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tulipatheticee · 2 months

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labyrinth

anthony bridgerton x fem! reader

synopsis; anthony bridgerton had swore off love, but after meeting miss y/n l/n, he couldn't keep himself away. after a talk with his mother he now has to navigate his feelings to courting the owner of his heart

word count; 2.0k

master list

a/n; this was meant to be a benedict fic but my friend (who picked the song tysm) had a brain wave that labyrinth is so anthony coded

as always, kinda proof read, kinda not :p

It only hurts this much right now

Was what I was thinking the whole time

Breathe in, breathe through

Breathe deep, breathe out

Since the news that Viscount Lord Anthony Bridgerton was searching for a wife this social season had spread, he had all the ladies vying for his attention. He was very clear with himself that he most definitely did NOT want a love match. After witnessing the devastating effects of losing a loved one, he had completely sworn off it. He simply wanted a wife who would be a good viscountess, a good mother, and overall a proper, standard wife. But once he became acquainted with Miss Y/N, he was immediately enticed by her. The more he saw her, the more he spoke with her, the more he wanted her. She consumed his thoughts; he couldn't even sleep without thinking of her. She clouded his mind, his dreams, his vision. In an attempt to clear the cloud of her, he began to avoid her with all his might.

Anthony Bridgerton would NOT fall in love. But as he spent time away from her, he found himself missing her, her smile, her wit, her kind eyes, her humour, her. His resolve wavered with each passing day, the emptiness left by her absence growing unbearable. Every time he saw her across a crowded room, his heart ached with longing. The thought of another man capturing her attention, sharing moments that should have been his, filled him with a deep, unspoken dread. He realised, with a mix of frustration and inevitability, that denying his feelings was futile. She had become an integral part of his life, whether he admitted it or not.

I'll be getting over you my whole life

You know how scared I am of elevators

Never trust it if it rises fast

It can't last

The Bridgerton family estate was quiet in the early morning light, the stillness broken only by the distant sound of birdsong. Anthony sat alone in his study, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him. His father's death had left a void in his life, one that he had tried to fill with duty and obligation. But lately, that void has been filled with thoughts of Y/N.

He remembered the first time he had seen her, her laughter lighting up the room as she danced with her friends. She had seemed so free, so unburdened by the worries that plagued him. He had been drawn to her from the start, but he had kept his distance, afraid of what he might feel.

"It only hurts this much right now," he had told himself, trying to convince his heart to stay guarded.

But the more he saw of Y/N, the harder it became to ignore his feelings. She was everything he had ever wanted, and everything he had sworn to avoid. He knew he couldn't keep running from his emotions forever.

Just then, there was a soft knock on the door. Anthony looked up to see his mother, Violet, standing in the doorway.

"Good morning, Anthony," she said, her voice gentle.

"Good morning," he replied, trying to smile.

Violet walked into the room, her eyes filled with concern. "You've been so distant lately. Is something troubling you?"

Anthony sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's nothing, Mother. Just the usual worries."

Violet sat down beside him, her expression softening. "Anthony, I've known you all your life. I can tell when something is truly bothering you. Please, talk to me."

Anthony hesitated, the words caught in his throat. He had always been the strong one, the one who held the family together. Admitting his feelings felt like a betrayal of that role.

"It's Miss L/N," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Violet's eyes widened in surprise. "Miss Y/N? What about her?"

"I... I think I'm falling for her," Anthony admitted, his heart pounding in his chest. "But I'm afraid. Afraid of what it might mean, of what it could lead to."

Violet's expression softened even further. "Oh, Anthony. Love is always a risk, but it's a risk worth taking. You can't spend your life running from it."

Anthony looked down, his hands trembling. "But what if it doesn't last? What if it only brings pain?"

"That's a chance we all take," Violet said gently. "But you'll never know if you don't let yourself feel. Miss L/N is a wonderful woman, and I can see how much she cares for you. Don't let fear keep you from something beautiful."

Anthony took a deep breath, the weight on his chest lifting just a little. "Thank you, Mama. I needed to hear that."

Violet smiled, her eyes filled with love. "Anytime, my dear. Now, go find Miss Y/N and tell her how you feel. You might be surprised at what happens."

Anthony nodded, feeling a newfound sense of determination. He stood up, ready to face his fears head-on.

Uh oh, I'm falling in love

Oh no, I'm falling in love again

Oh, I'm falling in love

The ball was in full swing, the grand hall filled with the laughter and chatter of London's elite. Y/N stood near the edge of the dance floor, her heart pounding as she watched Anthony Bridgerton move throughout the room. She tried to focus on her breathing, but it did little to calm the feeling inside her.

Anthony, was the epitome of charm and responsibility. His presence commanded attention, and Y/N couldn't help but be drawn to him. She sighed, feeling the weight of unspoken emotions pressing down on her. How did she end up here, so lost in the labyrinth of her own mind?

For Anthony, the evening was a blur of polite conversation and obligatory dances. Since his becoming Viscount, the mantle of responsibility had weighed heavily on his shoulders. He had little time for silly pursuits, and even less patience for the entanglements of love. Yet, despite his best efforts, he found his gaze drawn to Miss Y/N L/N time and time again.

As if sensing his turmoil, Y/N glanced in his direction. Their eyes met, and for a moment, everything else faded away. Anthony took a deep breath and made his way toward her, weaving through the crowd with ease. His feet were moving against his mind's wishes, yet he still did not want to stop walking towards her.

"Miss L/N," he greeted, his voice warm and familiar. "You look lovely tonight."

"Thank you, Lord Bridgerton," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "You look quite handsome yourself."

They stood in silence for a moment, the noise of the ball fading into the background. Anthony struggled to find the right words, to express the feelings he had been denying for so long.

"Would you care to dance?" he finally asked, extending his hand.

Y/N hesitated for a moment before placing her hand in his. "I'd love to."

As they moved to the centre of the dance floor, Anthony felt a sense of calm wash over him. Holding Y/N in his arms, he realised just how much he had been fighting against his own heart. The music swirled around them, and for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to simply feel.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" Y/N asked softly, her eyes searching his.

Anthony sighed, his grip on her waist tightening slightly. "I've been a fool, Miss L/N. I've been trying to protect myself from something I thought would only bring me pain."

"And what is that?" she pressed, her voice gentle but insistent.

"Love," he admitted, his voice barely audible. "I've seen what it can do, how it can hurt. I thought I was better off without it."

Y/N's expression softened, and she reached up to touch his cheek. "Love can be painful, Lord Bridgerton. But it can also be the most beautiful thing in the world. You just have to be willing to take the risk."

Anthony stared into her eyes, feeling a sense of clarity he hadn't experienced in years. "I don't want to be afraid anymore, L/N. I don't want to spend my life running from something that could make me truly happy."

"Then don't," she whispered. "Take the leap. I'm right here with you."

At that moment, Anthony knew he had to let go of his fears. He had to embrace the love he felt for Y/N, no matter how terrifying it might be. As the music came to an end, he had to use all his willpower to not lean down and pressed a hungry kiss to her lips in front of all the ton, in the middle of a ballroom, sealing his promise to her and to himself. But he was a gentleman and would never do such (or even more) to a woman like Y/N, no, he would have to wait to do that, and what a task that was proving to be.

I thought the plane was going down

How'd you turn it right around

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

The Next Afternoon

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

It only feels this raw right now

Lost in the labyrinth of my mind

Break up, break free, break through, break down

You would break your back to make me break a smile

Anthony found Y/N in her garden, her favourite place to escape the hustle and bustle of the ton. She was sitting on a bench, her eyes closed as she listened to the sounds of nature. He had gone over to her family's estate with the intention of asking to officially court her, after a rather intimidating conversation with her father, he took a deep breath and walked over to her.

"Miss L/N," he said softly.

She turned around and smiled when she saw him. "Lord Bridgerton! What brings you out here?"

"I needed to talk to you," he said, his heart pounding. "About us."

Y/N's smile faded, her expression turning serious. "What about us?"

Anthony sat down beside her, his hands trembling. "I know I've been distant, and I know I've been distant from you. But I can't keep running from my feelings. I... I care about you, Miss L/N. More than I ever thought possible."

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, her mouth opened to say something, but no words came out.

"I know it's sudden," he continued, his voice filled with emotion. "But I can't keep denying how I feel. I want to be with you, Miss L/N. I want to take that chance”

Y/N's eyes widened as she reached out and took his hand. "Oh, Anthony. I've been waiting for you to say that."

Anthony's heart swelled with emotion as he pulled her into his arms. "After last night at the ball I’ve been thinking a lot..and I'm willing to face whatever comes our way, as long as we're together. And I feel it is safe for me to say you can say the same thing."

Y/N smile went all the way to her eyes, her heart filled with joy. "I really can, Lord Bridgerton. And I'm ready to take that chance with you."

You know how much I hate that

everybody just expects me to bounce back

Just like that

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

A Few Weeks Later

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

Uh oh, I'm falling in love

Oh no, I'm falling in love again

Oh, I'm falling in love

The sun was setting over Bridgerton House, casting a warm golden glow over the estate. Anthony and Y/N stood together on the terrace, watching as the last rays of light dipped below the horizon.

"I never thought I'd find someone like you," Anthony said softly, his arm wrapped around Y/N's waist. "Someone who makes me feel like this."

Y/N smiled, leaning her head against his shoulder. "And I never thought I'd find someone who could make me feel so safe and loved."

Anthony's heart swelled with love as he kissed the top of her head. "I'm so glad we took that chance, Y/N. You mean everything to me."

"And you mean everything to me," Y/N replied, her voice filled with emotion.

As they stood together, watching the stars come out one by one, Anthony knew that no matter what the future held, they would face it together. He had found his way out of the labyrinth of his mind, and into the arms of the woman he loved.

And for the first time in a long time, he felt truly at peace.

I thought the plane was going down

How'd you turn it right around

a/n pt2; i have mixed feelings about this one I DONT KNOWWW

313 notes · View notes

dee-writes-smut · 5 months

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PREVERNAL (Extra)

FEATURING Azriel x Illyrian!reader

SUMMARY it's been two years, you want sex with your mate, but it seems Azriel is hesitant. Good thing bestie LuLu is here to help ;)

CONTENT WARNINGS sex! (there will be a note before if you wish to skip), MINORS, DO NOT INTERACT, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap, y'all), Lucien being a nosy horndog (?)

AUTHORS NOTE c'mon, you didn't think I was just going to leave you without a smut scene! What do you make me for, a monster?!

As the world awakens from its winter slumber, a symphony of sensations fills the prevernal air, weaving a tapestry of seduction that tantalizes the senses and stirs the soul. The earth, still moist from the thawing frost, exhales a heady fragrance of rebirth, a delicate mingling of damp soil and budding life that beckons with whispered promises of renewal. Each step upon the awakening land is a dance with temptation, as the soft, yielding earth caresses the feet with a sensuous touch that ignites a primal longing deep within.

Above, the sun emerges from its hibernation, casting its golden rays upon the landscape like a lover's embrace. Its warmth, once forgotten, now envelopes the skin in a tender caress, coaxing the slumbering earth to awaken from its wintry dreams. And awaken it does, with a flourish of color and life that ignites the senses with an intoxicating fervor. Delicate blossoms unfurl their petals in a symphony of hues, their fragrant perfumes mingling with the crispness of the air in a sensual ballet of scent.

Everywhere, the world pulses with the rhythm of desire, from the gentle rustle of awakening leaves to the melodious trill of amorous birdsong. Each breeze carries with it a whisper of passion, stirring dormant desires and kindling flames of longing that smolder just beneath the surface. In the prelude to spring, every sensation is heightened, every moment pregnant with possibility, as the allure of new beginnings hangs heavy in the air like a promise waiting to be fulfilled.

In this season of rebirth, nature herself becomes the ultimate seductress, her beauty a bewitching spell that enraptures all who dare to surrender to her charms. And so, beneath the canopy of prevernal skies, amidst the vibrant tapestry of blossoms and verdant greenery, the world becomes a playground of desire, where every touch, every scent, every sight ignites the flames of passion and invites the soul to embrace the sensual delights of the season.

It had been a little over two years since I lost my wings to Lyris, since I found out Azriel is my mate, and the last two years have been good. Sure, there have been moments where I fell back into that dark space, but Azriel was always there, ready to pull me back into the light when I was done reflecting.

During that time, our lives have undergone significant changes. Azriel and I were gifted a townhouse by Feyre and Rhys, providing us with our own space to build a life together. Additionally, my friendship with Lucien had deepened. Though we had only met briefly before the incident with my wings, our connection had grown, and now he joined me every weekend for a night out in the Night Court.

Despite the progress in our lives, there remained an unspoken tension between Azriel and me. While he was attentive and affectionate, there was a notable absence of intimacy. Though he'd shower with me, share kisses, and embrace me, our relationship had not progressed beyond that point. I'd attempted to initiate intimacy, but each time Azriel seemed to retreat, offering excuses that left me feeling frustrated and unfulfilled.

As Lucien and I entered the bustling tavern, the familiar sights and sounds of Velaris washed over me, momentarily distracting me from my tangled thoughts. The scent of ale and roasted meat filled the air, mingling with the sound of laughter and chatter that filled every corner of the room.

I glanced around, searching for a quiet corner where we could sit and talk. The tavern was packed with patrons, each one lost in their own conversations and revelries.

Lucien followed my lead, his eyes scanning the room as he sought out the perfect spot. "How about over there?" he suggested, nodding towards a cozy corner booth bathed in soft candlelight.

I nodded in agreement, grateful for his intuition. Together, we made our way over to the booth and settled in, the comfortable silence between us speaking volumes.

"So," Lucien began, breaking the silence with a curious glint in his eye, "what's been on your mind lately, songbird?"

I hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to broach the subject. But then, with a deep breath, I decided to lay it all out on the table. "Azriel," I confessed, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Lucien's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his gaze locking with mine in a silent exchange of understanding. He knew exactly what I was talking about, without me having to say another word.

"He's been… distant," I continued, my voice tinged with frustration. "I don't know what I'm doing wrong, Lucien. I've tried everything I can think of, but he always pulls away."

Lucien's expression softened, his hand reaching out to cover mine in a comforting gesture. "I'm sure it's not you," he reassured me, his voice gentle and reassuring. "Azriel's been through a lot, as have you. Maybe he just needs some more time."

I nodded, taking solace in his words. "I hope you're right," I replied, trying to keep the doubt from creeping into my voice. But deep down, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, that there was a distance between Azriel and me that I couldn't bridge no matter how hard I tried. Then, an idea sparked in my mind, and I leaned in closer, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "What if I tried… something different?" I suggested, a mischievous glint in my eye.

He raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Different how?" he asked, leaning in even closer to hear my suggestion. "Songbird, are you suggesting I help you to seduce your mate?” Lucien chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eye to match the slight blush across his cheeks.

“That’s exactly what I’m asking for my wonderful Lord of Foxes” I smirked, listening to his joyous laugh dancing through the tavern like silk in the wind. It made me smile, to hear him distracted from his own mate related sorrows.

“Trying to butter me up, are we?” He grinned, shaking his head at my answering snicker. “What if you were to seduce him?" Lucien suggested, his tone playful yet suggestive. "Show him just how much you desire him, and maybe he won't be able to resist."

I considered the suggestion, a thrill of excitement coursing through me at the thought of finally crossing that line with Azriel. "How would I do that?" I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Lucien grinned, clearly enjoying our clandestine conversation. "You could start by wearing something… provocative," he suggested, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Show him what he's been missing out on."

I blushed at the suggestion, the idea of dressing up to seduce Azriel both thrilling and nerve-wracking. "That could work," I admitted, feeling a surge of determination building within me.

Lucien nodded in approval. "And what about… teasing him?" he suggested, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Give him little hints of what's to come, and let his imagination do the rest."

I swallowed hard at the suggestion, the thought of teasing Azriel sending a shiver of anticipation down my spine. "That could definitely get his attention," I agreed, my mind already racing with possibilities, but as we continued to brainstorm, I couldn't shake the feeling of nervous excitement building within me. Maybe this was exactly what Azriel and I needed to finally take that next step, to bridge the gap that had been growing between us.

“But,” Lucien interjected, raising a finger and pointing it at me, “you could also try talking to him.” I raised a brow at this, and he sighed, his shoulders slumping as if a physical reminder of the weight of his sorrows, “I know that it’s not working with Elain, but you an-”

“Luce,” I say softly, interrupting him with a soothing hand on his warm arm, “I would never use that against you, not even in a stupid disagreement, c’mon.” I watch as his cheeks redden, his head falling, long, golden-red hair hiding his expression.

Tonight was going to be a late night.

It had been weeks, and this evening had been meticulously planned, every detail carefully orchestrated in my attempt to seduce Azriel. I had adorned myself in my most alluring attire, a dress that clung to every curve, and had spent hours perfecting my makeup and hair.

As Azriel stepped through the door of our townhouse, I greeted him with a coy smile, my heart pounding with nervous anticipation. Tonight was the night I would finally make my move, the night I would show him just how much I desired him.

"Hey, Az," I purred, sauntering over to him with what I hoped was a seductive sway in my hips. "Did you have a good day?"

He nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips as he took in my appearance. "It was fine," he replied, his voice low and husky. "What about you?"

I smiled, feeling a surge of confidence at his response. "Oh, you know," I said, my voice laced with playful flirtation. "Just counting down the minutes until you got home."

But as I began to put my plan into action, things quickly took an unexpected turn. My attempts at seduction came off as clumsy and awkward, each gesture more embarrassing than the last.

I tried to flirt, to tease him with suggestive remarks, but my words came out jumbled and incoherent. "You must be tired," I blurted out, cringing at my own lack of finesse. "Maybe I could help you relax?"

Azriel watched me with a bemused expression, clearly unsure of how to respond to my awkward advances. "Um, sure," he said, his tone cautious as he took a step back, clearly sensing my nervous energy.

I attempted to initiate physical contact, to seduce him with a touch, but my hands fumbled clumsily and fell short of their mark. I reached out to brush a lock of hair from his face, but ended up poking him in the eye instead.

"Ow!" Azriel exclaimed, blinking rapidly as he recoiled from my touch. "Are you okay?"

I winced, mortified by my own clumsiness. "I'm so sorry," I stammered, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. "I didn't mean to…"

But it wasn't until I saw the disappointment in Azriel's eyes that the full weight of my humiliation hit me. I had wanted so desperately to seduce him, to show him just how much he meant to me, but instead, I had only succeeded in making a fool of myself.

Tears welled up in my eyes, hot and stinging, as I turned away from him, unable to bear the thought of him seeing me in such a vulnerable state. I had wanted tonight to be perfect, but instead, it had been a disaster of epic proportions.

"Hey," Azriel's voice was gentle, his hand reaching out to touch my shoulder in a gesture of comfort. "Are you okay?"

I shook my head, unable to speak past the lump forming in my throat. How could I explain to him the depths of my humiliation, the sheer magnitude of my disappointment? Azriel wasn't one to give up easily. With infinite patience, he wrapped me in his arms, holding me close as I sobbed against his chest.

After I took a few moments to collect myself while Azriel held me close, his warmth enveloping me, I was able to take a deep breath and steady my emotions before speaking up. "I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice barely audible against the fabric of his shirt. "I just wanted tonight to be special."

Azriel's arms tightened around me, his touch a comforting anchor amidst the storm of my emotions. "It's okay," he murmured, his voice soft and soothing. "We can try again another time."

I sniffled, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over me at his understanding. "But why?" I blurted out, the question tumbling from my lips before I could stop it. "Why won't you… why won't you make love to me?"

Azriel pulled back slightly, his expression unreadable as he looked down at me. "It's not that I don't want to," he spluttered, “believe me, honey, I’ve wanted nothing more these last couple years,” he encouraged with a low growl, his eyes darkening for a moment. “But,” Azriel continued, his voice tinged with sadness. "It's just… complicated."

