still be here,” she said softly.

Arthur let her words sink in. She wanted him around. There were days when Arthur thought he had nobody, that he was better off alone or even dead. To hear her say those words filled him with a sense of purpose, a reason to keep fighting. He recalled the night he stumbled upon her letter in his journal. The weight of her confession felt heavy in his satchel now, a constant reminder of the unspoken words between them. He had found the courage to write down his feelings next to hers, but some part of him still lacked the bravery to bring them to light.

“Still don’t think I deserved it,” Arthur mumbled, more to himself than to Kate. Self-doubt simmered beneath his appreciation, a constant shadow in his mind. “You’ll have to let me repay the kindness someday,” he admitted.

Kate smiled, her hand resting warmly on his thigh. “No need to repay it. You can lean on me when things get hard. That’s what friends are for,” she said softly, giving him a gentle squeeze from behind in the saddle.

Her words from the first night she stayed at camp echoed in his mind, the night he realized he was falling for this extraordinary woman. She had been quietly singing a lullaby to her horse, and unknowingly, to Arthur as well. It was the same night he received a troubling letter from Mary, his heart filled with confusion and ache. Yet her presence brought him a sense of truth he had been longing for.

Helping others isn’t a weakness, Kate had said, it’s a testament to our humanity.

Those words had struck a chord deep within him. Kate was the most human person Arthur had ever met. She embraced him as he was, with all his flaws and scars, and proved her loyalty and friendship time and time again. She had a way of making him feel seen, understood, and valued—something he rarely experienced in life.

“Can I ask ya for a favor?” he said suddenly, changing the subject.

Kate giggled, her laughter a sweet whisper on the open air. “Of course,” she breathed, curious about his request.

“Will ya sing me somethin’?” Arthur asked, a touch of bashfulness creeping into his tone. He was sure she would sing; Kate loved to sing, and Arthur loved to listen to her. Like the prettiest song bird he ever did hear.

Kate’s eyes sparkled with surprise and delight. She shifted slightly, tightening her hold around his waist, her breath close against his back. “I’d love to,” she whispered.

Arthur felt a shiver of anticipation as Kate began to sing, her voice soft and melodic. He could feel the breath in her lungs and the vibration of her vocals behind him. The song she chose was an old folk tune, one that was filled with love and sweetness. Her voice floated on the breeze, mingling with the rustling leaves and the distant call of birds. Each note wrapped around Arthur like a warm hug, soothing the lingering stress in his body and soul.

Give you my lovin', seven days a week

I'll be your honey, if you'll be sweet

I know, I'm the only one for you

I know that you think this is not true.

See you in places, I'm followin' you

You'll be upstairs, and I'll be there too

Everywhere you go, I will follow

I know it won't be the same tomorrow.

People give me warnings, to stay away from you

They say you'll hurt me, I don't think that's true

When I see you, I wanna kiss you

But I know that ain't right, so I ask if I can hold you.

Oh, honey, I need you so bad

Oh, honey, I only want to make you glad.

Arthur felt a fluttering in his chest at her choice of song. The lyrics felt personal, as if she were speaking directly to him. Her voice filled him with confidence and reassurance. At that moment, Arthur knew he would give her the letter when they arrived at Emerald Ranch. The very place where it all began, where their paths had crossed during their unlikely task.

“Gosh, woman,” Arthur mused with a playful smile, “I gotta get’chu a guitar or somethin’.”

Kate chuckled. “Can you imagine? I’d never shut up if I had one of my own!” She laughed out loud, unaware of how much Arthur longed to hear her sing, like a songbird perched outside his window every morning.

“That’s the dream, darlin’,” Arthur replied softly.

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Taking a look around the inside of the little farmhouse, Arthur marveled at how cozy it was. From the outside, it looked like your typical run-down ranch house, weathered and unassuming. But on the inside, it was a warm and welcoming home, filled with the tangible essence of years of hard work and family moments. The walls were adorned with faded photographs and handmade decorations, each telling a story of its own. The wooden floors creaked with a comforting familiarity, and the scent of aged wood mixed with the faint aroma of bread lingering in the air.

Arthur had only ever known Seamus as a rancher who ran a side business as a merchant. He had never imagined the man’s home to be so inviting, so filled with life and history. The mismatched furniture added to the charm, each piece seemingly holding its own tales.

“So, this guy really trusts you to stay in his house for a few days?” Arthur asked skeptically, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. “How’s he know you won’t rob ‘em?” he added incredulously.

Kate huffed a laugh, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Cause I’m no thief,” she emphasized, her tone playful and firm. “Seamus is very good to his ranch-hands. They do a lot for him, and he always repays their honest work.” She gestured towards the kitchen table, a short letter indicating instructions for her while he was gone as well as a wad of cash. As if he already knew Kate would show up for the task. “Besides, his broodmare Dolly can be a real handful. But she always liked me,” she added with a playful wink, a hint of pride in her voice.

Arthur couldn't help but smile at her confidence and ease. She was a reliable, trustworthy woman. He followed her as she held open the front door, indicating she would give him a tour of the rest of the property.

Together they walked over to the barn, the familiar sounds of cows lowing and chickens clucking filling the air. The occasional whinny from a horse echoed in the distance. The barn itself was sturdy and well-kept, with bales of hay neatly stacked and the scent of fresh straw mingling with the earthy aroma of the animals.

Lorena was bareback in the pen, nibbling on the hay with the other horses. Her sleek black coat shone in the soft light, a picture of contentment. Arthur admired how the horses seemed at peace here, a reflection of the care and attention they received.

As they walked, Kate pointed out various aspects of the ranch, sharing anecdotes and bits of history. “Seamus built this barn himself, you know. Every plank and nail. Took him the better part of a year,” she said, voice filled with respect.

Arthur listened intently, appreciating the glimpse into a world so different from his own. “Seems like a good man,” he remarked, nodding thoughtfully.

“He is,” Kate agreed. “He’s one of the few who understands the value of hard work and loyalty. And the payoff of living an honest life.”

Arthur chuckled, “if my memory serves me right, he had me and Hosea rob his cousin a few months back.” He said scratching his chin.

Kate shot him a knowing grin, “oh I remember. I got stuck babysitting you morons,” she teased. In a more serious tone she added, “but he’s got a family to take care of. And life ain’t easy.”

They paused at the edge of the pen, watching the horses for a moment. The golden afternoon sun bathed the ranch in a warm glow, casting dark shadows and highlighting the beauty of the surroundings. Arthur felt a sense of peace here, a welcome relief from the chaos of their usual lives.

Kate turned to him, her eyes shining with a mix of pride and contentment. “Ready to meet Dolly?” she asked, a smile playing on her lips.

With a nod from Arthur, Kate led him to the back of the stables, where the broodmare was kept. The area was a safe distance from the other mares and stallions, ensuring a quiet and secure environment for the expectant mother. Dolly, a large dapple gray Andalusian with a white muzzle and a distinctive white stripe down her forehead, stood regally in her stall. She was too old to be working but too young to be retired, so she had become a mother to a handful of strong young fillies.

Kate had worked around Dolly for a few weeks and initially suffered accordingly. The mare had a reputation for being temperamental and unpredictable. Dolly had once nearly kicked Kate’s head off when she attempted to re-shoe her. She was the one horse that genuinely frightened Kate, which said a lot considering Lorena’s temper.

But like any challenge, Kate approached it with patience and conviction. She spent countless hours with Dolly, speaking to her softly and handling her with care. Gradually, the mare's wild eyes softened, and she began to form a bond of trust with Kate. Dolly acknowledged that Kate was the master, and she the hound. While Dolly remained fierce and powerful, Kate was the only one who could tame her.

Kate greeted the large mare warmly, her eyes softening at the sight of Dolly’s swollen, round belly. “Hey mama. Good lord girl, you are ready to pop!” she exclaimed, scratching under Dolly’s snout. The mare snorted and flicked her ears, reacting to Arthur’s unfamiliar scent in her territory.

“She’s a beauty,” Arthur remarked, stepping closer but keeping a respectful distance.

Kate smiled, continuing to scratch Dolly’s favorite spot. “She is, isn’t she? Took some time, but we got to understand each other.” She glanced at Arthur, her eyes twinkling with pride and affection. “She’s still got some spirit in her, but she knows I’m here to help.”

Arthur admired the way she gently stroked her snout, “You’ve got a way with these animals, Kate. It’s somethin’ special.”

Kate’s smile widened, a blush creeping up her cheeks. “Thanks, Arthur. That means a lot coming from you.”

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, watching as Dolly nuzzled Kate’s hand. The soft sounds of the other horses in the stables and the gentle rustling of hay created a peaceful atmosphere.

Kate turned to Arthur, her hand still resting on Dolly’s snout. “Wanna give it a try?” she asked, nodding toward the mare.

Arthur hesitated for a moment, but then he took a breath and stepped forward. He reached out slowly, allowing Dolly to catch his scent. The mare flicked her ears again but didn’t pull away. With a gentle touch, Arthur stroked her neck, feeling the warmth and strength beneath his fingers.

“She don’t seem so bad,” he muttered as her whiskers tickled his other hand, a tentative smile forming on his lips.

Suddenly, Dolly shrieked loudly and stomped her hooves, causing Arthur to jerk back slightly. Kate laughed, a sound like tinkling bells, and said, “Oh, stop it, you’re embarrassing me,” she spoke to the horse scoldingly. “He’s harmless,” she added softly, grabbing her reins and gently coaxing her back to Arthur’s presence.

Arthur watched in admiration as Kate handled the mare with such ease and gentleness. The way she treated Dolly, her own horse, and every beast with respect and concern showed a depth of compassion that extended far beyond human interactions. It was as if her love and care were boundless, touching every living thing she encountered.

The tempered mare approached reluctantly as Arthur pulled a peppermint from his satchel. He smiled to himself as Dolly hesitantly lowered her head again to accept the irresistible sweet treat. “You’re not the only one with a sweet tooth,” he muttered, popping one of the candies in his mouth and seizing the opportunity to pet her snout.

“Look at that, friends already,” Kate said, clasping her hands together with a look of satisfaction. She turned to Arthur, her gaze filled with anticipation. “You ready to get to work?”

Arthur nodded and made a gesture with his hands, “Ready as the day is long,” he said with a smile. “What can I do?” he asked, looking around the barn, eager to contribute.

Kate placed a hand on her hip and followed his gaze, contemplating how they would split the work. She wanted to give him enough labor to make him feel useful, but nothing that would be too strenuous for him. Arthur glanced at her with a hint of amusement, appreciating her thoughtful consideration. In that moment, they weren’t just friends or potential lovers—they were simply a couple of ranch hands ready to tackle the day’s work together. She had a way about her that made him feel human again.

“Well,” Kate began, her eyes scanning the barn, “we need to muck out the stalls and make sure all the animals are fed and watered. After that, we can check on Dolly again and make sure she’s comfortable.”

Seamus usually had at least three to six ranch hands depending on the season. Most of them were his own kin, which meant they were short a few hands. The sun had begun its descent past its peak at noon, casting long shadows across the ranch. Only a handful of hours remained before dusk would creep in, and Kate estimated that their work would take them through the rest of the afternoon.

“Think you can start with the stalls?” Kate inquired, her mind already planning out the evening's tasks.

“Absolutely,” Arthur’s voice broke through her thoughts, filled with determination.

Kate nodded with a smile, slipping on a pair of leather gloves. “I’ll be around if you need me. Just holler,” she said, ready to tackle her own chores.

As she turned to leave, Arthur stopped her. “Hang on a moment.”

Kate paused, watching as Arthur pulled out a folded piece of paper tucked into his journal. His hand trembled slightly, whether from his injury or nerves, she couldn't tell.

Kate accepted the paper with a furrowed brow, her fingers itching to peek inside. “What’s thi–”

“Read it later,” Arthur blurted out, the words tumbling together like a stampede. “Please,” he added softly, trying to swallow the heat rising up his neck. He had never considered himself a ladies' man, and he wondered every day how he ever managed to catch the eye of a woman such as Kate. Writing in his journal was the purest way he could communicate his thoughts, and Kate had learned to understand his language, which still felt surreal to him.

Standing there like a proud young stallion, Arthur held his hat to his chest, an adorably sincere gesture he had done a few times around Kate. She knew then what the little paper contained within its folds. He was baring his heart to her in the best way he knew how.

She smiled warmly and tucked the confession into her breast pocket, close to her heart. “I’ll read it later, Arthur,” she promised.

Arthur headed to the stalls, grabbing a pitchfork and setting to work. Each movement, though painful, felt purposeful. He shoveled the muck with a steady rhythm, the repetitive task giving him time to reflect on the note he had given Kate. He wondered what she would think, how she would react, and hoped that his words would convey the depth of his feelings.

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The hours passed by in a whirlwind of tasks. Kate tackled the heavy labor, her muscles straining with the effort as she moved bales of hay, repaired fencing, and carried buckets of water to the troughs. She welcomed the physical challenge, the work offered a familiar routine she had been missing. It kept her focused and grounded, and she found a certain satisfaction in the job.

Arthur, meanwhile, took care of the barn duties. He mucked out the stalls, cleaned the tack, and ensured the animals were comfortable. Every now and then, he would pause to stretch his sore shoulder or lean against the stable gate to rest his ankle. Despite the aches in his body, he felt a sense of accomplishment with each completed task. The familiar rhythm of ranch life created a comforting sense of normalcy. Unlike his usual work, it brought him domestic bliss. Something he had always longed for.

As the afternoon wore on, the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long, golden shadows across the ranch. The air grew cooler, and a soft breeze rustled the leaves of the nearby trees. Kate paused to take in the moment, leaning against an upturned trough. She wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand, her gaze drifting upward.

The sky had taken on a dramatic hue, the once bright blue now a tapestry of darkening clouds. The sun dipped on the horizon, creating a fiery glow that contrasted sharply with the ominous gray that was slowly overtaking it. The scent of rain was in the air, a fresh, earthy aroma.

The day's work had taken its toll, and she felt a pleasant exhaustion settling into her bones. She figured it was time to call it a day anyway; the approaching storm and the growl of her stomach made the decision an easy one.

Before they could retire for the night, one task remained on Kate’s mind. She sought out a secluded spot under a nearby tree, the gentle rustling of leaves providing a soothing backdrop. Kate tugged her gloves off with her teeth, simultaneously pulling the letter from her pocket. Her fingers traced the folds, her heart racing with anticipation and a twinge of uncertainty. Whatever lay within these pages would change their relationship forever; Kate fervently hoped it was a change for the better.

Feeling the weight of Arthur's words in her palm, she carefully unfolded the handful of papers. The edges were smooth yet serrated, as if he had meticulously torn them from his journal. The folds were straight and pressed, resembling the careful sealing of an envelope. Kate marveled at his genuine care for something so simple.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she filled her heart with clarity and began to read his words:

My darling Kate…

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

~ 3 days ago ~

In the depth of night, the moon had carved its way across the sky, a silent sentinel overseeing the world below. Even the creatures of the shadows were preparing to sleep, the sunrise just beyond the horizon. The sky was an inky black canvas, streaked with gray clouds, as the world beyond began to stir.

There were no stars that night, as if the universe mirrored Arthur's loneliness. Only the glowing black and red coals of a dying campfire kept the midnight chill from seeping into his bones. Despite the faint warmth, his hands felt as cold as his aching heart. He had woken from another restless sleep only hours ago, haunted by memories that burned in the back of his mind like a shot of whiskey, distorting his sense of reality.

It had gotten better with each passing day. Most nights, Arthur managed to talk himself out of his terror, reminding himself where he was, that he was not in danger, that the lives of the gang were not in danger.

But there were nights, like tonight, when Arthur would wake with a sense of urgency and panic. His sleepless, tormented mind was confused and afraid, desperately searching for a way out. Everything around him was shrouded in darkness, and he couldn't distinguish memory from reality. The ghosts of his past torment mingled with the shadows of his present, creating a suffocating void that threatened to swallow him whole.

On these nights, Kate was always there for him. Though these episodes were infrequent, she never failed to appear when his sense of panic neared the brink of danger, for himself or for others. With gentle coaxing, she would guide him to sit with her by the fire, her presence calming his frayed nerves. She would reassure him, answering any and all of his questions, no matter how many times he asked. Her voice, soothing and steady, became his anchor in the storm.

When Arthur finally calmed down, she would speak softly to him for hours until he was tired enough to return to sleep. Sometimes, they would sit in companionable silence until the first light of dawn broke through the horizon, the crackling of the fire and the quiet sounds of the night their only company.

But tonight, Kate wasn't there. She had left with Charles and Sadie at first light, eager to provide for the camp and savor the thrill of the hunt. Arthur remained behind, confined by his injuries. He knew it was ridiculous to feel jealous of their outing, but it wasn’t just the escape he longed for—it was Kate.

Her presence was a constant source of relief amidst his pain and frustrations. When Kate was with him, the burdens of his injuries and fears seemed to lift, carried away on the wind. It didn’t matter if she was idly chatting over breakfast, her laughter mingling with the morning light, or helping him with the simple tasks his injuries had made difficult. Her kindness and care infused every moment with warmth and comfort.

But now, in the stillness of the night, Arthur felt a deep, gnawing loneliness. His friends slept just ten feet away, their soft snores and shifting forms a reminder of their presence. Yet, he couldn’t stand the way they looked at him now, as if he were helpless and weak. They commended his strength and recovery, but there was a change in their demeanor, a subtle shift that made him feel more isolated than ever. They saw him in a different light, and he hated how it made him feel—like an outsider in his own family.

Arthur’s thoughts turned to his satchel, to the old leather journal tucked inside. He hadn’t so much as opened it since the day his heart was laid bare, his private words exposed in a way that felt humiliating. Those pages now seemed tainted, the words within soaked with memories he wished he could forget. The journal had once been a refuge, a place where he could pour out his soul, but now it felt like a canvas painted with malicious strokes of red ink.

Needing an outlet for his swirling thoughts, Arthur reluctantly opened the journal, the pages heavy with memories. He flipped through drawings, entries, and little notes, each one a fragment of his life. Portraits of Kate mingled with sketches of flowers and scenery, their delicate lines capturing moments of fleeting beauty.

His fingers paused on one particular page, the image stretching across both sides of the journal. On the left, a tender depiction of Kate laying in the grass, sleeping against her saddle. Her face was serene, her features softened by slumber. Lorena, her loyal mare, had her head nestled on Kate's chest, equally deep in sleep. The scene was a perfect snapshot of peace and companionship.

On the right side of the page, Arthur had sketched the familiar rocky shoreline of Clemens Point. The sun was setting, its rays kissing the horizon and casting a glow over the water. The waves lapped gently at the rocks, the rhythmic motion almost audible through the drawing.

In Arthur’s print, a simple note read: My world.

The words echoed in his mind, resonating with a profound truth. Kate was his world. She brought color to his sketches, life to his drawings, and hope to his weary soul. The two images revealed everything he held dear—the serenity of nature, the warmth of company, and the beauty of the young woman who had captured his heart.

He recalled the day with a light smile, the memory warming him from within. Arthur had been fishing, enjoying one of the rare days when he had time to himself. He had found a secluded spot hidden by a formation of rocks, where the world seemed to fall away. The afternoon and evening were spent indulging in the simple pleasure of fishing. Captivated by the scene around him, he captured the moment by sketching the view, the gentle ripples of the water, the play of light on the surface, and the dense trees framing the landscape.

Sometime later, as the sun dipped lower in the sky, Kate had wandered into the small clearing nearby. Unbeknownst to her, it was right behind Arthur’s fishing spot. He watched her quietly, drawn to the scene by the sound of her voice, a soft melody that carried on the gentle breeze. She was singing to her mare, Lorena, like she did most evenings. Her voice was tender, filled with a love that touched Arthur deeply.

Kate brushed Lorena’s coat with slow, deliberate strokes, her fingers combing through the mare’s mane with practiced ease. Arthur could see the bond between them, the trust and affection that had been built through countless moments like this. The sight was mesmerizing.

After a while, the soft singing ceased, replaced by the low hum of cicadas and the occasional chirp of tree frogs. The evening light cast a golden glow over the clearing, making it feel like a scene from a dream. He glanced back and saw Kate lying in the grass, sound asleep. Her chest rose and fell with the gentle rhythm of her breathing, and Lorena rested her head protectively near Kate's.

Without wasting a second, Arthur pulled out his journal and filled the blank page next to his first sketch. He captured the pleasant image of Kate and Lorena with delicate, careful strokes, the grass bending softly around them, the mare's head nestled close to her, the light framing them both in a warm embrace.

Arthur continued to flip through the pages of his journal, his breath catching at the jagged edges of a torn page. The memory of someone having taken one of his portraits of her resurfaced, a sting of loss mingling with shame. He swallowed the memory and continued flipping, searching for a blank page.

He paused when he reached an unfamiliar script. The handwriting was smooth and fine, the elegant cursive of someone properly educated. It was a woman's delicate handwriting. The heading caught his breath:

My dearest Arthur

The words swam through his mind as he took in each stroke of the pencil. His heart swelled with adoration and yearning, and his cheeks warmed with the emotion that welled up inside him. Kate’s words, tender and heartfelt, brought silent tears to his eyes. Arthur didn’t know what he had done to deserve such love, what higher power had put him through hell only to provide this light at the end.

The fear and doubt that had plagued him still lingered, but in this moment, Arthur knew he had to answer her letter. He felt an urgency, a need to reciprocate the love she had so freely given. For the rest of the evening, he put together his thoughts onto those pages;

My darling Kate,

Forgive me, if it seems cowardly, doing things this way. But I’m afraid it’s the only way I know how. It’s really hard for me to face you sometimes; I get choked up and the words don’t come out right. You smile, and my heart just leaps from me. Your company is a great comfort to me, more than you could ever know.

I’m not very good at all this—feelings, and just life in general. In my years I have only ever known mayhem. I was born with blood on my hands and I have never allowed myself a moment of peace. I’ve spent so much time living on the run, thinking only of survival and the next job. I was scared to live, and I was scared to die.

I never thought I would dream of a quiet life, a good life. But you’ve changed that, Kate. You’ve shown me a kindness and warmth I thought I’d never feel again. I don’t deserve it, and yet you’ve given me a reason to believe that maybe there’s more to this life than hurting and hiding.

When I look at you, I see a future I never dared to dream of. I see us together, building a life filled with simple joys and quiet moments. I see a place we can call home, where I can watch you shine and spread your wings like the angel you are.

I know I don't have much to offer you. My life has been a series of hard choices and rough roads, and I carry the weight of those years with me. But what I can offer you is my heart. My affection, my strength, my loyalty, and my love. It’s not much, but it’s yours. All of me is yours.

You’ve brought light into my life, Kate, and I want nothing more than to drown myself in the rays of your beauty. To be by your side is the greatest gift you could ever give me. I want to wake up each morning in our home and fill it with memories and laughter, to create a place where love and joy are as natural as the air we breathe.

I always worried that I may never live long enough to see the whole world, but now I’ve found that I already have. When I look into your eyes, I see everything I've ever searched for.

So, if you’ll have me, I’d love to chase that dream of a wooden house with you.

With all my heart,

Arthur

p.s - Your words make me forget the pains of my past. So, thank you, for healing that part of me too.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

The winds picked up, carrying with them an electric scent that announced a coming storm. The smell of grass and hay mingled with the atmosphere, creating a heady mix that filled the air. The breeze swirled around Kate, shaking the leaves above her with a growing intensity. Her heart mirrored the uproar around her, a storm of emotions raging like a hurricane through the Midwest. The rumble of thunder echoed the drumming of her heart, each beat resonating with the power of the approaching storm.

Wiping her tears with a trembling hand, Kate gently folded the letter and placed it back in her breast pocket. The rain began to fall in gentle sputters, mingling with the warmth against her cheeks. Each drop felt like a kiss from the sky, a reminder of the heartfelt joy she hadn't felt since her old life—the life she had been forced to leave behind. She had once thought she might never reach such peace again, but here she was, on the brink of a new beginning.

Everything was going to change. Once again, fate had taken her life in a new direction, an unexpected but welcome turn amidst the troubles and turmoils she had experienced. Arthur was the beginning of a new life, a second chance at feeling whole again. His love was like a lantern, its warm glow guiding her through the darkness and giving her hope for a future she had only dared to dream of again.

The rain began to fall more steadily, each drop a mark on the story of her life. Kate’s mind raced with thoughts of Arthur, the man who had captured her heart with his quiet strength and unshakable loyalty. She felt a sudden sense of urgency, a desperate need to be with him.

She stood up, the wind tugging at her clothes as if urging her forward. The rain began to fall harder, but she hardly noticed. Her mind was filled with thoughts of Arthur—his rugged handsomeness, the way his eyes softened when he looked at her, the warmth of his touch.

With purposeful, quickened footsteps, Kate made her way to the barn in search of him. She noted how clean the stalls looked, the horses and barn animals contentedly eating their dinner and settling in for the night. Her heart pounded with each glance as she searched for him, her excitement building with every step.

Rounding the corner, she finally spotted him. Arthur had his back turned to her, his broad shoulders moving rhythmically as he spread hay through the birthing stall, preparing it meticulously for Dolly’s comfort. The muscles in his back and arms flexed with each movement, showcasing the strength and care he put into every task. The sight of him working with such dedication sent a thrill through her heart.