My heart sank at his words, a knot of worry forming in the pit of my stomach. "Complicated how?" I pressed, my voice trembling with uncertainty.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he searched for the right words. "I don't want you to feel… obligated," he admitted, his gaze filled with concern. "After everything you've been through, I don't want you to feel like you have to… do this with me."

I blinked in surprise at his confession, the weight of his words sinking in. "But I want to," I insisted, my voice firm with determination. "I want to be with you, Az. I want this."

Azriel's expression softened at my words, his eyes meeting mine in a silent exchange of understanding. "I know," he said, his voice gentle and reassuring. "But I don't want you to rush into anything because you feel like you have to."

Tears welled up in my eyes at his concern, the depth of his love washing over me like a wave. "I'm not rushing," I whispered, my voice barely more than a breath. "I'm ready."

Azriel's gaze softened at my words, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Okay," he said, his voice filled with quiet resolve. "Okay."

The weight of Azriel's concern lingered in the air between us, casting a shadow over our tender moment. I bit my lip, gathering my courage before speaking again. "Az," I began, my voice barely above a whisper, "can we try tonight?"

His brows furrowed in concern, his gaze searching mine as if trying to gauge my sincerity. "Are you sure?" he asked, his tone gentle yet cautious.

I nodded, a determined glint in my eyes. "Yes," I replied, my voice stronger this time. "I want this, Az. I want to be with you."

Azriel studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable as he weighed my words. Finally, he let out a soft sigh, his shoulders relaxing as if he had come to a decision. "Okay," he said, his voice tinged with a mix of uncertainty and resolve. "But only if you're absolutely sure."

I nodded, a sense of gratitude swelling within me at his understanding. "I am," I assured him, my voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in my stomach. "I trust you, Az. I always have."

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his eyes softening with warmth and affection. "I love you," he said, his voice a gentle caress that soothed the ache in my heart.

"I love you too," I whispered, feeling a sense of peace settle over me as I nestled into his embrace.

The air between us crackled with tension as we made our way to our bedroom, our footsteps echoing in the quiet of the townhouse. Despite our earlier conversation, a nervous energy hung heavy in the air, making each moment feel strained and uncertain.

I stole a glance at Azriel out of the corner of my eye, finding him watching me with a mixture of apprehension and longing. My heart skipped a beat at the sight, the weight of his gaze sending a shiver down my spine.

As we reached the door to our bedroom, I paused, my hand hovering uncertainly over the handle. "Are you sure about this?" I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Azriel nodded, his expression a mix of determination and vulnerability. "Yes," he replied, his voice steady despite the nerves that flickered in his eyes. "I want to be with you, more than anything, as long as you're ready."

I swallowed hard, feeling a surge of emotion welling up inside me, not immune to the irony of the question. With a shaky breath, I pushed open the door, the soft glow of candlelight casting flickering shadows across the room. We stood there for a moment, neither of us moving, as if unsure of what to do next. But then, with a shared glance, we moved as one, closing the distance between us with hesitant steps.

I reached out to touch him, my fingers trembling as they brushed against his cheek. "I love you," I whispered, my voice barely audible above the pounding of my heart.

Azriel's eyes softened at my words, his hand coming up to cradle my face in a gentle caress. "I love you too," he murmured, his voice a soft whisper that sent a shiver down my spine.

And then, with a shared smile, we began to undress, each movement slow and deliberate as we shed the layers that separated us. It was awkward at first, our hands fumbling and uncertain as we navigated the unfamiliar terrain of each other's bodies.

But as we moved together, our laughter mingling with the soft sounds of the night, something shifted between us. The tension that had once hung heavy in the air began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of ease and familiarity that washed over us like a warm embrace.

(MDNI SMUT AFTER THE CUT)

Azriel's touch is a symphony of sensations, each brush of his fingertips sending sparks of desire dancing along my skin. He starts with feather-light caresses, tracing invisible patterns across the curve of my jaw, down the length of my neck, and along the swell of my collarbones. Each touch is a promise of things to come, a tantalizing tease that leaves me yearning for more.

His lips follow the path his fingers have traced, pressing soft, lingering kisses against my skin. He explores every inch of me with a reverence that takes my breath away, his mouth leaving a trail of fire in its wake. I gasp as his lips find the hollow of my throat, his tongue tracing delicate circles against my pulse point.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs against my skin, his voice low and husky with desire. I shiver at his words, a rush of heat pooling between my thighs.

As he continues to explore, his hands roam freely over my body, mapping every curve and contour with a hunger that mirrors my own. He cups the weight of my breasts in his palms, his thumbs brushing lightly over my hardened nipples, sending jolts of pleasure shooting through me.

"Azriel," I whisper, my voice trembling with longing as I arch into his touch, a low moan escaping my lips as he takes one swollen nipple into his mouth, sucking and nibbling with a fervor that leaves me dizzy with desire. His other hand travels lower, skimming across the sensitive skin of my abdomen before dipping between my thighs.

I gasp as his fingers find the heat between my legs, teasing me with maddening slowness. He circles my clit with his thumb, applying just enough pressure to make me squirm.

"You drive me wild," he confesses, his breath hot against my skin as he slides a single finger inside me, testing my readiness. I'm already slick with desire, my body eager for more of him. I rock my hips against his hand, wordlessly urging him to continue. With a low growl of approval, Azriel adds a second finger, stretching me in the most exquisite way possible.

I moan his name, my fingers tangling in his dark locks as I pull him closer, desperate for more of his touch. "I want you," I breathe, my voice barely more than a whisper.

“All good things come to those who wait,” he smirks against my breast, his tongue swiping at my hardened nipple.

“Please,” I whine, my hips meeting his gentle thrusts, the soft squelching noises between my thighs steadily growing louder and more frequent. He complies eagerly, increasing the pace and pressure of his ministrations until I'm teetering on the edge of oblivion, every nerve in my body singing with pleasure.

And just when I think I can't take any more, he withdraws his fingers, leaving me gasping and aching for release. With a wicked smile, he leans up to capture my lips in a searing kiss, his tongue tangling with mine in a dance as old as time.

I lose myself in the kiss, the world narrowing down to the feel of his lips against mine, the taste of him on my tongue. We part with fierce huffs of breaths as he reaches down to ready himself, using the slick he collected between my thighs to lather his thick length. I whimper at the sight of it, his long, intimidating length, prettily flushed and already dripping precum.

Azriel shushes me softly as he lines himself up, slowly sliding himself against my clit for a moment before notching at my entrance. With a deep breath, he slowly starts to slide in.

I let out a long gasp, my hands flying to his shoulders as he hovers above me, his face pinched so beautifully in both pleasure and concentration.

“Gods,” he whimpers as his thighs meet mine, my heart flipping at the sound and before soon Azriel and I meld together in a dance of desire, our bodies moving in perfect synchronization. The heat between us ignites, consuming us in a blaze of passion as we lose ourselves in the ecstasy of our union.

Azriel's movements are primal and unrestrained, each thrust driving me closer to the edge of oblivion. I cling to him, my nails digging into his skin as I meet him thrust for thrust, our bodies colliding with a force that borders on violence.

Slick with sweat, our bodies slide against each other, creating a symphony of sounds that fills the room. The scent of our arousal hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the heady aroma of candles burning low.

"You're mine," he growls, his voice a rough whisper against my ear. "Mine to claim."

I moan in response, the sound a guttural cry of need as pleasure courses through my veins. "Yes," I gasp, my voice barely more than a desperate plea.

The intensity of our connection is overwhelming, a tidal wave of desire crashing over us with each passing moment. I lose myself in the sensation, the world narrowing down to the feel of Azriel's skin against mine, the sound of his ragged breaths mingling with my own.

He leans down to capture my lips in a savage kiss, his tongue plundering my mouth with a hunger that borders on feral. I bite back, matching his intensity with a ferocity of my own as we devour each other with a raw, primal need.

Every touch, every kiss, every thrust is a testament to our shared desire, a silent declaration of the love that binds us together. We are lost in each other, consumed by the fire that burns between us, unable to tell where one ends and the other begins.

As the pleasure mounts, I feel myself teetering on the edge of oblivion, my entire being consumed by the overwhelming tide of sensation. Azriel senses my impending release and adjusts his rhythm, driving me over the edge with a final, desperate thrust.

I scream his name as ecstasy washes over me in a blinding burst of light, my body convulsing with pleasure as I tumble into the abyss of sensation. "Azriel!" I cry out, my voice a plea for more as I surrender to the depths of bliss.

He growls in response, panting in my ear, “let me put a baby in you, my mate. Let me-” he lets out a grunt as his movements become more erratic, “let me show the world how good i give it to you, to this pretty little pussy.”

I whimper at the words, my sex addled mind going blank for a moment as he suspends my pleasure, “yes, please, Az, put a baby in me,” I moan loudly, gently scratching the delicate membrane of his right wing.

Azriel lets out a roar of pleasure as he lets himself go, shoving in as far as he can and staying there as he fills me with his warm seed. “I love you,” he pants softly in my ear, his entire body laying sticky and limp on top of mine.

“I love you too,” I breathe, my hands moving to rake through his soft curls.

As the waves of pleasure slowly subside, Azriel turns us to hold me close, his touch gentle yet possessive. There's an unspoken understanding between us, a connection that goes deeper, a thread that sparkles in pure gold with contentment and satisfaction. His arms around me feel like home, like a sanctuary where I can be truly myself.

His whispered words of love and reassurance wash over me like a soothing balm, each syllable a tender caress against my skin. He speaks of our bond, of the love that binds us together, and I listen, my heart swelling with gratitude for the man who has become my everything.

I nestle against him, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek. It's a comforting rhythm, a reminder that I am safe in his embrace, cocooned in the warmth of our shared intimacy.

"Stay," he murmurs softly, his breath warm against my skin. "I know you have to get cleaned up… but, just a little longer."

I smile, my heart swelling with affection for this man who has become so much more than just a lover. "Of course," I reply, my voice a gentle murmur in the darkness.

Azriel presses a tender kiss to my forehead, his touch a gentle caress along the curve of my spine. With each stroke of his fingers, I feel the tension leaving my body, replaced by a sense of calm and contentment.

We lie together in silence, basking in the afterglow of our lovemaking. There's no need for words; our connection speaks volumes in the quiet of the room. I trace lazy patterns on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my fingertips, a comforting reminder of the love that binds us together.

And as sleep finally claims us both, I drift off with the comforting knowledge that in Azriel's arms, I have found a kind of love that transcends mere physical desire, a love that will sustain us through whatever challenges lie ahead.

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evanrouge · 1 year

Text

.. as a lover, MALLEUS is inexplicably modest.

in his years, his eardrums have long grown accustomed to the gravelly hymns of conflict. to the silvery, melancholic stationary of lonesome silence. to the carefree, unbothered chirps of birdsong. yet what is new to him, is the tender euphony of a lover's whisper.

he is far from inexperienced with beautiful sounds. he once safely tended to a hummingbird within his open palms and basked in the harmonious melody the fledgling sang to him. he has safely plucked the most dainty and beautiful of roses from its bed in the castle garden, and appreciated its flawlessness with a fond gaze. yet, he has never safely held a cloud. not so delicate, but rather fleeting. his touch so heavy that his strong hand would phase right through, regardless of how light his touch, causing the cloud to dissipate to nothing. he is a tremendously powerful fae - and to him, his biggest fear is that you are a cloud.

he is no stranger to verbal fondness. words of affirmation dug from the very depths and laid out in the open, presented to be swallowed by the ever-so-tender atmosphere engulfing you both. beautifully genuine, just as he is. yet, physical intimacy isn't as natural to him.

he will cease to bluntly throw that uncertainty into the air, wishing to learn as affection thickens. it is the lone unspoken factor in your relationship, that you so smartly picked up so quickly. he wishes to learn; he yearns for you to teach him, yet that fear of running his hand right through you still echoes at the very back of his mind, you have observed via little openings.

that, despite the fondness which enchants his smile as you wordlessly lead his hands to your waist, you can feel the ever so slight hesitance that he attempts to mask with the affectionate rub of his thumb on your back.

the way he would slow to precisely your sole walking speed whenever your hands are intertwined, regardless of whether it would make him look dodgy with how long his legs are. cradling your hand with his own, ever so gently, as if you were an enchanted rose. as if he was the dome that protected you from harmful outside influence which would cause you to wilt faster than supposed to. yet the little fairies in his mind would whisper that perhaps, he is what the dome should be protecting you from. his palm against your own; what if you blew away?

but would he listen to the little fairies in his mind and stay away? he doesn't think he is capable of doing so. he exposed his open heart to you and you jumped in, becoming one with him and making him complete. you are the fulfillment he has anticipated for what felt like eons, his own, personal source of happiness that he wishes to keep by his side as long as he is able to.

he is aware of the little fairies in his mind, painting him out to be the proximity that will welcome your doom. and so are you. it just so happens, after you became aware of them, your voice suddenly became much louder than theirs.

#here have this trash while i try to remember how to tumblr lmao #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader #twst x reader #twst malleus #twisted wonderland x reader #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #malleus draconia #malleus #malleus imagines #malleus draconia twst #malleus draconia x mc #malleus draconia imagine #mine mine!! — 🦋

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milkbobatyun · 2 days

Text

mooncakes and wine, my memories of you will alway shine

pairing: zhongli x gn!reader

genre: fluff, sequel (maybe?)

summary: though thousands of years have passed, it's mid-autumn again, traditionally a time of reunion. who better to spend your time with other than your lover and (adopted) son, as well as the friends you made along the way.

word count: 1.4k

a/n: speedwrote this so i could post it in celebration of mid-autumn festival. i was thinking this could be an alternate ending to a zhongli fic im currently working on, but i REALLY wanted to post this in celebration of mid-autumn so here it is! to those who celebrate it, 中秋节快乐, to those who dont, have a good day ig !! (●'◡'●)

the cool, autumn breeze drifted in through the window, ruffling the curtains. the remnants of summer’s heat lingered in the room. in a distant corner of the room, a stick of incense burned, its delicate smoke curling into the room. long, golden beams of light bathed the interior of the traditional liyue style home, illuminating the wooden floors, mahogany wood bed and the infernal dust particles that hung in the air.

the sunlight spilled onto the pillows, warming the geo dragon and his mate, nestled together in the bed, blanketed by peaceful sleep.

you blinked open your eyes, roused from your lazy afternoon nap by birdsong spilling from outside the windowsill. finding yourself securely embraced in the arms of a sleeping zhongli, you let out an amused sigh of resignation, turning to admire his serene, sleeping face.

noticing a strand of chocolate hair laying across his face, you reached out a hand, gently sweeping it off his face. zhongli’s draconic senses tingled, his nose twitching and scrunching in alertness at the disturbance.

a narrowed eye, glittering like cor-lapis, peered at you, clouded with sleep. when it caught sight of your startled and apologetic face, its hard stare softened almost immediately. zhongli gazed at you, molten amber eyes overflowing with love.

“you’re awake, mr sleepy dragon.” you teased, a warm smile on your face. “i believe it’s time to get up and get prepared.” you mused.

zhongli shook his head with mock displeasure, burying himself deeper into the heat of the blankets. with a soft chuckle, you pressed a kiss to his forehead before slipping out from his grasp, eliciting a rumble of displeasure from the geo dragon.

slipping your feet into the slippers, you padded into the bathroom, changing into your festive hanfu. the silk rustled softly as you moved to your vanity table, the polished wood cool beneath your hands. with delicacy, you glided to your low set table, seating yourself before your mirror. you reached for your brush, gently untangling the knots in your hair.

your movements are halted when a pair of hands place themselves over yours, gently taking the brush from your grasp, before deft fingers comb through your hair, practiced hands twisting strands into delicate hairstyles atop your head.

you glanced in the mirror, zhongli’s tall form standing behind you. his amber eyes filled with unspoken adoration. a gentle smile carved upon both your lips, a silent exchange of love passing between you.

with gentle grace, zhongli slipped a hair pin and decoration into your hair, completing the hairstyle. reaching towards your box of homemade makeup, you picked out a sheet of red paper, placing it between your lips, pressing it firmly onto your lips. the red dusted your lips, a soft layer of red coating them.

unscrewing the china pot of red, you wet your brush, saturating it in the red ink that inhabited the inside of the pot. careful precision and a deft flick of your wrist, your eyes were lined with the signature red eyeliner, the bold colour accentuating your eyes.

you turned around, red brush still in hand, looking expectantly up at zhongli. understanding your unspoken question, zhongli leaned forwards, placing his chin on your hand. taking the opportunity, you teasingly squished his cheeks.

“you look like a little puppy, not some fearsome dragon god.” you chuckled.

zhongli huffed in displeasure, though a glimmer of playfulness in his amber eyes betrayed his true feelings.

“you’re the only one who can tame such a fearsome dragon god into an obedient puppy.” he laughed, his voice a soothing rumble.

his only response was a playful roll of your eyes, your hand reaching out with the red-tipped brush. the coolness of the ink glided across his eyelids, a practiced flick of the brush and his eyeliner had been applied.

while zhongli leaned over your shoulder to peer at himself in the mirror, reminding yourself of a proud dragon admiring its appearance, you ran your brush through zhongli’s lucious hair, his deep, pleased purrs vibrating throughout the room. you took the chance to leave a swift kiss on his cheek. unbeknownst to zhongli, a faint mark of red lingered on his cheek.

the tranquil atmosphere was broken when a cough alerted you to a new guest. framed in the doorway, a grumpy cat xiao stood with his arms crossed, a scowl present on his face.

his hair stuck up in all kinds of directions, reminding you of a frazzled cat. what made you laugh was the thick, uneven lines of red eyeliner around his eyes, turning him into a spotted cat, rather than a fearsome yaksha.

“ā niáng…” xiao trailed off, his face turning sheepish. “could you help me with this?”

both zhongli and you couldn’t contain your amusement, a rumble of laughter sounding from zhongli, mixing with your tinkling laugh.

xiao turned red as a tomato at your laughs, a pout forming on his face.

you gestured him to come over, brush working through the mess of his hair. you collected his hair into a ponytail, securing it with a simple metal head helmet, to match his hanfu.

while you prepared xiao, zhongli went and changed into his hanfu, his hair flowing over the velvety dark silk of his clothing.

as you smoothed out the wrinkles in zhongli’s hanfu, you couldn’t help but smile. after so many years together, these small gestures of care felt second nature, but the warmth they brought was still as strong as ever. even xiao, with his grumpy exterior, seemed to melt into the quiet love of the moment, his earlier pout softening as he waited patiently. though he was careful to fashion a face of mock disgust, sticking out his tongue cheekily when he caught your eye.

as the sun began to hover over the horizon, bathing the streets with a vibrant orange, the three of you made your way around liyue, your arm looped in zhongli’s, while xiao marched on in front.

in the betwix of dusk, the lanterns flickered to life, flames dancing, shadowy will-o’-wisps behind the paper. some were fish-shaped, some shaped like flowers or rabbits, while some were the traditional cylindrical shape. admiring the array of lanterns, hanging from shop windows and children’s hands, from the makeshift rafters built atop the streets, the wonderful smell of cooking made your stomach grumble.

passing by a liquor shop, zhongli stopped to buy a few bottles of osmanthus wine. after all, it was the mid-autumn festival, the only appropriate wine to drink was osmanthus. as expected, when zhongli reached for his wallet, his search yielded no results, realising–once again–he forgot his wallet. you shook your head hopelessly at zhongli’s forgetfulness, pulling out your own wallet to pay.

your little party made your way to wanming restaurant, the clinking of wine bottles against each other your pied piper’s melody. as you strolled through the streets, you picked up several friends along the way.

xingqiu and chongyun’s playful banter filled the air, while hu tao attempted—and failed—to sneak up on you, switching her target to zhongli instead. with a tiger-like pounce, hutao jumped onto the shoulders of zhongli, earning a startled gasp from the otherwise composed dragon

chuckles of amusement rang out, while zhongli could only sigh and shake his head. of course his own wife wouldn’t alert him, they’d been married for thousands of years, what could he expect?

cheerful chatter rang out from the balcony of wanming restaurant, everyone turning to greet your party when you arrived. sitting around the large, circular table, many of your friends from liyue and beyond gathered, even the traveller and paimon were there, celebrating the mid-autumn festival.

there was the occasional pranks by xingqiu, keqing accidentally knocked over xiangling at one point, sending food flying everywhere. amidst the chaos, zhongli sat peacefully, appreciating the wine served, reminiscing on past memories.

the lively atmosphere warmed you, settling into your heart. you admired the sun, sinking below the horizon, dying the sky with rich shades of gold, orange and crimson, before deep hues of blue and purple surfaced, fluffy clouds replaced with glimmering stars.

as the night shone brightly with the full moon, fireworks lit up the darkness, cheers ringing out into the sky. leaning close to zhongli’s ear, you quietly whispered to him.

“happy mid-autumn festival, morax.”

resting your head on his shoulder, whilst you were entranced by the fireworks display, zhongli watched you with golden eyes brimming with love and adoration.

in that moment, amongst the boom of the fireworks and chatter, it was just the two of you, bound by the memories you shared, by time and fate.

footnotes:

1. mahogany wood as a symbolism of status, a traditional material for chinese furniture

2. hanfu — a traditional style of clothing originating from china, nowadays is usually worn during traditional festivals

3. ā niáng — a traditional term in Chinese that means "mother" or "mom."

4. lanterns — a symbol of beacons lighting up people's paths to prosperity and good fortune

5. osmanthus wine — ironically, osmanthus wine is traditionally drunk during the mid-autumn festival, with it symbolising reunion and prosperity

6. clinking wine bottles + pied piper's reference — just a little allusion to how you and zhongli are the leaders of the group, when the others hear the wine bottles clinking together (if you search up "traditional chinese wine bottles" or you've watched 'the untamed' then you'll know what i mean)

7. mooncakes and wine, my memories of you will always shine — a reference to zhongli's voice line about memories shining like gold, while referencing the mooncakes and wine of the night

taglist (open): @yeonjunsfox

∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳) © curated with love by milkbobayun 2024 / づ ♡

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #genshin impact headcanons #genshin headcanons #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff #zhongli fluff #x reader #zhongli #genshin #mid autumn festival #genshin impact drabbles #dragon zhongli #zhongli x you

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moeitsu · 5 months

Text

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Ch 10 - Since Last I Held That Hand In Mine

Summary: The Course of True Love and other Revelations

Ao3 Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

AN: ~8k words, I want to start tagging people in the next chapters. So if you'd like to be tagged when I post let me know!

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

As the soft light of dawn filtered through the trees, the melodious chorus of birdsong stirred Kate from her slumber. Rising from her cot, she welcomed the new day with a sense of purpose. Arthur's unexpected kiss last night had left her reeling, yet she felt its undeniable reality like the solid ground beneath her feet.

From the moment they first met, something about Arthur had intrigued her—an unspoken vulnerability beneath his tough exterior. She glimpsed it again last night, in the tender way he cradled Jack and the gentle touch of his calloused hands against her cheek. His kiss carried a longing, a shared ache that resonated with her own soul.

Despite the stories she had heard about Arthur's reputation as an outlaw, Kate refused to believe that violence defined him. She sensed a yearning for a better life within him, much like her own. He desired a world where strength did not equate to brutality, where he could shed the role of a hardened outlaw for something more tender and genuine.

With a satisfying stretch, Kate rose from her cot and cast a glance toward Arthur's tent, finding it empty—an indication that he was already up and about. Determined to catch him, she made her way over to the chuck wagon, exchanging greetings with others in camp as she helped herself to breakfast. Despite her hopes of a shared meal, she realized Arthur must have been out working already. Slightly disappointed, she sat alone, her thoughts lingering on their fleeting moment and the desire for another chance to talk.

As the day passed swiftly, Kate kept an eye out for Arthur's return, but to her surprise, he hadn't shown up by dinner. Contemplating waiting through the evening, she hesitated, feeling the ache of sore muscles from chopping wood and hauling buckets of water. Eventually, she resigned herself to the night, hoping for a better opportunity in the morning.

The following day mirrored the routine—Kate rising early, only to find Arthur's tent deserted once more. Concern gnawed at her as she asked Karen, who had been on guard duty the previous night, if Arthur had returned. The answer was no, leaving Kate troubled and wondering about the cause of his absence.

By the evening of the third day, Kate's worry had escalated into a swirling storm of thoughts. Had she said or done something to upset him? Did Arthur regret their shared kiss, causing him to avoid her? Unable to find solace in uncertainty, she tossed and turned that night, her mind racing with possibilities and unanswered questions.

The next morning, Kate was roused from sleep by the rhythmic sound of approaching hoofbeats. Her heart quickened with hope, expecting to catch a glimpse of Arthur's brilliant white mare, Belle. However, it was Charles arriving on Taima, dismounting with a few pheasants in tow. Kate rubbed her temple, frustrated with herself for feeling so eager. Since when have I become such a lovesick maiden? She thought bitterly, pushing the thoughts aside. Determined to appear nonchalant, she pulled on her boots and made her way over to Charles by the hitching post.

"Morning, Charles," she greeted, leaning casually against the post.

"Good morning, Kate," Charles replied warmly.

She couldn't hide the uncertainty in her voice. "Have you seen Arthur lately? I, um, wanted to talk with him about something."

Charles glanced back toward the trail. "He should be back any minute. I ran into him on my way in. I think he was out with Trelawny for a bit, robbing a stagecoach or something," he muttered, focusing on his hunt.

Kate blew out a breath and turned back toward camp, searching for some work to distract her while she waited for Arthur's return. To her surprise, she noticed Hosea waving to her from the center of camp. He sat comfortably in a folding chair, a newspaper folded in his lap.

"How's the heat treating that bullet wound?" Hosea asked, his tone friendly yet concerned.

Kate placed a hand over her stitches. "Aside from sweating through all the cloth, I'd say it's healing just fine," she replied with a smile. "And how are you feeling?"

Hosea waved off her concern with a chuckle. "I'm as good as they come, sweetheart, just an antique in need of a little polish, is all." He motioned for Kate to take a seat across from him, and she obliged.

"I've been thinking," Hosea continued, "you're a smart woman, and we could certainly use your help in this mess we've found ourselves in between the two dumbest families in Lemoyne."

Kate was about to voice her concern when Hosea cut in again. "Now, Arthur's told me you like to keep your nose out of trouble, and I don't blame you. Although it's not that easy when you're surrounded by a bunch of half-wits," he chuckled dryly.

Her mind lingered on the second part of their conversation. Arthur talked about me with him?

"I was thinking you and Arthur could go explore the Gray's plantation, talk to some folks, see what you can find out. Nothing illegal, no harming anybody, just gathering information."

Kate's face brightened at the prospect of spending the day with Arthur, even if it meant work. "I'd be happy to help, Hosea. I'll do my best to gather whatever information we need," she replied eagerly, a spark of determination in her eyes.

"Atta girl," Hosea nodded approvingly before calling out to Arthur, who had just returned to camp. "Arthur! Come join us. We're discussing a little venture for you and Kate. Think you two can handle Caliga Hall today?"

Arthur approached them with a warm smile, leaning casually against the post of the awning to escape the relentless sun. "I'm gone for three days, and suddenly you wanna run with the outlaws?" he teased, nodding towards Kate. "I thought you wanted to keep out of trouble."

Kate leaned back in her chair, a hint of smugness in her tone. "Last I checked, I've been running with outlaws for the past three weeks. Besides, there's no harm in talking to folks," she retorted confidently.

Arthur chuckled and shook his head. "Well, Miss McCanon, wherever I go, trouble always seems to find me. You sure you want to go?"

Kate wasn't sure why Arthur was using formalities with her all of a sudden. Was he being playful or trying to create distance? Whatever his intentions, she was determined to find out. "I think you know better than most, Mr. Morgan. I can handle myself just fine," she replied, emphasizing the formality of his name.

Arthur chortled as he gestured for Kate to follow him towards the horses. "Well, c’mon then woman. We've got work to do!"

Kate glanced back at Hosea, who wore a knowing smile as he returned to his newspaper. It seemed as though everything had gone according to his plan. She began to wonder if he had invited her on purpose, giving the two of them a chance to talk alone.

Kate felt suddenly nervous as she followed Arthur towards the horses. His playful demeanor and the sudden use of her formal name had sparked a whirlwind of questions in her head. Was he trying to keep their interactions professional, given their recent intimate moment? Or perhaps he was trying to mask his own feelings, unsure of how to navigate the situation himself.

As they reached the horses, Kate grabbed the reins of her mare, Lorena, and glanced over at Arthur, who was securing his saddlebag. She couldn't shake the feeling of uncertainty that lingered between them. A part of her felt a flutter of nerves. What if she misread the situation? What if their connection meant more to her than it did to him? She longed to talk to him about it, but found herself unsure how to broach the subject.

As they rode through the bustling streets of Rhodes and then onto the dusty road leading to Caliga Hall, Arthur began to fill Kate in on his recent adventures. The past three days had been eventful, to say the least. Trelawny had tipped him off about a lucrative stagecoach passing through Rhodes, but tracking down the informant had taken longer than expected.

Arthur's voice was tinged with gravity as he recounted the ordeal. "Took me nearly two days to track down Trelawny. Turns out, the poor bastard had been snatched up by bounty hunters. They roughed him up pretty good too." His words were laced with concern, and she couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for her earlier assumptions.

Kate listened intently, the rhythmic clop of their horses' hooves matching the steady pace of Arthur's story. The reality of their lives as outlaws became all too clear in that moment. Here they were, riding through the sunlit countryside, but the shadows of danger loomed ever closer. Trouble always seems to find me, and he wasn’t lying.

As Arthur finished recounting the past few days, some of Kate's concerns melted away. She realized how trivial her worries about their recent encounter had been. Arthur had been preoccupied with far weightier matters, yet he was here now, by her side. Perhaps his mind had raced with a million thoughts as well.

"I'm sorry, Arthur," Kate said softly, her gaze fixed ahead on the winding road, “I hope your friend is alright. It sounds like you two have been through a lot.”

Arthur turned to her, his expression softening. "No need to apologize, Kate. S’just part of the life we lead. Besides, it's good to be out here with you, away from all the chaos."

A soft flush crept up Kate's cheeks at Arthur's compliment, and for a fleeting moment, she entertained the idea of abandoning their mission altogether. The notion of spending the afternoon riding together, engaged in easy conversation, tugged at her thoughts like a gentle breeze. She longed to feel his lips on hers once more, the memory vivid in her mind—the taste of his mouth, the comforting scent of his presence.

With a bashful smile, Kate turned her gaze away, her attention drawn to the dusty road ahead. The path was flanked by open fields, the sprawling land filled with tobacco plants. As they approached the grand entrance of Caliga Hall, the imposing structure loomed in the distance, a reminder of the task that awaited them.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate marveled at the ease with which they slipped past the guards, thanks to Arthur's clever use of his newly acquired Sheriff badge and her guise as a journalist. The ruse seemed to fit naturally, lending an air of legitimacy to their visit. Their pretext? To delve into the rich history of the Gray family—a tale that promised intrigue and secrets.

Navigating through the vast estate, they engaged with a few hesitant workers, who reluctantly directed them toward Beau Gray, the youngest son of the family. The workers seemed wary, reluctant to speak openly about their employer, but they hinted that Beau was known for being talkative, perhaps to a fault.

They finally located Beau outside a tool shed, engrossed in scribbling a letter on an open book, seemingly evading his labor duties. His demeanor suggested a man eager for distraction, a perfect opportunity for Kate and Arthur to unravel the mysteries veiled within the Gray family legacy.

"Mr. Gray?" Arthur inquired, breaking the young man's focus from his notes.

Beau looked up with curiosity, setting aside his notation, “that would be my father, you can just call me Beau,” he replied, extending a hand towards Arthur before acknowledging Kate. “Hello miss,” he greeted with a nod, “what can I do for you friends?”

Arthur, ever the jester, retorted, "Oh, we's friends now, are we?"

Beau chuckled, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Not yet, but here's hoping," he quipped, flashing a friendly smile. "You know, we don't get a lot of traveling men around here, and suddenly there's a whole phalanx of mysterious, yet strangely helpful Yankees about the place."

Arthur's hand unconsciously drifted to his gun belt as the other scratched his chin. "Is that so?" he replied, intrigued by Beau's sudden observation.

Sensing the tension, Kate interjected, "Mr. Gray—sorry, Beau—we'd just like to ask you some questions about your family. You see, we're writing an article for the paper about your tobacco fields. The plantation has been quite successful, especially since the war."

Beau eyed her with suspicion, snapping his book closed. "And what did you say your name was, Miss?"

Kate hesitated, feeling the weight of her fabricated identity. "I'm Madeleine. Madeleine McCanon," she stammered, her confidence waning.

"Miss Madeleine, you're either a terrible journalist or an exceptional bullshitter," Beau teased with a grin. "Nobody in this old dust bucket town gives a damn about our tobacco fields. They're too busy getting drunk off the Braithwaites' moonshine."

Kate gawked, “I um, well we—you see we’re just,” she stumbled over the words. Arthur eyed the young man with a threatening gaze.

Suddenly, Beau burst into laughter, slapping his book against his thigh. "I'm just messin' with ya, Miss! I can tell you're looking for something. And it ain't some groundbreaking story. Don't worry, your secret's safe with me," he assured with a wink.

Kate flushed with embarrassment, unsure if she had just blown their cover. Was I really that obvious? Perhaps they weren’t the first travelers to sniff around their family feud. Arthur smirked under his hat and hid his gaze from Kate, it amused him to see her so flustered on her first job. Especially since she had teased him so many times with her own playful jabs.

Arthur maintained his facade as a simple sheriff. "I don't know nothin' 'bout a secret," he replied casually, playing along with the charade.

"Well, I got a secret of my own," Beau announced, setting his book down on a nearby wooden crate.

"You secretly normal?" Arthur quipped under his breath, shooting a quick glance at Kate.

Beau raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Nothin’," Arthur muttered, scratching the back of his neck. Kate swallowed a laugh at Arthur's impatience with the boy—a side of him she hadn't seen before. When he wasn't being gruff or soft, he could be surprisingly playful.

Unfazed, Beau continued, "The thing is, I don't care if you kill the whole lot of us," surprising Kate with his nonchalance, "and the Braithwaites too," he added in a hushed tone, checking around to ensure they weren't overheard.

Kate raised her hands defensively. "We ain't here to kill anyone."

"I love her, you know," Beau declared earnestly.

Arthur exhaled. "Love who?"

"Penelope," Beau replied dreamily, then shook his head. “But it's impossible, she’s a Braithewaite.”

Kate couldn't help but smile at the young man's lovesick dream. "Love tends to be complicated," she added sympathetically.

"I'm the son of Tavish Gray, nephew of Leigh Gray, and the grandson of old Murdo Gray," Beau paced with frustration. Arthur crossed his arms and leaned against the wooden shed, letting Beau ramble.

"We Grays have been loyal to the state. We've been murdering Braithwaites for years," Beau explained, revealing the deep-seated family feud. Kate's nerves prickled; this feud was more than stolen goods and moonshine—it was generations of bloodshed, and could get very ugly if they were not careful.

"Why are your families so hell-bent on killing each other?" Kate asked, intrigued.

"Who the hell knows! It was so long ago nobody even remembers," Beau exclaimed, his hands waving through the air.

Kate shot a glance at Arthur. This feud was messy, and they were tracking mud through their own home. "Sounds like a lot of blind loyalty and stupidity," she remarked.

"Exactly!" Beau exclaimed with emphasis, relieved that someone understood. "Why should I be loyal to some nonsense while she—" He paused, breathless, as thoughts of Penelope overwhelmed him. "Oh, Miss Madeleine, she's amazing."

Arthur chuckled at Beau's lovesick revelations as he continued. "She's like a woman from the future! Like tomorrow… if tomorrow turns out fine."

Kate smiled warmly, a glimmer in her eyes. Oh, to be young and in love again, she thought. She had missed that feeling—the rush of emotions, the intensity of desire. It was as if Beau and Penelope were characters straight out of Shakespeare's Romeo & Juliet, caught in the throes of a tragic family feud. Yet, despite the adversities, nothing could sever the deep bond they shared. She silently hoped their story would have a different ending than the fairytale.

Arthur stepped away, shaking his head slightly. “Kid, I’m sorry for your predicament. But there ain't much we can do ‘bout that. We don’t wanna get involved in your family’s feud.” he said firmly as he started to walk off. Beau looked crestfallen, and Kate hung back for a moment.

Turning to her with pleading eyes, Beau implored, "Please, Miss, will you help me?" Arthur halted at his question. "I'll pay you. The Grays, we always have money."

Taking Beau's hand in hers, Kate spoke confidently, "Of course I'll help you, Beau, and please, keep your money." Arthur shot her a disapproving look, but she paid it no mind.

Beau's face brightened as he hurriedly finished addressing his letter to Penelope. “oh thank you! Thank you miss, I know she loves to sit out in the gazebo on the edge of the Braithewaite property,” he explained, sealing the envelope with a lick. He then pulled out a small blue box from his pocket and handed it to Kate gently. “Will you give her this bracelet too? It's real sapphire, a brilliant blue, just like her eyes.”

Kate nodded, tucking the items into her bag. Her heart ached as she looked at Beau, wishing she could pluck the two lovebirds from their tangled nest and set them free. They deserved happiness. Families could be complicated, and blind loyalty only served to clip wings and poison blood. The least she could do was deliver a letter for him.

As they mounted their horses and set off towards Braithwaite Manor, Arthur finally voiced his thoughts on Kate's new approach to the family feud.

"So, now we're running errands for the boy with puppy eyes for some Braithwaite woman?" Arthur remarked, a tinge of bitterness in his tone. He seemed agitated that Kate had agreed to deliver the letter, for free nonetheless. "We were supposed to be gathering information, not delivering little trinkets and love letters."

"We can do both, Arthur," Kate responded calmly, her gaze steady. "We've learned that this feud runs deep and has a lot of history. We also know how influential the Grays are in this town, and they've got money—according to Beau, at least. Besides, this gives us an opportunity to speak with a Braithwaite. If Penelope is anything like Beau, she might shed some light on this mess."

Arthur sighed and shook his head. "This just seems foolish. Sneakin’ onto their property, looking for some young maiden. What if we get caught?"

Kate chuckled. "Oh, don't tell me you and Mary never snuck around," she teased. Arthur's head snapped in her direction at the mention of Mary's name. "Yeah, the girls told me all about that. You would sneak out of camp just to see her. Abigail even mentioned her father catching you two in the barn once—"

"Alright, that's enough," Arthur interjected, clearly embarrassed. "That's different. And remind me to tell the girls to quit gossipin’ about my love life," he muttered.

"It's not so different, Arthur," Kate continued, her voice softening. "It's young love. Delivering this letter is the right thing to do, the kind thing. And it might benefit us too. And don’t give me that 'what if we get caught' nonsense. You're a damn thief!" She grinned.

Arthur chuckled, a smirk playing on his lips. "Can't argue with that, I reckon.”

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

As they approached the grand white manor, Arthur led the way with purpose, and Kate followed closely behind. They dismounted their mares and hitched them to a sturdy tree just shy of the estate's property line. With a finger pressed to his lips, Arthur gestured for Kate to follow him quietly.