Kate quickened her pace, her feet barely touching the ground as she approached the stall gate. The soft jingle of the latch caught his attention, and he turned to greet her, his expression shifting from focused determination to warm surprise.

He rested his injured arm on the pitchfork, his eyes lighting up as they met hers. “What are you smiling at?” Arthur asked playfully, noting the tear-stained cheeks and the rosy hue that adorned her ear-to-ear smile. It was a sight that never got old to him. In that moment, he knew she had read his letter.

Kate giggled softly, her voice filled with joy. “For a mean, nasty outlaw, you sure can be pretty damn romantic,” she teased, her smile widening as she bit her bottom lip. She felt like a giddy teenager in his presence, her heart fluttering with a mix of excitement and love.

Arthur grinned, a bashful look crossing his face as he turned his head, scratching his neck awkwardly. “I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout romance, sweetheart,” he mumbled, his voice tinged with self-consciousness.

Kate opened the gate, stepping inside the stall with purpose. Arthur dropped the pitchfork, his eyes locked onto her as she closed the gap between them. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his neck, her voice a breathless whisper, "Oh, shut up and kiss me, Arthur."

Arthur's eyes widened, his pupils dilating until the blue of his irises was barely visible. He wasted no time winding his arm around her waist, his good hand sliding up to cup the back of her head. Her warmth was intoxicating, he felt blessed to get drunk on her love.

And he kissed her.

Deeply, passionately, achingly. Their lips collided with an intensity that spoke of all the emotions they had kept bottled up. Their noses brushed against one another, moving in a delicate dance like swans in courtship. The soft rub of their cheeks, the fervent joining and breaking of their lips, created a symphony of love and desire. Breathless sighs of pleasure filled the air around them.

The wind picked up, whipping through the stalls and causing their hair to flutter and tickle their cheeks. The distant rumble of thunder signaled the approaching storm, but nothing could break them from their shared moment of passion.

Kate cupped Arthur's cheek in her hand, savoring the softness of his beard beneath her fingers. She trailed her hand to the back of his neck and gently tugged on his hair, eliciting a deep moan that she eagerly swallowed. Arthur’s tongue played at her lips, seeking permission for deeper intimacy. Kate welcomed him, her tongue meeting his in a dance as old as time. The taste of peppermint mixed with the scent of his musk filled her senses, making her dizzy with desire.

Arthur groaned at the sensation of her gently sucking on his tongue, pulling her body tightly against his. The heat between them was palpable, their bodies pressed so close that not even the wind could come between them. Each touch, each kiss, and every heartbeat only elevated the burning tension between them.

Their surroundings faded away, the barn and its animals, the impending storm, all became insignificant. In that moment, it was just the two of them, lost in each other. Kate's fingers threaded through Arthur's hair, her nails grazing his scalp in a way that sent shivers down his spine. His hands roamed her back, memorizing every curve and dip, pulling her even closer as if he could never get enough.

Kate gasped as he took her bottom lip between his teeth, a tantalizing hint of pain and pleasure that sent a warm flood to her core. Then he attacked her mouth again with such ferocity that she felt she might stumble backward. But Arthur's hand was splayed across her lower back, fingers tracing circles against the curve of her spine, holding her protectively in his embrace. She rolled her hips forward against his, eliciting a deep grunt from him as his grip tightened on her hair. Pure bliss filled her heart and mind, every sensation magnified by the intensity of their connection.

A sudden, earth-shaking clap of thunder, followed by a brilliant strike of lightning, lit up the air, startling them both. So enraptured were they in each other that for a moment, the world outside had ceased to exist. The rain began to pour in heavy drops, pattering rhythmically against the tin roof of the barn, creating a symphony of nature's power.

Kate glanced outside, breaking the kiss as the storm raged on. The intensity of the moment left her breathless, her lips tingling from their passionate exchange. Arthur panted, his gaze never leaving her features, his eyes dark with desire and affection.

"Kate," he breathed, his voice a husky whisper. "You drive me wild."

She looked up at him, taking in the sight of his lips swollen and red, nearly matching the pink of his cheeks that reached all the way to his ears. His hat had blown off, landing somewhere in the hay, and his hair was delightfully disheveled from both the wind and Kate's delicate fingers. His blue eyes met hers with such contented bliss, heavy with warmth. Wrinkles formed at the corners of his eyes from the smile that spread across his lips. Kate wished she could freeze this moment, capturing it forever, safe from the tricks of time.

"Arthur," she replied, his name a sacred prayer on her lips, carrying all the love and adoration she felt for him.

He leaned in again, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, his touch tender and reverent. “Was a little worried you might not feel the same,” he murmured against her skin. “After I woke up ‘n all,” he added, a hint of doubt lacing his voice. The memory of his injury and the changes it had wrought in him weighed heavily on his mind. He felt different, diminished somehow, and it gnawed at his confidence.

Kate scoffed lightly at the absurdity of the idea, as if she would ever dare to think less of him. “Really? Why would you think that?” She asked, nudging her head to get him to look in her eyes. They held each other close, gently rocking against each other with the rhythm of the rain.

Arthur held her gaze, his blue eyes reflecting a deep-seated self-doubt. “Dunno, I knew I wasn't the most striking bachelor before. And now I—” he hesitated, the words catching in his throat. He thought of himself as half the man he used to be, the injuries a constant reminder. “Sometimes I just think I’m undesirable.”

Kate tightened her hold on him, her fingers tracing soothing patterns on his back. She could feel the tension in his muscles, the self-doubt that weighed heavily on him. "Arthur," she began softly, her voice filled with conviction, "You are a wonderful, beautiful man. Your strength, your kindness, your heart—that’s what matterns. You are always worthy of love."

Arthur's eyes softened, the weight of her words easing his troubled heart. He leaned his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the cool night air. “What did I do to deserve a woman like you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Kate smiled, her heart brimming with love. “You’re more than enough for me, Arthur. And you always will be.”

They stood there for a few moments, the barn providing a sanctuary from the storm. The rain continued to patter against the roof, creating a gentle symphony that seemed to echo the rhythm of their shared heartbeat. The air was cool and fresh, carrying the scent of wet hay and earth, mingling with the warmth of their closeness.

Arthur sighed, his reluctance evident as he spoke. "I reckon it's about time we called it a night, huh?" His voice was soft, almost wistful. He began peppering little kisses over Kate’s cheeks, each one tender and filled with affection. She giggled softly, the sound a melodic contrast to the storm outside.

She responded in kind, launching her own playful attack of kisses. Their laughter mingled with the rain, filling the barn with a lightheartedness that made the moment feel timeless. "Oh, but you make it so hard," she whined teasingly, her voice dripping with playful frustration.

Arthur's hands roamed her back, his touch gentle and loving. "I’d be happy to bed you right here in this barn, Kate," he murmured against her skin, his breath hot on her neck. He captured her lips in a final, heated kiss, their desire deepening with each passing moment.

Kate shuddered at his words. Finally, with a reluctant sigh, she pulled away from his embrace. The absence of his warmth was immediately palpable, a stark contrast to the heat that had enveloped her just moments before. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of love and longing.

"We should get inside," she said softly, her voice carrying a hint of passion. "There's a warm fire and bath waiting for us."

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Escaping the rain, they quickly discarded their muddy boots at the door. The room was filled with the warmth of the crackling fire as Arthur stoked the flames. Kate moved to prepare a bath, her cheeks tinged with a blush as the thought of what was to come flitted through her mind. When the water was ready, she approached Arthur, her heart pounding with anticipation.

"The bath is ready," she said softly, a shy smile playing on her lips. Unlike the spacious bathhouses in hotels, this was a small wooden tub, designed to fit one person.

Arthur approached her, taking her small hand in his large one. "Could I ask to repay the favor tonight?" he asked, his voice filled with a tender longing.

Kate looked at him, confused. "What favor?"

"When you bathed me," he said softly, his eyes searching hers. Kate blushed, slightly shocked that he remembered that moment amidst his raging fever.

A smile tugged at her lips. "Only if you join me," she answered.

Arthur breathed deeply, a wave of desire washing over him. He wanted to capture her in a kiss right then and there, but he knew there was a deeper moment of intimacy awaiting them. She led him to the washroom, holding onto his hand.

The room was small and dimly lit with a few candles adorning the walls. A quiet fire crackled in a little hearth, used to heat the water. Clouds of steam filled the space, carrying the rich scent of lavender and pine. The water glimmered with bath oil and small bubbles, inviting and warm.

Arthur followed her into the room, closing the door behind him. He approached Kate from behind, enveloping her in his arms as he leaned down to kiss her cheek. His hands splayed across her abdomen, fingers tracing the buttons of her blouse. Kate swallowed as the heat rose from the pit of her stomach. She sighed blissfully and leaned into his embrace, her hands moving to meet Arthur’s, encouraging him to remove the fabric.

Their bodies moved in unison as she turned to meet his lips. He pushed the blouse off her shoulders, and she quickly unbuttoned his shirt, tugging it off him to reveal his chest. The dampness from the rain still clung to his skin, and the scars from his injuries were healing with each passing day. The once deep purple bruises had faded to a pale shade, marking his progress.

Arthur untied her undershirt, revealing her breasts to the thick, warm air. Her eyes sought his, and she found them gazing upon her with love and adoration. Leaning down to kiss her neck, his hands traveled to the button of her trousers. Kate gasped at his touch, her hands following his movements.

They stood completely naked before each other, their chests heaving with desire. Arthur stepped into the hot bath first, then held out a hand to Kate, silently inviting her to join him. She bit her lip with anticipation and allowed him to pull her naked body into his embrace. The water was hot and soothing, relaxing all of her muscles as she settled into his lap.

Arthur’s strong arms wrapped around her, holding her close as they both sighed with contentment. He gently kissed her shoulder, trailing soft kisses up her neck. Kate leaned back against him, her fingers tracing the muscles of his arms, feeling the strength and tenderness in his touch.

The warmth of the bath enveloped them, the fragrant steam mingling with their breaths. Arthur’s hands roamed her body, exploring every curve and contour with reverence. Kate tilted her head to the side, giving him better access to her neck as she moaned softly at his calloused wandering hands.

He whispered sweet nothings in her ear, his voice husky with desire. "You are so beautiful, Kate," he murmured, his lips grazing her earlobe.

Kate turned her head, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. Their tongues danced together, each touch sending sparks of pleasure through their bodies. She could feel the hard length of him pressing against her back, and she shifted slightly, eliciting a groan from Arthur.

"Easy now," he whispered against her lips, his hands moving to cup her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her hardened nipples. "We’ve got all night."

Kate’s breath hitched at his touch, her body arching into his hands. His fingers rolled the small buds, the oil of the bath making them slick. A shuddering moan escaped her lips. She could feel the intensity of his desire, matched by her own. "Arthur," she whispered, her voice trembling with aching desire. "I need you."

He kissed her deeply, one hand sliding down her body to rest on her hip. Fingers kneading at the soft flesh, tauntingly close to her heat. "You have me darlin’," he replied, his voice thick with lust.

With a gentle but firm touch, Arthur guided Kate to turn around and straddle his lap. The water sloshed around them as their bodies pressed together in an intimate embrace. Kate wrapped her arms around his neck, gazing into his eyes with yearning. Her body slid into place in his lap like the final puzzle piece, the bath oil making their skin velvet soft to the touch. She met him in an open-mouthed kiss, their passion raging like the storm outside.

Arthur moaned against her lips, his hands wandering her back and holding her close. He squeezed the flesh of her bottom and nipped at her neck. She shuddered and gasped at his touch, his lips tickling the sensitive skin. Moving his attention down to her nipples, he took one in his mouth, sucking and flicking his wet heat over the small bud. The sounds of her pleasure drove him wild, a feeling so strong it overwhelmed all his senses.

Kate's hands traced his chest, following a path over his stomach. Her touch felt like fire against his skin, igniting something deep inside him. His pleasure made itself known as his hard length pressed proudly into the flesh of her abdomen, desperately seeking the suffocating warmth of her core.

Her gentle fingers moved between them, gliding down to the soft curls below his navel. Her nails tickled his skin, sending a sudden chill up his spine. The wind picked up outside, its cold air seeping through the cracks of the old windows. It fluttered the candles and stuck to Arthur’s skin like tar. He tried to swallow the feeling that was building in his stomach.

Kate kissed his cheeks fervently, the pads of her fingers brushing against his tip. His erection twitched at her touch. Arthur’s breathing picked up as she moved her hand to wrap around him. He bucked his hips at the sensation.

Arthur suddenly felt dizzy with a mix of arousal and uncertainty. Her touch felt incredible, but something stirred in the back of his mind. It crept up his throat and suffocated his lungs. He recognized the feeling: it was fear. His heart raced and his breathing became ragged as he shut his eyes, trying to make sense of his mind.

Kate was with him now. He knew he was safe. Her touch was gentle and filled with love and desire. It was clear she wanted to share in this pleasure with him. So why did he feel this way? Arthur couldn't make sense of it, and in turn, it only heightened his anxiety. Clouding the blissful moment with dread. As her hand wrapped around him, he sucked in a breath and gripped her arms.

“Kate,” he said shakily, “S-stop…please.” Arthur wanted to shout at himself. He had waited and dreamed of this moment since the day he fell for her, never thinking such intimacy would grace his life again.

Hearing the panic in his voice, Kate immediately ceased her actions, turning her full attention to Arthur’s shuddering form. She had mistaken his recent reactions for pleasure, not anxiety. With one hand placed on the edge of the tub and the other cradling his face, she brought his eyes to hers. “Oh honey, are you alright?”

Arthur swallowed, memories suddenly firing through his mind like a million lawmen aiming their guns at his heart. The cold cellar, the wandering hands, the touching and groping. He squeezed his eyes shut as the feeling of humiliation washed over his body once again. “I-I don’t…I don’t know. It’s like I’m havin’ one of them nightmares,” he said finally. “But I think they’re memories. I think they–” he swallowed again, “I-I can’t remember what they did to me.” He suddenly choked, his hand flying to cover his mouth as he held back a sob.

Everything was pouring forth at once, and he couldn't stop the flood. It felt like a dream but somehow different, like he was being forced to confront his torment. His emotions had been at their highest; love and desire filled him in a way they had not for so many years. Yet somehow, grief and panic had managed to find a crack and send the whole thing crashing down.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Kate cooed softly, her touch grounding him. “They’re only memories, they can’t hurt you,” she whispered, gently pulling him into her embrace as the water moved around them.

“My body has been hurt in a lot of ways, but what they did,” he trailed off, taking a deep breath. Her hands moved in soothing circles over his back.

Kate’s heart flooded with grief and understanding. “I know,” she interrupted, “there are no words for it, Arthur.” She recalled memories of her own assault many years ago. Their touch still lingered in the wrinkles of her skin. They shared scars that ran so deep they were not visible to the naked eye, only revealed in moments when their souls were laid bare.

Arthur’s breathing was still ragged. “It’s like it’s all happening again, Kate. I thought I could get past it, but...”

“But healing isn’t a straight path,” she finished for him. “It’s messy and painful, and it takes time. You can’t brute force your way through it.”

His eyes darkened, glistening with warm tears. “I just feel so...different. Like I’m some pathetic good-for-nothin’ washed-up–”

“Enough with that,” Kate said sternly. She sat up in his lap and took his face in her hands. The fear and grief were swirling into anger and frustration. It was as if she could see the storm in his eyes, a deep blue sea raging within them. The water in the bath had begun to settle into a lukewarm embrace, cooling with each passing moment.

Shaking his head, his voice rose with an anger that Kate knew was not directed at her, but still struck a chord in her heart. “I can barely run, I can hardly shoot. I don’t know if I can even ride a horse without help,” he listed off his frustrations. “Christ, I can't even be intimate with a woman. What the hell am I good for?” Arthur suddenly made a move to leave the bath.

Standing up and stepping out of the tub, Kate followed him as she grabbed a towel. “Don’t say that, Arthur–”

“No one looks at me the same, Kate. No one!” He shouted, wrapping a towel around his waist as he paced the bathroom floor. “Am I that fucking pathetic?” Thunder echoed outside the ranch house, shaking the walls and fluttering the candles. Arthur leaned against the vanity, the sudden ache in his shoulder and ankle made itself known, only elevating his pains.

Kate swallowed thickly; she had never seen him so upset. Even on the rare nights when his tormented dreams distorted his reality. “You are not pathetic, Arthur,” she said gravely, trying to calm his frayed nerves while also reassuring his broken heart. Only moments ago they were engaged in a heated moment of passion, which now felt far away.

“Dutch won’t even fuckin’ look at me no more! Like I’m some sick dog he’s waitin’ on to die so he can replace me.” His face was red with emotion. The heat of the hot bath mingled with his frustration and shame that boiled beneath his skin. It pained Kate to see how much his self-worth relied on Dutch’s approval, as if he believed he were less than nothing without that man’s good graces.

“He’s not going to replace you, honey,” she replied softly, although she wasn’t entirely sure her words held any truth. Taking small steps toward his figure as if she were approaching a frightened gelding, her movement was purposeful yet calming.

“I could barely stand to look at my own body before, and now” he sighed as Kate grasped his shoulders gently. “I want your touch, Kate,” his hand moved to cover hers. “I crave it more than anything. But I can’t even be with you without—” he moved his hand up to hide his face in distress, attempting to shield her from the new flood of tears that were escaping down his cheeks and into his beard.

Gentle fingers pulled his hand away, revealing the broken man beneath them. She knew that strange words come out of a grown man’s mouth when his heart is hurting. Cupping his face, her thumbs traced circles over his cheeks. “No one said we had to move so fast, Arthur,” she kissed away his tears. “We can take as much time as you need, my love. This isn’t something we have to rush.”

A shuddering breath escaped his lips as he leaned into her touch. “Sometimes I just don’t know who I am anymore.” He whispered.

He pulled himself into her embrace, letting the emotion wash over him. Kate held him with unwavering strength, taking in every word and embracing the vulnerability he was sharing with her. “Your days as an outlaw may be coming to an end, but that doesn’t mean you are too. People change over the years, it’s just part of life. Some chapters don’t have happy beginnings, but you can still find moments of joy in the journey.”

He squeezed her tight to his body, afraid that she may slip away and wake up only to find it was just another cruel dream. Terrified that he may one day wake up in that dark cellar again, alone. “I’m afraid I don’t know what’s real, Kate.”

“If you can’t trust your mind, Arthur. Just ask me and I’ll tell you.” She said, pulling her head back to look into his eyes. The corners tinted red from his tears, reminded her of the days of his recovery. But the blue was as bright and vast as the morning sky. She kissed his chin, and he leaned down to place his forehead against hers.

“You still want me,” he said quietly, almost hesitantly. “Is that real?”