They moved between small sheds and dense trees, keeping low to avoid the prying eyes of the guards patrolling the area. The shoreline provided some cover as they made their way toward the back of the manor. Then, just as they had hoped, they spotted a picturesque white gazebo adorned with bright yellow and pink tulips.

In the middle of the gazebo sat a young woman with a plait of golden yellow hair—Penelope Braithwaite. She was a vision against the backdrop of blooming flowers, her delicate features illuminated by the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees as she fanned herself in the heat. Kate could see how a young man like Beau would be enraptured by her.

The two messengers approached Penelope as she sat on a chair in n the gazebo, Arthur taking the lead. "Are you Penelope Braithwaite?" he inquired politely.

"Why, yes I am," Penelope replied with a warm smile. "Who might you folks be?"

Arthur introduced himself, "Names Arthur, and this is Madel—"

"Kate," she interjected smoothly, correcting him. "Beau asked us to deliver a letter for him." Kate reached into her bag and produced the parcels, handing Penelope the letter first, followed by the small blue box, “and a gift.”

Penelope's eyes sparkled with delight as she clutched the letters to her chest. "Oh, Beau!" she exclaimed, "he is just so—"

"Strange?" Arthur blurted out, earning a light smack on the arm from Kate and a pointed look.

Penelope giggled softly. "Well, yes, he is a bit strange. But also so human," she mused, rising to pour tea from a nearby pot. "Our families are stuck in the Dark Ages, or cave people perhaps. I don’t know," she explained, handing them each a cup of tea, which Kate accepted gratefully.

Penelope continued, her tone becoming more serious. "Beau, he's different from all that, you know? But if they found out about us, my family would kill him. And probably send me to live someplace horrible like… Ohio," she added, clearly disliking the idea.

Kate listened intently, settling into a wicker chair across from Penelope. Arthur stood to the side, leaning casually against the railing, sipping his tea as if he were content to let the women handle the conversation.

"Have you ever been to Ohio, miss?" Penelope inquired, her expression thoughtful. Kate shook her head in response.

"Well, neither have I, but my Uncle has a factory there. He was the only one to leave the family. But he’s still a vicious snob," Penelope sighed, clearly frustrated. "Families are... are..."

"Complicated," Arthur finished her sentence, his tone understanding. He placed his empty cup down on the railing and leaned back comfortably, arms crossed.

Penelope turned to Arthur, sitting up in her chair with curiosity. "Have you got a family, sir?"

Kate noticed the brief glance exchanged between them, Arthur's eyes darting away when they met hers. "No... not really, miss," Arthur answered softly, his gaze distant.

"Well, my family can’t stand me. They say my ideas are above my station," Penelope huffed, her grievances evident. "They can all rot," she added sourly.

Kate sympathized with her, she was feeling suffocated by her family, misunderstood and invisible. From what Beau had shared about the ongoing family feud and the rigid divisions between the Grays and Braithwaites, Kate could understand why Penelope felt trapped. The feud seemed to extend beyond mere disputes over land or assets; it was ingrained in their identities, dictating their choices and relationships. The gravity of their circumstances painted a vivid picture of the isolation and despair that came from being caught in such a divisive and long-standing conflict.

As a woman of Penelope's status, Kate understood that her family would likely orchestrate a marriage, selecting a suitor deemed suitable based on social standing and economic advantage. This prospect robbed Penelope of her agency, relegating her fate to the whims of her kin. It was not a fate she wished upon anyone, unable to choose whom you love.

Penelope pulled a delicately sealed envelope from her purse and slid it across the table toward Kate. "If you see Beau again, could you please give this to him?" she asked earnestly.

Kate smiled warmly and took the letter without hesitation. "Of course, Penelope. I'd be happy to," she replied, her eyes reflecting Penelope's joy.

The young woman beamed gratefully. "I can't thank you enough!"

After bidding Penelope farewell, Kate and Arthur retraced their steps back toward their waiting horses, moving with stealth to avoid drawing attention from the vigilant guards. As they reached the safety of their mounts, Kate turned to Arthur, anticipating his response.

"I know what you're gonna say, Arthur," she began, her tone determined. “But we still have all day. If there’s something else you need to do, I can manage here just fine." Sensing he may disapprove of another letter delivery.

Arthur mounted his horse, turning to her with a genuine smile, and fondness in his eyes, “I’m right where I need to be Kate,” his voice carrying a warmth that caught her by surprise, “lead the way.”

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

As they rode back towards Caliga Hall, the late afternoon sun bathed the landscape in a warm, golden glow, casting long shadows across the rolling hills and reflecting off the surface of the nearby lake. The air was filled with the soft sounds of birdsong and the rhythmic clop of their horses' hooves. Kate and Arthur rode side by side, their horses moving with an easy familiarity. Occasionally, their eyes met for fleeting moments.

Approaching the stables, the rustic wooden buildings came into view, surrounded by the verdant greenery of the estate grounds. Amidst the bustle of stable hands and horses, the figure of Beau Gray emerged, his attention wholly focused on grooming his chestnut mare.

Kate dismounted gracefully, her boots landing softly on the packed earth. Arthur followed suit, swinging down from his horse with practiced ease. With a confident stride, the two approached Beau.

The young man looked up from his task, surprise lighting up his features as he recognized Kate and Arthur approaching. A broad smile spread across his face. "You're back so soon! Did she give you anything for me?" Beau asked eagerly.

Arthur casually draped his arms over the stable gate, leaning his weight against it as Kate retrieved the parcel once again from her bag. She handed it over to Beau's anxious hands, and he snatched it eagerly. "Oh, thank you!" he exclaimed, pushing past the gate and causing Arthur to stumble backwards.

"Easy, kid. Your woman ain’t goin’ anywhere," Arthur said with a chuckle, attempting to calm Beau's excitement.

Beau tore into the letter as he moved into the sunlight, finding a seat on a nearby wooden crate. Arthur shook his head with a smile and reached up to pat the boy's horse. Meanwhile, Kate moved to where Beau was sitting and leaned against the stable wall beside him while he read the letter.

"You two make quite the pair, you know," Kate mused, her gaze softening.

Beau glanced up briefly from the letter, his eyes filled with adoration. "Penelope is my sun and my stars, Miss. I count myself lucky to be graced by her light," he said poetically. It was clear that he loved her dearly.

Beau's eyes returned to scanning the handwritten letter, and after a moment, his voice grew concerned. "My god… this woman, she is going to get herself killed," he added, his tone grave.

Kate perked up at his comment, and Arthur turned around to face them. "What did she say?" he asked, curiosity etched on his features.

Beau sighed heavily, his distress evident. "The women’s suffrage march is today. 'Round here, they don’t even like the idea of men voting. They’d bring back the monarchy if they were given half the chance," he said with a bitter tone, placing a hand on his forehead in distress. "Progress is a dirty word in these parts, unlike incest," he added bitterly, folding the letter and sliding it into his back pocket.

He paced the floor of the stable, biting his nails eagerly as he continued to rant. "They want me to marry my cousin Matilda!" Kate grimaced at the idea. "I want to marry Penelope!" Beau's movements quickened, displaying the helplessness he felt in his heart. "They’re gonna—oh, her family will kill her if they know she’s at the rally!"

Kate intercepted his movements and placed her hands on his shoulders. "Take a breath, Beau," she urged, her voice calm.

But he seemed unable to calm down, continuing his lamentation and shaking his head at Kate. "They’ve done it before, miss. They locked her older sister in some old shed and left her there to die, all because she tried to run away."

"Shit," Arthur muttered under his breath, his expression darkening with concern.

Kate nodded understandingly, masking the fear that rose in her own heart. Their families were brutal, not only killing each other but murdering their own kin. Beau was not lying; Penelope would be harmed if something was not done. "What can we do?" she asked calmly.

"You’ve gotta help me," Beau pleaded, desperation clear in his eyes.

Kate nodded firmly, her resolve clear. "Of course we will, Beau. Where is the rally? We should get moving quickly." The young man eagerly nodded in response, slipping from her grasp to immediately start saddling the horse he had been brushing just moments ago.

Arthur stepped closer to Kate, his expression no longer one of annoyance but of genuine concern. He spoke in a low voice near her ear, his tone serious. "You know this is more than just runnin’ love letters now. This could get real ugly," he warned.

Meeting his gaze with determination, Kate replied firmly, "Nobody is dying today if I can help it. And I can’t in good conscience let them take this on alone. They’re just kids, Arthur."

He nodded with a solemn smile, a flicker of admiration in his eyes. "You're a good woman, Kate," he said quietly.

Their moment was interrupted by Beau's urgent voice. "We're losing time, mount up!" he called out, already heading down the dirt path.

Kate and Arthur swiftly climbed into their saddles, ready to follow. "Slow down, kid!" Arthur shouted after Beau, who was racing ahead.

"If we don’t get there in time, my true love might be shot!" Beau retorted, his voice filled with worry as they tried to close the distance.

Arthur nudged his mare forward to catch up with Beau. "Listen, Beau. If she wants to rally, you gotta let her rally. It’s her choice," he advised.

"As good as the cause is, Mr., I can’t let her become a martyr for it," Beau replied earnestly. "I can’t marry some statue built in her honor."

"She's a smart woman, I'm sure she knows what she's doing," Arthur reassured him, his voice calm yet firm.

With Beau leading the way like a knight in shining armor, the trio left the plantation behind, galloping down the road toward Rhodes. The urgency in Beau's movements reflected his determination to reach his beloved in time.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

They swiftly approached the wagon at the intersection leading into Rhodes, where women gathered around the sides holding up signs, preparing to march for their rights. Kate was awestruck by the turnout—a formidable group of determined women, their resilience and strength on full display.

Beau nearly threw himself out of the saddle and approached Penelope eagerly, who looked shocked at the sight of him. “What are you doing here?” she said earnestly.

Beau took her hands in his own, pleading, “I cannot let you go through with this, my love,” Penelope pulled her hands away disapprovingly, “they’ll kill you!” he urged.

“I’m ready to die for the cause,” she said rather dramatically, puffing out her chest and standing tall.

The young man gawked, his head turning between Penelope and Arthur before focusing on him altogether. “Do something, please!”

Arthur chuckled with a shake of his head, “Do what? Fight this mob?” He gestured to the group of women as the leader of the march gave a speech from atop a soapbox. “They’d eat me alive,” he quipped.

“This is not a laughing matter, sir! They need protection, mostly from my family. My uncle is the sheriff of this town, remember?” Beau said earnestly, turning his attention back to Penelope. “My darling, I beg you.”

Kate stepped between the two squabbling love birds, a determined look on her face. “I’ll tell you what, why doesn’t Arthur drive the wagon for you? That way you can focus on making your voices heard,” she suggested with a warm smile. “Beau and I will ride alongside you, keeping our eyes peeled for any signs of trouble.”

“Sure thing,” Arthur agreed, adjusting his hat. “I can handle that for you.”

Penelope beamed with gratitude. “That would be wonderful!”

Beau looked down, defeated, and Kate gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before they headed back to their horses. His lover climbed into the back of the wagon with the other girls as Arthur took up the reins.

Kate paused beside Beau, offering him heartfelt advice. “Beau, that woman of yours is like forged iron—strong, resilient, meant to withstand the heat. But if you try to hold her back, she'll start to rust. Let her show her strength, encourage her resilience. Support her, and you'll both turn out just fine.”

They followed along the back of the wagon as it began to steadily move down the dusty streets of Rhodes. Beau looked up at Kate with gratitude. “Thanks, Miss. I really appreciate that.”

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate found something profoundly captivating about forbidden love. It defied all reason and logic, drawing strength from adversity. Their love was a testament to resilience, a beacon of hope amidst turmoil. Despite every obstacle life threw their way, their love persisted like a flame in the dark, unwavering and enduring. It was a reminder of the spirit of young hearts, yearning for connection and understanding in a world fraught with division. The human desire to be loved would stretch across any ocean, face any storm. Kate wondered if Arthur's heart had felt like a hurricane the night they kissed, much like hers did.

As the wagon reached the end of the road near the bank, Arthur smoothly dismounted from the driver's seat and extended a hand to assist Penelope down. They had drawn quite a crowd—angry, drunken men stumbled out from their homes, shouting lewd remarks at the women.

“Mr. Morgan, I present to you the male of the species,” Penelope remarked sourly.

Arthur chuckled and rubbed his neck. “It’s a pretty dumb specimen, I’ll grant you that.”

The leader of the march ascended the stairs and resumed her impassioned speech. Arthur scanned the crowd and spotted Beau and Kate standing to the side of the building. Kate kept a watchful eye on the proceedings, while Beau's attention was solely focused on Penelope. Arthur noticed two men approaching them and decided to intervene.

“What are you doing here, boy?” demanded a balding man with a large gut, addressing Beau.

Without turning to meet his gaze, Beau replied sarcastically, “Hello, darling cousin.”

The man raised his hand as if to strike Beau. “Don’t you dare speak to me like that! Now answer me, what are you doing here?”

Beau sighed, showing annoyance but remaining unfazed by his cousin. “Trying to listen, I suppose,” he answered casually. Kate edged closer to Beau, assessing whether these men posed a threat. She shared a quick glance with Arthur, who was making his way towards them.

“Haven't you got something better to do? You cocky little—” The man raised his fist again, only to find Arthur gripping his wrist firmly. “What the?”

Swiftly, Kate positioned herself behind the second man and gently squeezed his shoulder. “We were just leaving,” she said calmly. “No need to get up in arms.”

“Who the hell are you?” the other man demanded.

“Like the lady said, we were just leaving,” Arthur repeated, guiding Beau away from the confrontation. They moved quietly to the back of the bank, out of earshot of Beau's relatives.

Once they felt they were out of immediate danger, Arthur chuckled and clapped a hand on Beau's back. “You know, I ain’t never voted before, but I'm kinda gettin’ hot for voting rights,” he joked.

Beau pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to hide his smile. “I don’t know whether to take you seriously, Mr. Morgan,” he sighed. “My cousins are a cause for concern. If they found out about Penelope and me…”

“I think everyone already knows about Penelope and you,” Arthur said sympathetically. “I just met you and I already know about Penelope and you.”

Kate turned to them, adjusting her hat. “Beau, I think it's for the best if you just rip the band-aid clean off. The sooner it's out, the sooner it's resolved.”

The young man sighed deeply. “Our families, we bury our secrets and we bury them deep. If we come clean about this, we would both end up buried under some silo next week. That’s our family's idea of resolved.”

Kate and Arthur exchanged a sympathetic look. “Listen kid, I think you and the girl need to leave. Get out of here while you still can,” Arthur advised reassuringly.

The trio made their way over to their horses, the sounds of the women's rally having died down in the bacground. “I will,” Beau said hopefully. “Once I have enough money. My family, well, they have plenty of money. But I don't.” He glanced back toward where Penelope mingled with the crowd. “I love her, I truly do.”

“Well, if you stay long enough, maybe you’ll die for her too,” Arthur said gravely.

“I thought you were trying to make me feel better,” Beau quipped with a smirk. “But I should probably go before my cousins find me again.” He reached out a hand and shook Arthur's firmly. “I appreciate your help, Mr. Morgan.” Then he turned to Kate and did the same. “Miss, I can’t thank you enough for your kindness. I hope I see you again sometime.”

Kate placed her hand over his and smiled warmly. “And I hope that when we do, it's far away from this nonsense,” she added with a wink.

Beau mounted his horse and took off down the dirt road back toward the plantation. Turning her attention back to Arthur, a satisfying smile tugged at her lips as the two climbed into the saddle of their own mares and made their way out of town.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

As evening settled in gracefully, casting a golden glow over the landscape, Arthur and Kate found themselves in a secluded haven about a mile from camp. They nestled into the soft grass near the serene shoreline of the lake, savoring a well-earned meal together. The air was filled with the delightful aroma of flowers, and the melodic song of mourning doves mingled with the soft rustle of leaves.

They laid out a simple feast of canned strawberries, crackers, and cheese, enjoying each bite amidst the tranquility of nature. The sun, now dipping toward the horizon, painted the sky with hues of orange and pink, casting a warm and comforting light over the scene. The gentle breeze carried with it the whispers of the day, bringing a sense of peace and contentment.

Their horses, nearby but unbothered, grazed leisurely on the lush grass, grateful for the treat after the day's journey. As they shared this quiet moment together, the beauty of the surroundings seemed to mirror the warmth and closeness between them, creating a space of solace and connection away from the chaos of the world.

Arthur removed his hat and laid back in the grass, he watched as Kate sat next to him, her eyes fixed on the changing colors dancing across the water's surface. In the warm glow of the sun, Arthur couldn't help but admire Kate's profile—the graceful curve of her nose, the delicate sweep of her eyelashes, the soft contour of her lips. Memories of the night they kissed stirred within him, a rush of nerves mingling with a sense of doubt. The past three days his mind had wrestled over the moment.

As if sensing his gaze, Kate turned to meet his eyes, her own radiating warmth like the sun's gentle embrace., “I had a great time with you today,” she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of shared moments. “Thank you for staying with me, and helping those young love birds.” She smiled.

Arthur nodded, a slight breeze tousling Kate's hair. They sat so close the wind brought her scent right to his lungs, he could smell the lavender shampoo she used, and the sweet smell of strawberries on her breath. His heart began to thump loudly in his ears, the familiarity of her presence stirring something within him. “You certainly make it hard to say no,” he remarked with a faint smile, “those two make quite the pair. You think they'll be alright in the end?”

Kate sighed wistfully, stretching out on her back beside him, their shoulders brushing lightly. "I know they'll figure it out," she said, her gaze drifting upward to the evening sky. "They're smart kids. They deserve happiness, especially in the midst of all they’ve been through."

Arthur glanced skyward too, clouds morphing into shapes above them. "If only it turned out that way for everyone," he murmured quietly.

Turning her attention back to him, Kate watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest, and studied the rough features of his face. She noticed the small scar on his chin beneath his beard. The dimple at the bottom of his nose, and the way it was slightly crooked. No doubt from a bar fight. Feeling bold, she snaked her hand through the grass until she felt the gentle warmth of his fingers. Sliding her own beneath his palm, seeking his touch.

Arthur turned to her, his expression slightly surprised. The air between them felt charged, filled with unspoken words that seemed to hang in the balance. As Kate sat up, she extended her hand to stroke his cheek, feeling the softness of his beard beneath her fingertips. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, and she summoned her courage.

"Arthur," she whispered, her voice barely audible, "I want to kiss you again."

Arthur's throat tightened, his thoughts obscured by shadows of uncertainty. He gently released her hand from his cheek, but retained it in his own grasp, his touch conveying a mix of affection and restraint. He looked into her eyes, which held a sea of anticipation and vulnerability.

Kate blinked, her breath caught momentarily. The response she received was not what she had expected, and a flicker of disappointment passed over her features.

"Sweetheart," Arthur murmured softly, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her skin, "you're a good woman. I know that. But I’m not some starry-eyed, lovesick teenager anymore." His voice carried a raw honesty, revealing a vulnerability rarely seen. "I–I’m not a," He faltered, avoiding her gaze, his thumb seeking reassurance along the ridges of her knuckles. "I'm mean, nasty, and ugly. You, you’re kind, honest, and beautiful. I ain’t the kind of man you deserve."

Kate's eyes traced the shadows on his face cast by the setting sun, her heart heavy with understanding. She couldn't bear the weight of his self-doubt. "I don’t think that's true at all," she said softly, her voice a blend of compassion and conviction. "Arthur, you’ve got a good heart. Maybe it’s been hardened by life, but I see the man you are beneath it all."

Arthur glanced down, and Kate lifted her hand, placing it gently under his chin to urge him to meet her gaze. "We’ve all got our scars," she continued, her eyes reflecting unwavering sincerity. "But those scars don’t define who we are. You’re strong, and you’re capable of kindness. I see it in you."

Arthur's expression softened, his gaze meeting hers with a mixture of gratitude and doubt. “Kate,” he murmured, his voice wavering. “I’ve seen things. Done things... I ain’t proud of. It’s just who I am, and I know I’m only gonna disappoint you.”

“But I’ve seen you stand up for what’s right,” Kate replied, her voice steady.

The air around them seemed to hold its breath, the evening sunlight filtering through the trees casting dappled patterns on their intertwined hands. Kate's touch was a silent reassurance, a gesture of unwavering support amidst the unspoken fears that haunted Arthur's mind.

As they sat there, a tranquil moment enveloped them, broken only by the rustle of leaves and the distant call of birds. Kate continued to hold his gaze, her eyes conveying a quiet determination. She believed in the goodness that lay beneath Arthur's hardened exterior, in the man he could be if given the chance.

Arthur had built walls around his heart, layers of protection forged from past regrets and hardships. But Kate was stubborn, undettered to find the cracks in those walls and gently chip away at them, revealing the heart within. She knew that beneath the rough exterior, Arthur deserved to feel the love and acceptance he had denied himself for too long.

“I’m sorry, Kate, but I can’t drag you down with me,” Arthur finally confessed, his voice heavy with regret, his inner turmoil laid bare by the words he spoke. He sat up abruptly, and Kate's hand fell into her lap. She longed to speak, to plead with him to stay and open up, but she sensed his nerves, his vulnerability. This was difficult for him, and he was struggling with his own demons. She realized this wouldn’t be easy. Real love takes time, effort, and patience.

“It’s getting late, we should head back,” he said standing, mounting Belle a moment later. Kate followed closely behind, settling into Lorena’s saddle.

As Arthur led the way back to camp with a steady gait, Kate rode behind, her gaze fixed on the broad back of the man she was beginning to understand more deeply. Shadows lengthened in the fading light, casting an ethereal glow over the landscape, but within Arthur's heart, she sensed a darkness that transcended the approaching night.

She noticed how his shoulders tensed and relaxed with each movement of Belle beneath him, as if he carried the weight of the world on his broad frame. The air seemed charged with unspoken emotions, heavy with the weight of his doubts and fears.

Kate's heart ached with a newfound ambition. She knew Arthur wanted to be held like a knife—sharp and unyielding—but she was determined to hold him like water, gentle and patient, allowing his ambiguity and unease to slip through her fingers. She longed to reveal what glimmered beneath the surface of this complex man, to show him the capacity for tenderness and love that he believed himself unworthy of.

As they rode on, the setting sun painted the sky in hues of gold and amber, the trees casting a long shadowy figure across the path. Kate's thoughts swirled like the breeze around them, grappling with the intensity of her feelings for Arthur and her resolve to break through the walls he had erected around his heart, and reveal the silver lining.

"I've got nothing but time, Arthur Morgan," she murmured, her voice a whisper on the wind, "I'm not giving up on you."

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megumimania · 7 months

Text

A BIRTHDAY — suguru geto

summary: geto’s birthday doesn’t come without a period of reflection.

content/warnings: geto x black fem reader, set a couple years after hidden inventory arc, established relationship, semi angsty, suggestive, italics are used to signify past conversations,am i late to the party yes but who cares! i fought tooth and nail for this not to have a happu ending

“so what do you say?” suguru’s hand reached out for yours with a charming smile that made it hard for you to say no to. “i’d say that this is the most insane idea you’ve ever had, but im in.”

you really don’t know why you took up his offer that day.

yes, you could argue that you were foolish. caught up in the fantasy of running away from all your responsibilities as a sorcerer or maybe it was because you were curious to see how his plan of eradicating all the non sorcerers in japan would play out.

the sounds of birdsong resounded throughout the grand estate. acting as background noise whilst you laid against one of the pillars out back as you lit up a cigarette—a habit that you picked up in high school. a time in your life that ended just as quickly as it began.

however that didn’t stop you from reminiscing about the memories. never did you indulge in them for too long though, afraid that you would be clinging on to a life that was no longer yours.

besides you lived a different life now.

you were older and now responsible for two adorable little girls mimiko and nanako. they were your entire world and you made sure they knew of that spoiling them rotten with a bunch of toys and cute outfits.

aside from the girls, you and suguru’s relationship was pretty rocky to say the least—years of built up emotions and unspoken words drove a wedge between you both. for you it grew harder and harder to turn a blind eye to what he was doing.

the constant killing of non sorcerers and consuming of curses changed him as a whole. his goals became more lofty and vague rather than being practical and tangible.this often lead to hushed arguments between you both that caused you both to bring your ideologies into focus, making you question if losing everything was worth it at all.

“don’t you think this is all getting out of hand?” you asked one night, wrapping up your hair for bed. too tired to even start an argument.

“it’s extreme yes but it’s necessary.” he replied with a chilling coldness that was unlike him. it was obvious he’d thought this was the absolute truth and you couldn’t convince him otherwise.

he was too far gone.

“necessary? are you hearing yourself?” you felt your blood run cold. the man you once knew now stood before you a stranger.

“i understand it may not be to your tastes but this is the only way.” he replied curtly, signalling the end of the conversation.

he never apologised. leaving you both in the constant cycle of fighting, fucking and making up with each other. some days you’d be playing happy families, taking the girls to school or the park which made you forget about all the chaos that loomed around you.

other days were spent meeting with potential clients who sought out geto as a last resort; using up most of their life savings or last pay-check in hopes that master geto could cure them of their ails or bad luck. you pitied them the most. they were usually the elderly who rarely never made it out alive unless they paid on time.

with a man like suguru the carnage bled into all avenues of his life; his blood splatters in the hallway, the blood on the walls, even on his robes. the metallic scent of blood still lingered when he buried himself in you. no matter how many times you scrubbed yourself clean, you still felt tainted by him.

however you couldn’t dwell on these thoughts for any longer, you had a birthday to celebrate.

you stubbed out the remainders of your cigarette and headed back inside, plastering a false smile on your face as you greeted the kitchen staff. you were presented with suguru’s cake—a rich chocolate cake that had the girls scribbly hand writing in red icing making you smile.

you and the girls carried the cake and his gifts to his room being sure to knock thrice. he opened the door his usual neat top knot now spilling across his shoulders, his robes quite disheveled—yet he still looked handsome as ever.

“happy birthday papa geto!” the girls said in unison holding out their gifts for him to take. suguru’s eyes crinkled as he smiled at them, taking the gifts and setting them down on his desk.

he locked eyes with the cake and you saw a glimpse of his former self peeking through. “you did all this for me?” he looked at the girls with disbelief, feigning surprise knowing damn well he heard you and the girls causing a ruckus in the kitchen.

“yes we did papa do you like it?” nanako the more outspoken of the duo asks but nonetheless their eyes sparkle in anticipation, eagerly waiting for their dad’s approval. suguru lifts them up into his arms and looks at them with such a rare softness that they only got to see.

“i love it more than anything girls, thank you.” he peppered the girls faces with kisses making them break out into a fit of giggles as they tried to break free from his grasp.

it was a picturesque sight of domesticity that you wanted to capture and relive over and over again until it was ingrained into your mind. until you could live and breathe this moment again.

once he blew the candles and the tendrils of smoke dissipated into the morning sun. mimiko was eager to ask what he wished for but in true suguru fashion he was tight lipped about it, standing firm even after all their pestering.

mimiko and nanako eventually gave up and left to play outside, their burning curiosity fizzling out. you and suguru were left alone and it seemed like the celebratory mood died as soon the girls left the room.

“what did you wish for?” you asked into the echo chamber of the bedroom. the silence was driving you mad. “you.” he replied not missing a beat as he inched closer to you. the way he said it with such conviction almost fooled you into believing him.

your treacherous heart betrayed you once again exposing how much you missed him, how much you needed him.

“you already have me.” you said matter of factly, clearing your throat as if it would quell the conflicting feelings of desire and resentment you had towards him.

suguru picked up on your conflicting wave of emotions and paused. “sorry.” he muttered before continuing “I shouldn’t have—I should go.”

and just like that the axis between you both tilted from growing tension to mild tolerance .

you wondered if you should’ve just caved in and enjoyed the fleeting moment of pleasure he offered, knowing how good his touch felt but you knew it was for the best not to fall for it again.

maybe one day you’ll both come to an agreement that this was no longer working. but you were just fine with dancing around the topic until one of you finally had the guts to end things.

#vina writes: jjk #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #getou x reader #geto x black reader #geto jjk #geto x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk geto #geto suguru #jjk angst #jjk x reader

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icarusignite · 1 month

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An Eye for an Eye Ch.10

MASTERLIST / ao3 / wattpad

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC

"I am malicious because I am miserable. Should I not be shunned by all mankind."

Summary: Lord Boros Baratheon of Storm's End is offered a chance to bend the knee to Rhaenyra Targaryen, and when he refuses, his ambitious daughter is more than happy to sacrifice him for his seat. And who better to support her cause than Daenys, the girl she has built a careful friendship with over the years for this very reason.

Word Count: 5.5k

The grounds of Dragonstone lay bathed in the soft hues of early morning, a tranquil aura hanging in the air like a whispered secret. Dew-kissed grass sparkled beneath the gentle caress of dawn's first light, while the distant echo of birdsong danced on the breeze, and Daenys Velaryon stood silently amidst the serene tableau, her figure a mere silhouette against the backdrop of the ancient stone walls of the castle behind her.

Beside her stood the Queen with a furrowed brow, her expression etched with concern as she gazed upon her daughter, sensing the coils of tension that wound so tight inside of her that she dreaded the moment she wound finally burst.

"Daenys," Rhaenyra's voice finally broke the silence. "Are you sure about this? You've only just returned. I cannot bear to lose you again so quickly."

The princess turned to face her mother, her eyes reflecting the weight of her decision. She reached out, taking Rhaenyra's hand in her own, the touch a silent reassurance. Pressing a tender kiss to her mother's hand, she then pressed it to her own forehead, a gesture of filial love and respect.

"I must do this, Mother," her voice resolute, her words inlaid with Valyrian steel itself. "I will return, and I will not return empty-handed. You have my word."

There was something dark in her tone, the same sort of vicious conviction that had hovered over her for the past few days, and Rhaenyra's heart clenched, a mixture of pride and fear warring within her.

"If this is truly your path, then I will not stand in your way, but before you go, I have something for you."

As Rhaenyra's words hung in the air, Daenys's heart quickened with anticipation, her uninjured eye widening in surprise as her mother produced the unexpected gift from behind her, withdrawing the sword slowly, its hilt gleaming in the soft morning light.

Daenys's breath caught in her throat at the sight of the weapon, her gaze drawn irresistibly to its familiar form. Tears threatened to spill, but she fought against them, steeling herself against the tide of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her.

It was stunning; dark grey, almost black, with a ripple-patterned surface that was distinctive to Valyrian Steel. Daenys reached out, her fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against the cool metal, tracing the length of the blade with a reverence born of familiarity.

Elegant in its simplicity, the longsword was devoid of the ostentatious ornamentation favoured by some, yet its beauty lay in the single sparkling sapphire embedded into the pommel, the colour akin to the clearest of seas on the calmest of days. It had been lovingly polished till it gleamed, well-loved and cared for despite the absence of its original owner, and just the sight of it brought back memories of laughter and the image of a smile that seemed permanently etched into Daenys's heart.

When she met her mother's gaze, a silent question lingering in the air between them, Rhaenyra's eyes softened with unspoken understanding, her lips curving into a tender smile as she answered the unvoiced inquiry.

"It was his."

I know.

Of course, Daenys knew. Her father had tried her with the very same sword. She had seen it every morning for years on end, and sometimes when he was feeling particularly generous, he'd let her spar with it. She had been curious about the fate of the sword, but it felt irrelevant in the face of his glaring absence, and she assumed it had been returned to House Velaryon along with the rest of his artifacts.

"Laenor had never been one for fuss or frills, you know that. But he would have liked for you to have it."

How do you know what he would have wanted?

Did you have it the whole time?

Why give it to me now?

There were so many more questions to ask, yet the forlorn princess could not bring herself to utter the words, and for that her mother was grateful. Rhaenyra didn't think she had it in her to provide truthful responses to her daughter's inquiries and she was glad to be spared the impossible task. She still hadn't reached out to Laenor yet, despite Daemon's insistence that having another dragon rider on their side would be useful. It felt too unfair. Laenor deserved to live a life free from the burdens of court that weighed so heavily on him, far away from the prying eyes and wagging tongues of all those who sought to slander him. To drag him back into a war of the Hightower's creation simply felt too cruel, and yet a part of her yearned to have him by her side once more, if only to tame the fire she could see so plainly in her daughter's eyes.

He was the only one who could ever mollify her, and by giving Daenys his sword, Rhaenyra liked to think she might stay her hand. Perhaps the memory of the father she had revered would placate her enough to prevent her from doing anything rash that would only endanger her further.

"Will you name it?"

Daenys realized with some guilt that she could not remember what her father had named the sword. Try as she might, she could not dredge up the memory, and it left her feeling off-kilter. She would have to give it a new name, one befitting all it meant.

"Queenmaker."

The sun was warm against her when Daenys set off for Storm's End, the waters below her were deceptively calm as she flew across. If she closed her eyes, the crisp morning air felt soothing against her face, and for a moment she could pretend that she was simply going out on a leisurely morning ride. The occasional stinging twitch in her face was remedied by the frequent sips from the flask at her waist, where a freshly brewed batch of the Grand Maester's tonic swirled. His words of caution echoed faintly in her ears as he repeatedly warned her not to overdo it, but Daenys didn't particularly care. It kept the pain at bay and if her fifteen-year-old self had taught her anything, it was that she was an expert at acclimating to poisons she wasn't supposed to ingest.

She gazed at the horizon and took a moment to enjoy the delicate pastel colours that covered the sky, a seed of reluctance taking root in her heart. She wanted this to end well it was almost pathetically naive. She wanted Lord Borros to apologize for his disobedience and swear allegiance to her mother, and she wanted to return to her Queen without blood staining her hands.

She just wanted to be her mother's little girl, unblemished and whole. She wanted to live in a world where her brother was still alive, and she was celebrating her name day with those she loved and who loved her in return.

She just wanted-

There was no time for self-pity as the ground rushed up beneath her and her dragon landed in the courtyard with a mighty roar. Daenys felt a flicker of unease when one of the knights stationed outside flinched at her arrival. She had never elicited such a reaction before. She had never been someone to fear, and she wasn't sure how she felt about it.

"I am Princess Daenys Valaryon, and I bring a message to Lord Borros from Queen Rhaenyra," she declared as she climbed off, head held high.

The knight nodded, turning to lead her inside and Daenys felt a strange burst of nostalgia. She had made frequent trips to Storm's End to visit Lady Cassandra, and it hurt to think about how the place that held such cherished memories had become her brother's grave.

Now, instead of recalling the moments of laughter and afternoons spent sprawled on the grass listening to Cassandra's melodic voice drifting through the trees, all Daenys could think about was Lucerys's final hours. She was walking across the same gravel courtyard he did, climbing up the same stone steps, and if she could just reach her hand through time, she'd grab him by the collar and drag him away from those foreboding doors. She'd pull him away before he ever entered, before he faced lord Boros, or her husband, before she lost him.

But Daenys Velaryon was no magician or witch and she could not reach through time. She remained hopelessly stuck in her unfortunate present, making the same journey her brother did, and hoping that this time it ended differently.

"Princess Daenys Velaryon," her accompanying knight announced.

There he sat, Lord Boros Baratheon up on his seat of stone, with a heart hewn from the same unyielding substance. He looked annoyed, a scowl painting his face as if someone had interrupted his breakfast. She met his eyes with an unwavering stare, though inwardly she bristled at the way his gaze lingered on her injury, appraising her with a calculating eye, his lips curling into a smirk

Daenys's hair, pulled back in tightly braided coils, left her face exposed, every line and contour on full display for an audience's perusal. She had allowed Maester Gerardys to pack her wound with salve and wrap it securely, but the scar was still visible no doubt, puckered and angry as it snaked its way down her cheek in a crimson line, a stark contrast against the pallor of her complexion.

"Well, well, well. Look who we have here. Another one of Rhaenyra's pups?"

Do not be rude. Do not be insolent.

The one-eyed princess took a deep breath. She had promised her mother diplomacy. She had promised to at least try and be civil.

"The Queen sends her regards," she uttered calmly. "And in her graciousness, she has offered Storm's End another opportunity to ally itself with her."

Lord Boros raised an eyebrow, propping his chin on his hand, suddenly curious.

"Oh? Is that so? I'm afraid this is no good. The House of the Dragon does not seem to know who rules it, or perhaps it is only a certain faction that is unaware of the circumstances. There is a King now. King Aegon Targaryen, second of his name."

Another deep breath.

"You have been misinformed then, my lord. There is a Queen. There only ever has been a Queen after the passing of King Viserys, and I sincerely request that you pledge fealty to her. Given your late father's loyalty and goodwill, your past impudence will be forgiven, I am certain. My mother is a forgiving woman."

You will find, however, that I am not.

The Lord of Storm's End laughed. He actually had the gall to laugh in her face, and Daenys felt something angry and violent simmer under her skin. She imagined Luke standing here, rooted to the same spot she was now. Sweet, gentle Luke who always needed assurance, who shied away from the mere mention of confrontation, who had been left all alone in this unwelcoming place with no hand to hold.

"I humbly urge you to consider her offer, my lord."

"Well, I never...the insolence!" Lord Borros sputtered. "The disrespect that she shows House Baratheon, reminding me of my father's loyalty, and taking mine for granted."

"This kindness is all you deserve to be shown Lord Borros, particularly after breaking your house's sacred oath," Daenys hissed. "Or did you forget that your family swore their swords and banners when King Viserys named Queen Rhaenyra as heir? Is treason truly that effortless?"

Her patience was wearing thin, and so was Lord Borros's it appeared.

"Listen, you foolish girl. I shall say to you exactly what I said to your brother when he came begging. Tell your mother that the Lord of Storm's End is not some dog she can whistle up at need to set against her foes."

"How dare yo-"

"King Aegon has promised the hand of his son, the crown prince Jaehaerys to one of my daughters. I would be a fool to reject such a generous offer."

"Jaehaerys ?" Daenys looked bewildered, her frustration momentarily forgotten. "He is just barely out of infancy."

"A crown prince is a crown prince. It will still ensure that my bloodline will one day sit on the Iron Throne. A Baratheon will be king in the future."

"I am not here to bargain or barter with you. Only to present my mother's message of goodwill...so one final time, I strongly urge you to accept her terms, my lord."

"Rhaenyra should stop sending more of her children here disguised as diplomats. You would think she'd have learned her lesson after what happened to the last one, but no, that girl was never one for common sense. It is obvious that the progeny of House Hightower is not to be trifled with," Lord Borros sneered and Daenys's jaw tightened, sending a stab of pain through her face.

"That girl is your queen" she snapped, scowling. "Speak her name with the respect she deserves or do not speak it at all! My brother met his end on your lands. If you cannot take responsibility, then the least you can do is show reverence. My mother is the Queen of Westeros and the 7 Kingdoms, and you will refer to her as such!"

Lord Boros's smile grew as if he was dealing with a petulant child, and in that moment Daenys felt like one.

Helpless. Foolish. Pathetic.

"Ah, Rhaenyra really outdid herself this time. She sent me an ill-tempered little girl to argue matters of state. Like mother, like daughter I suppose, and this is why women are simply unfit to rule," Lord Boros waved a hand at her condescendingly as if to dismiss her. "Return home princess, and hope that your husband takes you back after your treasonous display."