“As real as the ground beneath our feet.” Kate kissed his cheek, “and the birds in the sky,” a kiss to the nose, “the sun against your skin,” a peck on his temple, “the air we breathe,” lips brushed over the healing scar on his brow, “as real as you and me.” Her lips found home against his own. Rough and sweet, and full of longing.

~~~

A/N: AHHH!!! Their feelings are finally out!! We’ve reached a big milestone in their relationship and I’m very proud of them for being open with each other. There’s more feelings that need to come to light of course, but that will have to wait for the next chapter. I know I said in the beginning that the next chapter will include day 2 at emerald ranch, but I also want to let you know I will be returning to the original game plot as well. Starting with “A Short Walk In A Pretty Town”…so yeah. Things may be looking up rn but they’ll plummet soon enough🥲

Thank you again for being patient with me. I wish I had more time in the day to work on this fic but unfortunately I can only work in small increments at a time. I’m wrapping up my work for the summer as well as moving to the city! So there’s lots of big changes going on rn. But thank you as always for reading/commenting/reblogging!! I love you guys!!!

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #ao3 fanfic #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x original female character #red dead fandom #arthur morgan x reader #ao3 #arthur morgan x oc #arthur morgan fanfiction #fanfiction #ao3 writer #ao3fic #arthur morgan rdr2

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dark-elf-writes · 5 months ago

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Percy: *hurt to all hell and using his sword as a cane*

Percy: *uses tattered remains of his jacket to wrap up ludo’s wound*

Percy: *takes up the worms offer of tea because just because he can survive on the water he takes out of the air doesn’t mean he wants to*

Percy: *straight up kicks the doors open for the riddle and looks for the trick step*

Percy: *bobs his head to the all the random singing and doesn’t notice when he starts talking his finger to the beat against the hilt of his sword*

Percy: *randomly announces the castle is cooler than Olympus because at least it has character instead of useless splendor. He thinks it could use a moat though*

Jareth: *deep breath* this is fine. This is so fine. I’m so normal about this.

It’s both easy and hard to pull the boy into an enchantment. Little more than coaxing a single bite of a peach to draw him into Jareth’s power but keeping him there? It is like holding the ocean in his bare hands. Wild and untamed. Sea foam and the scream of horses. A soul never meant to be possessed. A heart Jareth cannot contain forever.

(He wonders, given enough time and devotion if that heart would be given to him willingly. It terrifies him just how willing he is to try.)

Still, the strain is worth it to see the boy at his masquerade. To see him draped in fine fabrics and strings of pearls befitting his status. To see that smile of his catch the many lights bouncing of thousands of crystals and shine so brilliantly Apollo would weep.

It is more worth it to have the boy in his arms, dancing with him alone in a crowd and a sea of crystal glittering like stars.

He is awkward, unpracticed, but he takes Jareth’s direction beautifully. For now. Jareth can feel the growing strain even as the boy looks up at him with wonder and a mischief so near and dear to him it makes Jareth want to bless him, to see what tricks this boy could do if given even a fraction of his power.

Dangerous. This little thing in his arms is so dangerous for all the fine fabric and gems try to smooth his rough edges.

Jareth loves him for it all the more.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” The boy sounds genuine, still grinning up at him. “Better than the last labyrinth I was in anyway. I’ve only been almost eaten like once.”

His hands tighten, drawing the little hero closer to him. Possessive. Protective. A whole host of other alien feelings roaring through Jareth at the thought of him hurt. “An oversight. One that will be corrected.”

The music, his singing, doesn’t stop while he speaks. Percy seems delighted at that little show of magic. It makes Jareth itch to truly dazzle him, but time is short and the tide is already pulling his hero away from him. (No mortal has ever been able to overpower his magic so easily. None have been able to pull away from him when he is trying to keep them. It is as intoxicating as it is infuriating. Jareth wants more. He wants so much more.)

“Nah, I took care of it.” He had, Jareth knew. This little warrior in his arms had the power to fell nations and yet had only caused some minor chaos to allow him to escape. “I broke the cleaner though. I would say I’m sorry but I don’t think you would believe me.”

He wouldn’t. It delights him so much that Jareth laughs.

The swell of the surf grows to its peak and already the illusion is dissolving around them in a wash do salt water and laughter. But he hears the boy still, would hear him even once he was far, far from Jareth’s domain he has been captured so.

“You need a moat. Honestly what kind of castle is complete without a moat!”

#the elf talks #pjo #labyrinth #crystals and sea glass au

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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 5 months ago

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4, 15, 22 please

4. How many WIPs do you have right now?

Oh jeez. Okay, so I’ve got two for The Untamed, two for Naruto, one for The Penumbra Podcast, one for Sweet Home. I’m not going into detail on those because you guys don’t care. And also, “in progress” is generous for them, since I haven’t worked on any for well over a year. I’ll go into more detail about the uhhh, nine Stranger Things Ones?? -Steddie Upside-Down AU - this is almost done!!! So close! I’ve also partially written four smaller fics from other people’s pov’s, so those could be argued as separate! But I didn’t count them that way lol. -Platonic Stobin Mind-Reading AU - this one!!! I’ve been thinking of it <3 the name says it all. The Russians gave them mind-reading powers, but only for each other. I have no plans at all for this fic. I just want hijinks and mostly fun. -Aro4Aro Stancy AU - this one’s almost exclusively just for me <3 and the premise is, wouldn’t it be both funny and tragic if two aro people were dating each other, had never heard the word “Aromantic before” and couldn’t figure out why they were so fucking weird about each other once they broke up? -Christmas - I’m going to be honest, this was supposed to be posted LAST christmas, but it’s a character study on Nancy, Jonathan, and Steve’s relationship with each other post Stancy break-up, and the weird in-between world where you’ve fought monsters together, faced traumas together, and also hurt each other irreparably <3 Or, it’s about their reactions to Christmas lights! -The Crash Bang Incident - Max crashes the car into Eddie’s van on the way to the tunnels in season 2 with Steve passed out in the back seat. Enough said. -There There - Steve goes back in time, but Robin DOESN’T. He has a mental breakdown about this and makes it Robin’s problem, whether she likes it or not. -The Red Strings of Crazy - character study of Robin just sort of, spiraling about trying to figure out what the hell is going on with Steve Harrington post his introduction to the Upside Down. She admits to being virtually Obsessed with him in season 3, so I totally think she has a murder board and stalks him about it because come on. She WOULD. -Carol/Nancy - this is just porn…..I’ll probably never post it because I’ve never written porn. But! Carol sees Jonathan’s creeper photos of Nancy, and feels a certain way about them. -Stobin Body-Swapping AU - this has no actual words of the fic written, but I’ve got like thousands of words of contradicting world-building. Pretty much, something happens in the future that kicks them back into the past in each other’s bodies. But not at the same time??? So Robin in Steve’s body will go confront Robin in Robin’s body, and she’ll be like, dingus…is that you??? And no, it’s past Robin. And Steve does the same thing. And they completely fuck up the timeline, because by the time they GET to the inciting incident in the present, Steve and Robin have both thought the other was crazy for YEARS because of all the yelling and accusations. This one may never get written, or if it does, I might say fuck the logistics and just go for the vibes because I cannot figure it out.

15. How do you come up with titles for your fics/chapters?

Almost always, I start with a theme that’s prevalent in the work. For example, for the Steddie Upside-Down AU, I was ruminating on survival, and hope through adversary. Usually, I spin through my mental rolodex of poetry/songs, find one that fits both thematically and has something I like as a title (either in the lyrics/verses or the title of the work). In this case, it was “A Litany For Survival” by Lorde which is an excellent poem. I think used lines from the poem as chapter titles. This doesn’t always work, but it’s my favorite method! One of my other favorite titles I’ve found this way is an unpublished au where the main character can see ghosts, which I titled “with feet that make no sound,” from the poem “Haunted Houses” by Longfellow. Sometimes, a title just comes to me without this method, but creating chapter/fic titles is like my least favorite part, so this is the go-to method.

22. Do you know how your fic will end before you start writing?

Sometimes, but rarely! I know how the Aro4Aro Stancy AU is going to end. The Steddie Upside-Down AU was entirely a wild card. Often, when I’m writing, I’m telling the story to myself at the same time as I’m telling it to any readers. So, if something wild happens, we’re experiencing it together!

#the wip question was a wake-up call for me.....i will not change or improve though #asks #koko thinkin thots

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bonny-kookoo · 4 years ago

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Rabbit Boy | JJK x Reader | 🔞

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Wordcount: 10.3k (Long)

Genre: Romance, Friends/strangers to lovers, Smut, BDSM because I'm making that a genre now

Tags/Warnings: BDSM themes (please I'm begging you stop reading my shit if it makes you uncumfortable), mentions of restrainment, light shibari, edging, orgasm denial (very mild), Subspace, Domspace because yes thats a thing, Dom/sub dynamics, Biting, Oral (m and f receiving), riding, and not the horseback kind if you know what I mean, protected sex yes, we love an organized household, there's just so much sweet filth istg

Summary: Jungkook is wild, untamed, and doesn't really commit to anyone for long. But maybe, you're his only exception in this world. Maybe, you're really that perfect partner he's been looking for.

Jungkook likes to think of himself as an artist.

Sure, if people knew exactly what the young man does in his freetime (or as a side job, don't judge, we all want to make money out of our hobbies stop lying to yourself), they would surely look at him differently.

But he's an artist, nonetheless.

Technically, Jungkook also doesn't need to do what he does simply for the money. No, his main job pays very well- considering that he's one of the top elite in his genre of games. He doesn't just merely play and win a game; Jungkook, just like most things he touches, claims complete ownership of the match he's fighting. It's a well known fact that he's someone who likes things for himself. He loves control, craves to lead, and hates to be belittled.

Oh and yeah- financially, investing in an indie-game three years back had also done his bank account some good.

Now, at an age where he can be fully considered a man, and not a boy anymore, he craves control in different aspects of life- and love.

Jungkook has a problem however.

He's wild.

Not in the way one might think he is (although several people could argue that yes, that's also the case in bed..) but generally. He loves to control- but he hates to be tied down.

And a mindset like that doesn't work well with relationships.

He's had them before, don't get him wrong. He's had numerous in the past, but they all either broke apart because he would hold that particular desire back, making him antsy and moody, or he would welcome his partners into his world, and become uncomfortable with the way things would progress.

No, he doesn't want to experiment. He knows exactly what he wants, and if that means he's 'close-minded' and a bad person, then so be it for him.

He never liked the constant company in his apartment anyways.

"Ah, I've seen her before. She's usually a regular for Yoongi though." Taehyung says, checking a name for Jungkook, who's doodling on a napkin while he waits for his new appointment to show up. "I see. I forgot that Yoongi took some days off recently- that's probably why she's now under your hand." He explains, and Jungkook huffs, his blonde hair tickling his cheek.

"So I'll have to adjust? I mean, Yoongi's style is pretty different from mine." The young man says, not looking up. He simply continues his little sketch of braided hair, while the lanky guy behind the counter clicks away on his laptop.

"Probably? I can't check the logs since they're private, but from what I know Yoongi only did the usual with her." he explains, shrugging as he looks at his friend and colleague. "I can re-schedule her to Hoseok if you want?" He asks, and Jungkook, after finishing his drawing, lets the pen fall and stretches.

"Yeah, that would probably be best. Wouldn't know what to do if she drops- rather not have him rip my head off, thanks." He says, before he gets up.

"Ah- you're still coming over tonight right? Y/N said she's gonna cook for us." He says, and Jungkooks body shivers a little.

Your name is nothing new to him, but the reaction to it most certainly was. You're a friend of Yoongi and Hoseok, having joined in on their gaming nights a few months ago after Yoongi had insisted you couldn't stay alone on a christmas day. Jungkook had never really asked why you were alone in the first place, but he had never really cared much for it either. Sure, you were an absolute gem to look at; technically absolutely his type, but he had early on decided not to pursue anything at all with you. He knew friendship wouldn't stay friendship with you, his own hunger way too large to simply be satiated by platonic gestures-

and he was also sure you wouldn't be able to handle him, truly. The conversation with Jimin, one of your best friends, had changed nothing about that. Because he didn't know you well enough to quite know if you were only bark and no bite- or if you were genuinely craving the same things he did.

But most recently, there had been a change in his opinion on you. Because he had seen you, come out of this place, out of Yoongis studio.

You knew about all of this- and you were still around.

Nothing had changed.

Now, of course he had instantly poked holes into the poor guy about if he had ever played with you before- and the answer he had gotten, had made him even more interested and antsy to get closer to you.

Because while you trusted Yoongi with everything you had, he had never done anything with you. You had simply been interested in watching a scene unfold- and had told him that you were definitely interested in participating. The reason Jungkook couldn't ask you directly was a clear one-

You were majorly intimidated by him, to the point of, he had never really had a proper conversation with you. Partially, he had to admit, because he himself didn't want to involve himself too much with you.

He’d always asked himself; wouldn’t you be even more distant and reserved with him if you knew this side of him? Sure, you always joked around that he probably tied his girls up and edged them until they cried- but did you know that he genuinely enjoyed these things?

Relationships for him were mere covers to call the arrangements he had with the girls that came and went in his life in a constant changing matter. Deep down, no one night stand could satisfy his most carnal desires, and he was very well aware of that. But he rather took what he could get and lived a fever dream for a few moments than stay on his own simply because his idea of pleasure and sex was not the norm.

No, he refused to deny himself that.

Maybe it was because he’d always lived a rather lavish life- with his parents well off and his own career skyrocketing he never really had any worries like you have had in the past. For some odd reason, while looking at the soft red rope in his hands, his thoughts suddenly went astray; he knew he could give you the stability you oh so craved, in every way shape and form. You were a diamond simply waiting to be perfected- you had so much potential, knowing that you were secretly wandering around the same paths as he did made him even more frustrated.

The hints were there, they were obvious; from the way you had sighed out in bliss when he’d teasingly pulled your hair just hours ago, to the sinful confessions he’d heard that night when he overheard you and jimin by accident. Of course he’d maybe wasted a thought or two of you underneath him to humor him once or twice- but now with the rope in his hands, his mind immediately began painting pictures of it against your skin. Would you enjoy it? And what if he took your sight, or only bound your hands? What if he denied you to cum, or if he took you from behind, grabbing your hair and pushing down your spine to make it arch so prettily- never with the intend to hurt, of course. He knew he’d have to tame you first, make you submit, but then again, he loved the challenge.

You made even the idea of touching fun.

He wouldn't even have to undress you to fully get himself worked up, he was sure of that. Only seeing you bow to his very command would be enough to satisfy him. Of course, over the course of time he would lead you deeper and deeper into his rabbit hole, but he would take it slow for you.

So, with a smile, and a wave of his hand, he walked past the girl he knew had been his appointment- grinning at Taehyung. "Of course I'll be there."

He wouldn't dare miss a night with you.

You were stressing. A little.

Maybe.

Maybe a lot.

Everything would've been fine if they guys would've all come over. But due to the bad weather, and Taehyungs bad habit of never properly fixing his god-forsaken dumpster of a car, only one of them would be able to make it. And of course the one had to be Jeon Jungkook.

Just great.

Now, it wasn't like you didn't like the guy, no way. The problem was more, that he was on the exact opposite of that spectrum. You had a major crush on him, which felt like the plot to a really bad drama show you would watch drunk at night- and in a way, it really felt like one too. Because you were pretty sure, he didn't even know your name.

But oh well- apparently he knew more than that. More specifically, your phone number. And it had scared the shit out of you at first to receive a message from him because how the hell did he get your number, but then again you remembered that one of your connections was Kim Taehyung- and everyone knew what he knew.

It was the doorbell that ripped you out of your skin almost.

You didn't even change, deciding any effort would be too late anyways; and you were still heavily confused in the first place why the fuck he would come over alone, even though you two had never exchanged much more than a friendly hello and goodbye. But there he was, as you opened the door- soft, white hoodie and ripped jeans, a bit damp from the rain outside as you let him inside.

He didn't move.

"Uh-" You started, but he just looked at you, friendly as ever, although a teasing glint in his eye made you frown a bit.

He thought it was cute.

"You didn't tell me to come in." He said, and you blinked once, twice, before your brain had properly restarted.

"Oh uh- come in?" You said, again, moving a bit to the side so he could walk in- which he still didn't. "Jungkook come on now its fucking cold-!" You whined, and he laughed, finally stepping inside. Had he always been like that? Could very well be the case, after all, you had never truly paid much attention to his behavior before.

"Thanks for letting me come over." He said, and you watched him as he untied his boots. "I had nothing else to do- and also, I didn't want you to waste any food, considering Tae said you cooked for us." He explained, before he got up again from his half kneeling position, boots now standing next to your significantly smaller shoes.

"Ah, it would've been fine, you guys don't have to feel bad." You waved off, smiling. "I was about to stop cooking anyways when Jimin had texted me, but well, then you did and uhm.." You drifted off, noticing how you were suddenly waiting for him to lead the way.

In your own apartment.

What the hell?

If he noticed however, he didn't show it. He simply smiled, and moved his hands inside the front pocket of his hoodie. "Ah, thanks. I appreciate it, really." He said, and you smiled at him as well, walking towards the main area of your apartment. It was small, very small compared to his own, but he enjoyed the feeling of it. Everything around him reminded him of you, in a way; from the pictures taped to the walls, to the stickers on your fridge. It all held a piece of you in it. "Your apartment is really nice, by the way." He commented, and you turned around, before getting plates and cutlery to bring inside the living room.

"Ah, right, it's your first time here." You said. "Thanks- the living room is right around the corner there, you can just sit down and I'll bring everything there." You explained, and he smiled, nodding without arguing.

You liked that.

Typically, there would've been this awkward 'oh no let me help you', but Jungkook didn't seem to dwell on it much, letting you do your thing instead of butting in and making things weird. He simply walked where you had directed him, sitting down on the couch as he went to place a blanket to the side. His fingers moved over the fabric for a moment, noticing how everything on the couch, including the pillows, were made of that same, soft material.

Interesting.

"Oh- you can just put that to the side, sorry I forgot to clean that up." You said, putting the food onto the table as he just smiles again. He waits for you to sit down as well before you turn up the TV volume a little, nerves finally setting in as you notice there's almost nothing you can talk to him about. "This is awkward." You comment, and he chuckles at that swallowing his bite as he looks at you.

"Doesn't have to be." He states, before he turns his body a bit more into your direction; a visible sign that he wants a conversation. "Tae has never mentioned what you do for a living." He states, an unasked question of his. He lets you decide if you want to take it as one or leave it as a statement- it makes you feel nice, in a way.

"Ah uh.. it's really boring, so I guess I never really talk about it either.." You say, and he tilts his head a little, a silent urging for you to continue. You feel insignificant next o him and his job however. He's superior to you in any way, and you don't want him to feel pity or laugh at you for your job. "I uh.. I'm a programmer for a.. pretty unknown game studio." You say, body almost shrinking in on itself as you wait for his reaction. Much to your surprise however, he makes a sound that's purely surprise, as he swallows his bite with a bit of urgency.

"Fuck really?! That's so cool though!" He argues, brows furrowed a bit as he playfully accuses you with his next words. "Indie or not, a programmer is the main force of any game. Did you work on any games I might know of?" He asks, eyes sparkling as he realizes he had finally found something to bond with you over.

"Uh.. 'Rabbit Boy' was our best hit until now.." You say, still a bit shy, but you're also a tad more confident now. His reaction is either well-staged, or he's genuinely interested in what you do.

"I played it I think. It was a bit short, but I loved the mechanics." He says, and before he can quite stop himself, his hand has already reached out to you, running over your hair as he praises you like second nature. "Wuah, so smart!" He says, before he gets a reaction he wouldn't have thought he'd get from shy-you.

Because you playfully shove him, your socked feet pushed against the side of his thigh as you giggle at him.

Interesting, again.

Now, Jimin has actually told him about this before. How you were anything but the shy girl when you were around people you knew and trusted. He had believed it- to an extend- because he had also thought that maybe you were like that to prove your spot between those guys. As the only girl, you easily got thrown under the bus, so you had to somehow own your spot in the midst of your circle of friends.

However, it seemed like you were truly just a brat, hiding behind that innocent facade of yours. A barking dog, with every intent to bite if needed.

And Jungkook knew, he'd love to tame you, show you your spot, and make you his prey.

The trashy movie your watching bores you, in a way. Jungkook has noticed this already, having taken note of your feet wiggling around, your teeth nibbling on the inside of your cheek, as you rest your cheek on your hand, elbow resting on the side of the couch.

“I don’t know why she’s so hesitant.” You mutter, pouting as you slump into the couch- uncaring that the side of your body now leans against his own. He feels your warmth- and for some reason it brings him comfort to notice that you’re seemingly growing more at ease. “I mean, it’s what she’s into, right?” You say, brows furrowed as you watch the screen.

“It’s not that simple.” Jungkook explains, trying to not make it obvious that he’s not necessarily talking about the movie. “Some men like to you know.. fight for a partner. Impress them. Win them over.” He explains, and he can feel you shift a little- until your head raises a bit, watching him as he watches you; gazes locked, and you can’t look away. You’re shy, you’re growing restless, but his eyes are like magnets; there’s no way you can avert your gaze.

“And.. you?” You ask, voice not loud at all, as if you don’t even notice you’re saying it. He loves that- loves the fact that you’re slowly letting him closer- not only physically.

“I like to earn my spot in their lives.” He states, and your mind suddenly begins to spin. You’ve always seen him as someone who doesn’t care much about emotions or feelings, or relationships for that matter. And maybe he doesn’t- maybe he just says this because he knows your weak spots. But the way his words fall into your ears makes you believe him. “I like to see my partner thrive; I love to see them grow. And..” he says, boldly deciding to slowly reach out his hand that was placed on the back of the couch- his fingers running through your hair, only brushing through, never pulling (no matter how much you’re craving it secretly). “I love to see them let go.” He humms out, and there’s a sudden shiver down your back, one that he definitely notices.

This is it. This is where you’ll let him touch you, let him wreck you, let him ruin you. You lean in closer, and so does he, but just when your lips are about to touch, he smiles gently- a warm affectionate gesture that you’ve never seen from him. And with it being directed at you, it’s even more meaningful- but it’s all about his next move, the way his inked fingers trace your cheek, before he speaks.

“You’re not ready yet.”

And with that, he turns back to the TV.

You huff, and it's the first time you know exactly what you're doing. You knew from Yoongi what Jungkook did in his freetime- you knew that this stuff was his expertise. Defeated, you looked down towards your knees, as your thoughts start to grow more and more frustrated. He probably didn't even see you like that, having only visited you out of pity, and not because he wanted to see you.

You were probably already friendzoned, and he was too nice to outright say it into your face. It made your emotions turn sour as the situation grew more and more awkward for you.

"What're you thinking about?" He asks, and you don't answer. What was there to say anyways? You really didn't want to have this weird conversation where he would tell you that oh yeah you're a nice girl, but he's not the right guy, the usual stuff you've already heard time and time again. "Y/N." He says, his voice dropping a little, but you only chew on the inside of your cheek again, eyes moving towards the TV screen. You didn't want to talk- you just hoped he would now sigh and get up, leaving so you could forget about all of this. You could maybe fake being sick for the next week or so to avoid him, yeah, that would be enough time to gloss over this entire situation. But he only clicks his tongue, hands suddenly moving your legs as he moves your body to face him.

Looking at his face is your first mistake.

His eyes are dark and almost angry, irritated as he looks as you. His jaw is clenched, and his hands stay on your knees for a moment, before he's sure enough that he has your attention. Only then does he speak, his voice nowhere near as soft and light as it had been before. "I know what you're thinking, and I don't like it." He says, and that's when you make your second mistake.

"Can we not right now? You don't know shit." You say, and he stares you down for a moment, until his head tilts a slight bit, eyes growing predatory as the corners of his lips tilt upwards. It resembles a small smile, yes, but it's not meant to be one. No, the first thing you have to think about is a wolf snarling at you, ready to put his packmate into their place for acting out.

It makes your spine tingle.

"Hm, maybe, but we can be classy about it, no?" He asks, and you scoff, trying to move your legs away from him, as he scans you.

At this point, he can see clearly that you're testing him.

So he gets up promptly, moving you around so you're standing in front of him. His inked hand finds your hair, gripping without mercy as he pulls your head back, your gaze now forced to stay on his as he calmly speaks. "You think I'm not into you like that- and you're as wrong as you could ever get." He says, biting his tongue as to not let a petname slip. He'd love to use them, but he knows that it's not yet time. That would be foul play, in a way; he doesn't want to seduce you.

He wants to make you understand.

"Trust me when I say I'd love to just throw you over my legs to spank that attitude out of you right now." He explains, and you whine- not in pain, but simply as a reaction to his confession. "But you don't know what you're getting yourself into." He continues, and pulls a bit to interrupt your next words. You know that you can get free any second you want to- but for some reason, there's no urge to do so. "You think of this as some game to play, you think of yourself as someone who can take all of it at once, but you don't even get the simplest and most important things about this entire thing." You swallow, as you stay still, finally giving up your fight as he relaxes the grip he still has on you. "Even now, it's not me controlling this situation. Its you." He says, letting go of you as his hands rest on your cheeks, eyes searching for any clues of discomfort. Only when he finds none, does he continue. "I will only ever have as much control over you as you're willing to give to me." He smiles again, this time, warm and comforting. "If you're really willing to do this, we will do this right. You'll have to trust me first, and I'll have to get to know you fully first, before anything else happens. Understood?" He asks.

And you nod.

"Do you know what you just agreed to?" He chuckles, and, shyly, you shake your head.

"See?" He grins, breaking skincontact with you. "You're not ready yet."

His brows furrow when he sees you sitting on the counter, Taehyung talking to you. "What're you doing here?" He asks, and you pout, as Taehyung moves away, not wanting to get involved into anything this time. "Stop that face. We talked about this last week, why're you here now?" He asks, and you tilt your head innocently.