This was her breaking point, marking the single moment where Daenys felt something solidify inside of her. It was hard to ignore the primal urge coursing through her veins, a fierce longing to unleash the fury that simmered beneath the surface. Her fingers twitched, the metallic tang of her father's sword calling out to her like a siren's song, its weight a comforting presence at her waist.

She could almost imagine it, the image clear in her head. She would unsheathe the blade, and charge forward, the sword slicing through the air like the Stranger's scythe, each stroke a symphony of destruction as she cut down all who dared stand in her path. The guards, loyal servants of Lord Boros, would swarm around him like a protective barrier, their swords raised in defence of their master, but they would be no match for her.

The clash of steel would ring out like thunder, the sound of metal meeting metal echoing through the hallowed halls of Storm's End and Daenys's blood would sing when she would raze them all until all they lay at her feet. She would survey the carnage that lay in her wake, blood coating her skin from head to toe, a macabre tapestry of crimson that bore witness to the price of her vengeance.

There was more rage inside of her than she knew what to do with.

Still, it would not be enough. Not yet.

The final strike would be reserved for Lord Boros, and she would christen her father's blade with the blood of a lord. Then perhaps the ache would stop, if only to be replaced by the rot of sin.

But, the truth was, Daenys was no knight, no seasoned warrior hardened by years of training and battle. Even at her best, she could never hope to match the skill and strength of the trained sentries that guarded the castle walls. Her hands would tremble and she would find her sword suddenly much too heavy to lift.

With only half-functional vision, her depth perception skewed and her movements hindered, any attempt to confront Lord Boros and his guards would be nothing short of suicidal, and despite her desperate desire to meet the Stranger, she could not do it here. Of all places, Storm's End would not be her grave. Her mother would not lose another child here.

Delusions of grandeur could not change the harsh reality of her situation, and she felt foolish all over again. What did she even think to accomplish by coming here? She should have known this would happen, given the tales of Lord Boros's nature that his daughter had regaled her with.

"Very well, my lord. I do hope you remember that Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen made every effort to avoid bloodshed; to settle things with civility. You should know that only you are to blame for what is to follow."

"Is that a threat, princess?"

"No," Daenys tipped her head in a polite bow. "A promise."

And then, with a final nod of dismissal, she turned on her heel and made her way toward the exit, the knight who had accompanied her inside, far behind. She knew her way around well enough, and just as she turned a corner at the threshold of the gates, the sound of running footsteps shattered the stillness, echoing behind her. Daenys turned, her heart quickening with anticipation, to find a dark-haired girl gasping for breath as she sprinted toward her.

It was Cassandra Baratheon, her face flushed with exertion and her eyes momentarily blown wide with surprise as she beheld Daenys's scarred visage. For a moment, neither spoke, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air between them.

Cassandra felt a pang of concern, a flicker of a flame that might have grown into a wildfire if she let it fester. She wanted to take her face in her hands and peel away the bandages, to inspect the nature of the injury and ask her who had done this to her.

Her dearest friend, one of her most beloved.

She had a sinking suspicion that she knew the answer to her queries already, particularly after the show the one-eyed prince had put on just a few weeks ago. Cassandra had always found Daenys's eyes to be her most striking feature, and even now, she longed to brush away the stray strand of hair that fell over the bandage, to pull the truth from her like water from an old well.

But Cassandra Baratheon knew better than to pry, her curiosity tempered by their ominous circumstances. Daenys was not here as her friend, she was here as an envoy, and she no doubt held her family responsible for the demise of her brother.

"I heard you came," she managed breathlessly.

Daenys gave her a tight-lipped nod in response, her expression unreadable as she met Cassandra's gaze.

"And you're leaving again?"

The Targaryen princess shrugged as if to say, what is there to stay for?

"I...do not share my father's sentiments," Cassandra muttered, her expression darkening. "You must know that."

She didn't know why it was so important that Daenys knew that, but it was.

"You are his firstborn, his heir even," the princess finally spoke, her voice low. "I am sure your words hold some importance to him."

Cassandra snorted, "You don't truly believe that do you?"

Another shrug from Daenys.

"I am not even his heir. He keeps waiting for a son who will never arrive, and he refuses me my rightful inheritance."

As Cassandra's quick steps closed the distance between them, Daenys felt a rush of urgency prickling at her skin. Before she could react, Cassandra's hands were upon her shoulders, her fingers digging into them, practically slamming her into the shadowed alcove, away from prying eyes and ears.

The suddenness of her action caught the princess off guard, her breath catching in her throat as she found herself crowded into the narrow space, the cool stone pressing against her back. It was strangely reminiscent of all the times they had hidden from Cassandra's sisters during their games, but the atmosphere between them now held none of that pleasant nonchalance.

"If I were Lady of Storm's End," Cassandra's words were a harsh whisper, edged with determination, her gaze fierce as she met Daenys's. "I would not make the same mistake as my father. I would swear allegiance to the true queen of Westeros."

Oh.

This was a turn of events Daenys was not expecting. The last thing she thought she would see was Lord Boros's own daughter admitting to treason under his very roof, but perhaps she should have foreseen it. There was a reason that she was known as one of the Four Storms after all, and it had more to do with the fact that she became a force to be reckoned with once she set her mind to something.

Before she could respond, Cassandra stepped back, her demeanour suddenly casual as she brushed imaginary dust from Daenys's shoulders with a bitter smile playing upon her lips.

"After all, who would know better than I what it's like to be scammed out of one's inheritance."

As Cassandra searched for something else to say, the right words to say, a multitude of thoughts swirled within her mind like a tempest threatening to break free. There was so much she wanted to express, so many apologies left unspoken and grievances left unaddressed. But none of it seemed meaningful enough, none of it could bridge the chasm that was quickly forming between them.

With a heavy sigh, she found herself at a loss, her gaze dropping to the ground as she struggled to find the courage to speak. She did not want to dredge up the painful memories of her brother's death and remind Daenys of her grief, so, with a sense of resignation, she settled on the simplest truth she could muster.

"I missed you."

I wish you had not married him.

As Daenys made her way towards the waiting form of Silverwing, her massive frame dominating the courtyard like a titan of old, Cassandra found herself rooted to her spot, unable to tear her gaze away from the majestic creature before her—and her dragon.

The dragon's silver scales glinted in the sunlight, each one shimmering like a star in the daytime, and it waited patiently for the command to take off, large unblinking eyes fixed upon its rider with a mixture of anticipation and impatience.

The moments stretched into eternity, but Daenys remained motionless, smoothing her hand down the beast's side, deep in thought. The dragon shifted restlessly, her massive form trembling with pent-up energy as she shook her head and unfurled her wings in a silent plea for departure.

Still, Daenys could not make herself climb on and take her leave. Not yet anyway. Not when Luke's pitiful face swam in her consciousness. Her encounter with Casandra had left her feeling hollow. Gone were the violent thoughts of setting the place ablaze, because while her enmity with Lord Boros ran hot in her veins, she had nothing against his daughters.

She could not return home empty-handed though. She had made a promise, and of all the things she was, she was not a liar.

Briefly, she wondered if Cassandra was making an attempt to convince her father, and how effective her words were going to be for a man who held no regard for daughters, even if they were his own.

Daenys must have stood there for hours on end, and eventually, the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the courtyard, tension hanging thick in the air like a storm waiting to break.

Finally, the gates of the castle swung open with a heavy creak, and Lord Boros stormed out, his expression thunderous as he made his way to stand right in front of the massive dragon's agitated form. Flanked by four knights, his presence was imposing, his authority palpable in every stride.

Daenys's gaze flickered with curiosity as she noticed Cassandra trailing behind her father, her expression unreadable as she watched the scene unfold. But instead of joining Lord Boros at his side, Cassandra veered off towards a corner of the courtyard, beckoning for one of the knights to follow her. Daenys found the placement curious, but she had little time to dwell on it as Lord Boros's booming voice shattered the silence.

"You must leave at once. Your presence here is unsettling to my household, and I will not tolerate it any longer!"

Daenys met Lord Boros's gaze with a steely resolve, her jaw set in determination as she squared her shoulders and stood her ground. She knew that her presence was a thorn in his side, a reminder of the simmering tensions that threatened to boil over at any moment. But she would not be intimidated, not by Lord Boros or anyone else. She had a mission to fulfill, a duty to her family.

"I will leave when I am ready, my lord, but not a moment sooner."

Lord Boros's face darkened with rage, his fists clenched at his sides as he struggled to contain his temper.

"This is certainly no way to convince me of an alliance."

"I am done trying to beg for an alliance with a man who has no honour," Daenys voice came out soft and measured.

Perhaps it was a foolish thing to say, but her grief was her rage and rage made one foolish.

"You come into my home and threaten me. And then you say that I am the one without honour? It seems as though Rhaenyra needs to teach her children manners."

Manners? Where had manners gotten any of them? Her mother in all her sweetness had been betrayed by the one she called a friend. Her brother was the most well-behaved child there ever was, and he too had met his end.

No, Daenys was done being well-behaved.

"King Aegon will not stand for this," the Lord of Storm's End fumed. "The Baratheons are his allies. He will send men to deal with you. You will face severe repercussions for your rash behaviour. He will send his brother the Kinslayer to defend us even. One does not cross the likes of him and live to tell the tale. just ask your foolish brother, princess."

"I will deal with Aemond Targaryen when the time comes," Daenys spat, her husband's name poison on her tongue.

"You are no match for him. They don't call him the Kinslayer for nothing."

Daenys's fingers clenched into fists, her nails digging bloody crescents into her palms.

"Killing my brother earned him that title! It is not a fearsome thing to be boasted about. It is a brand for killing a child. A child!"

"Blood is always shed at war, princess. This is the way of things. You would know if you were older and less naive."

If Daenys was capable of it, she would have laughed at him. She would have laughed at his suggestion and the ideas he put into her head, ideas of his own annihilation. It would have been amusing if it wasn't so horrific, if the thought of her desires didn't make her sick.

Beside her, her dragon let out a growl, a jet of steam bellowing out of its nostrils and up into the sky. Behind her, Cassandra's words floated through her ears once more.

If I were Lady of Storm's End, I would swear allegiance to the true queen of Westeros.

Her brother's baleful last words echoed in her mind as well, as he tearfully asked her when he'd see her again.

You can't be the one to go first. I'd never be able to bear it. Just the thought of not seeing you for a few days is making me sick, forget an eternity. I'd never survive.

In a twisted sort of way, she had obeyed his final wish. She had not been the one to leave first. He had, and for that, she'd never forgive herself.

If blood was always shed at war, then she'd show him just how true it was, consequences be damned.

"Qēlos," she muttered to her dragon, using the High Valyrian name she had given it, though seldom used. "Dracarys."

The command was uttered so softly that only the great beast could hear, and it wasted no time, her instincts honed by centuries of obedience and loyalty. With a flare of its nostrils as the only warning, it unleashed a torrent of flame from her gaping maw, the searing heat engulfing the figures stationed directly in front of her.

There was no time for them to react, no chance for them to flinch or flee as the flames consumed them with merciless efficiency. Their eyes widened in realization, a silent scream of terror frozen upon their lips as the inferno consumed them whole.

The smell of acrid smoke and burning flesh filled the air, a sickening miasma that clawed at Daenys's senses and threatened to overwhelm her. She recoiled in horror at the sight before her, her stomach churning with a wave of revulsion.

She was now a monster, a purveyor of death and destruction, and the weight of that realization bore down upon her with crushing force. She had never taken a life, and now she had taken four. Tears pricked at the corners of her eye as she surveyed the charred remains of the men who had dared to oppose her, their once proud forms reduced to nothing but smouldering husks amidst the wreckage of the courtyard. Their screams had been cut short before they even had a chance to begin, their lives extinguished in an instant by her merciless fury.

Then, Cassandra strode forward with purpose, her expression resolute as she pressed a sealed letter into Daenys's trembling hands. The princess raised an eyebrow in question, her gaze flickering between the letter and her friend's determined expression.

"You may take this to Queen Rhaenyra," she commanded, her tone unwavering. "A letter from the Lady of Storm's End, swearing our allegiance to the true sovereign of Westeros."

How curious. Her father's charred corpse had scarcely cooled, but here she was already prepared to take his place. Daenys had to admit she was impressed.

"And in return," Cassandra continued, her meaning clear in her piercing gaze, "we hope that as our ally, the queen will support our house in its future endeavours against our enemies."

Daenys nodded in understanding, "Then I leave House Baratheon in your capable hands, my lady."

"I hope that you will return to visit...often...to commemorate our new alliance."

"Perhaps."

"That will have to do for now, I suppose. Thank you, and farewell."

The lady took the princess's hands in her own, holding on for a few moments before she had to let go.

"Try not to feel too guilty about it, princess. In times of war, extreme measures must be taken for the good of the people. And besides, he was never very good at being a father," she murmured into her ear.

Daenys was unsure if she truly deserved Cassandra's gratitude or her words of assurance, and they did little to put her at ease, but she accepted it nonetheless. What else was there to do? Her guilt would not absolve her. What was done was done.

As Daenys flew back to Dragonstone, she took several gulps of the Grand Maester's tonic, exhaling sharply as her wound throbbed anew. She thought this would have made her feel better. That it would fill the ache in her chest where the memory of her brother resided but somehow it had only made it worse. The emptiness became sharper and she wondered if Luke would think her a monster after learning of her actions. Would he have hated her if he had known that she was capable of this? She supposed there was a twisted comfort in not knowing. The fact that her darling little brother would never have to witness her becoming this horrific thing and that he only ever had good memories of her.

She was no longer her mother's little girl, unblemished or whole. The world no longer contained Lucerys Velaryon and she would never again celebrate her name-day, because now it was the day he perished.

Turning nine and ten had never been lonelier.

She was a murderer. She had taken a life. She had killed a man in the courtyard of his own home, but at least she was bringing home a victory, she was bringing her mother Storm's End, and consequences be damned, she would be the scapegoat and bearer of every wicked deed the Blacks would have to commit to win the war.

A/N: likes/reblogs/comments are highly appreciated, would love to hear your thoughts <3

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ecliptiz · 1 year

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𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗺𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗺𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀 ╰► REMUS LUPIN

Summary; Small moments with Remus lupin

Warnings: Not a lot of dialogue, just disruptions.

Masterlist

THE MORNING greeted the dorm room with a tranquil serenity, as soft rays of sunlight pierced through the gaps in the crimson curtains.

The harmonious melody of birdsong filled the air, accompanied by faint murmurs of fellow students bustling their way to the breakfast hall.

Inside the room, a symphony of peaceful snores resonated, blending with the chaotic mess that adorned the space. Clothes were strewn about, laundry baskets overflowed with a mixture of clean and dirty garments, and papers intermingled with prank plans.

Wrappers of indulgent treats and empty water bottles littered the nightstand alongside two wands.

A muffled breath escaped the tangle of blankets, followed by the emergence of tousled sandy brown hair, gradually revealing a visage marked by weariness. Slumber clung to the young man's features, his brow furrowing and lips pursing in a sleepy haze.

Traces of healed scars adorned his face, lending a touch of character to his tired countenance. With a gentle groan, he stretched his bare shoulders and chest, the movement exposing his surroundings and the slumbering figure beside him.

Remus, his brown eyes heavy with drowsiness, surveyed the room, his gaze traversing the familiar contours of the other three occupied beds.

His gaze lingered on the slumbering form beside him, a fond smile gracing his lips as he delicately pulled back a corner of the blanket, revealing the peaceful face of his beloved girlfriend.

Her eyes fluttered closed in response to the intrusion of light, her features scrunching momentarily.

A soft chuckle escaped Remus's lips as he reached out, his thumb tenderly caressing her cheek, his eyes tracing every contour of her face with affectionate adoration.

With utmost care, he rose from the bed, making a conscious effort to be as quiet as possible. He traversed the room, heading towards the small closet to retrieve a cozy dark blue sweater, intending to ward off the slight chill in the morning air and cover his bare chest.

Returning to the bed, Remus was greeted by the sight of his girlfriend's eyes meeting his own. Her gaze, still heavy with sleep, held a gentle allure that captivated him.

He couldn't help but reciprocate her sleepy smile, his own eyes conveying a tender warmth.

A soft yawn escaped her lips, her eyes alternating between closing and reopening, as if trying to fully awaken. She lifted the blanket slightly, extending an unspoken invitation for him to rejoin her in the comforting embrace of the bed.

Without hesitation, Remus gladly accepted the silent invitation, slipping back into bed and drawing her close to him.

She nestled her head on his chest, finding solace in the steady rhythm of his breath and the reassuring beat of his heart. His hand ventured under her shirt, tracing gentle patterns on the small of her back, further soothing her.

Your fingers curled around the fabric of his blue sweater, seeking comfort and security as you snuggled closer to him. His warm hand continued its soothing motion, gliding up and down your back, eliciting tiny goosebumps that danced along your skin.

The steady rise and fall of his chest, coupled with his tranquil breathing, almost lulled you back into a peaceful slumber. The serenity in his presence washed over you, infusing a sense of tranquility into every fiber of your being.

In a voice coated with sleep and raspy with remnants of dreams, Remus broke the comfortable silence. His accent, thickened by drowsiness."How’d you sleep?" he inquired, his voice a comforting melody.

Not quite ready to engage in conversation just yet, you responded with a gentle hum, your hand absentmindedly toying with a loose string on his sweater.

Nodding against his chest, you released another soft yawn, allowing the embrace and the hazy morning to cocoon you in a blissful cocoon of warmth and contentment.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

IN THE serene atmosphere of the library, the scent of aged paper hung in the air, lending a sense of tranquility to the surroundings.

Nestled in a secluded corner, Remus occupied a table tucked against the wall, shielded by a bookcase that added an extra layer of privacy. His hands cradled a weathered, blue hardcover book, its pages worn with the passage of time.

Dressed in a maroon-colored sweater that draped loosely over his frame, Remus exuded an air of casual comfort. His perpetually messy hair framing his face as he rested his head in his hands, engrossed in the words dancing across the page.

Suddenly, the scraping sound of a chair being pulled back interrupted his focus. Looking up, his concentration shattered, as he was met with the enchanting sight of his girlfriend. She gracefully settled her book bag onto the chair, her hair cascading over her eyes.

Drawn to her effortlessly, Remus leaned forward, gently sweeping her hair back to reveal her beautiful face. The world around him faded as his gaze locked with hers, momentarily forgetting the books and the hushed whispers of other library patrons.

Their eyes locked, and a tender smile spread across Remus's face. "Hello, love," he murmured softly, his voice a warm caress in the quiet library. "How was your day?"

You returned his smile, the softness in your eyes reflecting the affection you held for him. "Long, but it's better now that I'm here with you," you replied- cheesily so, sliding into the chair next to him. "What are you reading?"

He held up the book for you to see. "Defense against the dark arts, some spells I’ve been interested in," he said, his thumb absentmindedly stroking the spine.

You reached out and took his hand in yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. "No need, you’ve always been good with those type of things," you said.

A soft blush colored his cheeks as he looked down, feeling a warmth in his heart from your words. "Thank you," he replied, his voice tinged with gratitude. "And how about you? How was your day?"

You leaned back in your chair, resting your head against the backrest. "It was alright, busy as usual," you said with a small sigh. "But seeing you here makes everything better."

Remus leaned closer, his lips grazing your forehead in a gentle kiss. "I feel the same way, my dear," he whispered, his eyes never leaving yours.

You released a contented sigh, your heart fluttering as you felt the warmth of his lips lingering on your forehead.

Glancing at Remus, you casually asked, "Heard from Sirius that James got into it with Snape during Hogsmeade yesterday... Did he tell y'anything about that?" A playful smirk danced on your lips as you raised an eyebrow, awaiting his response.

Remus responded with a dramatic gasp, laughter bubbling in his voice as he shook his head. "No, I stayed with you last night, and the boys have been kept in detention all day. Haven't had time for 'em," he explained with a smile, his eyes shining with amusement.