"Maybe I'm here for Yoongi?" You say, and his eyes grow darker for a second, before he composes himself.

"Good try, but he's still off work." He states, and you deflate a bit.

"I just.. wanted to see, I guess." You say, and he smiles a bit impishly.

"Oh? I mean, I have a scene in twenty minutes.." He asks, and internally, you cringe. No, you don't want to see him screw or even touch another woman in the ways you secretly want him to touch you instead. No, you're technically here to maybe talk him into show you at least a little bit. But it doesn't seem like he'll cave in anytime soon, so you sigh out.

"Okay, okay, I'll see you around, I guess." You say, hopping down from the counter before you take a step towards the exit.

"Ah well, I'll drive you home then." He states, and you grow confused as he leans against the counter. "Seeing as my scheduled appointment wants to leave, I have time off." He states, and you skin tingles. "Come on now, before I change my mind." He states, as he walks you outside again, leading you towards his car.

"I didn't mean to turn up so.. I don't know. Sorry." You said, and he gets into the drivers seat, shaking his head.

"I can understand you, trust me." He says, as he starts the engine and drives off. "If you're okay with it, I'd like to get something from my apartment, and then drive to yours." He says, and you tilt your head.

"Why not to the studio, or your place?" You ask, and he nods.

"While those are places I feel comfortable, they're unfamiliar to you. It's best if we start in a place that's comforting and gives you a sense of security." He states, and you nod.

Jungkook, in your eyes, never really seemed as mature as he's acting in those moments. It's as if he switches every time you two change topics; any time this particular one comes up, his mood changing into a serious one. Now, you're not stupid, you know the risks- and of course you had somewhat done your research online about the damages that could occur during all of this. And there's also the not too little chance it really isn't something for you after all- and in a way, that scares you. Because you want jungkook, but what if you don't want.. this?

Instead of voicing that out, you simply keep quiet as he gets out the car, and inside again after fetching what looks like an overnight bag. "You're staying over?" You ask, and he simply throws it on to the backseat.

"Maybe. We'll see." He says, and you don't question him as he drives. "Let's get something to eat. What're you craving?" He asks, as he keeps his attention on the road. He notices how you seem to think, already able to practically see the gears turning inside your head. "Don't think about what I could want. I asked what you want." He says, calmly, and so soft, that you simply let your words out.

"Tae usually get's me food.." You start, and Jungkook nods, as if understanding. You watch him smile a little.

"Let's get some junk food and eat it in the car." He simply states, and you nod, happy that he seemingly really did get what you were trying to say. For you, things like these were almost like rituals- like you and tae getting random icecream just to hurry home every time to not have it melt.

Maybe this would become a memory only for you and Jungkook.

"You're nervous." Jungkook says, speaking out what's obvious. You don't know what he'll do, you're confused whats in his bag- you're nervous, just like he said. "Why is that?" He asks, casually sitting on your bed with you. He had earlier told you not to panic-clean it; he was not there to be impressed. He was simply a visitor for now, nothing more, nothing less. You shrugged. There were a lot of reasons you were nervous. "If you want this to work, I need to have proper communication with you. Guessing will get me nowhere." He says, but his voice is not upset. He's simply informing you.

"I.. don't know what you'll do?" You say, and He smiles, sitting more comfortably, as he shows you his open hands.

"I'm not gonna do anything for the moment." He tells you, and you shrug.

"But wasn't that the plan?" You ask him.

"What would you want me to do then?" He asks instead, not answering your question. He's testing you, he want's to know if you really are aware of everything. He's also not only asking you about what you want him to do to you- but with you, as well. He was unsure if you wanted to romantically involve yourself with him, or simply explore something new at his side.

He's afraid he'd be okay with either, just because its you.

"Are you going to tie me up?" You ask, and Jungkook grins, before he laughs. You're growing shy, unsure, and he instantly makes sure you know he's simply laughing about what you said, not about you. His hand holds yours- and it's weirdly reassuring.

"No, although I can imagine you looking very pretty in that position." He says. "No, come here." He says, lays down on the bed, and you stay where you are, with reasonable distance between you two. "I want you to come as close to me as you feel comfortable. Don't force it- take your time. I'm not expecting anything, please remember that." He tells you calmly, not looking at you to give you mental distance from him as well. His eyes are actually closed, his body relaxed.

You don't move for a moment. You want to test how long he can really play this patient role- but after around five or ten minutes, he's still not moving. He's not even saying anything, and you're unsure if he's asleep or not.

There's only one way to find out.

You carefully lay down a little away from him, on your side, simply looking at him. It's weird to see him like that; you've always imagined him to be a very dominant and demanding person, from what you've heard and seen of him. But Jungkook doesn't feel like any of the guys you've been with; he also doesn't feel like Taehyung, or Yoongi, or Hoseok.. Jungkook, weirdly enough, feels comfortable. He's relaxed, and laid back, and still has that slight glint of power over you.

You move closer, your curiosity getting the best of you as scenes and pictures of him holding you fill your head. Is he even a cuddler? You can't imagine him being all soft and sweet for gestures like that, but then again, you didn't really think you'd ever be in a situation like this either. Maybe you were judging a book by its cover.

He smells nice- that's one of the first things you notice once you get closer. One of his arms is stretched out to the side- his tattooes visible, but partially hidden by his sweater sleeve. You want to look at them, so you test the waters- by touching his arm, just a small poke with your finger. You can see the corners of his lips twitch; he's definitely awake. You move his arm a little, inside facing you as you get a detailed look at his artworks. They're detailed, they fit him, the dark Ink a stark contrast to his skin.

His sweater seems soft.

You slowly lay down again, your head resting on his biceps as you simply lay for a moment.

This is nice.

You feel more and more bold with every minute that passes, not even minding the way he sometimes moves around. You're growing at ease, so much so, that you simply throw all hesitation out of the window, and cuddle up to him. one of your hands is on his chest, while your head rests ontop of the inside of his shoulder.

This is really nice.

"Are you falling asleep?" He asks, voice not loud at all, as his arm moves, palm resting on your forearm as he holds you. You don't mind it- you feel relaxed enough to really actually do fall asleep- so you nod. "That's good." He tells you.

"But didn't you bring stuff to try?" you ask, and Jungkook nods.

"We got time. A small nap is always a good idea." He tells you, and you simply nod- making him smile.

He's glad.

Because by falling asleep on him like that, you don't even know how much you've complimented him at all. You're relaxed enough around him, comfortable enough to let him close to you in a vulnerable state such as sleep. It makes him wonder how far you'd let him go- would you let anyone get so close so quickly? A sudden rush of protectiveness curses through his body, fills him up, as he swears he can't let you go now. No, what if someone else gets you like this? What if someone takes advantage of your open mind like that? He doesn't even want to imagine.

Jungkook really has it bad.

You slowly wake up to a bit of weight on your face. "jungkook what're you doing?" you giggle, and he chuckles as well as he takes the hand away from over your eyes. He looks well rested, with his eyes still not fully open.

"Nothing." He says. "Just teasing." He says, but of course, nothing he does is just random teasing. Everything he does is calculated- it's to test you, to study you, to make sure he gets to know you. "Are you hungry?" He asks instead.

"Not for food."

He has to let that process for a moment, until he laughs. He's really got it with you, he thinks, as he suddenly moves, eyes dark, while he's now ontop of you, his hands holding your wrists. Expecting you to look surprised, he finds none of that however. It intrigues him, the way you don't seem to be nervous or fearful at all. It makes him wonder what you'd really do to him if he was to advance in ways he wanted to. "Careful, sweetheart." He says, and your eyes sparkle with a silent challenge.

"Or what?"

His grip gets a bit tighter at that, eyes a bit darker. "Someone's eager." He says lowly. "Don't you think you're biting off more than you can chew right now?" He asks, before he clicks his tongue, slowly falling into his own headspace. He knows however not to let himself slip. "Give me a random word." He asks, demands, and you say whatever finds your mind in that moment.

"Bunny." You say.

He raises his eyebrow for a second, but doesn't question it. "I want you to say that, loud and clear, as soon as you feel uncomfortable." He lectures you seriously. "It doesn't matter what it is. Physically, or mentally, or if you simply don't want me to continue because. I need you to tell me that you will say it." His gaze is intense, and you nod. "I promise you; I'll never get mad, or upset, or angry, or disappointed with you. My ego isn't worth your safety." He humms out at the end, and your eyes soften.

He notices it instantly, and it affects him more than he'd like to admit.

"I promise I'll say it if I need to." You tell him, and he grows comfortable again.

"Can I touch you?" He asks, softly, and you nod, before verbally answering him with a yes. "Remember; I'll only ever have as much power and control over you as you will give me." He mumbles, head now dipped down to ghost his lips over the skin of your neck. "But once you give it to me-" He says, his knee situating itself in between your legs to spread them in a silent command. "-I won't give it back." He growls, before he bites down, releasing the skin after hearing your delicate mewl, kissing the spot as if to apologize.

He's not sorry.

"Let me ask you.." He says, feeling you rut against his leg that's pressed against your center. "what do you really want from me?" He asks, and you open your eyes, movements slowly coming to a halt as you notice the way he looks at you.

He almost looks uncertain.

"I.." You want him. You know that- you want all of his bad habits and weird quirks. You want to get to know him and everything that comes with it. Hell, he was the main reason you even got into the entire scene in the first place. "You." You say, deciding its best to practice honesty.

"Me?" He asks, genuinely a little confused.

You nod. "Yeah. You." You say. It's a little weird, the whole situation, but you don't mind it. Your hands slowly slip out of his grasp, before they instead intertwine their fingers with his. He feels weirdly caught off guard by the gesture- his past encounters and relationships never having included things like these. So much so, that Jungkook genuinely believed those things to be simple movie-gestures. Overdone, and not realistic. "Like uhm.. if you want to. If you just want to, you know, I.. guess I'd be okay with that too-" You say, looking away, as Jungkook answers.

"I want you too." He answers, eyes searching yours for any glimmer of dishonesty. But he doesn't find it- there is none. There's just you. "I really want you too." He murmurs out, getting closer, before he lets himself loose, his lips finding yours.

He's never been a fan of kissing, but he can very much already imagine kissing you for hours.

Its not just you letting go in that moment, its him too.

Because unbeknownst to you, he's not just opening you a door to his world of unspoken fantasies-

He's also opening his heart as well.

Your first time together is slow and comfortable.

It happens just a day after you had both decided to pursue an actual relationship with one another. He's gentle, careful, but not hesitant. He's exploring.

Inside of his head, he notes down every noise and every twitch of muscle. You sigh as he eats you out, the small ponytail of his unable to hold onto all of his hair as his eyes are partially hidden behind the blonde strands. He's watching you, his fingers having already stretched you out, but then he sits up. You whine, with him having stolen your release for a second time. "Let's play a little, yeah?" He says with an amused yet calm tone. You're already unable to do much about your position; your wrists bound to your bed over your head, carefully tied knots comfortable against your skin, as long as you don't pull. "Legs open." He calls out as you try and close them, and you whine again; testing his patience as you still go ahead and disobey his command. He watches, moves forward, before he pulls them apart again. "You want to cum, no?" He asks, and you nod, frustratedly so. "I wonder what made you think you've earned that reward from me." He tells you, eyes scanning your form as you pull on your restraints a little. He's not fully into his own headspace yet- he's still very much on high alert to notice any signs of discomfort coming from you.

He has to learn just as much as you do.

"You're lucky you're so sweet." He says, before he crawls closer again, his hand on your center, as he enters you with two fingers. Its not enough, but then his thumb draws circles on your clit- and you're approaching, quickly. "Hm? Won't you cum?" And then you say it.

"Can I?"

It's so desperate, so needy, so submissive, that it sends a chill down his spine. He moves closer, kisses your neck, as he can't help but let the rush of it get to him. He is, after all, just as desperate for release. No matter if its his, or yours.

"Such a good girl, of course you can." He tells you. "What a sweet one, such good manners.." He teases playfully, and you tug at your restraints as you come undone under his hands. He unties your wrists and you're holding onto him as soon as you're free, and he lets you hold onto him in your post orgasmic bliss.

Its after a moment that you realize it.

"Wait-" You say, sitting up to look at him. "You- I mean, you didn't get to-" You start, but Jungkook waves it off.

"Its fine, really." He tells you, and you know he's serious. "I'll just wait until it goes down, or take care of it in your bathroom if thats okay with you." He says, patting the side next to him to lay down on. "Come here." He asks, and you comply, before you speak again.

"You.." You start, not looking at him. "Could just take care of it here." You say. "Or I could.." you start, and he looks at you.

"Do you want that, or do you only feel like you have to?" He asks, and you shrug. You take some time, before you answer.

You've seen most of Jungkook until now. From his strong arms, his back, his inked skin, to his thighs and legs. You have seen all- but that. And you've never really considered giving anything back in that way to anyone because of one single embarrassing moment- but with Jungkook, for some reason, you wanted to try.

"I want to." You say, and he nods. "But I don't know how.." You say, and he smiles reassuringly.

"I'll guide you." He tells you, before he scans your face. He's never really felt that desired- at least not in the way he does in that moment with you. "You can take it out for starters." He says, and you nod, before you hesitate a little.

Jungkook is nice, when it comes to that. He's patient, always lets you do the pacing for now, until you trust him enough. This is only the start, after all. You stay cuddled up to his side, but your hand ventures towards his sweats, where you can see his prominent erection still waiting. Slowly, you push the fabric down, both his sweats and boxers underneath- his hips lifting a bit to make it easier for you, until he's freed from his clothes.

You've never really thought much about looks when it came to that department, but Jungkook was, in each and every way, highly attractive. Now you knew, that there was literally nothing about him you didn't desire.

Your first touches are a little hesitant, testing the waters, and Jungkook tries not to react too much to it to give you time. Its when you start to move your hand however, that he closes his eyes, head now completely resting on the pillows beneath as he just decides to enjoy what you might give him. His hips twitch upwards a little after you'd run your thumb over the head, precum glistening while your hand uses it as lubricant to move more smoothly.

He sighs out.

And you grow bold at that, moving to sit up and escape out of his embrace, before you dip down to feed your curiosity. As your tongue touches his skin, his muscles contract, the action not expected since he didn't look what you were doing. You've been told once before that you're not.. the best at this- but Jungkook made you want to try. If you would've looked, you would've spotted the intense stare that Jungkook had been sending your way; mesmerized by the way you tucked your hair behind your ear oh so sweetly, before you let a drop of saliva escape from between your lips, taking him in soon after it had dropped onto his awaiting length.

You really were something else.

He'd gotten head time and time before, and it was never something he didn't like- but he'd also rarely ever cared that much emotionally about the person giving it to him. It's weird, how an emotional connection can make you so much more sensitive to things- such as in that moment, as your tongue moved over his skin while inside your warm mouth, lips heavenly on his cock.

He couldn't imagine what it would be like to be inside you.

There's nothing he could teach you, nothing he could tell you to do, as you moved, sucked and licked. He was breathing heavily already, his hand finding yours as you hold onto it. He sits up, can't help it, has to somehow touch you while you're not letting go of your task. His palm escapes your hand, rests on your head instead, runs through your hair before it grips a little. You moan, vibrations making him throw his head back as he groans out, feeling his end coming closer. "If you don't want to swallow, let go." He grits out, but you suck harder instead, and its when your hand finds his balls that he lets himself fall back onto the mattress beneath, shooting his load into your mouth as you swallow it down.

He's on cloud nine.

You're thoughtful enough to pull his underwear and pants back up, laying on your stomach next to him, waiting, watching, with impish eyes. He looks so radiant, so relaxed, so at ease. It fills you with a weird sense of pride; since in a way, its your doing. "Why did you tell me you don't know how to do that." He comments, rather than asks, slowly calming his breathing back down. His eyes open, hand pushing some hair out of your face. "Thank you. That was amazing." He says, and you shrug.

"Thanks for the compliment." You say, looking at him.

"I have a request." He says, and you nod. "Not like that." He teases, making you blush. "No, but seriously." Jungkook knows that you've been with other people before. It scares him to know that some of your experiences might not have been good- he knows some absolute horror stories Taehyung had told him. "I want you to take all that you've experienced with your former partners.. all those moments, emotions, bad memories, all of it." He tells you, hand now resting on your cheek- a gesture in which you lean into. "And throw them away. Forget them." He tells you.

"This is a new start, for both of us."

"How many clients have you been with?" You ask, casually sitting on the kitchen counter as Jungkook washes the dishes. Its your first night in his apartment, and you're more comfortable than you thought you'd be.

"None." He tells you, and you're ready to snort out a laugh, but he doesn't look at all like he's joking. Seeing your confusion, he continues while scrubbing a plate. "None of us actually have sex with our clients. Some only come to talk, really- others come to let go." He explains, and you nod. "I've never touched, nor been with someone intimately during a scene." He tells you.

"So you had scenes with your partners then?" You ask, and he shrugs.

"In the beginning, yeah." He admits, shrugging. "But I eventually gave up on it. It's not something a lot of people find very appealing. It all looks great in theory, but when practiced, most find its not for them." Draining the sink, he dries his hands on the dish towel, before putting it in its proper place.

"Could you.. imagine a relationship without it?" You ask, and he sighs, shaking his head.

"Not really." He looks at you after a moment. "Its who I am, and its how I love. I can't change that." He tells you, and you nod. Its understandable really, and you like that he has clear lines he likes to follow. It's weirdly comforting to know that he has his life so under control- its all you've ever wanted really.

It's something Jungkook might be able to give you.

It was weird, the feeling of the rope against your skin. He’d been right about it earlier; it wasn’t rough or itchy at all. But maybe that was just because it was him doing it. Maybe he was simply fogging up your senses.

It would make sense.

“Okay?” He humms out, voice gentle and calm while he stops his hands for a moment, palm on your shoulder where it warms up your skin. You’re unsure what okay really means- okay like, he’s finished? Or is he asking if you’re okay? Or is he asking for permission? “Speak to me- don’t just think.” He says, eyes watching you in such a manner that made your slightly trembling body calm down.

“I’m not sure what- what you mean by, okay.” You say, and he smiles, eyes roaming over your body for a moment, but surprisingly not in a way that would make you feel exposed. You’re almost naked, after all- only your most private parts hidden from his sight. You can see the very evident tent in his pants; but he doesn’t seem like he’s frustrated or fazed about it.

“Good Job telling me.” He says first and foremost, and you start to feel warm inside. “I was asking if you were okay. Do you remember your colors?” He asks, and you nod, before verbally answering him with a ‘yes’. He nods again, a hand running over your head, fingers running through your hair affectionately. “Good. I’ll finish the last knots now- remember you can stop at any time. Don’t hesitate.” He says, and you nod.

He grabs the rope again; the tiny fact that he’d chosen one in your favorite color making you feel.. well, you didn’t know. You could feel your nose sting, before it shot into your eyes, making them water; something that Jungkook immediately noticed. “Color?” He asks, and you shake your head.

“Green, Green, I’m okay-“ you say, but you can’t stop the tears. He’s quick to sit down in front of you after tying the last knot- and it’s the first time you quietly look at them. They’re so delicate, so well done, but there’s no time to dwell on it as he lifts you chin gently.

“Talk to me.” He says, hands on your shoulders to give you some sense of stability. You’re safe, you don’t feel bad, but just..

“I don’t know. There’s so much-“ you begin, and he softly smiles, as if you’re not currently completely bound with no chance of proper movement. You take a deep breath, holding it before you release again, silently following the advices he’d given you prior. “Why do I feel so.. comfortable? I feel safe even though I’m in such a dangerous situation- I’m.. this is weird isn’t it, I should be.. I don’t know. Why’re you not doing anything? Wasn’t this supposed to be like, a sex session or something I don’t get it-“ you babble, and he lets you, before he speaks.

“You still don’t quite get it, do you?” He asks, and your glistening eyes stare up at him. “I don’t need something as simple as sex to feel satisfied.” He explains, and you nod, even though you don't quite understand. "I feel euphoric right now, even though you probably won't quite believe me." He says, his smile evident as his fingers trace the knots on your skin. It's there that you see it; the glimmer in his eyes, something you've never seen before with someone else. "The fact that you let me do this, it's all I need." He humms out. He looks at you, a silent question, and you take a deep breath.

You don't quite know what you're doing. Its weird- but seeing him like that makes you feel weightless. It happens slowly, you don't quite grasp what it is, but the feeling is nice. It's like letting go- like standing on the highest platform of the universe and just jumping down. And when you open your eyes, all you see is him.

He can't take his eyes off of you.

He's seen it often enough to spot it, knows what it looks like, but it still holds such a deep meaning to him to see you fall into your subspace for the very first time. You're so beautiful like that, so ethereal and enchanting as you lean forward to get closer to him. He's careful you dont accidentally hurt yourself with the big scissors on the bed close by- emergency equipment to release you asap if needed.

He knows escape is the furthest thing on your mind right now.

Able to do anything he'd want with you, he's not like that however. He's responsible enough to let you float for a moment, before he speaks to you again. "Baby?" He asks, and you nod, nuzzling his shoulder as he holds you close. "You're doing so good. Can you do something for me baby?" He questions again, and you nod, not parting from him however before he talks again. "Can you sit straight for a moment? Just like that, good girl." He praises as you instantly follow his command. "I got you, okay? I got you, you're safe." He repeats, as he slowly unties your body. It's careful reassuring and slow movements that make it possible to untie you- too quickly could make you drop; a state of sudden shift in mental state, that could send you straight into distress. Jungkook doesn't ever want to be the cause of that for you.

You're underneath him, and he's careful, as he undresses after placing the scissors onto the bedside table where it cant lead to any accidents. He also reaches inside the table, pulling out a condom from a box safely stored, before he gets himself ready.

Not even for a second is his attention not on you however.

"Hands up baby." He commands, and you do as he wants, already squirming as he advances towards you, fingers stretching you out as you grow huffy at the prospect of being edged again. He's quick to catch on though. "Hm, I'm not gonna be mean baby." He tells your fuzzy mind. "But I gotta get you ready, no?" Fingers steadily helping you relax, he waits until he deems you ready.

You struggle to keep your hands up as he enters you, but your mind is adamant on keeping his command. He groans out, kisses your neck, as he slowly begins to move lazily. It's enough for pleasure- but not enough to make you cum. "Good fucking girl. Look at you. My baby." He chants, and something inside you stirs at the last words.

His Baby.

You're his.

He wants you.

It makes you whine as he chuckles, nipping at your skin. "You can touch me baby, good job." He says, and your hands are instantly around his neck. You're mumbling something, but its not words. It's not coming out the way you think it does, and Jungkook doesn't mind, doesn't care. Its another one of those things fueling him up, urging him on.

You're his perfect puzzle piece.

He lets go.

"Turn around princess." He says breathless, and you follow his instructions eagerly. His hand rests on the back of your neck for a moment, leaves its place for a second to move your hair away from your face, before he gently pushes down. He's inside in a heartbeat, this time thrusting with more strength.

Something overcomes him that hasn't happened before.

Usually, this position is what he loves most- and yet, it's not what he wants. He wants you, he wants you close, he cant touch you enough. His arms snake around your torso, just underneath the bottom of your breasts, as he pulls you towards him. Your back arches so prettily, and he gasps out, breathing heavy as he continues his attack on your neck. "You're mine." He growls out, can't keep it inside anymore, his grip on you tightening. "Mine." His thrusts stutter, his hand reaches for your center, desperate fingers helping you find your release. It coats your thighs, stains the bed, and he pushes himself as deep as he can once he finishes himself.

He's breathing heavily, he's out of his mind, running on autopilot as his hands still hold you. He pulls out after a moment, a whine from you getting reassured by his own voice, before he leaves the bed, getting a warm damp washcloth ready for you. He's careful, gentle, seems to caress your skin more than clean it, places kisses every now and then and sends praises your way.

"How do you feel?" He asks, voice low and caring as he continues his aftercare.

"Like you love me a lot." You sleepily say, eyes still foggy, and he smiles.

"Good." He tells you, reaching out to kiss your lips, still high on his own afterglow. "That's how you're always supposed to feel like."

"I've quit." He tells you one night on the couch, as you sit close to him. You'd asked him about his sidejob at Yoongi's- and this was his answer. Instantly, you sit up straight, fearing that he might've felt obligated because of you. "Before you start, yes, it was because of you." He says, and you already have the whine in your throat- but it doesn't make it out, as his fingers lazily trace your collarbone peaking out from his shirt you're wearing. "But it was also my decision. I just didn't enjoy it anymore- and you're more I could ever want really." He says, shrugging as you stare at him.

It was still new to you.

Although you knew that he was probably more than just a wild loverboy collecting partners and gaming all day, you never would've thought of him like this. He's a kid at heart still, teasing and playfighting every now and then- but he's mostly a strong shoulder to lean on for you. He really is the security and safety you'd always searched for. "What're you thinking about?" He asks, pulling you closer as he continues watching the TV show.

"You." You say, and he chuckles.

"Cute." He answers. He looks at you for a moment, TV long forgotten, before you crawl over his lap, shirt rising enough to give him free view of your thighs and panties. You've skipped the pants tonight- a habit of yours he enjoys a lot. His palms instantly find the soft skin, running along the outside of your thighs before they find your behind, squeezing, before he slaps it playfully. He grins as you squeal, admiring the way the very tips of your ears turn red. "You're really precious, you know that?" He tells you, and you shrug. "You are." He confirms, and you smile shyly.

"May I kiss you?" You ask, and he smiles warmly.

"We're not in a scene baby, do as you wish." He tells you, and you nod, leaning forward to capture his lips with yours. Its a feeling you can't quite get enough of, and it seems like he enjoys it equally as much. His inked hands find their way underneath your shirt, running over your back and spine as you shudder. He doesn't find what he seeks, your underwear long gone and left in the bedroom, and he loves it, instantly moves to your chest where he finds the soft flesh, his thumb running over one of your nipples teasingly. You're arching your back already, moving around as if you can't sit still. "My baby." He mumbles out, "If you can be so kind and get me a condom, you can ride me if you want to." He tells you, and you nod.