You chuckled softly, settling back into your chair with a shake of your head.

"Those two, can never stay out of trouble, I tell you. First, it's cursin' first years to dangle upside down in the common room, and now, fighting up a ruckus in Hogsmeade... in the Three Broomsticks," you playfully complained, shaking your head with a laugh, and looking at your boyfriend with affectionate amusement.

Remus playfully wagged his finger like a scolding mother, his laughter ringing through the air. "Naughty boys," he teased, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You nodded in agreement, a smile playing on your lips. "Y'right, they've even infected poor Peter. Heard from a third year that Filch caught 'em trying to sneak into the Forbidden Forest for the fifth time," you recounted, shaking your head at their antics.

"Glad I had to tutor that day, saved me from a detention," Remus replied with a mock serious expression before bursting into laughter.

"Hmm," you hummed, getting your parchment and quill ready for your Potions work. Remus observed you for a moment before returning to his own book, both of you immersed in your respective studies as the peaceful silence enveloped you once again.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

YOU COULD FEEL the effects of the alcohol, a hazy fog clouding your mind as you swayed unsteadily across the makeshift dance floor in the Gryffindor common room.

A red solo cup was tightly gripped in your hand as you clumsily navigated through the crowd of people, trying to avoid the sights and sounds of couples entangled in each other.

Finally, you spotted an empty red chair and plopped down on it, your eyes scanning the room in a daze. A hand on your shoulder made you jump, and you turned to face a guy with sandy brown hair and warm brown eyes. "Y/N, c'mon darlin', that's enough drinks for tonight," he said with a slight chuckle at your wobbly state.

You wrinkled your nose in disgust and backed away, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. "Do-don't call me that," you slurred, hiccuping slightly. "O-only my boyfriend gets to call me that."

Remus couldn't help but laugh at your drunken state, finding it amusing and slightly offended that you didn't remember he was your boyfriend.

He attempted to take the cup from your hand, but you pulled away, accusing him of playing tricks. Ignoring your protest, he gave you a gentle smile and guided you to a quieter area, away from the party's flashing lights.

As you both entered his dorm room, Remus focused his eyes now that the distractions were gone. He pulled you closer, his voice filled with amusement. "Y/N, I am your boyfriend," he chuckled, guiding you to sit on the bed.

In your drunken state, you shook your head with a slurred response. "N-nuh uh, my boyfriend has better hair than you, I'm sure of that." You plopped down on the bed, your words stumbling out.

Remus playfully scoffed, realizing that you were referring to the recent haircut he had gotten before the party. "I'm sure he does, 'love," he laughed softly, moving over to his closet to grab a sweater and a pair of sweatpants.

Returning to your side, Remus held up the sweater and bunched it up at the armhole. "Up," he said simply, guiding your hands up as he helped you remove your other shirt and replaced it with the sweater.

You mumbled incoherently, commenting on how warm it was as your tired eyes began to droop.

Remus smiled affectionately at you, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "There you go, all cozy now," he said, making sure you were comfortably settled on the bed.

He pulled the blankets over you and sat down beside you, his hand gently caressing your cheek. "You know, you're absolutely adorable when you're drunk," he teased softly.

Your eyes fluttered open, and a sleepy smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "I am not," you protested playfully, snuggling closer to him.

Remus chuckled, leaning in to press a gentle kiss on your forehead. "You are," he insisted, "and I love you just the way you are."

Your gaze softened, and you reached out to cup his cheek. "I love you too, you big softie," you murmured, your words still slurred from the alcohol.

He leaned in to capture your lips in a sweet kiss, savoring the taste of you. "Let's get some rest," he suggested, guiding you to lie down properly on the bed.

You nodded sleepily, curling up against him. Remus wrapped his arms around you protectively, pulling you close to his chest. Your breathing gradually slowed, and soon both of you were peacefully drifting off to sleep in each other's arms.

As the night went on, the party in the common room continued, but you and Remus were lost in each other's embrace, finding solace and comfort in the love you shared.

#keeperofthestars #harry potter #james potter imagine #sirius black imagine #harry potter imagine #james potter x y/n #sirius black #peter pettigrew #remus lupin imagine #Remuslupin #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x y/n

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zapreportsblog · 1 year

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Sukuna’s Godly Husband

➥ summary : Yumi (M/n) had originally been offered up to the King of Curses, Sukuna as a sacrificial bride for his people so that they may be spared. In other words he was a lamb waiting to be slaughtered but something unexpectedly happened the King of Curses Sukuna took the human in to his temple and under the engraved stone walls, Yumi (M/n) had been declared the bride of Sukuna, forced to bare his marking on his shoulder and stripped of his human name.

➥ note : Hey so I know it says x reader for this story but it also has the tag Oc in it too, apologies for the sudden change up in the story but I felt as if Sukuna wouldn’t want a weak partner and well having a human name for the dude is literally him seeing you as weak, if you don’t want to read the name Yael please feel free to switch it up in your head and call yourself by any name you want

➥ chapter 4: A Tranquil Reverie

In the depths of the ancient forest, where the shadows danced amidst the towering trees, Sukuna, the formidable king of curses, and his human sacrificial bride, Yael, embarked on a tranquil journey. They wandered through the moss-covered paths, where sunlight filtered through the dense canopy, casting ethereal patterns upon the verdant ground. The air was thick with the scent of foliage and the gentle hum of nature's symphony.

Yael's steps were light, his heart resonating with a sense of serenity that he had never experienced before. Despite Sukuna's fearsome reputation and his own role as the king of curses' bride, Yael found an unexpected peace in Sukuna's presence. It was as if the forest itself recognized their connection, offering solace and tranquility as they meandered through its ancient embrace.

The duality of Sukuna's nature intrigued Yael. The king of curses, with his indomitable power and fierce aura, was known throughout the realms as a force to be reckoned with. And yet, here in the forest, Sukuna exhibited a calmness that belied his fearsome reputation. It was as if the dense foliage and the whispering leaves whispered secrets only he could comprehend, casting a spell of tranquility upon his being.

As they journeyed deeper into the heart of the forest, Yael found himself captivated by the intricate beauty that unfolded before his eyes. The play of light and shadow created a kaleidoscope of colors, as if nature itself reveled in their presence. The symphony of birdsong and the gentle rustle of leaves offered a soothing backdrop to their footsteps, blending with the rhythm of their hearts.

In the midst of this harmonious dance, Yael couldn't help but wonder at the enigma that was Sukuna. How had fate brought them together, binding a mere mortal to the king of curses? The answer eluded him, lost in the depths of their shared destiny. Yet, in the tranquility of the forest, the questions faded into insignificance, overshadowed by a profound sense of belonging.

As they traversed the forest trails, Sukuna's presence enveloped Yael in a protective embrace. He felt the subtle currents of power that emanated from the king of curses, an unspoken reassurance that he was not alone. It was a paradoxical comfort—one that Yael had not expected, yet one that whispered of the inexplicable connection between them.

The forest seemed to respond to their presence, embracing them as kindred spirits. The rustling leaves whispered secrets of ages past, while ancient trees stretched their branches as if reaching out to caress them. Even the creatures of the forest seemed to regard them with an uncharacteristic calmness, their gazes filled with a curious blend of respect and awe.

As they walked, Sukuna occasionally turned to Yael, his eyes reflecting a myriad of emotions. There was a deep understanding between them, unspoken and yet palpable. Yael sensed that Sukuna, for all his power and dominance, found solace in his presence—an unlikely sanctuary in the tempestuous sea of his existence.

In the tranquil depths of the forest, Yael and Sukuna found respite from the chaos that surrounded them. The worries and responsibilities that burdened their souls momentarily faded away, replaced by a profound connection—a thread woven through time and space, binding them together in an unbreakable bond.

With each step, Yael discovered a new layer to Sukuna's character—a complexity that defied the boundaries of human understanding. The king of curses, feared by many, possessed a depth of emotion that Yael had never anticipated. It was as if the forest itself had granted Sukuna a rare vulnerability—a momentary respite from the weight of his power.

As their journey through the forest continued, Yael found himself opening up to Sukuna in ways he had never thought possible. Words flowed freely, unencumbered by the confines of their roles as king and bride. In the hushed tranquility of the forest, they spoke of dreams and desires, fears and hopes, weaving a tapestry of shared experiences that defied their differences.

In the gentle rustle of leaves and the caress of a cool breeze, Yael discovered a sense of belonging that transcended the boundaries of mortal existence. The forest had become their sanctuary—a place where their souls could intertwine and their vulnerabilities could be laid bare. Amidst the ancient trees and murmuring brooks, they found solace in each other's presence, each step bringing them closer to the truth of their connection.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow upon the forest, Yael and Sukuna emerged from their tranquil reverie. The forest had given them a momentary respite—a glimpse into the depths of their intertwined destinies. With hearts brimming with newfound understanding, they prepared to face the challenges that lay ahead, fortified by the peace they had discovered within the sacred embrace of nature's sanctuary.

Together, they left the forest behind, carrying the tranquility of that sacred place within their souls. The bond between Yael and Sukuna had deepened in the tranquil depths of the forest, forever intertwining their fates. As they ventured forth, guided by the memory of their peaceful stroll, they embraced the uncertainty of their shared destiny, their steps infused with the enduring power of their connection.

#sukuna x reader #x reader series #x reader #sukuna x male reader #x male reader #sukuna’s godly husband series #sukuna godly husband #Sukuna’s Godly Husband masterlist #jujutsu kaisen masterlist

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virgoilluminati · 1 year

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Belongings

(Series Masterlist)

Chapter 7: “Leave America, two kids fall in love.”

A/N: (they don’t live in America at any point but I thought this lyric works the best for this chapter). GUYS I LOVE THIS CHAPTER because it’s evolving!!! I’m sorry this fic has been such a slow burn, but don’t worry it’s getting interesting now….

Warnings: Angst, but mainly fluff

Word Count: 2908

_____________________________________________________

Harry's heart raced as he lay in bed, his mind consumed by a vivid dream that had just unfolded. It was a dream unlike any he had experienced before, a dream that centered around a person who had captured his attention and stolen his heart—Y/N.

In the dream, Harry found himself in a picturesque garden, surrounded by vibrant flowers in full bloom. The air was filled with the sweet fragrance of roses and the gentle sound of birdsong. And there, standing before him, was Y/N, looking more radiant than ever.

Y/N's eyes sparkled like stars in the night sky, reflecting the moon's soft glow. Her smile was warm and inviting, melting away any trace of unease Harry may have felt. As he approached her, his heart swelled with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness.

With each step, Harry couldn't help but admire Y/N's grace and beauty. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders in soft waves, and her presence illuminated the garden as if she were a beacon of light. It was in that moment that Harry realized he was falling in love with her, with every fiber of his being.

As they stood face to face, Y/N reached out and gently took Harry's hand. The touch sent shivers down his spine, an electric current that connected them in ways he couldn't comprehend. Their fingers interlocked, and it felt as though time stood still, as if the world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them.

In this dream, Harry felt an overwhelming surge of emotions coursing through him. Love, desire, and an unyielding sense of connection flooded his heart. It was as though the dream was revealing his deepest, most hidden feelings for Y/N, feelings he hadn't yet had the courage to express in reality.

Y/N leaned in closer, her breath mingling with Harry's. Her voice, soft and melodious, whispered words that touched his very soul. "I've been waiting for you," she said, her voice carrying an unspoken promise of love and devotion.

In that moment, Harry's doubts and insecurities melted away, replaced by a profound sense of peace and belonging. Y/N's presence brought him solace, and he knew deep down that she was his soulmate, the missing piece he had been searching for.

Their lips met in a tender, passionate kiss, and Harry felt a surge of euphoria, a sensation he had never experienced before. It was a kiss filled with longing, a culmination of all the emotions that had been building up inside him. It was a kiss that sealed their destinies together.

As the dream continued, Harry and Y/N explored the garden hand in hand, their laughter echoing through the air. They danced under the moonlight, spinning and twirling, completely consumed by each other's presence. It was as if the world revolved around them, their love creating a universe of its own.

As Harry's eyes fluttered open, he found himself drenched in a cold sweat. The dream had left an indelible mark on his soul, and the thought of Y/N consumed his every waking moment. He couldn't bear the idea of her being engaged to someone else, of letting her slip through his fingers without a fight.

Determination ignited within Harry's heart as he made a silent vow to himself. He would do everything humanly possible to end Y/N's engagement and make her his. His mind raced with ideas, but one plan stood out above all others—taking her to London and showing her the things she would miss if she chose a life without him.

London, a city filled with charm, history, and endless possibilities, was a place Harry knew intimately. Its cobblestone streets, iconic landmarks, and vibrant culture had always held a special place in his heart. He believed that by immersing Y/N in the enchantment of this city, he could ignite a spark that would illuminate their shared future.

With newfound purpose, Harry began meticulously crafting a grand gesture that would leave Y/N breathless. He researched the finest hotels, exquisite restaurants, and hidden gems that London had to offer. He planned each day with precision, ensuring that every moment would be filled with romance and wonder.

Harry's first move was to secure the most breathtaking suite in one of London's luxurious hotels. He imagined surprising Y/N with a room adorned with fragrant flowers, champagne on ice, and a personalized note expressing the depths of his affection. The suite would be a haven where they could retreat from the world and indulge in their love.

Next, he plotted a course through the city's historic streets, leading Y/N to iconic landmarks like Big Ben, the Tower Bridge, and Buckingham Palace. He envisioned taking her hand as they strolled through the bustling streets of Covent Garden, immersing themselves in the vibrant energy of street performers and charming boutiques.

But it was the quieter moments that Harry cherished the most in his plan. He envisioned leisurely walks along the serene banks of the River Thames, where they could share intimate conversations and steal stolen glances. He imagined cozy evenings in quaint cafes, sipping warm cups of tea and sharing laughter that echoed through the night.

Harry's grand gesture also involved immersing Y/N in London's rich cultural scene. He dreamed of taking her to world-renowned theaters to watch captivating plays and musicals, enveloping her in the magic of storytelling and the power of live performances. He wanted to show her the enchantment that could only be found in the heart of the city.

As the details of his plan came together, Harry felt a renewed sense of hope and purpose. But in the midst of his excitement, Harry couldn't ignore the nagging doubts that tugged at his conscience. He wondered if his plan was too grand, too audacious. Would Y/N be willing to leave everything behind for a chance at love? Could he convince her that their connection was worth risking the stability of her current life? And most importantly, would she choose him over Will?

***************

Harry bursts into Y/N's bakery, brimming with excitement. He waves two tickets in the air, a wide grin on his face.

"Y/N, guess what!" he exclaims, barely able to contain his enthusiasm. "We're going to London! I got us these tickets for a spontaneous trip!"

Y/N looks up from behind the counter, her tired eyes widening in surprise at Harry's sudden announcement. She groans softly, feeling the effects of last night's escapades still weighing heavily on her. She rubs her temples, trying to shake off the remnants of her hangover.

"Harry, I appreciate the thought, but... I don't know if I can go right now," she admits, her voice laced with exhaustion.

She avoids making direct eye contact, feeling a sense of guilt about her actions and unresolved issues from the previous night.

Harry notices Y/N's discomfort and concerningly furrows his brow. He takes a step closer, placing a hand on her arm gently. "Are you okay, Y/N? You don't seem like yourself today," he asks, genuine worry in his voice.

Y/N sighs, feeling the weight of her mistakes and the consequences she must face. "No, Harry, I'm not okay," she admits, her voice tinged with remorse. "I messed up last night, and I need to fix things before I can move on."

Harry approaches Y/N with a determined look on his face, understanding the weight of the situation but believing that a change of scenery could help lift her spirits.

"Y/N, I know you're tired right now, and I understand the importance of addressing things with Will. But hear me out," Harry starts, his voice filled with earnestness. "Going to London won't change what happened, but it might provide a fresh perspective and some much-needed distraction. Plus, it could be an opportunity to take care of some important wedding preparations."

Y/N's eyebrows furrow in surprise as Harry reveals his plans. She tries to process the idea, knowing that she needs to face the consequences of her actions but also acknowledging the practicality of his suggestion.

"We will?" she asks, a mix of curiosity and confusion evident in her voice.

Harry nods, a reassuring smile on his face. "Yes, we will. I spoke to the lady at the bridal boutique, and she was kind enough to fit us in for an appointment. You need to find your perfect wedding dress, and we can also discuss catering options while we're there."

Y/N is taken aback by Harry's thoughtfulness and his willingness to help her through this difficult time. She searches for words, struggling to express her gratitude.

"Harry, I don't know what to say," she admits, her voice filled with a mix of surprise and appreciation.

Harry gently takes Y/N's hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You don't have to say anything, Y/N. I just want to support you and help in any way I can."

Y/N looks into Harry's eyes, finding comfort in his unwavering support. After a moment of contemplation, she lets out a small sigh, finally conceding to the idea.

"Alright, Harry," she says, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. "Let's go to London.”

A couple days later, the pair arranged the details, Harry was already finished with tour, and y/n had gotten Florence and her Father to look after the bakery, until she came home after a impromptu two night stay in London. She had even gone as far as to text Will to let him know of her whereabouts, however he had left her on read.

Y/N: Hey, I know that you are annoyed at me, and I completely understand. I had no intentions on embarrassing you, I just drank too much. And I’m sorry.

- read at 9:06am

Y/N: I’m going to London for a bit, just in case you want to reach me. Don’t worry, all is good- I’m just going to buy a wedding dress, because ps. I still want to marry you.

- read at 9:25am

************

As the train glided along the tracks, Harry couldn't help but steal glances at Y/N, sitting across from him. The morning sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a gentle glow on her features. She looked breathtakingly beautiful in her ensemble, wearing a short white turtle neck top that accentuated her graceful neck, paired with a brown skirt that hugged her curves just right. Her choice of big black boots added a touch of edginess to her overall look.

Y/N's hair was elegantly tied up in a clip, allowing a few loose strands to frame her face delicately. Harry loved how her natural beauty radiated without needing excessive makeup, making her features even more captivating. He couldn't help but be filled with adoration as he gazed at her.

Harry had planned this trip to London as a way to spoil Y/N and show her how much she meant to him. Surprising her with first-class tickets was just the beginning. He wanted to make this journey an unforgettable experience for both of them.

Caught off guard by Y/N's question, Harry's heart skipped a beat. He had been lost in his thoughts, envisioning a future with her by his side. Her remark brought him back to the present, and he stumbled over his words, struggling to find the right response.

"No! No, you don't have anything on your face," Harry stammered, his cheeks turning slightly pink. "I was just... I mean, you look really nice. That's all," he managed to say, hoping his words didn't betray the depth of his feelings.

Y/N's cheeks mirrored Harry's blush as a soft smile played on her lips. She seemed pleased by his compliment. "Thank you, Harry," she replied, her voice filled with genuine gratitude.

As their eyes locked for a moment, Harry couldn't help but feel a surge of affection welling up inside him. He wanted to tell her everything, to express the depth of his emotions, but he held back, afraid that he might overwhelm her. Instead, he chose to savor these stolen glances and cherish the connection they shared.

Harry's face lit up with a mischievous grin as he retrieved a packet of jelly beans from his pocket, a childhood favorite they both cherished. He interrupted Y/N, unable to contain his excitement.

"You'll never guess what I brought," Harry coughed playfully before presenting the jelly beans. Y/N's eyes widened in pleasant surprise.

"Harry, you didn't—" she began, but before she could finish, Harry interjected, "I had to! Come on, it's our first trip away in years."

Y/N couldn't help but laugh, her eyes sparkling with affectionate adoration. She reached out and grabbed the bag of jelly beans, popping a couple into her mouth. The flavors burst on her taste buds, evoking fond memories of their shared past.