By now you easily know your way around his apartment.

So its no wonder you quickly return from your now shared bedroom, condom in hand as you approach him again, settling onto his lap. You're not shy with him nor his body anymore, eagerly taking the condom out of the package for him to roll it down onto his length. "You good?" He asks, and you nod, pulling your panties aside as you slowly sink down on him.

He lets his head rest back on the couch, and you lean into him, for a change returning the favor of kissing his neck. He's grinning, throughoutly enjoying things, and you love watching him. It's a visual reminder to yourself that this is your doing. You're making him feel that way, and no one else. It makes you confident, and it makes you feel cherished in ways you haven't felt before.

Once you start to move, Jungkooks hands help you along. Its slow and lazy, not at all hurried. There's no real goal; you probably wouldn't even mind not cumming at all. This was just being close- a way of feeling connected in the most intimate of ways. Connected like only lovers could be.

You love him.

And it slips out as a tiny 'I love you' in between your sighs and gasps, and he hears it so clearly, he can't help himself but speed up the pace.

"I love you too." He chants out, kissing the side of your head as you rest against his chest, head on his shoulder. "I love you so much." He says, almost inaudible, his arms holding you as close as he can.

Jeon Jungkook doesn't need sex to feel satisfied.

But he will most certainly need you for now and forever.

And he's totally fine with that.

(c)Bonny-Kookoo. You know the drill. I know where you live. I don't. But still. Be scared. Boo.

#bts imagine #bts #bts fanfic #jungkook imagine #bts fic #bts smut #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts reactions #Rabbit Boy AU

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years ago

Note

CQL-verse! The characters have the same age gaps between them as their actors and actresses! Wwx and Jyl are the same age, jc is 5 years younger than them. Lxc is 3 years younger than wwx&jyl and lwj is 3 years younger than him. Nmj is two years older than wwx&jyl and nhs is 8 years younger than him and the same age as lwj. (1/2)

Meng Yao is 2 years older than nhs and jzx is 2 years older than MY. I'm leaving the Wen Sibs out of this because otherwise WN would be the same age as wwx and WQ would be 4 years younger than him. But hey! If you want to go with that, go crazy! I was thinking more of Yunmeng Sibs focus, but I will be happy with anything! (2/2)

ao3

Untamed

Nie Mingjue hated the Wen sect to the point of death and war, but he had always had trouble hating sad and gentle Wen Ning.

Wen Ning was technically his peer – there were only two years between them in age – and therefore capable of the same sorts of responsibilities and duties towards righteousness as Nie Mingjue, meaning that he ought to hate him as much as all the rest. But at the same time, Wen Ning was only part of the main branch family indirectly, a ward of Wen Ruohan; he was constantly suppressed and even tormented by Wen Chao, the eldest son of that family. If anything, it seemed almost as if he’d been brought into the family just to act as the family’s scapegoat, the inferior copy that was so hapless that he made that self-indulgent hedonist Wen Chao appear somewhat competent in contrast.

Nie Mingjue couldn’t imagine treating any of his own cousins that way.

He and Wen Chao were often compared, both being about the same age, and their young brothers were of similar age as well, both of them only fourteen; this juxtaposition made sure that every single person in the cultivation world talk of them in the same breath. Nie Mingjue always came out the better in the comparison, and Wen Xu the same for his, which in the minds of most people balanced out, but which caused Wen Chao no end of rage. He knew he couldn’t take out his anger on the talented Wen Xu and so took out on poor Wen Ning instead.

Nie Mingjue hated the Wen sect.

He did not hate Wen Ning.

Wen Ning, who should not be here.

“Please,” Wen Ning said, nearly in tears, as he threw himself down to the floor in front of Nie Mingjue. He’d burst into the room in the inn Nie Mingjue was staying at, the guards that no sect leader could do without no matter what they wanted following close behind in alarm until Nie Mingjue had waved them off with a gesture; he’d been panting so hard that he’d only just now caught his breath. “Please help this useless older brother do one good thing with his life.”

Alarmed, Nie Mingjue reached out and caught Wen Ning by the shoulders, pulling him to stand and even forgetting himself enough to reach forward with a sleeve to dab away the tears staining the other man’s face.

“What is it?” he asked, feeling anxiety curdling in his gut. He’d spoken with Wen Ning before during the discussion conferences, both when he was younger and even, in a few stolen moments, after he became sect leader; he knew Wen Ning had a steady personality, if a weak one from all the bullying he endured, and that he was not given to unnecessary hysterics. If he could tolerate Wen Chao’s endless torment with a faint smile and a don’t worry sect leader Nie once you’re used to it it’s more funny than anything else, then what could make him act like this? “What is that you need help with? I do not understand.”

Wen Ning looked tired. He always had, his health had always been poor, but now it seemed worse than ever; there were circles under his eyes, and Nie Mingjue had no idea how he’d managed to get away from the Nightless City to come find him. The town he was currently in was close to the border the Qinghe Nie shared with Qishan Wen, but it was still an effort, especially for someone like Wen Ning. He might be a member of the Wen family by name, but his freedom was significantly curtailed, and it wasn’t only because he was sickly.

“My little sister is going to be attending the lectures at the Cloud Recesses,” Wen Ning said.

“The - Lan sect lectures?” Nie Mingjue repeated blankly. It was a stupid thing to say; of course it was the Lan sect’s lectures, who else would give lectures at the Cloud Recesses? And yet, at the same time – “The Wen sect hasn’t gone to them in generations.”

“Sect Leader Wen asked A-Qing to look for something,” Wen Ning said. “I don’t know what. He talks to her more than he talks to me, when she’s treating him with acupuncture and other such things – he only wants blood relations treating him now, so she’s passing along what she can do, the doctors all say she’s talented – he told her something, I think, but I don’t know what, he doesn’t talk to me…and she doesn’t talk to me, either.”

“She’s sixteen, they’re like that,” Nie Mingjue said, trying to offer comfort, but he didn’t like the sound of that – Wen Ruohan growing reliant on the medical skills of a teenager, talking with her as if she were an adult…it didn’t speak well to the Chief Cultivator’s state of mind. “So she’s going to go spy on them?”

“She is. And maybe more. There’s – there’s something back in the Nightless City, something Sect Leader Wen is refining in order to increase his power. Whatever it is, it’s powerful and evil.” Wen Ning looked paler than usual, somehow. “It was something that was kept in a cave near our village when we were younger, once. Sect Leader Wen took it away to study, and it made something go crazy, I got hurt, and my parents – anyway, it doesn’t matter. I can’t go near it without losing my senses, so I really don’t know anything about it. But I know that Sect Leader Wen only has a piece – and the Lan sect has another.”

Lan Xichen had never mentioned such a thing, but then again, he wasn’t really old enough that Nie Mingjue would expect him to know everything about his sect – he was after all a full five years younger than Nie Mingjue, three years younger than Wen Ning; he was still only seventeen, having only just graduated from his uncle’s classes the year before. He was only very technically sect leader, in the same way Nie Mingjue had only been technically sect leader after his father’s death, although unlike Lan Xichen Nie Mingjue had fought his way to step up to the task for real early on. He himself was only barely considered an adult at the age of twenty-two; it was no surprise that in the Lan sect, which had Lan Qiren to rely on, Lan Xichen might not know it all.

Or perhaps he knew, and simply didn’t say. Each sect was entitled to its secrets.

“What are you thinking?” Nie Mingjue asked.

“I’m thinking that my sister is constantly afraid for me, even though she’s younger than me,” Wen Ning said solemnly. “I’m thinking that she will break her own principles into pieces to protect me. I’m thinking that she’ll find whatever it is, or find a hint to it, and then Wen Chao will take his forces to burn the Cloud Recesses to the ground in search of it.”

Nie Mingjue could see that.

He didn’t want to, but he could.

“My brother is attending those lectures,” he said blankly. Nie Huaisang was there right now. He could be in danger – no, he would be in danger. Nie Huaisang wasn’t a good cultivator, and at fourteen, he was just a baby. Nie Mingjue had sent Meng Yao with him, nominally as his attendant, but in fact to get the benefit of the classes himself and also bully Nie Huaisang into actually learning something – he’d brought Meng Yao into the Nie sect after Jin Zixuan, full of guilt over how his father had treated a boy only two years his junior, had sent him a letter beseeching him for help following Meng Yao’s public and humiliating rejection from Jinlin Tower – but Meng Yao was only sixteen, of age with Wen Qing; what could he really do?

Moreover, sending Wen Qing and not Wen Xu, even though Wen Xu was the same age as Nie Huaisang and Lan Wangji, indicated that Wen Ruohan didn’t want his more promising son to get involved in whatever it was that he was planning, or maybe in whatever consequences followed. If Wen Chao really were to try something violent, they couldn’t afford to have a weakness already there…

“I need to get A-Qing out of the Wen sect,” Wen Ning said, and Nie Mingjue turned to look at him in shock. “Permanently. I’ve begged her to go, but she won’t leave me, she won’t leave our family of the Dafan Wen, but she has to. Something bad is going to happen soon. I know it. I don’t mind trading my life for hers, but she has to live.”

“Is there any way you can go to the Cloud Recesses as well?” Nie Mingjue asked, his mind already racing. He’d long ago given up on helping Wen Ning because he knew the other man wouldn’t turn traitor against his family, being an upright and filial child, but if his family had reached such a depth of corruption as that, then it was only right to leave them behind. If Wen Ning was finally accepting that, maybe there was something he could do. “You’re sensitive to the – whatever it is. Right? Maybe Wen Qing can suggest bringing you around to help her find her way to it.”

“How would that help?”

“It gets you somewhere safe, while I can rescue Dafan Wen – without a threat to you or to them, your sister would have no reason to insist on staying,” Nie Mingjue said, though it wouldn’t be him, exactly, that did the rescue – he’d need a firm alibi lest Wen Ruohan use it as an excuse to start something with his Nie sect. He might have prepared for war as much as he could, but the Wen sect was still stronger; if war broke out, he needed to make sure that he had the moral high ground.

Luckily, Wei Wuxian, that walking calamity of a head disciple of Yunmeng Jiang, had of late developed the habit of wandering over to visit various other sects, including Qinghe (and Nie Mingjue in specific), at his leisure, and no one ever would think to blame him for such a strange thing as a subsidiary sect of distant Wen sect cousins disappearing.

After all, Wei Wuxian had no reason to know or care about the Dafan Wen, and everyone knew he abjured politics completely, violently and repetitively, so as to make no mistake about anyone who might otherwise see him as competition for the Jiang sect’s true heir, Jiang Cheng. The five-year gap between their ages kept them from being compared – you couldn’t expect a child, and at fifteen Jiang Cheng was still very much a child, to keep up with an adult just turned twenty like Wei Wuxian – but there had always been whispers given everything with Cangse Sanren, and Wei Wuxian had had to work very hard to put a stop to them.

Wei Wuxian’s wandering habit had started back when he’d been trying to find Jiang Yanli a new fiancée to replace the engagement he’d broken by fighting with Jin Zixuan, however shameful it was for him to fight with a boy two years his junior. It was for that that he had come to Qinghe to meet Nie Mingjue, leading to them hitting it off as friends despite Nie Mingjue expressing that he had absolutely no interest in getting married to Jiang Yanli, or indeed to any nice young lady at all; then, in turn, Nie Mingjue had brought him to the Lan sect to meet Lan Xichen. They’d gotten along as well, although the most notable outcome of that visit had been little Lan Wangji developing a crush on his elder brother’s new friend while Wei Wuxian remained blissfully oblivious. His wanderings had continued even after Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan had found their way back to each other, affianced once again through their own choice rather than their parents’.

Said parents had not yet been informed of this new situation, as they were waiting for the right time to mention it. Or perhaps more accurately, the right situation to exploit with it…

Now, Nie Mingjue thought. Now was the time. It would work perfectly.

And not just as a distraction.

“Are you sure…?”

“I am,” Nie Mingjue said. “Whatever it is, Wen Ruohan must be kept from obtaining all of the pieces; he’s already too powerful, and more power will only make him more arrogant. I’ll speak with Lan Qiren. Once I take the Dafan Wen back to the Nie sect, your sister will be able to testify to whatever it is that she was asked to search for, which will give Lan Qiren the evidence he needs to get his sect’s approval for retaliatory measures. Moreover, using Wei Wuxian to help me will force Jiang Fengmian to support me as well; there’s no way he’d ever refuse to back him to the hilt.”

“The Jin sect –”

“Will join us,” Nie Mingjue said, thinking of Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan’s yet-to-be-announced engagement. Once Jin Guangshan realized that he would be pulled into the same boat as the rest of them whether he wanted to or not, any resistance he had would crumble like a structure made of sand being beaten down by the tide. “They won’t have a choice. Is there anything else I should know?”

“There’s a child,” Wen Ning said, biting his lips. “Around the same age as your brother or my sister, or maybe the Jiang sect heir, I don’t know, around that. He helps Sect Leader Wen with whatever he’s doing.”

“A child helps him?”

Nie Mingjue didn’t like the sound of that.

“I don’t know. Some secret his family knows, I think…his surname is Xue.”

Nie Mingjue frowned.

“I don’t know much about him,” Wen Ning added. “Only that he has some history with the Yueyang Chang clan. Bad history.”

“That’s a good start,” Nie Mingjue said. He realized that he hadn’t yet released Wen Ning’s shoulders, and gave them a small squeeze before doing so. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I will do everything I can to help you.”

Wen Ning looked at him with admiration in his eyes, making Nie Mingjue feel a little hot under the collar.

“Thank you, Chifeng-zun,” he murmured, and Nie Mingjue shook his head.

“Call me by name,” he said, and tried to smile. “You’ll be here a lot in the future, if all goes well.”

Nie Mingjue hated the Wen sect, but he didn’t hate gentle and sad Wen Ning.

He didn’t hate him at all.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #wen ning #my fic #my fics #count your age #I know you said Yunmeng focus but this is what came out #sorry #full list of ages on the ao3 page

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vnderoos · 4 years ago

Text

staring ✷ draco malfoy

(gif is not mine, credit to the owner) warnings / language(?), draco being a cocky little bugger word count / 2.7k

masterlist in bio ↴

"'MIONE, HAVE YOU cut the daisy roots, yet?" Y/N asked in a quiet voice as she stirred the cauldron with slow, clockwise movements. She and Hermione had been sitting at a workbench in Professor Snape's classroom for some time now, working together on the shrinking potion that he'd assigned for the period. Snape had performed a demonstration in the class prior, but this time, they were responsible for brewing the substance themselves. "I think it's almost warm enough to drop them in," she hummed, continuing to heat the cauldron gently.

Hermione turned to look at the girl and she managed a strained smile. "Yeah, they're all cut up," she explained. She cupped her hand and slid the pile of finely-chopped roots into a small bowl, figuring they'd be easier to dump in that way. She pushed then to Y/N over the tabletop before her gaze flickered elsewhere. "Have you noticed that Malfoy's been staring at you all class?" she muttered out of the blue, tearing her eyes off of what Y/N assumed was the platinum blonde's table.

Y/N offered her friend a gentle shake of her head and she tapped the rim of the glass on the edge of the cauldron, watching as the pieces of root fell into the thick bubbles in the cast-iron pot. "If he was staring, I'm sure I would've noticed by now," she replied, earning a heavy sigh and an eyeroll from Hermione as she peeked into her notebook to see what she needed to add next. She plucked a green bottle and the bowl of caterpillars up off of the table. "Shake the wormwood for me?" she asked, holding the bottle out to Hermione.

Hermione nodded and gently took the bottle from Y/N. "Sure." Pressing her index finger down on the cork at the top, to keep from spilling it everywhere by accident, she began to shake it vigorously. Her brown eyes seemed to trail off again as she shook the wormwood and she found herself narrowing them when they landed on Draco Malfoy for the umpteenth time that class. She was anything but surprised to find his icy gaze locked on the girl beside her. "My God, he's foul," she hissed.

"He's just sitting there, 'Mione," Y/N laughed as she dropped five hairy caterpillars into the pot. It was satisfying to watch them to sink into the purple sludge, but she didn't dwell on that long, as Hermione handed her the bottle of wormwood. "No offense, but can he not just breathe without you insulting him for once?" she questioned with light-hearted intentions as she popped the cork off of the small phial and poured it all into the potion. She watched as it's rich, purple color simmered into a dark green, and she looked over at her frizzy-haired companion.

Hermione stared back at her with a dumbfounded look. "You're joking," she stared and she slipped behind Y/N. The next step was to add the juice from four leeches and it could almost be considered law for the two witches to switch places when anything to do with leeches was involved. Hermione hated the bloody things. Y/N wasn't a fan, either, but she seemed to stomach them better. "Look, he can't keep his eyes off of you, Y/N/N," she hummed, starting to stir the potion rapidly. "It's sickening."

After Y/N lifted the leeches from a jar with her wand and set them into a mortar, she let her eyes flicker up from what she was doing for the first time. She'd almost been nervous about what she might've seen, but her nerves were calmed when she was met with the back of his head, her eyes locking onto tufts of white-blonde hair. "I wouldn't say sickening," Y/N defended quietly as she squished the leeches with a pestle. Her eyes had left the Slytherin boy for a simple second, to check on what she was doing, but when she looked back up, her heart fluttered in her chest. Her eyes were met with the gray-blue color of his own and she could feel the heat sparking beneath her cheeks as she looked at him. She couldn't seem to read Draco's expression as he stared at her, but she also couldn't seem to take her eyes off of him. Something about him was entirely too captivating. "I think he's rather handsome, actually," she stated matter-of-factly, her eyes still locked with his, and he flashed her a small smirk. A gentle smile eased onto her face in response and she turned away from him shyly, directing her focus back onto her smushed leeches.

"You can't be serious," Hermione said as she stirred, looking over at her. "He's such a rat," she argued and Y/N shrugged her shoulders.

It wasn't her fault that she was attracted to him. He was tall, mysterious, and he had skin as smooth as anything. She wouldn't even get herself started on his hair or the color of his eyes or the confident aura he oozed. "I can't help it, 'Mione, he's cute," Y/N told her, pouring the juice from the leeches into the cauldron. "Even if he does have his head up his arse half the time."

—

All of her classes after Potions had seemed to fly by that day, until Y/N was sitting next to Hermione—once again—in their last class of the day. She was never really fond of Transfiguration, as it wasn't one of her strong suits, but having one of her best friends there to offer her pointers didn't hurt. She looked over at Hermione to check the page number on her textbook, to make sure they were looking at the same material, but she found the girl glaring daggers at someone, instead. She furrowed her eyebrows and followed her gaze to the desk sitting diagonally in front of their own, where Draco and Crabbe were leaned over the top of it.

Draco was looking at Y/N over his shoulder and his eyebrows lifted slightly when her eyes met his own. Trying to pretend like Hermione wasn't ready to pounce beside her, she flashed the blonde a gentle smile. In place of smiling back, he offered her a smirk and sent a little wink in her direction, before turning back around in his seat.

Her heart jumped in her chest for the second time that day for the same reason and she looked to Hermione with a giddy smile on her face. "He just winked at me," she hummed, tilting her head bashfully as she did, and she didn't miss the way that Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Bloody hell, Y/N," Hermione cursed, clearly having spent too much time with a certain redhead lately. "Don't tell me he's actually catching starting to catch your interest," she pleaded.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders at that and she gestured to the boy in a subtle manner. "'Mione, have you seen him? How could he not?" she argued quietly and she watched her friend gag mockingly. "He's not even that bad, you're just dramatic," she concluded with a small laugh and she bumped Hermione with her elbow.

The girl scoffed and shook her head, her untamable hair swaying along with the gesture as she did. "Merlin, I really don't know what I'm going to do with you, Y/L/N," she admitted, jokingly for the most part, but she didn't say much else before a soft psst broke their conversation.

"Y/L/N," the voice hissed again, and since Professor McGonagall had her back turned on the class, Y/N looked around, only to find her eyes fixed on Draco's once more. Catch, he mouthed, lifting his hands to reveal a small crane, neatly folded out of parchment paper, and he blew a gentle puff of air onto it. With a single breath, the parchment crane fluttered to life and her eyebrows quirked upwards as it soared her way. She held her hands out to catch it carefully, ignoring a judge look from Hermione and the way Draco's eyes lingered on her as they watched her unfold it. Her eyes flickered over the paper, following his handwriting, which was tall, messy, and very fitting for someone like him.

Wait for me after class? – D. M.

Y/N grinned to herself as she took in the message and she looked up at him. He raised his eyebrows as if to repeat his question and she nodded her head. Seemingly satisfied with her response, Draco mirrored her nod, poking his tongue into his cheek as if to hide a smile, and he turned back around.

Hermione tapped the note with the feathery end of her quill and Y/N looked over at her. "You're not actually going to meet him, are you, Y/N?" she asked quietly, her tone flushed with something comparable to worry.

Y/N almost felt bad for continuing to fight her on it when she knew that Hermione was only looking out for her. "Of course, I'm going to do it," she paused, "I mean, what's the worst he could do, you know?" she finished.

Hermione sighed softly, but ultimately, she decided to give her a nod of approval. "Not that you need my permission, anyways, but fine," she agreed reluctantly. "Just be careful, please. You know I worry about you and the other two," she hummed, in reference to Ron and Harry, the missing pieces of their little group. "I'll hex him out of the castle if he tries anything slick, alright?"

She knew that she was lucky to have someone as supportive and protective as Hermione Granger in her life, so she smiled, placing a hand on the girl's arm affectionately. "Alright. Thank you, 'Mione," she said and Hermione nodded, giving her a small smile.

—

"Alright, everyone. I think that's enough for today," Professor McGonagall called out when the class had finally come to a close. "Class dismissed." She clasped her hands and returned behind her desk as the students began to gather their belongings. Hermione was one of the first ready to leave, with all of her notebooks stuffed into her shoulder bag and her textbook cradled in her arms.

She turned to Y/N as she stood up to leave and she set a hand on her shoulder. "First, remember what we talked about earlier, please," she started, pausing to flash Y/N, who nodded in return, a supportive grin. "And second, I expect all the details when you get back to the dorm. Good luck." Hermione sang the last word as she pulled her hand from the girl's shoulder.

Knowing how strongly Hermione felt with her dislike for Draco, it meant a lot to Y/N that she put her happiness above that. "Thank you, I'm sure I'll need it," she joked, stuffing the last of her books into her bag. "I'll see you when I get back," she promised on a more serious note and the Gryffindor pivoted on her heel, hurrying towards the door so that Y/N might get to meet up with Draco sooner.

Y/N smiled to herself when she was alone, standing up out of her seat and slinging her bag over her shoulder. All of the other students had left the room by then, leaving her, Draco, and McGonagall as the remaining trio. Deciding it was time to approach him, she made her way over to the blonde and crossed her arms over her chest when his eyes flickered up to her. "Hi, Draco." She managed a smile at him, a certain kindness settling in on her features, and he gave a quick jut of his chin in greeting.

"Hello, Y/L/N," he addressed her with a teasing lilt in his voice and she would be lying if she said that it didn't make her the slightest bit nervous. "I wasn't actually sure if you'd stick around," he admitted through a smirk, flipping his bag shut and securing the clip, before he slipped the strap onto his shoulder.

She gave him a weak shrug and she matched his pace as they started towards the exit. "Well, you've been catching my eye all day. I was too curious to ditch you," countered Y/N, jokingly of course, and she stepped out into the corridor with Malfoy at her side. "Why'd you want me to wait up for you?" she questioned as she decided to turn in the direction she'd take to the Gryffindor commons. She figured if he wanted to talk so badly, he'd follow her.

And he did, of course.

Draco didn't even seem to notice as his steps mimicked her own. "I just wanted to get you away from Granger," he explained with a smirk on his lips and she furrowed her eyebrows at him in confusion. Maybe he really was going to hex her or something. "I wanted to tell you that you look nice today without her biting my head off," he elaborated, quick to dispel her doubts in him, and she was almost relieved.

As his words settled in, Y/N could feel herself blushing and she grinned, looking down at her shoes as she walked. Draco's compliment was sweet and all, but it seemed like it had come out of the blue. The two of them never harbored any bad blood towards one another, but that didn't mean they talked all the time. In fact, they hardly spoke at all unless it was necessary.

"Pardon my curiosity, Malfoy, but why are you suddenly so interested?" she found herself asking, turning her head to look back up at him once her initial sheepishness had subsided.

Draco looked over at her as soon as she turned away again, his eyes lingering on the side profile of her face while hers were directed at the empty corridor in front of them. "Well, winter's coming up. I figured I'd have to act quick if I wanted to keep you company in the cold, yeah?" He hummed confidently and he fought a laugh at the face she mad when she shot him a look. Clearly, she didn't buy that but. He settled for a shrug instead. "I don't know, Y/L/N, I just— I guess I never looked hard enough before," he confessed for real, his eyes never leaving hers as he said it.

Y/N's eyebrows quirked upwards in surprise. "So, you're serious, then? I thought this was all a bloody setup," she shared.

"No, I'm quite serious," he reassured her.

At that, she couldn't help from letting a small smile slip onto her lips. "In that case, you look nice today, too, I suppose," she returned his compliment with a cool tone of voice, hoping it would seem more nonchalant. She noticed the way that her words were like fuel to his smirk, as it grew after she spoke.

"Let's go to Hogsmeade together later. We can get something to eat and walk around," Draco suggested, waggling his eyebrows down at her. "And maybe, if it's cold enough, you'll want to hold my hand," he teased with a wink.

Of course, Draco would skip the formalities if making a date a question, but she should've expected this sort of straightforwardness from him. She didn't mind it, though. She'd always found it attractive when boys knew what they wanted. "Malfoy," she hummed through a small laugh. "You know, I don't have to be cold to want to hold your hand, yeah?" she confessed, slipping her fingers into his own as they walked, and he spared her a cocky glance.

She knew that would go right to his head. "So, it's a date, then?" he questioned and she nodded.

"It's a date," Y/N affirmed

"Alright, well, I hope you're buying," Draco said nonchalantly and her head whipped around so she could face him. The look she shot him was almost comical and he fought a laugh as she flicked him in the arm. "I'm pulling your leg, Y/L/N. I might be a prat, but I have some manners. I am walking you back to the Gryffindorks, aren't I?" he pointed out and her eyebrows lifted. She remembered how she'd assumed he hadn't noticed when she'd deliberately set them on a path back to her room, but of course, he had.

After all, he was a Slytherin.

It shouldn't have come as any surprise.

↴

taglist / @umpoedameron @h4ppydancing @pvintbreak @glenscapris

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy x reader #tom felton #tom felton imagines #tom felton x reader #harry potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter x reader #ron weasley imagines #ron weasley x reader #ron weasley #hogwarts imagines

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themology · 3 years ago

Text

xiao x gn!reader “exist for love”

blog navigation / masterlist. | buy me a coffee.

@: this is an empty canvas (i guess ??) sooooo you can do whatever you wan't ^^^ but can you write for xiao x reader kinda songfic where it's all lovey dovey and he realizes that he has feelings for the reader no matter how he denies it, it's just there... your song choice adds a little bit of ✨s p i c e✨ and as the song ends or somth he confesses to the reader !

notes: requests are open. thank you so much for requesting!! i love this idea and i am totally going to enjoy writing this. the song is exist for love by aurora. i don't usually like love songs but this shit is real good and i always find myself listening to it, anyways, enjoy!!!

summary: love was nowhere near what xiao expected when he had gotten the second chance of starting his life again, but why does he feel this way whenever you linger near?

warnings/contains: fluff, xiao realising that he has feelings and him being wtf, not proofread so errors ahead.

pairing: xiao x gender neutral!reader

word count: 1406 words, approximately 5 minute read.

they say there is a war between the man and the woman

he had witnessed it all, the great suffering, the fire burning brightly at every corner of what seemed to be the world... he had lived for almost two thousand years. xiao can never miss a thing, him, a monster, a devourer of dreams, an untamed beast, enslaved on what he thought was freedom.

i've never felt like this before my heart knew that i couldn't

suddenly one day, it felt like the stinging strings attached to his limbs broke free... and he breath an extra breathe, all thanks to rex lapis.

and then you take me in and everything in me begins to feel like a belong like everybody needs a home

he wouldn't be lying when he thought you were such a hindrance when you first met, quite annoying and too stubborn... you would always flock together with the funeral parlor director and cause mischief that not even him can stop...

you were annoying, very annoying, how that (stupid) smile of yours never fail to ignore his presence, whenever you walked or ran in his direction... what were you trying to do anyways?

why does your smile feel warm...

and when i take your hand like the world has never held a man

there wasn't a time where you try to invade what seemed to be his personal space, it being 3 meters... you would sometimes stick to his side like you were moulded together and he can't do anything about it, he would push you away, he'd fail, and you will succeed.

i know i cannot heal the hurt but i will hold you here forever if i can, if i can

he can't stop thinking about you, maybe because you are the reason for him to committ mass murder of such but also because of something else, sometimes when you are near he'd stomach would grumble, it didn't felt bad surprisingly, it felt... pleasant.

but not as pleasant when you held his hand for a few seconds, for the first time — he could see luminous stars.

and then i learned the truth how everything good in life seems to lead back to you

the feeling on his stomach gets worse and worse everyday, he tried to eat anything he can to aid whatever it is, it wasn't hunger, he was always full, and it never seemed to go away.

he would always feel this way whenever you are around and he would sneer at you sometimes.

were you trying to hex him?!

he asked zhongli about this before, but the man before him would simply shake his head and suggest that something else is happening, something else is happening, he was losing his sanity, what the hell is it?

he'd become so desperate for help that he had to ask hu tao about it, it was a bad idea honestly... he wouldn't go into details about what she said; even ganyu... yet she doesn't even know who, or what is causing this.

that leaves him with the traveler, aether said he might be... in love, xiao raised his eyebrows at him, even paimon agreed... him? in love? since when? why? how? what?

he asked for help on how to settle it. both of the outlanders agreed...

and every single time i run into your arms i feel like i exist for love

your smile, your touch, it was something else, everytime you do almost anything it always seemed as if things were getting better... better and better everyday.

maybe... maybe...

your touch feels like love, this is love...

i can't imagine how it is to be forbidden from loving

xiao promised to himself to never love again like he did before, because it led to nothing but his will to live withering away.

but now was a different case, a different time, a different love... theres harm... in trying again, but can you even possibly try to hurt him? all you did was make everything... great again...

he has the ability to do so, to try again, xiao always thought of this, to start again.

maybe this time it will get better, he couldn't imagine himself without love, whenever you're near.

'cause when you walked into my life i could feel my life begin

the best part of him existing was laying his eyes on you...

finally...

he was thankful, he'd thank the archons, because of them, xiao would be able to exist and get a sight of you, the only thing left and added into his life.

and every single time i run into your arms i feel like i exist for love

you were confused on as to why he started to tell you more about him, it's always usually you, blabbering about nonsense... the only thing you know about him before is that he liked this food and that.

you were confused on the way he looks at you that way, it wasn't as scary as before, it feels comfortable

you're his sight to behold...

and when you say my name like white horses on the waves

you were now baffled by all of this — he'd hold your hands sometimes, he'd put a hand on your waist sometimes, he'd stroke your hair sometimes... he'd hold you all the time and you don't know why, but don't have to know why it all felt pleasant.

before, he would spat your name like a venomous susbtance, you're used to it, but now it trickles like honey, and you enjoyed your name being called out by him.

i think it feels the same as an ocean in my veins and you'll be diving in like nothing is out of place

you are up the balcony in wangshu inn as usual... waiting for the adepti to come and talk about anything in here as usual, verr goldet is used to both of your presence here and she honestly don't care as much, as long as you don't burn the inn down, given by the infamous name you would carry along the harbour and your close friend busy burying that one zombie kid from the pharmacy.

looking back at jueyun karst... you had always wanted to go there but couldn't, you will forever be curious of what lies there... maybe you'll have to ask xiao, and maybe he'd take you there if he's in the mood.

you heard a silent cough and looked back at the sound, you gave the adepti a warm smile. and he looked anywhere but you.

how curious.

xiao walked towards you and faced you, and you both stare at each other, not trying to talk or even do anything.

"y/n..." you flinched for a second because of his voice. "uhhhh yes xiao" you inquired silently, you feel nervous all of a sudden. "our bond is too strong to be ignored, i am certain that you can sense it yourself, this is new to me, i am not used to this situation at all..."

what is he talking about? your bond? what's with it? you hoped he wasn't trying to part ways with you when all you wanted was to befriend him, he always seemed to be lonely and always hid it bitterly from the world to see, but you can see through him.

and you know, he just needs someone to be there for him... and that is you... if he was trying to get rid of you, he'd atleast have to try harder, but then again, you'd always stick to his side.

"xiao... i refuse to part ways—"

"—i like you"

this was not what you expected, he wasn't being specific, you tried your hardest not to choke on your own spit.

"i... like you too?" it sounded more like a question than an adamant answer. "no." he shook his head, and sneered, he held your hands roughly and you were one sweat away from collapsing to the ground. what is happening

"you are my desire... i think that's the adequate word..."

and we exist for love only for love

those words felt good on his tongue, and they felt good in your ears... you let out a relief sigh and he gave you a confused look. you quickly dismissed it with a laugh, and he raised both his eyebrows slowly, expecting an answer from you...

you slowly took your hands from his grasps and placed them on his cheeks.

everything was blissful, a feeling inside of you kindles, you had always liked him.

"of course, me too xiao..."

he hesitantly enveloped you into a hug and you gladly hugged back.

maybe you'll bring the topic about going to jueyun karst with him next time, right now, you just want to stay like this.

and i love you, i love you, i love you and i love you, i love you, i love you

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booksweet · 3 years ago

Note

Could I request a Gojo fic/drabble/whatever based around Halsey’s song Colors?? I feel like it fits Gojo perfectly. Angsty. Fluffy. Whatever you’re feeling.

Hollow Purple

starring: sorcerer!Gojo x human!reader

synopsis: there was happiness when blue and red met, but they didn't know grey would claim their place in between them.

contents/warnings: ANGST, SFW, slightly mention of blood, trauma, violence (if I miss something, please warn me), both reader and Gojo are 18+

WC: + 2k

A/N: hello, anon! I swear to god I tried to make it a fluff, but I coulnd't, it screamed angst on my mind. This request reminded me I'm into writing pain stuff like my heart was broken a thousand times, and I wish I could say sorry for the pain, but I'm NOT hahaha no regrets. Enjoy!

tags @noritoshiikamo

main navi | masterlist

You were gone. You were gone and destroyed every piece of him, every inch of him were carved by you.

He knew by the first time he saw you that you'd have so much power over him, you could end him without even using words.

And that's what happened.

You with your beautiful eyes, and beautiful red dress. You broke him.

His blue eyes now devoid of bright, of color.

But he knew it was his fault.

His fault to insist bringing you to his world while you should've had stayed in yours, oblivion to everything related to jujutsu. Yet, he couldn't regret it. He would never regret meeting you, and being with you this whole time until you got apart.

There he was, above the skies, searching for cursed spirits who ran away from him, their fear reasoned since he was the strongest above all. He couldn't care less about their feelings. Within the curtain, without non-jujutsu sorceres, he just wanted to finish that spirits as fast as he could to call his day off and eat some sweets.

"Guess I'll have to go a little rough now, uh?" With a movement of his hands, he felt his cursed energy shaking inside him like an ocean of power, such powers had he overwhelmed by years until he could plenty control them.

But suddenly he felt another presence, aside cursed spirits and jujutsu sorcerers, he felt a human presence. With a frown of his browns, he took off his blindfolds, revealing beautiful blue eyes, in order to find out who or what was that feeling. His flowing energy all at once disrupted.

And then, he found you. He found you walking calmly through the lonely streets wearing a red dress he could never forget. "What an interesting..." He muttered checking out if you were truly human, six-eyes working hard to find it and, when he was certainly of it, his interest on you just grew even harder.

You were about to cross an alley between two buildings and he took the chance to teleport there by connecting his hands. You took a few steps and stopped to admire some store's window and he couldn't help but wonder how you were still there in that chaotic place so relaxed and withou fear.

"Who are you?" He came closer to you and you stepped back with surprise, staring at that tall white-haired man with suspicious eyes and a smirk on his lips.

"Who's wanna know?" Your hands ready to punch his face if he dared to try something on you. His growing interest reached alarming levels as his heart bumped hard on his chest.

"I'm Gojo Satoru," He said without approaching you, and with a bow, he added. "The strongest above all. At your service."

"The strongest?" You said while lifting your chin up to him in defiance. "Oddly of you to say that, isn't?"

And he at that right moment, he knew he was lost. He was lost to you.

- x -

He was supposed to protect you, he was supposed to take care of you ever since you met. Instead, he brought you danger, he brought you pain, he brought you despair.

What's the point of being blessed with six-eyes if he couldn't protect the only one he cared the most?

Not a bless, but a curse. A sin held upon his shoulders. A burden so heavy he couldn't breath.

A sin so harmful that had stained you. Your naive soul. Innocent. Heavenly.

And he missed you. He missed your red lips. You red clothes. He missed how your smile seemed to warm him just like the red sunset you two watched once. His blue eyes missed staring at your for hours, drowning in yours.

Blue and red.

Red and blue.

Two parts independent from each other, yet they floated against them, their souls wiling to be one.

Convergence and divergence.

Divergence and convergence.

And when both opposites reunite...

The second time you met, Gojo wasn't on a mission and you weren't in danger at all. You had an average day and stopped by a coffee shop to drink some hot coffee, eat your favorite sweet and maybe read your favorite book just to get away from craziness of your life, you wanted to relax. You were at your favorite table, alone, and the costumers were passing around you and you weren't giving them attention when the doorbell left out a "ring!".

He couldn't help but desire some sweets, it was his nature as sweet-eater. He knew he would bring attention to him, he was tall, handsome as hell and was wearing a blindfold, of course everyone would've looked at him.

But you hadn't looked at him. You didn't even take your eyes out of the pages to check what happend at the cafe. Nevertheless, once again you caught his attention and he recognized you from your first meeting. "What do we have here?" He muttered with a glimpse of a smile on the corner of his lips.

He ordered a chocolate cake and signed the waiter to take it to your table. Meanwhile, he moved his long legs on tour way, like you were a force bringing him closer and closer each step. He moved the chair loudly and had his seat in front of you. "Hello, Y/N! Long time no see, ugh?"

Surprised by his suddenly entrance, you put your book down and looked straight at him. That weird man you met months ago, still you felt different about him. "Long time no see, strongest above all" you replied playfully. "What bring your majesty up here?"

— x —

When you third met, it was your first date. That turned into a second, and then a third, a fourth... And suddenly you were about all his life, above your weird friendship. All at once you became the one he needed the most to feel himself.

Yet he chose not to tell you about jujutsu. He chose not to tell you about his powers. About why he couldn't stay a little longer with you at your place. About where he would've been travel out of city for weeks without giving any news if he was okay.

He dissapeared for weeks in a roll. And you worried about him. About his blue eyes. You worried about never going to see him again, even though you didn't figure out what you feared at all.

Once, he came back of one of those long trips, after several weeks of nothing about him, but what he gave you to remind of him — his shirt, a photograph of you two, one of his blindfolds.

And you couldn't help but cry while kissing him. You couldn't help but to say you loved him you never wanted for him to disappear. And he would retrieve, he would say he loved you so hard you had him in your hands. He was yours to be loved, to be destroyed.

The strongest on his knees at a human's mercy.

Had never his eyes sight such a colorful being, such a colorful existence. He was at your mercy, his existence, his entire being was yours to paint, to stain, to rip him apart if you wanted.

And then, when you two lay down together, messy sheets and pillows. Blue and red met once again, but not apart, they were together. That time blue and red turned into a beautiful tone of purple.

— x —

Someday you would find out, he knew it. Yet, he still longed for time to be with you, time to be himself without necessarily being the strongest, the head of his clan, the balance between cursed spirits and jujutsu sorcerers.

But he knew he had no time, you had no time with him. There wasn't enough time with jujutsu and curses. They would've come for you by anytime.

He masked his worries from you. He always seemed so happy in his nonchalant and playful way. Always trying to annoy you and make you laugh everytime you spent together.

You mocked the "strongest above all" out of him every opportunity you had. And this had him caring about you more and more.

But then it wasn't a joke anymore.

Jujutsu were real.

Cursed spirits were real.

And you were just a human.

Alone.

Blood. Red. Everything is red. Everything is blood. Pain. You were in pain screaming. You couldn't see what hurt you, but that ominous feeling was still there in your place. "What happened? What happened? Who are you? Who are you?" You couldn't help keep muttering it like a prayer, thinking of Gojo who was to come by and see your hurt state.

But Gojo Satoru felt the overflowed cursed energy arisen from your place. His bare eyes naked with worry and, for the first time, fear. And then he broke. Every piece of him.

He found you on the floor, muttering non-sense words — including his name in your dizzy state — blood running over you limbs, torso and head. A cut on your beautiful face. And above you, at the ceiling, that goddamn cursed spirit laughing out loud mocking you. Mocking your pain. Your despair.

He ran out of control. He released this powers untamed, uncontrolled. In a blink of an eye he exorcised that cursed spirit from existence. He was furious, feral. He could bring fire to the world if it means to keep you safe, to keep you alive. "Y/N?" He came closer to you, checking out your pulse as his hand held your wrist. It was so weak his heart almost stopped. "Don't leave me, please. You don't deserve to die."

— x —

When everything fell apart, he took you to Shoko at Jujutsu High nursery. She healed your physical wounds in silence while he stayed by your side. You kept unconscious the process, sometimes mumbling while your expression turned into a painful one.

When you woke up at his place, you said nothing. Nothing came out from your mouth, even though he tried to make you speak. He kissed your forehead, your cheeks. You could hear him say "Love, love, love, please, talk to me" in a desperate broken tone.

Yet you couldn't say a thing.

When purple turned into grey, everything faded away. Everything blurred.

Happiness overpowered by despair and pain. You were broken such as the beautiful thing you two had.

"Y/N, please, please, I'm begging," Once more his voice muffled on your ears. Why they hold such pain? "I'm on my knees, Y/N, please, come back, come back to me."

He told you the truth about him so many times expecting some reaction, something from you. Yet he received anything at all. You were numb to reality, there was nothing he could do about that.

But one day, after weeks and weeks of him trying to call you back, you spoke for the first time. Pale eyes meeting him lifeless. And he felt his world falling apart again. "I want to go" You whispered and he widened his pretty eyes full of tears.

"What, Y/N?"

"I want to leave. I wanto to go away from here. Take me out, take me out, take me out..." You kept saying repeatdly, each time a knife stabbing his heart.

"Y/N, love..." He tried to touch your hair, but you moved away from him.

"No, no," You muttered afraid. "It's your fault. The monsters. The blood. The pain..." You shrunk yourself in your bed, crying. "The nightmares. It's your fault." Your crying getting louder and louder. "I wish I could forget you."

"Y/N, I-I," He struggled his words, afraid and crying. "You know I can protect you, you know I will."

Your voice cold in his ears aside your tears. "No, you can't."

— x —

Blue bright eyes once, but not anymore. Not when the reason they shone for now It's gone. When you've chosen to forget him since your accident.

That was what you asked, to forget. To forget the pain, the blood the nightmares, him...

It was quite easy to manipulate your memories, cursed energy manipulation and then it's done. Not that it means it did not hurt him, but it had to be done.

When light came back to your eyes, Gojo's bright faded away.

When you smiled red, blue was not his color anymore.

When your life was colorful, his was grey and devoid of any color.

Red and blue turned into purple. His heart was craved by yours, when you were together.

Purple danced in front of his eyes as his memories overflowed his mind. Blue eyes crying because of red.

Blue eyes seeing grey because now red is gone forever and blue is alone.

#sofi is writing — jjks #jjk gojo #gojo satoru jjk #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo angst #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru headcanons #gojo satoru jujutsu kaisen #gojo jjk #gojo satoru angst

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anyoneseenadam · 4 years ago

Note

Hii

Can you please write something for fenrys? first meeting maybe? And the bond clicks? Thank you 🥺🥺

pairing: Fenrys x reader (throne of glass)

warnings: implied smut, kissing and nudity, lil bit of blood and injuries but mainly pure fluff

a/n: fenrys is my fave and u can tell in the fic omg!! i hope you enjoy it cause it’s probs my fave one i’ve written yet :))) (i also made it a teensy bit ddlg but that’s just cause i want Fenrys to baby me lol)

——————————————————————————

Shit

Fenrys pressed his hand to the wound in his side, feeling the slow pump of blood seeping between his fingers as he stumbled through the woods. He had won the fight. The other guy now lying in the dirt, however not without consequence. And he wasn’t entirely sure he would stay alive unless he could find a healer soon.

He stopped to lean against a tree, breathing heavily as he held himself together. He transformed into a wolf, moving faster, and trying to pick up a scent, any scent, that could possibly help him, when he caught the sweetest smell he ever had. It was a female, smelling like peonies and blackberries, sweet but with an underlying smoky smell. She smelled of long days in flowers fields and even longer nights beside campfires, evenings spent curled in hand woven blankets and mornings spent drinking dark coffee and eating sweet toast.

He whimpered and began running in the direction of the scent. If he wasn’t so focused on not bleeding out he may have stopped to consider why the scent was pulling him in the way it did. He would have considered the direction he was running into, the direction of his future, his past and his present. But he just kept up, going as fast as his injured body would allow, concentrating on the sweet smell and putting one foot in front of the other.

He felt the change almost immediately, the cold snow and rough bark being swapped for cool moss. The pine trees swapped for tall, oak trees teeming with life. The silence of a frozen forest swapped for the rustling of bushes as nocturnal animals moved silently under the guise of darkness. The chill of the snow-covered woods swapped for the warmth of a summer evening. He pushed between two bushes and found himself facing a clearing, in the middle of which stood a wooden cottage, the wood dark and the roof covered in more moss, flowers growing from every surface and ivy peeking out of the crevices in the house. He stumbled down the path to the cottage, turning back into a male and crossing a small bridge over a stream that separated him from the intoxicating scent he chased.

He let out what he could only describe as a bark, calling for the female that carried the scent he was growing addicted to, collapsing onto his knees, feeling his conscious fade as he held to the side of his stomach, searing pain replaced by fiery veins as his head swayed. He barely heard the door open, only noticing the scent get so much stronger. He attempted to look up, the movement making his head spin as he collapsed, the last thing he saw, a girl in the halo of the moon.

Fenrys awoke in a foreign bed. An unbelievably comfortable bed, but foreign all the same. He pushed up on his forearms, gritting his teeth at the reminder of his wound.

The room he was in was dark, not just in light source, but also in décor. The window was cracked open with lacy curtains half closed, there was a tall bookshelf sat next to a desk with leather-bound books lining it, and tall candles flickering and casting the room in a golden glow. The bed he was in was small, clearly just for one, but so soft. He had blankets surrounding him and copious amounts of pillows, some that appeared hand made. In fact, upon closer inspection, a lot of the room looked handmade. Art covering the walls depicting crying women or bloody scenes that he presumed had been done by the owner of this house, given the pallet and assortment of brushed he saw on the windowsill.

And then there was that scent. It was stronger here and he pressed his face into a pillow tentatively, breathing in through his nose as he picked up on the deeper undertones. Fresh picked daisies, melted wax, the pages of old, worn books and something he couldn’t describe. Something so intoxicating he felt tears spring to his eyes, his body reacting in an unheard-of way, so overcome with emotion from scent alone.

He heard footsteps approaching the closed door and hastily put down the pillow, sitting up straight and readying himself to fight whoever it was if they were an intruder. But when you entered he faltered.

Mate. The word clanged through him as he came face to face with an angel. You were wearing a dark brown broderie dress with white hearts lining the hem, your feet bare and toenails painted black. Your hair was falling around your face, messy and untamed, and you had dark smudges around your eyes, makeup that accentuated your features and made you look like a character from the scary books he read as a boy. However right now you looked more like a teddy bear.

He briefly remembered the tail of a witch he had read. An evil witch who lured men into her house with whispered words and sweet kisses, only to steal their hearts and use their blood to keep her skin young and eyes bright. This girl however was no witch, you had elegantly pointed ears and a graceful way of moving that only came from being Fae. He watched as you moved to his side, silent on your feet, putting a tray down beside him before moving an opening the curtains further, letting in more natural light.

“How are you feeling?” your sweet voice interrupted his thoughts. His mind coming to a halt as he heard you speak.

“I- er fine..?” His voice was rough, and you smiled, a reserved smile. Moving to his side and sitting at the edge of the small bed he was on, pouring him a glass of water from a small decanter you had brought through.

“(Y/n.)” you answered his unspoken question.

“Fenrys.”

He muttered a thanks as you passed the glass to him, noting the crystals that hung around your neck and adorned your fingers.

“Crystals?” he asked, and you looked down, playing with the rings you wore nervously.

“My mother taught me about their meanings, they’ve always helped me.” You bit your lip and Fenrys decided he would never meet anyone as cute as you again, it simply wasn’t possible.

“Me too, my mother used to carry them everywhere.” You smiled at him shyly, a beat of silence passing between the two of you as he listened to the birds outside.

“Can I see your wound? I want it make sure it’s healing properly.” You asked and he nodded, pulling the blankets down slightly, grinning as your eyes widened as you took in his physique.

“I’m presuming you’re the healer I have to thank for letting me see another day.” He flirted playfully but you shook your head,

“I’m not a very good healer I’m sorry, but I did stitch it up and it should do the rest itself.” You pressed gentle fingers against the skin surrounding his wound and he glanced down, seeing it was already practically healed.

“You still saved my life.” He said, completely serious and you looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

“I’ll let you rest.” You said quietly, standing to walk away and he smiled, feeling more at ease than he ever had since the war, watching his little mate leave.

He woke up again a few hours later, wound completely healed and puckering into a scar. Standing he stretched his arms above his head, not bothering with a shirt as he left the room in search of the girl that had occupied his dreams.

The rest of the house was alike your room, tall candles and worn books everywhere. He passed a kitchen filled with copper utensils and a living room with an old armchair, a half-filled mug left next to it, but still no you. He saw the front door was cracked open and wandered over to it, pulling it open and stepping into the fresh air, barely feeling the chill on his body as he found you kneeling on the moss-covered ground facing away from him.

You were muttering under your breath and as he got closer he saw you were cradling a small bird with a broken wing. He watched as you closed your eyes, the ground and air seeming to still as you called upon your magic, a soft white light flowing from your hand into the bird until its wing was healed and it could flutter away.

“I thought you said you weren’t a healer,” he broke the silence and you turned to him with a small smile.

“I said I wasn’t a very good healer.” You replied, standing with green stained knees, your hair now piled atop your head and lip gloss coating your soft lips.

“What are you then?” he came closer to you, unable to resist holding his mate, even if you weren’t aware yet.

“My mother said we were natural faeries.” You said, looking at him shyly, “we derive our power from the earth, crystals, sea water, dirt, fire, stuff like that.”

He hummed, “So technically you could have any type of magic?”

“I guess, but I’m not very good at magic,” you muttered, hands fiddling with your rings again as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “Fenrys?” you asked, all pouty lips and wide eyes.

“Have you realised yet darling?” he asked, and you bit your lip. He knew he could tell you, but he wanted to hear you say it.

“I- we’re mates I think.” You were practically shaking, and he didn’t know why he suddenly had this burning desire to scoop you into his arms and protect you against the horrible world that was out there. He nodded with a smile, watching as awe took over your stunning face.

“Can I kiss you princess?” he asked, and you felt your face heat up, looking down as he pulled you closer. “Have you ever been kissed before angel?” he asked, his face hurting from the grin that was spreading over his face when you shook your head.

He tilted your head up to his, looking deeply into your eyes as your breaths came out quicker. “Not many people can find our cottage, my mother put up wards when she got ill, our family wasn’t well liked by the king. You probably only got here because we’re mates,” You muttered.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked again, running a soft hand over your head, smoothing your hair away from your face as you nodded sweetly.

He smiled before leaning down and kissing you gently. Pulling away and feeling as smug as a thief when your lips followed his, pouting at the loss of contact so quickly. He chuckled at your put out expression and leaned down to kiss you again, deeper this time, his tongue slipping into your mouth when you gasped against his lips, quickly beating your own in a battle for dominance and taking his time exploring your mouth.

He laid you down that morning and took you for the first time in the soft moss. Then again in your even softer bed. Now you were sitting in his lap, eating strawberries of a bush you had in your back garden as he pressed dizzying kisses into your neck, both of you still as bare as the day you were born, Fenrys having forgot how much he missed skin to skin contact, when you suddenly remembered.

“Fenrys?” he hummed in response, completely enamoured with the feel of your soft skin against his rough calluses. “Why were you hurt last night?”

“I didn’t tell you my job did I angel?” he asked, the pet name making you giggle as you shook your head, “I work for the queen of Terrasen.”

You gasped, “But she was killed!”

“Oh angel, when was the last time you left this cottage?” he asked, worry coming over him as he realised you had been holed up alone for so long.

“Not since my mother died. She said the king was dangerous and that he would hurt me if he found me,” your bottom lip was wobbling and Fenrys quickly kissed it away, shushing you as it dawned on him just how innocent his little girl was.

“No baby, he’s gone now, the new king of Adarlan is a very kind man and the Queen of Terrasen is wonderful,” he promised, “Will you let me take you to meet them?”

You nodded enthusiastically, bouncing slightly in his lap making him groan. He nipped at your ear lobe and you squealed as he pushed you down. You could meet them another day, today he was too busy with his little mate.

#throne of glass #tog #fenrys moonbeam #fenrys x reader #fenrys moonbeam x reader

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hepaidattention · 3 years ago

Text

awake

After waking up alone for so long, experiencing nothing but the empty feeling of loss and the plaguing reminder that this might be his forever… finding, feeling someone beside him felt unreal.

Show: Teen Wolf - Ship: Styles and Lydia - Rating: E - Setting: Takes place after 6a.

The sound of a train horn blasted through his memories, vibrated through his ears, and pulsed through his heart; Stiles woke up from his bed in a jolt. Springing up from the mattress he was sweating, gasping for air like it might be his last. He was panting as he looked around the room and felt his chest, his sheets - was this real? It had been a month since the Wild Hunt and Stiles had woken up every night struggling with reality. Every night he dreamt of the train station, the feeling of time stopping, never knowing how long he’d be there - it just felt like eternity never coming to an end and all he wanted was for it to stop. It felt so real like he was slipping back into the Wild Hunt and slipping out of reality again. After every dream he would wake and start to doubt that he was really there, it was like the Nogistune all over again. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was the dream. He couldn’t help but worry that if this was reality, it wouldn’t last.

“Stiles?” A delicate hand slipped over Stiles’ shoulder, another hand settling on his leg. Lydia sat beside him half-awake, all her strawberry blond curls were a mess, and her long eyelashes seemed to be almost too heavy for her sleepy eyes to lift. “Did you have that dream again?” she asked him as she massaged his back shoulder without any thought to it. It was just a natural instinct to her, like breathing, or blinking.

“Yeah,” Stiles rubbed his face, still not fully awake himself. He grabbed Lydia’s hand that sat on his leg and he held it in an unconventional kind of handholding. He sighed, his nerves calming with her presence there to hold on to. “It just feels so real every time, it’s like…” he looks down at their intertwined fingers and a rush of panic washes over him. After waking up alone for so long, experiencing nothing but the empty feeling of loss and the plaguing reminder that this might be his forever… finding, feeling someone beside him felt unreal. As Lydia lightly pressed her lips to his shoulder, he suddenly remembered a time he dreamed like this before. He was being haunted by nightmares every time he closed his eyes, never knowing when he was awake or asleep, and Lydia always was there in his dreams to comfort him. Her being there used to assure him he wasn’t really awake. But now, he looked at their hands, he scanned over her face, and he didn’t know what to think.

“What is it?” she asked in a hushed tone, her hand still rubbing his back in circular motions. “You can tell me.”

“Are you…” he couldn’t finish it. He didn’t want to finish it. “How do I know this is real?”

Lydia gave him a watery smile. The kind of smile she always gave him when her eyes begged to cry, but his gentle soul always reminded her life was always worth it with him by her side. She pulled their intertwined hands up and untwined them, holding his hand out and grabbing each of his long fingers with her small, dainty ones. She started with his pinky and began to count, “One,” she went to the next finger, “two,” and the next, “three,” and once she held his fourth finger she nudged him to say it.

Stiles blinked away tears and slowly said, “Four,” she pinched his thumb between her index finger and thumb and he sighed out, “Five.” He felt his heart rate start to slow again. She grabbed his second hand, but he shook his head. “It’s okay.”

Lydia searched his eyes for a long moment, making sure he wasn’t lying to make her feel better but was genuinely okay. Once she was satisfied with the answer, she kissed him tenderly on the cheek.

“I love you,” he practically whispered to her, his heart so full with her here.

Lydia caressed his face with her hands and smiled as she said, “I love you, too.” She kissed him again, this time a soft and chaste kiss on the lips. “Now let’s go back to bed - you have make-up tests tomorrow and you’re gonna need your rest.”

He complaisantly nodded and they lied back in the bed, Lydia’s arms raveled around his ribcage as he held her with both his arms securely encircling her. She closed her eyes as she listened to the calming sound of his heart beating inside his chest, but Stiles couldn't close his eyes. He watched the ceiling, the feeling of dread tormenting him every time he blinked. He didn’t want this to go away; if this was the dream then he didn’t want to wake up. The longer he fought the urge to sleep the more he felt panic creeping up on him.

“Stiles,” Lydia’s voice broke the deafening silence in the room. She always knew when he wasn’t okay, she could always sense it - just like he could with her. She rose up to look him in the face and her eyes were sad - his pain hurt her too and he hated it. “Let’s go for a drive.”

He slowly nodded, choking out, “Okay,” before they slid out of bed and tiptoed out the door.

They didn’t say anything to each other, they didn’t need to. The radio was quietly playing some kind of old baseball game from weeks ago while Stiles just drove. He held Lydia’s hand when he didn’t have to change gears, and Lydia just enjoyed the brisk late-night breeze blowing over her face and through her untamed hair. After a while of mindlessly driving, they reached a stoplight that was blinking red at them and Stiles came to a halt. He didn’t need to, it was a yield signal and no one was around for miles, but he just sat there and stared at the light.

Lydia watched him for a moment, squeezing his hand, and finally saying, “Stiles?”

“I used to dream of you,” he breathed out, staring at the wheel now, “when me, Scott, and Allison were all being haunted by the Nemeton. I would have these dreams that never ended like I was stuck in Ground Hog’s Day or something, but they were nightmares.” He turned his head and looked towards her (but hardly ever at her), “but you would always show up at one point, and you would be the only good thing about the dream. You’d make me feel like it wouldn’t be so bad if I was stuck forever that time because you were there. It was like you would help me feel calm in the midst of a panic attack.” He let out a shaky breath, “They always felt so real too, and then every time you would leave or I would leave, or you’d be ripped away from me - whatever it was you could never stay and … I guess I just get scared sometimes that I’m still asleep, and this is just the part of the dream where you’re here, but it won’t last.”

“You…” she looked more confused than anything. Her brow was furrowed and she was deep in thought. “You used to dream I was there?”

He nodded, “I know it sounds stupid - it was never in a creepy stalker way, you just grounded me-”

“It doesn’t sound stupid.”

He finally met her eyes then, realizing she meant more than just reassurance. “It doesn’t?”

“I… used to dream of you too, and they always felt real… until I woke up.” She turned her body towards him, folding one of her legs under her so she could face him completely. “What if we were really there, together?”

Stiles looked at her like she had lost her mind. “Lyds, c’mon,”

“No, no think about it, Stiles. It all happened after the Nemeton, right? I was your emotional tether - I mean I brought you back from the dead. That had to have caused some kind of permanent tether between us. I - I used to dream every night that you were having nightmares, and I was always there to comfort you, and I’d always wake up with us being separated somehow.” He watched her like she was about to say psych! But she didn’t. She was serious. She added, “It’s no secret we have a connection beyond normal human restrictions.”

“All those times that you were there ... it was really you?” he looked like he might cry, tears glassing his eyes.

Her thumb glided over his cheekbone and she smiled, the red blinking lights casting over his shadowed face. “I was always there. I never left.”

The touch of her hand on his cheek, the warmth, the pressure of her nails, the tickle of her thumb lightly stroking his skin: she was his anchor. This feeling, the feeling of her, always weighed him back to reality. He grabbed her palm and kissed it. Then he stared down at it, counting her perfect, small fingers one by one out of habit.

“Stiles,” she slipped her free hand under his chin and lifted his head to meet his eyes, “I’m not going anywhere.”

He nodded, but this time he really meant it. This was real. No matter how ridiculous that thought was to him, Stiles Stilinski in the car with Lydia Martin, dating Lydia Martin, Lydia Martin loving him back. No matter how insane this was, how unbelievable that this was his reality, this was real. “You were dreaming of me all that time, huh?” he wiggled his brows teasingly, trying to lighten the mood. “Who knew you had the hots for me for so long.”

She scoffed, shaking her head at her goofy boyfriend and pursing her lips. He told her once he came back from the Wild Hunt that he knew since saving her from Eichen House that she loved him back, he just was waiting for her to realize it. He had no idea she was silently loving him for much longer and for that though, and for that very reason she liked to remind him (despite his teasing). “The moment I kissed you in that locker room, I was screwed.” Her face softened as she said, “There was no turning back.”

“If it makes you feel any better I was screwed over all the way back to the 3rd grade,” he smirked up at her.

“Yeah,” she bit down on her bottom lip in thought, then she asked, “when did you realize it? What moment did you realize you loved me?”

He met her eyes and he looked almost nervous to say it as if it was embarrassing to admit. However, he confidently said, “Recess, I remember it was a Tuesday because you did this thing that year where you wore a designated color every day. Tuesdays were my favorite because you always wore green and I loved how green made your eyes sparkle.” He was drawing circles on her palm and avoiding eye contact as he told the rest of the story. He continued with, “Me, Scott, Jake Randal, and another kid, Ryan something, we were all pretending to be Ninja Turtles. The Ryan kid ran off mad because he didn’t want to be Donatello, and then you came up to us.” Stiles chuckled at the memory, “I remember my heart feeling like it literally stopped beating as you stood there in your green dress and flower clips. You asked me if you could be Donatello because he was your favorite, and I couldn’t make words come out of my mouth. So Jake, like the asshole he was, pushed you and said only boys could play Ninja Turtles.” He finally looked up then, meeting her gaze again. He was surprised to see tears in them, her looking at him like he just told her he loved her for the first time. He shrugged and finished with, “You stomped on his foot and told him to suck it basically. Then you went off and started your own Ninja Turtle team with some of the girls. Jake was so pissed because you told everyone you were the leader, despite being Donatello, because he was the smartest so he deserved to be the one calling the shots. When we passed you on the swings as you guys played, you yelled something science-y that honestly sounded 100% right and still goes over my head to this day. That was the moment I first told Scott I thought I was in love.”

She smiled through tears, “That was your moment?”

“Lyds, to be completely honest, I think I was in love with you the moment I saw you,” he puffed out a laugh, “that was just the moment I knew I wanted to marry you one day.”

Lydia couldn’t hold it back anymore. She kissed him, a full-force kind of passionate kiss that knocked Stiles back a little. He tangled his hands in her hair as he kissed her back, and Lydia melted away into his touch. They both pulled back to breathe, their foreheads meeting each other, hands on his jaw, fingers tracing her lips. “We should get home,” he crooned. Suddenly the thought of sleep sounded like the best idea he had ever had. He wasn’t scared anymore - Lydia truly had always been there, she wasn’t about to go anywhere now.

She nodded against him, and they stayed that way for a few moments before they forced themselves to part so Stiles could drive them back to his house. They dragged their feet back up the stairs and into his room, Lydia immediately entangling her body around him as they collided with the bed. She fell asleep to the solaced rhythm of his heartbeat pounding against her ear, and Stiles closed his eyes with ease - the solid grip of Lydia in his embrace a comfort in knowing he was going to wake up in the morning with the love of his life still in his arms.

#stydia fic #teen wolf fic #my fanfiction #my writing #stydia is my otp #stydia #stydia fanfiction #stiles x lydia #stiles stilinski #lydia martin #my stydia fics

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yandere-sins · 4 years ago

Note

There is a serious lack of the yandere dragon shifter content! (Especially the bakugou dragon shifter if you can...) So is it possible to have a rich like this where the reader is a mage or magician in search of ingredients and meet a dragon who becomes infuriated with her (or them if you are more comfortable)

You shall get what you ask for, if you want she-pronouns so be it there’s no being more or less comfortable about pronouns. The only time I need some more directions is if you want a gender neutral darling do the dirty with the yan, then it helps to know what to expect down below, you get it? Otherwise, if you want to request a female darling then be proud and request that. Also I am mostly writing x reader anyway, and for that it doesn’t really matter most of the time. Enjoy your scenario!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

You were no newbie to the forest. Ever since you were a child, you wandered the dark greens with your grandfather, and later on, with your teacher. Over all these years, you had grown into a respectable mage yourself, people came to your door for help, and you could summon the darkest threats there were; make them follow your instructions! But going into the forest on your own was a necessity, despite always presenting you with something unexpected.

The reason you had to go into the forest was simple: Your potions needed ingredients. Sure, you could have just magically made them appear in your laboratory, however, many did not know that ingredients that were made by magic had almost none of their substances needed for spells. It was easier to explain with self-grown plants in a garden; the one from the convenient market were good to eat, but those you harvested and collected yourself would always be better.

So you set out on your own. You didn’t have an apprentice in a while after the last one had an unfortunate accident with snake poison. Thus, it was on you to make sure your shelves were filled with everything you needed to make your potions and provide people with. To be honest, you found it quite pleasant to get out of your dark, filled-to-the-brim with junk and necessities home, scouting the thicket and breathing in the refreshing forest air.

Carefully you decided where to set your foot. You still remembered the few instances you accidentally ran into a fairy or almost got drowned by a mermaid while picking algae from the lake. Those things happened, but they were no pleasant occurrences, and you preferred to not run into them. However, with a calm mind, you wandered around, picking what you needed. Never more than you actually needed, making sure the forest would be able to reproduce it on their own. That was a law for magicians like you, and you were more than happy to follow it.

“Let’s see,” you mumbled as you brought up your notebook where you had written down the things needed for a very potent sleeping potion for one of your customers. You were almost done gathering everything, aside from one more flower which petals had a sweet smell, soothing even raging minds. As such, it most commonly grew in places where wild beasts lived, but much to your relief, this forest had long been abandoned by those, only leaving the occasional fairy or gnome behind.

There was no way you’d have a run-in with something worse like a werewolf or a dragon.

At least, you were quite sure of it until you managed to reach the clearing where the flower grew. You were so sure of it, you ignored the roaring snoring filling the air as you drew closer to the flower’s whereabouts, merrily humming a little song and focusing on your steps. That was, until you reached out for the flower, finally knowing how the earth around it... breathed.

You just stood there, not moving a muscle. There was no immediate sight of anything, but you knew it. You knew that beneath your feet, a monster laid, as big as the clearing itself, as dangerous as snake poison. The only ones possible of laying down in a field of flowers, resting for so long that their magical energy would make the flowers start growing around and on them, were dragons. Despite really not wanting this thought to be right, you knew that there was nothing in comparison.

For a mage like you were, it wasn’t anything to take on easily. Dragons were wild, untamable, and, most of the time, grumpy. The age, you assumed. They tended to be very territorial and get butt-hurt over every little thing... like you, picking one of their flowers. The worst, however, was that even if you retreated now if you were to be noticed, the dragon surely would hunt after you, and you’d lead it back to your little village.

So all that was left as an option was to retreat quietly and make sure you wouldn’t be noticed. For a moment, you got upset that you would have to find another, less convenient flower spot now or do the potion without it. For at least three years, no monster had closed in on that clearing, and yet, now that you needed the flower, you had run into such trouble retrieving it.

Backing away slowly, you walked a while backwards, eyeing the creature still hidden beneath the field of flowers. You were just about to spin around and make a dash for it, hide somewhere in the dark corners of the forest when your foot got caught ever so slightly. Nothing that made you lose your footing, but widened your eyes nonetheless, the shining silver of a claw revealing after you got stuck on it.

The next few moments happened fast, too fast for your human eyes. A flinch, then a growl, and suddenly, the earth broke loose as something erupted from beneath it, a tall, slim body, covered in scales and shining brilliantly in the sunlight.

For a moment, you were mesmerized by it, absolutely awestruck. Seeing a real dragon definitely was better than any portrait painter could put them on a canvas. You realized quickly that it wasn’t just wondering about the creature before you that kept you in place. More so, it was fear. Even when it’s snout came dangerously close to your face, you couldn’t turn and run away.

“Look at you, a smelly little human thief,” it snarked; the perks of being an intelligent creature was it’s ability to speak. “Did you think my flowers were free to take?”

“Where does it say those are yours? Can’t be helped if you sleep on them.” Perhaps, you should have tried a friendlier approach, but it wasn’t like this creature was full of manners either. Against your expectations, though, it only looked at you before suddenly erupting into deep, growling laughter. There was no way to discern if it was actually amused or if it was laughing to mock you, but you took your chance to turn and run, not waiting for a comeback.

“Where are you going?” you heard behind you as you reached the border of the clearing. That suddenly sweet and luring voice made something in you snap. Without thinking, you stopped to look back, the earth around the clearing still torn up, but instead of a dragon, a man stood at the clearing, arms wide open. “You got some nerves, fucking waking me to tell me the flowers aren’t mine and then run away without even taking any. Takes some guts. Here.”

Sweeping down, he picked up one of the few flowers that hadn’t been destroyed by his dragon form, holding it out to you. Aside from the way he spoke, everything suddenly was so tempting. You hadn’t noticed before that the dragon was a shifter, which automatically gave him natural sympathy from you as a human. Their dangerous skill that even a mage like you couldn’t deny.

They were terrible, and you knew it. Everyone told you about how bad shifters were, only ever turning into a human to do bad things. They naturally looked so much better than your average human, too beautiful, too perfect. Their voices were so lovely that they could lull you to sleep, and they emitted the feeling of security that many men and women sought after, making them perfect targets to be kidnapped and, in the worst case, bred or eaten.

But here you were, the little town mage who had never seen a shifter before. The flower in his hand was calling to you to take it back with you, and his voice lured you. Despite resisting, you did have the urge to throw yourself into his arms, like a good, willing target.

Instead, you kept eye contact, holding out your hand for the flower as you approached. His eyes were the only thing reminding you what a beast he was, wild and dangerous, fire burning in them like you could only see in dragons. Yes, you should have just left, but you felt like he actually... accepted your retort. As if it hadn’t been so bad to stand your ground, and that feeling made you confident. Confident that you could handle this situation.

When your finger finally reached around the stem of the flower, he let it go, and immediately, you felt something sharp and painful drill into your forearm. Shocked, you could watch long sharp claws catching a blood-red color as he dragged them down your arm, your body instinctively moving forward to stop the pain.

And that’s when he snapped for you, lifting you up from the ground as if your weight was a joke for him. Throwing you over his shoulder, you were confronted with the feeling of a strong arm pinning your legs to his chest. “Fuck, I hate humans like you. Always talking back, thinking they are in the right.” Giving your rear a rough slap, you yelped before trying to kick your legs unsuccessfully.

He began to move, his shoulder pushing into your stomach so harshly, you felt like throwing up. But before you could complain or say something, you had to watch as the ground before you slowly distanced itself from you, the peaks of the trees soon what came into view. Your still ‘okay’ arm, clutched desperately between the bleeding one and the shifter’s body, trying to find something to hold onto.

“What- Where! Let me down! How dare you!”

“Your really want to be let down now?” Pulling you forward, you landed on his hands under your arms, noticing how your legs struggled in the air without any halt. Finally, you could see his wings and slowly realized what was going on, gulping as you felt helpless in his grasp. “S-Stop this madness! Get me down on earth again!”

“No,” was his simple answer, your cheeks suddenly squishing against his chest as he tugged you in and wrapped you in his arms. Convenient to carry you, yet not helping your problem of feeling helpless. “Not until you learn how to properly behave, Human.”

“I’m not an ordinary human!” you complained, hearing a mocking, “Oh?” rumbling from his chest.

“I’m a mage--”

“And I am so scared. Mage’s are my favorite breakfast.”

A loud laugh erupted all around you, and this time you were sure he was mocking you. “How dare you, you are so rude!” Pounding your hands against his chest, he only laughed more. “That’s it, bare your teeth, little Mage. I love it when my food resists.”

That’s bad, you thought. That’s really, really bad. Magic wouldn’t help against a magical being as he was, and you looked down, seeing the forest, and then your village pass by as he dragged you off. Not like there was anyone who could have helped you in this situation.

“What’s your name, Mage?” he asked, ten minutes into you struggling against him with his arms never tiring. “Why would you want to know?!” you hissed back, and he grunted in response.

“My mother taught me to know the name of the things I put in my mouth; the fuck you care?!” Stretching out your neck, you tried to see his face, but his expression was denied to your gaze by his chin. All you could see were his ears. They seemed unusually red, but you hadn’t looked at them before to compare if that wasn’t normal for a red dragon.

“Just so you know, but the person eating you am I. Katsuki Bakugou. You better speak your last prayers now, Human. And make them good.”

“Well, to say it in your words: Fuck you, Dragon!” Being defiant had helped before. Maybe it would do it again, you hoped.

This time, the rumble in his chest was short as he laughed, different from the ones before. “You’re gonna be my favorite to crush,” he announced, the grip around you tightening until you gasped in pain. Your struggles ceased as you passed out while he carried you off to the no-mans-land that was his home.

He hated to admit it, but the tactic of his friend of simply laying in a bed of flowers and waiting had really paid off, and he was more than overjoyed to have caught someone like you. Having you keep his lair warm would be more than he expected from his endeavor. Katsuki simply loved a bit of a feistiness in the humans he captured, ensuring that you’d give him a good time playing with you before the end of your little togetherness would draw near.

He would make sure to enjoy every second of it.

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

After-writing-comment: Well, this sounded better in my head than it turned out to be. Maybe I will rewrite it sometimes from his POV but we’ll see. It’s 2k words long so it would be a shame to just trash it, so I decided on posting it anyway. Sorry if it isn’t what you had in mind either anon!

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wilteddaisies · 4 years ago

Text

Yours - Chapter Three

Azriel x Female!Reader (acotar)

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: You are Feysand’s daughter and you’ve just come home from your studies in the Day Court. Azriel needs someone with extensive training in magic in order to complete a mission for the Night Court. You happen to be just what he needs.

Fic Warnings: age gap?, probably cursing, eventual smut, wing kink ;)

Chapter Warnings: the there’s only one bed trope, angst, cursing, wing kink, oral sex (female receiving), slight overstimulation

Note: I am so happy be sharing this chapter, it was an absolute delight to write! I love writing soft happy Az because we didn’t see nearly enough of that in the books lol. Enjoy!

CHAPTER THREE

You left the next day. After healing Azriel’s wings completely, in terribly awkward silence, you packed lightly and were off. You expected to be away from home for only a few nights. But, your pack seemed to weigh a ton after hours of flying. You and Azriel decided that it would be best to conserve as much magic as possible to bypass the wyvern and whatever other enchantments there might be to keep people out.

You finally touched down right as the sun was setting, at the edge of a town near the castle. You quickly used your magic to cloak your wings and then Azriel’s before walking down the cobblestone road into town. The town was decorated with all sorts of banners and streamers, there must be some sort of festival or celebration going on.

The walk to the inn was quiet, unbearably so, just as the flight was with neither of you wanting to talk about your encounter two nights ago. You stride into the inn to the front desk.

“Ahem,” you cleared your throat to get the attention of the bored looking boy behind the desk. He leisurely kept flipping through his leaflet, taking his time before turning his eyes up. And then immediately blanching at Azriel’s glowering figure behind you.

“How-,” he squeaked and then cleared his throat, shoving the leaflet under the desk then straightening himself on his tool, “How can I help you?”

“Two rooms, please,” you told the boy.

“I’m sorry we only have one room available. The town is flooded with visitors for the Summer Festival this week, you see.” He visibly swallowed and tried to avoid Azriel’s merciless stare.

“Oh. . .” you started, “I suppose we could go somewhere else-”

“That will do, we’ll take it.” Azriel replied curtly.

“Are you sure?” you murmured to him, he probably wanted to keep avoiding and ignoring you, “We can try to find-”

“There likely won’t be an inn with more availability any time soon. It’s fine.” He looked at the worker boy and held out his hand for the key. The boy tried not to shake as he handed them over to Az and his eyes grew to the size of saucers once Az threw a few gold coins over his shoulder onto the desk, far more than a single room at the semi-decent inn was worth.

Fuck. Az unlocked the room and lo and behold, there was only one bed, it was probably sufficient for two humans but would be a tight fit for two Illyrians, especially ones who wanted to stay three feet apart at all times. Gods, it was like one of Aunt Nesta’s trashy romance novels.

You both looked pitifully at the bed.

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” you both say at the same time. Weird.

“No, you’re not,” again. Weirder. The silence that followed was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

“Stop,” you say, “we are both adults. We can share the bed.”

“Fine.”

“Good.” You took your bag into the connected washroom, changing into something more suitable for the mortal realm than your flying leathers before striding out of the washroom and out of the room altogether.

“Where are you going?” Az asked, annoyed.

“To find that adventure you were talking about,” you threw over your shoulder.

“Your father told me not to let you out of my sight!” he called down the hallway. You kept walking but turned your head to shout back once more.

“Then I guess you’ll just have to come with me!” You turned back around to hide your smirk. You were not going to let some grumpy Illyrian male ruin your first adventure outside of Prythian.

The light had faded almost completely, twilight was nearing its end. But, the night had only just begun. People started to hang lit paper lanterns on strings that criss crossed above the city streets. Children ran around freely, clutching lanterns of their own, and someone somewhere started to play a fiddle. A small crowd had begun to form around the fiddler, who had since been joined by a tambourine and lute player. The music was different from the floating melodies of Velaris, it was more rambunctious, more untamed. Soon, people were dancing to the merry jig, grabbing partners and swinging each other about. No choreographed moves or set steps yet, just dancing, free and wild. And soon, you were swept into the fray, too.

The song after did have a dance that went with it, and though you didn’t know it, the locals were happy to teach you. You formed a ring and joined hands, your feet stumbling over steps you hadn’t quite memorized but you didn’t care. Laughter rang through the air just as the music did, and wine and ale flowed freely.

The song ended and another began, this one for pairs. You were asked to dance by a young boy of maybe twelve, to which you graciously accepted his hand and whirled into the fray, switching partners constantly. As the song crescendoed into its last note, you found yourself faced with a familiar chest, this time clothed in mortal attire rather than Illyrian flying leathers. You looked up to meet a pair of familiar hazel eyes. He was flushed, and breathing heavily but smiling widely, bigger than you had seen him smile in a long time. It seemed he had been enjoying the festivities, too.

You smiled back at him before ducking out of his grip as the next song started. And you both were content with that, occasionally winding up dancing next to or with one another. Azriel laughed freely, something you didn’t see the shadowsinger do nearly as often enough, and danced without restraint.

It was nearly three in the morning when you stumbled back to your room still humming the melodies of the night, feeling utterly content after the hours of dancing and drinking and eating from the various vendors across the festival. You released the magic cloaking both of your wings and got ready for bed, taking turns with Az for the washroom, but talking and laughing about your night the whole time even through the closed door. You tried not to stare as he walked back into the bedroom in only a pair of loose sleeping trousers with a few droplets of water still clinging to his gloriously muscled chest.

“How was I supposed to know it was spicy?” you scoff.

“It was red as. . . well, as red as your face was after eating it!” he laughed and you lightheartedly punched him in the arm.

“And then when you almost knocked over that old woman during that one song!”

“In my defense,” he started, holding his hands up, “that dance was a difficult one and she was a very short lady. How was I supposed to see her? Oh, how did the steps go again?”

“Here,” you said, stepping towards him to take both of his hands, “mirror my movements.” And you started with a series of steps and kicks that Azriel absolutely butchered but you walk him through it again, until he’s halfway decent. But, then he stepped on your foot for what had to be the sixth time and you both bursted out laughing, absolutely hollering while clutching each other like mad men.

As you settled down, Az realises that he is still holding your hands. He sobered up at the sight of his marred flesh against your own, and pulled his hands away.

“Why, Az?” you can’t seem to stop the words from escaping your mouth. Maybe it’s the booze or the unhinged nature of tonight but, you just can’t hide the hurt in your voice or your eyes. “Why do you always pull away from me, right as we seem to be connecting? Am I really that repulsive to you?”

He took a seat at the edge of the bed, but you followed, standing right before him. “No, gods no. It’s just that-,” he paused, trying to find the words. “It’s just that. . .,” he finally huffed a sigh, keeping his eyes downward, “If I don’t pull away then, I might never be able to.”

You froze at his confession. The words replayed over and over in your mind. If I don’t pull away then, I might never be able to.

You knelt down in front of him, placed a hand over his own, and tried to meet his eyes from beneath your lashes. “Then don’t,” you breathed. “Don’t pull away from me, you never have to pull away from me.” Your breathing suddenly became labored.

His eyes snapped to yours, they were so full of deep intensity you thought you might melt. And slowly, carefully, as if he might frighten you if he moved too quickly, Azriel lifted a hand to caress your cheek. You breathed out a sigh and closed your eyes, leaning into his touch. Then, you turned your head, and pressed a soft kiss to his palm.

That was his undoing. Quicker than you could react, he lifted you onto the bed, his strong body hovering over yours. You couldn’t help that your breathing stuttered for a moment. He was on top of you, his thickly muscled arms braced on either side of your head, his weight comfortably settled between your thighs and his lips, those gods damned lips, hovered a mere hairsbreadth away from yours. You were the one that broke this time. You placed your hands behind his neck and drew him towards you, finally closing the terrible distance between your mouths. Your lips moved in sync, kissing, licking, nipping. His tongue swiped your lip, asking for permission before caressing your own, you groaned at the taste of him. Then, you hissed softly as he took your bottom lip between your teeth, gently pulling before releasing it and attacking your mouth once more.

His hands roamed down your sides, skimming your breasts over your thin nightgown. Your nipples hardened delightfully so at the attention. But when he reached out to caress your wings, gods.

You cried out, back arching as you experienced a very different bolt of pleasure straight to your core. Your eyes widened as you looked at him, you had never been with a male who knew how to touch your wings and being with him made you realise exactly what you had been missing. Again, he dragged his finger down the inner curve of your right wing. Another cry escaped your lips, you were just so sensitive. Just that little touch had you writhing beneath him on the bed. He shifted his weight on his arms to work on your other wing. You let out a whimper as he gently traced his fingers along the sections. Your hips involuntarily bucked upwards, grinding deliciously against him when he pressed down on a particularly pleasurable spot. He grunted at the friction and halted his actions. His pupils dilated and his mouth fell open slightly as he scented exactly how excited you were. Smiling wickedly, he trailed a line of kisses from your lips, down your neck, in the valley of your breasts, to your navel, and lifted the flimsy nightgown to your waist.

He took the edge of your panties with his teeth and tugged them down. Fuck. That was definitely a sight to behold. You couldn’t help but feel self conscious as he stared at your dripping core, you tried to close your legs but he held them open firmly. He leaned down so close you could feel his breath on your throbbing core, and looked up at you in silent question, genuinely wanting your command to proceed.

“Please.” It was barely a breath but it was enough for him to press a kiss to your hooded clit with such tenderness you could cry. But, then he started to use his tongue, and gods did he know how to use it. The rough velvet of his tongue felt so delicious against your clit and folds. His soft kitten licks turned rougher, hungrier. Your hand found itself tangled in his hair, he hissed at a particularly hard tug but it only spurred him on. He used his mouth on you like a man starved. Licking and nipping and sucking, sucking with those gods damned lips, and playing with your folds.

It was when your legs started trembling that he knew you were close. And his eagerness doubled, if not tripled. His mouth felt like utter heaven on your sopping core, the lewd noises that came from his ministrations only driving you further into bliss, or insanity. Perhaps it was insanity. Perhaps you had gone mad, mad with the desire to have him, to claim him. Because right then, you weren’t sure you could ever get enough of him.

You felt a coil tighten in your lower stomach, the familiar pleasant ache intensifying until you could hardly bear it. And his lips and tongue never stopped. Right as you were on the edge, his lips closed over your clit and sucked, hard.

You had never experienced an orgasm like the one Azriel had given you. Pure bliss washed over you, but instead of a wave, it was like a firework went off in your core, with bolts of mind shattering pleasure shooting out from your center to the rest of your body. You’re not sure what you screamed but it sounded a lot like his name.

He kept up his movements as you came down, drawing out your high for longer than you thought possible, only stopping when your hips were squirming to get away from his eager mouth.

He came back up to wrap you in his arms, holding you to his chest before also wrapping his wings around you. You were still basking in the high of your amazing orgasm but you reached down towards his achingly hard member. But, he took your hand and held it over his heart instead.

“But what about you?” you ask, breathless.

“It’s alright. I’ve waited so long for this, let me just take care of you.” He sweetly pressed a kiss to your forehead before also pressing one to your lips. And you, too blissed out to object, snuggled deeper into his chest and wings, content to just live in the moment, safe in his arms. You closed your eyes and drifted off into a deep sleep, dreaming of leathery wings and hazel eyes.

Author’s Note: Aw yeah we love the smexy times. If you liked this, please show your support by liking, commenting, and reblogging and all that good stuff. If you wanna to be added to the taglist for this fic, you can leave comment below :)

I do not consent for my work to be reposted or translated on tumblr or any other site, but reblogs are always welcome!

Taglist: @moonchild-cf @pansexual-booknerd @huffypuffyme @tinkymae @peneflop @myfuckingacademia @sugarcoated44 @kexrtiz @gagaange @itsbebeyyy

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel smut #azriel fluff #azriel x y/n #sarah j maas #feysand #nessian #acowar #acofas #acomaf #fanfic #illyrian #my writing

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fluffypeachwriting · 4 years ago

Note

hello!! may i ask for a nsfw ramuda content where he teaches us some sex lessons😳 after hearing us being inexperienced??

this is like 90% buildup but I hope you enjoy! Happy birthday Ramuda! (*˘︶˘*).｡.:*♡

DNi with this post if you’re under 18!

A happy sigh came from Ramuda, who was currently laying gently on top of you. He’d insisted on some much needed attention to spend the evening with, and he took the time to lay comfortably with you on the couch, though he couldn’t be more restless.

“Mm! I love cuddling with my sweetheart!” Ramuda nuzzled into your shoulder, “I wanna do this all day!” He started leaving small kisses from your shoulder up to your cheek, stopping to peck you on the lips before continuing his trail.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his hair tickling your neck, “Ramuda! I thought you wanted to cuddle!”

This was probably the opposite of cuddling. Ramuda kept on fidgeting, going between wanting to settle down to not knowing what to do with himself.

“Ramuda, are you alright?”

He didn’t respons, instead, he murmured something inaudible against your skin. The heat of his breath make you freeze for a second.

“Huh?” You nudged him a little, “Ramu?”

There was a moment of silence as he thought to himself, then he propped himself up to address you directly, “Hey, can I ask something? I wanna go further with you. Like, sexually.”

“I…”

Ramuda, unusually flustered, backtracked his words, “I mean! Ehe, if you don’t wanna, I won’t force my sweetheart to do things… but I wanna. And I have wanted to for a while.” He worried his lip as he waited for a response.

Since he was so upfront an honest, you decided to come out with your own confession: “Ramuda… I’m not exactly experienced in that area.” You tried to cover your face to hide your embarrassment, but Ramuda gently took your hands in his and kissed them.

“Ehe! That’s okay~” There was no worry or shame or anything of the sort on his face. He simply looked at you with the same pure adoration that he always did when he was in a lovey mood, a soft smile and kind eyes reassuring you even more than his words. “If you wanna…” In a heartbeat, that face was replaced by a more cheeky expression, “I can show you a thing or two, yeah?”

“O-oh,” It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about being intimate with Ramuda before, but actually hearing him suggest it was a whole other beast, and his suggestive tone lit a spark inside you. The untamed confidence Ramuda exhibited on a daily basis was sure to come out in the bedroom as well; the thought already began to arouse you. And Ramuda noticed it – nothing got past him.

“Eh?” He squealed out, leaning in for a short kiss before switching to his natural tone, “I love it when you get excited. Guess I’ll have to take the lead, hm?”

You nodded without a second thought.

“Hm… I have the perfect thing.” Ramuda leapt off you and scuttled off to the bedroom, smiling to himself, “You just wait there for a sec, okay?”

“O-okay…?”

With Ramuda it was always hard to tell what he had up his sleeve.

So, like he asked you to, you sat around waiting for Ramuda’s next move. After some rustling and giggling from behind the door, Ramuda beckoned for you to come inside.

You psyched yourself up to turn the handle and step inside, ready for whatever was about to happen. There were a million things you could have expected, but none of them were this. It was a fairly simple scene, Ramuda perched on the edge of the bed with his legs crossed and one hand tapping his chin. He had changed out of his pjs to a white shirt with black dress pants and a matching blazer.

“Why… are you wearing that?” You gestured to Ramuda’s new getup.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m your teacher for this evening.” He accentuated his point by smoothing down the edges of his suit, “Though I hope I don’t have to wear this for much longer. So, are you ready?” Ramuda stuck with his natural voice, “I’ll start when you are.”

“For what?” You closed the door behind you and gulped.

“Lessons, of course.”

“L-lessons?! Wha…”

Ramuda chuckled, his charming, deep, voice affecting you more than you’d admit. “You’re safe with me, there’s nothing to hurt you…” He stood up, holding your hips and bringing your bodies together. You habitually wrapped your arms around Ramuda, and he took the chance, whispering close to your ears, “…unless, it turns out that you like mixing pain and pleasure.” The thought made you shiver, and Ramuda revelled in your instant reaction, “You like the sound of that? I’ll save it for later. That’s a lesson for another day. For now…”

Ramuda broke contact, ruffling your hair as you reached for him to come back, then sat back down on the bed. He settled down before eagerly patting his lap. “Sit here.”

“Um, Ramuda… you’re kinda sm-”

“Small? You won’t hurt me at all, sweetheart~” He opened his arms, welcoming you into his embrace, “I just want to teach you the basics, that’s all.”

Your curiosity was piqued even though you could guess what these ‘basics’ would be. With your previous hesitation gone, sitting on Ramuda’s lap came almost naturally, wrapping your arms around his neck as he rested his hands on your waist.

“Good.”

Now that you were inches apart from Ramuda, there was really no hiding how much you were anticipating what was to come next.

“First, kiss me.”

Ramuda let you initiate a kiss, starting out slow and sweet. You could feel him smile against your lips and bring your body just a little bit closer to his. His front was now pressed against yours – this certainly wasn’t the first time you two had been this close but now it had so much more weight to it. He waited for you to part your lips before daring to use his tongue. It seemed that neither of you could wait for the ‘lesson’ to continue, as in a matter of moments the two of you were moving in a perfect rhythm. Neither of you cared that the kisses were sloppier than usual, you just needed each other.

“Second,” Ramuda’s face was pink, “Is seeing what you’ve done to me.”

You didn’t need to ‘see’ anything, you could feel him getting hard under you, and the urge to grind down on him was almost unbearable.

“Can I…?”

“Do what you want to, honey.” You couldn’t mistake the need in his quivering voice.

Despite your inexperience, you confidently pressed your clothed arousal against Ramuda’s own, squeezing a delicious whine out of him. His hands gripped your hips as he tried to hold himself back from taking you right there and then – you were doing something right. Knowing that someone with previous experience was getting hot under the collar because of you was an unmatched feeling. Ramuda had never let loose like this before. He had almost forgotten about the ‘lessons’, until:

“Th – oh god – third, please ride me. Go at your pace – for as long as you want to – please.” Ramuda raced to shrug off his shirt and jacket, fumbling with his belt.

“Teach me how to do it?”

“Of course.”

#hypmic #hypnosis mic #Ramuda Amemura #ramuda x reader #fling posse #reader insert #request #imagine #smut

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canary3d-obsessed · 4 years ago

Text

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 21, second part

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Flute Solo

For some reason Wei Wuxian has decided to take a walk outside of the fortress, or behind the fortress, or something? Can people just take a stroll outside during wartime? Seems unwise.

There are guards and these extra-bossy crows herding some Wen prisoners along, and Wei Wuxian stands up above and gets totally overwhelmed by resentful energy.

He falls to one knee while clutching his chest, in the spot where all cultivators seem to stow a bag of holding. I guess this is the Xuanwu sword? Or maybe it's his surgical incision; those things can take a while to finish healing. I think the golden core is further down in the abdomen, though; this is right over his heart.

Wen Qing, Granny, and Fourth Uncle are in the group, but Wen Qing has her hood up so Wei Wuxian can't see her, and he's unlikely to remember the other two, since he only saw them that one time at the shrine, and he doesn't remember people he's literally had dinner with.

The guards decide to be assholes and beat the shit out of a prisoner because he fell down, which inspires some extra aggressive crows to swoop in and attack the not-dead guy on the ground. That is...not how carrion-eaters behave, generally. They're pretty good about waiting for you to stop moving.

Wei Wuxian continues to struggle, obviously having an orgasm in a lot of pain, and starting to leak resentful energy.

(more after the cut)

He brings his flute up and starts playing it, which causes the wind to rise, rocks to fall from a nearby cliff, and the whole group of people on the ground under him to start having Yin Iron lines crawling up their faces.

Would Wen Qing be a beautiful fierce corpse? She would.

Eventually Wei Wuxian stops torturing everybody, having gotten it out of his system for a bit, and stands up. The group gets up, skin clearing up, and starts moving along again, a little shook. Wen Qing looks up and sees Wei Wuxian and hides her face in anguish.

She was there in the dungeon, listening to the same flute music, when he was resentfully slaughtering everyone around her in Yiling. Does she understand what she’s seeing, what he’s become?

Her hood is off and it seems that he sees her, or at least that he is trying to figure out what he's seeing. But Jiang Yanli arrives before he can do more than look puzzled and cast his eyes around.

Jiang Yanli asks him what just happened and he laughs and says it was the strong wind, in an extremely transparent lie that Yanli nearly chokes trying to swallow. She drags him back to the meeting while he continues to look troubled.

War Council

Meanwhile, the war council is meeting. This is mostly a boring rehash of stuff we already know, but someone has drawn a nice big map that's been installed in a custom frame. Because apparently the table with the mountains on it is not a good enough representation of "and then we will walk from our house to Wen Ruohan's house," which is basically their plan. The gist of this scene is that Wen Ruohan having the Yin Iron gives him an advantage, in case we needed to be reminded of that.

The doors fly open and Wei Wuxian and his fabulous ass literally blow into the room.

Everyone reacts in a comically extreme way.

He casts his eyes malevolently and/or sexily over to Lan Wangji, who is still grumpy with him, while Jiang Cheng comes up and stands almost as close to him as Lan Wangji used to.

He tells everybody that he might have something to counteract the yin iron.

Everybody: Really? Do tell!

Wei Wuxian: Happy to!

Wei Wuxian: *theatrical side-eye at judgy ex boyfriend*

Wei Wuxian: Actually, nope.

He says "we'll see in about a month" while fondling whatever is hidden next to his ribcage.

This behavior, while ridiculous, isn't quite as absurd as it seems from a corporate-meeting standpoint. Part of what cultivators do is invent and refine spiritual tools. So when Wei Wuxian makes this speech, the people in the meeting are going to infer that he is creating a spiritual tool to counter the Yin Iron.

Now it's Lan Xichen's turn to ask everybody’s favorite question. Lan Xichen wasn’t at the party when everyone else asked him, and we're apparently supposed to believe these gossips haven't been talking about the not-sword-carrying 24x7.

Wei Wuxian says he's just not in the mood, and we get to see Lan Xichen's impressive ability to hold his face completely still while he represses his desire to slap someone.

Jin Zixun complains about Wei Wuxian after he leaves, but for once his bitching is on point; he correctly surmises that the counter to yin iron is...yin iron.

Now, to be fair, the yin tiger amulet is different from the yin iron because it exists in the novel Wei Wuxian specially refines it to be more manageable than the sword it started from. And maybe it’s gel coated to be easier on the stomach. But it's basically the same shit.

Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue exchange intense gazes, just to prove that the young people aren’t the only ones who know how to eye fuck.

Lying Is Forbidden

Lan Xichen talks to Lan Wangji, and we discover that Lan Wangji is perfectly capable of lying. He manages to maintain a reputation for not lying but I think the trick is that he just avoids talking in general, so when, for example, people in later years say "who's your masked boyfriend" he just doesn't answer, which isn't really lying. (How many times did Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen ask “where did you get this kid?” and just not get an answer, I wonder.)

At other times he actually directly lies, as when he claims he is “just passing through” Yiling on a night hunt. The current conversation with Lan Xichen definitely involves actual lying.

Let's play multiple choice answers with the Lan brothers!

Q: Why is WWX so confident we can have Yin Iron against WRH in a month?

a.) Because he's been walking around with that Xuanwu sword for months, and it is obviously made of Yin iron b.) because he used a fucking ghost flute to flay Wen Chao more or less in front of me, so he is clearly down with some dark magics c.) I don’t know

Q: Was the death of people in the Yiling supervisory office really related to yin iron?

a.) obviously b.) maybe he was using some other source of overwhelming necromantic power c.) no, he’s not like that

Q. When you approached Yiling, was there anything unusual?

a.) yes, the talismans had been altered to draw in evil spirits b.) yes, everyone except his particular friend Wen Qing had killed themselves in horrifying, outlandish ways c.) are there rules already set for everything in the world?

Xichen, bless him, actually lets Lan Wangji change the subject like that and answers his question honestly.

Xichen: Actually, rules are pretty much shit Wangji: fucking hell, you're telling me this NOW? What have I been doing for the past 18 years then?

They both look just ridiculously beautiful in this conversation. Lan Wangji’s affect with his brother is so interesting. He’s trusting, emotionally open, willing to be seen...but only because he knows Lan Xichen won’t push past his barriers, won’t force him to speak the truth of what’s on his mind.

Awkwardness

The Yunmeng bros roll up, and awkwardness ensues.

Wangji is frowning hard. His frowns are of the micro variety just like his smiles, but boy they are consistent and Wei Wuxian and Xichen both know how to read them.

Wei Wuxian gives Lan Xichen a small, sunny smile--it seems genuine, not like the fake ones he's trotting out on demand for his family.

Then he gives Lan Wangji a pointed gaze of yearning and reproachfulness, which Lan Wangji returns, switching from frowning to a softer expression that seems about equal parts hurt, apology, and thirst.

Wei Wuxian reacts to that by bowing again and leaving, with Jiang Cheng quickly following, wondering what the fuck just happened.

Lans Xichen and Wangji pivot gracefully to watch them go, which Lan Wangji should know is not correct post-breakup behavior; you're supposed to act disinterested, my dude.

And then Lan Xichen asks Lan Wangji what the fuck is going on. Lan Wangji gets one more lie in, saying he's not worried about Wei Wuxian, before reapplying his frown and walking away from the conversation.

Macroexpression Brothers

OP was wrong about Wei Wuxian not hugging Jiang Cheng any more--here he is hanging on him just like the old days, and Jiang Cheng is shoving him off, just like the old days. However, it emerges that this is mostly an act that WWX is putting on to seem normal.

Jiang Cheng wants to know what's wrong between him and Lan Wangji, and asks why they broke up. Wei Wuxian points out that Jiang Cheng didn't like him dating Lan Wangji before, so why is he pushing him to get back together with him now, and Jiang Cheng says that now they're allies in a war, so Wei Wuxian needs to do his duty and help keep Lan Wangji in fighting trim, nudge nudge.

Then he starts lecturing Wei Wuxian about sword cultivation and generally good behavior, and Wei Wuxian theatrically nods and give him appraising looks, telling him he really seems like a clan leader now.

Jiang Cheng headshakes this away. Wei Wuxian actually giving Jiang Cheng a sincere compliment here, disguised as teasing, and he's not wrong. Jiang Cheng has matured and is becoming a strong leader. Not strong enough to ignore peer pressure, but that’s true of most clan leaders in this environment. They’re not supposed to ignore peer pressure.

Wei Wuxian is pointing it out for his own reasons - he doesn't want to be having this conversation - but it's nice to see him giving his clan leader his due.

Jiang Cheng walks away as Wei Wuxian smiles after him; as soon as he's out of sight the smile falls off of Wei Wuxian's face as fast as fast as gravity can take it. It's like someone snuffed a candle.

No one bites back as hard On their anger None of my pain and woe Can show through

But my dreams, they aren't as empty As my conscience seems to be I have hours, only lonely My love is vengeance that's never free

More Awkwardness

Lan Wangji and his ambivalence come looking for Wei Wuxian, standing outside his door and raising a hand to knock before changing his mind and fleeing.

Lan Wangji is on the back foot for the first time in his relationship with Wei Wuxian; this boy who pursued and pursued and PURSUED him is now a man who won't speak to him. This boy who hung on every one of his words, and saw through all of his minute facial expressions, has become a man who won't listen to him. Lan Wangji is in the position of pursuer, now, and it's not a role he's well equipped for.

Yanli stops him as he's bailing. He looks so relieved to see her, but he tries to escape immediately after greeting her. She stops him so she can ask what the fuck is going on.

Unfortunately, Wei Wuxian rolls up while Lan Wangji is in the middle of talking to her. He's telling her about the heterodox cultivation, and Wei Wuxian busts him. Wei Wuxian steps up and asks what he was telling her, and Lan Wangji says "Wei Ying," but doesn't get much further than that.

Nunya

Wei Wuxian reminds him that he told him to stay out of Jiang Clan business. Now, here I want to mention that "private" and "not your bidness" are culturally specific concepts. OP, for example, grew up in version of Irish-American culture so secretive that the problems of a person's life and (often) the cause of their death are things only discovered by whoever inherits their papers. [OP inherited 3 generations of letters a few years ago, and HOO BOY]

In the version of Chinese culture which we see in this drama, your choices, thoughts & troubles belong to the family and clan, not just to you. Wei Wuxian, in shutting his elder sister out of his struggles, is not family-ing correctly. Jiang Yanli is right to try to get around that by asking his friend. His friend is also right to give her--in sanitized form--the information she is asking for.

Wei Wuxian has zero trust in Lan Wangji at this point, unfortunately. He doesn’t know that Lan Wangji has been lying to cover for him; he just knows he’s being a grumpy aggressive holy roller. Now, when Lan Wangji has just been given permission to disregard all 3000 rules and look at a person’s heart, that person’s heart has been hardened against him.

Yanli is used to dealing with Wei Wuxian's moods at this point -- after all, a lifetime of Jiang Cheng has got her used to volatile little brothers, and Wei Wuxian is clearly a new, not-improved man since his return.

She tries to get him to chill out while Lan Wangji gives him a death glare -- not a return to the earlier generalized frown, more of a specific "I can't believe how full of shit you are" frown.

Wei Wuxian calls him Lan Er Gongzi, like a dick. Lan Wangji started this but at this point Wei Wuxian is kind of in the lead for who is being The Worst. Lan Wangji executes a beautiful 180 and walks away at top speed.

Wei Wuxian asks Yanli if he talked about Yiling and when she says he didn't, he realizes he fucked up.

He goes running after him and calls him Lan Zhan and says "listen to me" but Lan Wangji is no longer in a listening mood.

Eat A Dick Sword

Lan Wangji is so far in his feelings at this point that he just hauls out his sword and goes after Wei Wuxian, taking complete control of the interaction and forcing Wei Wuxian to concede the fight. Aww, he’s so angry! I love him.

This is a rough moment for Wei Wuxian. He really genuinely can't hold his own against Lan Wangji, unless he's going to directly use necromancy against him the way he does later in their final confrontation.

When they first met he was able to defend himself on the rooftop without drawing his sword, but he's weaker now; Chenqing is an adequate hand weapon against most cultivators and puppets, but it's not a match for Lan Wangji's full attack.

Wei Wuxian is not enjoying this fight, and can’t win in, so he just throws in the towel, exposing his throat and trusting Lan Wangji's control.

On the surface, this fight appears to re-establish their former rapport, but it puts them on such an uneven footing it might actually drive a larger wedge between them. I think that Lan Wangji has made a strategic error in doing this.

Lan Wangji seems to want to prove to Wei Wuxian that his new style of cultivation is inadequate, that he would do better with a sword. Swordplay was the beginning of their relationship; their matched power was the source of their mutual attraction. Lan Wangji can't accept that Wei Wuxian has given it up; he doesn't (yet) respect his agency enough to assume that he has a good reason.

This fight functions as yet another punishment that Lan Wangji doles out to Wei Wuxian; not a physical one, this time, but a psychological one, and their relationship pays the price.

By attacking Wei Wuxian and forcing him to concede, Lan Wangji is showing that they're unequal. By criticizing Wei Wuxian's lack of progress and asking him the same goddamn question everybody else is asking him -- where is your sword? -- Lan Wangji is humiliating him.

This encounter does not re-establish Wei Wuxian’s trust in him; it just forces him to accept Lan Wangji’s authority, for now. Which is not what either of them really wants.

Soundtrack: Behind Blue Eyes, by The Who

Writing Prompt: What would Wei Wuxian have said if Lan Wangji had listened to him instead of drawing his sword?

#the untamed #the untamed gifs #wangxian #the untamed meta #cql #restless rewatch the untamed #canary3d-original #my gifs #2810 word count

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