With a mixture of tenderness and sincerity, she looked at Harry and said, "Ugh, I love you, you know that."

A wave of warmth washed over Harry's heart at those words, even though he understood they were meant in a platonic way. It was enough for him. It was a reminder of the deep bond they shared, built on years of friendship and shared experiences. It made him feel grateful for having someone like Y/N in his life.

"I love you too," Harry replied quietly, his voice filled with genuine fondness. He cherished these moments, where their friendship shone brightly, and he vowed to continue spoiling her throughout their trip, creating more beautiful memories together.

******************

“Harry, you’ve booked us two rooms?”

“Well, I assumed you didn’t want to share with me.”

“Nonsense.”

Harry looked at Y/N with a mixture of surprise and amusement. He hadn't expected such a response from her.

"Are you sure, love?" he asked, a teasing smile playing on his lips. "Sharing a room with me might mean putting up with my snoring."

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. "I think I can handle it, Harry. Besides, I'm not about to let you waste all that money on a separate room when we can enjoy each other's company in one."

Harry chuckled, clearly pleased with Y/N's response. "Alright then, love. If that's what you want. We'll save some money and enjoy each other's company."

They headed to the reception desk to sort out the change in their booking. Harry explained the situation to the staff, who quickly accommodated their request. Soon, they were given a room key and made their way to their shared suite.

The elegant hotel room had a luxurious king-sized bed, adorned with plush pillows and silky sheets. The room exuded sophistication and charm, with large windows offering a breathtaking view of the city.

As Y/N took in the sight, she turned to Harry with a mischievous smile. "You know, Haz, this room might be fancy, but it's missing one thing."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "What might that be?"

"A touch of our personal touch," she replied, slowly walking towards him.

Harry's laughter filled the room as he watched Y/N pull out the unexpected surprise from her bag. He couldn't help but find her spontaneity endearing. "Fairy lights, huh?" he chuckled. "Only you would carry those around in your handbag."

Y/N grinned mischievously, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "You never know when you'll need a little extra magic, Harry."

They both set to work untangling the lights and finding the perfect spots to hang them in the room. With each twinkle and glow, the atmosphere transformed into a whimsical wonderland.

As they decorated, their fingers brushed against each other, their laughter filling the air. It was a simple yet enchanting moment, as they weaved the lights around the bedposts and draped them across the room.

Once they finished, they took a step back and admired their handiwork. The soft, warm glow of the fairy lights gave the room a cozy and intimate ambiance. It was as if they had created their own little escape from the world outside.

Harry looked at Y/N with adoration in his eyes. "You're incredible, you know that?"

Y/N blushed and nudged him playfully. "Oh, stop it, you. But I must say, our room looks absolutely magical now."

He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her waist. "It's all because of you, love. You bring magic into everything."

Their eyes look at each other absorbing all the unexpressed love. But then suddenly, they pull apart. Y/N reminding herself, that she was Will’s. Not Harry’s.

“Yes. Well - anyways - what should we do in London. There’s loads of galleries and restaurants.” Y/N stumbles confused to what has just happened. Harry takes a step back, letting the reality dawn on him once more.

The sudden shift in atmosphere left both Harry and Y/N feeling a bit unsettled. Y/N's reminder of her commitment to Will brought a moment of clarity to her, causing her to pull away from Harry. Meanwhile, Harry took a step back, his mind filled with a mix of emotions and confusion.

Y/N tried to regain her composure, attempting to steer the conversation towards more casual topics. "Yes, you're right. We should explore the galleries and try some amazing restaurants while we're here. There's so much to see and experience in London.

Harry nodded, although his mind was still preoccupied with the intensity of their connection and the unspoken emotions lingering in the air. He couldn't help but wonder if there was something more beneath the surface, or if he had misinterpreted the moment entirely.

Throughout their time together, Harry couldn't shake the confusion that gnawed at him. He wondered if what he felt was merely a strong platonic connection, or if there was something deeper that Y/N was also grappling with. The more he tried to understand, the more conflicted he became.

Y/N, too, found herself lost in her thoughts. She pondered the intensity of that fleeting moment and questioned her own feelings. Was it a sign of something more than friendship? Or was she simply caught up in the excitement of being in a new city, experiencing new adventures with a close friend?

#harry styles #one direction #harry styles fanfic rec #harry styles x reader #harrystyles x singerreader #harrystylesfanfiction #harrystyles fluff #harrystyles fanfic #harrystyles angst #harrystyles x y/n #harry styles angst #harrys house

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eiloveir · 3 months

Text

a real dumb idiot! | #sasunaru

no warnings, just some mild language! fluff incoming!

descending into the ocean’s lucidity, accompanied by the passage of time as the sounds of birdsong that inspires thoughts of liberation and flying above the clouds. the area is still, and the calm of the surrounds is progressively broken by each footstep. neither dared to break the silence as both of them caught in a hesitant standoff, each wary of the potential repercussions that their words might bring—the events, the fears lying dormant beneath their thoughts.

their breathing seemed hard as though they were afraid their feelings might be discovered by the air itself. every look they shared was an entreaty, an attempt to say what they were afraid to say out loud. they carefully considered every action to hide the outward appearance of the rising feelings.

should they gather the courage to express their feelings or simply let time slip by—llowing their fates to be dictated by fate alone?

“sasuke.”

“naruto.”

their eyes met fleetingly, their names hung in the air like mist over a quiet lake. naruto attempted to break the tension with a nervous chuckle, his attempt at punctuating the otherwise strained atmosphere. beside him, sasuke’s expression remained stoic.

the truth was, naruto found it difficult to confront sasuke, his longtime friend, in such fraught moments. the tension between them seemed to thicken with each passing second— a yearning and uncertainty hanging between them like a veil. was this how it was supposed to be among friends?

“do you have something to say?” naruto ventured, his voice a thread breaking through the silence.

sasuke’s gaze flickered, his jaw tightening before he shook his head subtly. the weight of unspoken words lingered, heavily. among all their friends, in all their experiences, this was the first time he had felt such unease—struggling to find common ground or even simple conversation. it wasn’t just nerves; it was a confusion that intensified whenever he found himself alone with sasuke.

as the seconds stretched into minutes, naruto felt the rapid thud of his own heartbeat, each pulse seemed to antagonize the silence between them. he wanted to bridge the gap, to dispel the awkwardness that hung thickly in the air. yet, words failed him—caught in the emotions that bound them together in this moment of uneasy tension.

“you called my name too. do you have something to say?”

unable to stop himself from uttering, sasuke found it impossible to stay silent for long. no matter how hard he tried to hide his feelings, they bubbled up, insistent and undeniable. he couldn’t lie to himself about how important the friend standing before him was. yet, admitting his true emotions was a step he wasn’t sure he could take. after all, weren’t friends supposed to remain just friends?

“eh? i just felt awkward, that’s why i spoke. do you have something to say?” naruto asked, arms crossed defensively. he had intended to say something, but his nerves had gotten the best of him, causing his thoughts to scatter. besides, he wasn’t sure he could voice his feelings even if he wanted to.

sasuke stood up from where he was sitting, looking down at naruto, who had his feet dipped in the water. he took in naruto’s attire: an orange t-shirt, yellow jorts, and crocs. a small smile tugged at sasuke’s lips. despite naruto’s questionable fashion choices, he found them endearing.

“cute.”

“huh?”

shit.

sasuke’s laughter halted abruptly as he realized what he had just said. his focus on naruto’s appearance now shifted to a feigned interest in the surroundings, his eyes darting around as if searching for something. naruto, however, wasn’t about to let it go. a smile spread across his face, sensing an opportunity.

“what did you say?” naruto asked, standing up and stepping closer, placing his hands on sasuke’s shoulders to turn him around.

“i didn’t say anything, you idiot,” sasuke mumbled, his face flushing slightly as he tried to deny it.

“liar! i heard you!” naruto teased, his grin widening as he playfully shook sasuke’s shoulders.

“i said you look cute, okay?” sasuke admitted, exasperated, his finger lightly poking naruto’s forehead. “happy now?”

naruto’s teasing grin transformed into a sincere smile, his eyes sparkling with amusement and something deeper. “yeah, actually, i am,” he said softly, warmth spreading through him at sasuke’s compliment. the tension between them seemed to ease, replaced by a comfortable—albeit still awkward—atmosphere as they stood there, the waves gently lapping at their feet. but naruto wasn’t finished teasing. “so, you think i’m cute, huh?” he said, leaning in closer, his face just inches from sasuke’s.

their eyes locked for a brief moment before both quickly looked away. an unspoken tension filling the space between them. naruto, who had been teasing sasuke moments ago, found himself staring off to the side—his fingers fidgeting nervously. sasuke mirrored his discomfort—avoiding eye contact and fiddling with the hem of his shirt. a sudden warmth enveloped them, their cheeks flushed with a blush. hearts raced—pounding loudly within their chests—leaving them confused and lost.

“man, why do i feel this way?” naruto blurted out. confusion swirled inside him, unsure about the dynamics between him and his closest friend.

how did they end up here? they had been friends since childhood, yet naruto had never experienced such feelings for anyone else. when did it begin? it was as if one day he woke up—his heart set on always being near sasuke, knowing his every move, and above all, protecting him.

“do you feel this way too?” naruto’s voice wavered with apprehension.

“doesn’t take an idiot to figure it out.” sasuke replied, surprising himself with his candidness.

there seemed to be no way to salvage their friendship now—or so he believed. sasuke had known from the start what he felt for naruto, by showing it everyday through actions. yet naruto had never noticed, perhaps because sasuke expressed his feelings differently. his way of loving was unique. perhaps that’s why naruto hadn’t seen it.

jealousy.

it was through jealousy that sasuke came to grips with his feelings for naruto. he despised seeing anyone else touch naruto, be with him, or even hear someone else’s name on his lips. his attention had to be on him, and him alone. it was then he realized he didn’t feel this way about anyone else, not even sakura—only naruto.

“so, uh, we've gotten to this point—well, um... like, you know... screw it. is there any chance?” sasuke fumbled over his words, avoiding naruto’s eyes as he mumbled, staring down with no intention of looking up to meet naruto’s gaze.

“possibility of what, man?” naruto asked, still reeling from their earlier moment.

“god, why are you so clueless?” naruto’s obtuseness frustrated sasuke to the point where he couldn’t hold back his irritation at what was coming out of his mouth. “a damn possibility for... us.”

naruto blinked, caught off guard by sasuke’s words. he scratched his head, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “wait, you mean... like, a ‘you and me’ kind of thing?”

“damn it. what do you think it is?” sasuke replied, frustration lacing his words.

nervously chuckling, naruto rubbed the back of his neck. “well, uh... why though? you’re always saying shit to me.”

sasuke looked at him and chuckled softly. finally expressing his feelings felt like a weight off his shoulders.

“that’s exactly why,” sasuke pointed out, teasingly poking naruto. he found his flustered reactions endearing whenever he teased him. “so, is there a chance?”

hope.

that was what sasuke needed—to show naruto how much he wanted him, more than anyone else.

“do you realize you’re admitting you have a crush on me?” naruto grinned widely, enjoying teasing sasuke now that he saw this side of him. “come on, you’ve got a chance now. who am i to decline a friend’s request!”

“i’m not joking here,” sasuke insisted, his cheeks reddening. “answer me seriously!”

“i’m answering you!" naruto claimed, a mischievous glint in his eye as he watched sasuke’s face turn even redder, the latter averting his gaze shyly again. “i do, love.”

“you’re so damned to me.” sasuke murmured—he looked back into naruto’s eyes, a warmth spread through him.

#sasunaru #narusasu #uchiha sasuke #uzumaki naruto #naruto #sasuke #a bit rushed but goddamn #love this kind of dynamic between them #i fucking love sasunaru so much man #fucking help me #what should i write next?#Spotify

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itsvici0usbaby · 6 months

Text

Echoes of comfort | Bangchan x Cj

A/N: I wrote this for my best friend @funtimefloof It’s a little blurb to comfort her and show her that she’s not alone. Love you very much 🖤

Word count : 594

Warnings : none, maybe a little bit of anxiousness and feeling down but other than that just fluff

The evening sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm glow over the quiet park. Bangchan strolled along the winding paths, the gentle breeze ruffling his hair as he sought solace in the tranquil surroundings. As he rounded a corner, he spotted Cj sitting alone on a weathered bench, her gaze fixed on the ground, lost in thought.

Approaching her with cautious steps, he noticed the telltale signs of distress etched on her face—the furrowed brow, the trembling lips. Without a word, he settled beside her, leaving a respectful distance between them, yet close enough to offer comfort.

Cj glanced up, startled by his presence. For a moment, their eyes met, and in that fleeting exchange, Bangchan saw the raw vulnerability lurking beneath her facade of strength. Without speaking, he offered a reassuring smile, a silent gesture of solidarity.

The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words, yet strangely comforting. He waited patiently, allowing Cj the space to gather her thoughts, knowing that sometimes, the greatest solace came from simply being there.

"I'm sorry," She whispered finally, her voice barely audible over the distant hum of traffic. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, reflecting the turmoil swirling within her. Bangchan shook his head, reaching out to gently squeeze her shoulder. "There's no need to apologize. I'm here for you, whatever you're going through." Tears welled up in her eyes again, threatening to spill over. She leaned into his embrace, seeking refuge in his warmth, the weight of her burdens momentarily lifted by his presence. He held her close, offering silent support as she allowed her emotions to flow freely.

"I feel like everything is falling apart," she confessed, her voice tinged with desperation. "I don't know what to do anymore." Her words hung heavy in the air, echoing the pain that gripped her heart. He listened attentively, his gaze soft and understanding, as she poured out her fears and frustrations, each word a testament to the depth of her anguish.

"It's okay to feel lost sometimes," he reassured her, his voice a soothing balm to her wounded soul. "But remember, even in the darkest moments, there's always a glimmer of hope, however faint it may seem."

Cj nodded, her tear-streaked face illuminated by a flicker of hope. In that fleeting moment, she found solace in his words, a beacon of light cutting through the suffocating darkness that threatened to consume her.

"Thank you, Channie," she murmured, her gratitude evident in her eyes as she searched his face for reassurance.He smiled, a gentle curve of his lips that spoke volumes of his unwavering support. "Anytime, love. You're not alone in this journey. We'll get through it together, one step at a time."

The weight of his words hung in the air, a promise of steadfast companionship in the face of adversity. In that shared moment of vulnerability, Cj found comfort in the knowledge that she was not alone, that there was someone who understood her pain and stood by her side, ready to weather the storm together.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a blanket of darkness over the world, she felt a glimmer of hope ignite within her soul, a beacon of light guiding her through the darkest of nights. And in the quiet serenity of the park, amidst the gentle rustle of leaves and the soothing melody of birdsong, she found the strength to face whatever challenges lay ahead, knowing that with Bangchan by her side, she was capable of overcoming anything that life threw her way.

#bang chan #skz #skz channie #comfort #fluff #fluffy #support #stray kids #bang chan stray kids

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ravenclawwitchc · 1 year

Text

Endless Summer

One side dies, the other lives on for a long time, but with a happy ending. (Maybe?

In the afternoon, Kudo Shinichi and Mouri Ran attended the funeral of Mrs. Hope. At the time of her passing, she tightly held the pocket watch bestowed upon her by her husband on their wedding day and the cross medal earned by her son. All the inhabitants of the island surrounded her, including her husband and son. Time, ever flexible, reversed her body to its most exquisite state in memory—her white hair turned black, wrinkles faded away, and the bronze pocket watch regained its smoothness. Her parting words were, "I have no regrets." Ran leaned over the edge of the bed, her petite hand gently resting upon the rigid fingers of the departed, silently offering her blessings.

A reunion banquet ensued following the funeral as the sun slowly ascended towards the east. Shinichi and Ran graciously obtained leave, promising to arrive a little later. While the adults collectively hurried to the other side of the island to greet the newly arrived neighbors, these two children, hand in hand, clumsily ran towards their secret hideaway. They had made distinctive markings on the parchment map they had prepared a few days earlier in the courtyard.

Skipping through a lush expanse of wolf-tail grass and prickly juniper bushes, adorned with the resplendent blooms of the Endless Summer hydrangea, Shinichi narrowly avoided a face-to-face encounter with a swooping black-backed albatross. Fortunately, his companion courageously shielded him. After a hesitant circling, the albatross soared away, its wingbeats lost amidst the symphony of birdsong.

Looking up at the majestic creature, they watched it ascend higher and higher, riding the sunbeams that filtered through the foliage toward the island's edge. With a shared glance, they promptly followed its lead.

"Hey! We found it! It's right here!" Pushing aside the final obstruction, a towering leaf, a golden sandy beach emerged before their eyes, devoid of coarse gravel. "See, Ran? I told you, you wouldn't get lost if you followed me," the young boy exclaimed playfully, casting a proud glance at their intertwined hands, his sun-kissed face graced with a smile.

Ran squeezed the boy's hand firmly, observing the momentary quirk of his features, and narrowed her eyes with a playful smirk. "It seems that Conan is indeed more reliable than Shinichi, isn't he?"

During their preparations for the wedding in Hawaii, they clandestinely slipped away, temporarily delegating the various details, such as the banquet arrangements and guest list, to their respective parents. Despite their deep love for each other, marriage remained a weighty topic for these twenty-year-old lovers. They rediscovered the sensations of young romance, realizing their youthful spirits like any eloping couple, hearts thumping powerfully within their chests.

The darkness concealed their blushing cheeks, and they believed in an infinite realm of possibilities for the future, until the woman expressed her desire to return. The man, using getting lost as an excuse, continued to guide her in circles along the highways of Hawaii. Ran didn't believe the reason at all, yet she couldn't resist the fervent and bashful gaze of Shinichi.

"All of that is in the past now. Tell me the truth, though. Weren't you enjoying yourself back then?" The little boy had enough discernment to know when she called him Conan, whether she was genuinely angry or just playfully teasing.

Over time, this topic had ceased to be taboo between them. He smirked, pulling her closer and planting a chaste kiss on her ring finger, his eyes lifting to observe her expression. They shared an unspoken understanding, choosing not to bring up the interrupted wedding and redirecting their gaze toward the entrance of the underwater tunnel before them. "This is it, isn't it, Ran? The dinosaur."

During her childhood, Ran had a phase of being obsessed with dinosaur plush toys. She arranged the stegosaurus, triceratops, and tyrannosaurus rex according to their size, placing them by her pillow. When she passed by classmates in school who fervently idolized the tyrannosaurus rex, she couldn't help but engage in debates, her body bursting with fiery determination, ready to challenge those who dared to comment, "Liking dinosaurs isn't girly enough."

Shinichi was always there to support and cheer her on, unconditionally believing that she had the potential to star as the leading lady in Jurassic World, even when she blushed due to Yukiko's teasing. He would earnestly encourage her; little did they know that this was a prophecy that would be fulfilled in the distant future.

In her thirties, Ran finally had the qualifications to appear in such a production. On the green screen set, she almost burst into laughter due to the actors disguised as dinosaurs around her. No one knew what memories the actress, known for her disciplined demeanor, was recalling. Only Sonoko, who visited the set, worriedly held her hand.

Now they were truly inside the underwater tunnel, a remarkably long passage that no one had ever had the patience to venture to its end. The islanders wondered who could harbor such wild fantasies. Shinichi and Ran simply smiled upon hearing these speculations, reclaiming a semblance of the joy they experienced during their childhood adventures, hidden from Eri.

"Look at this, Shinichi!" The tunnel emitted a faint glow as Ran leaned against the glass, observing the various marine dinosaurs of all sizes outside.

Her gaze pierced through the dense blue of the underwater world. A majestic ichthyosaur gracefully glided by, its streamlined form and translucent body passing effortlessly through the tunnel, akin to a phantom. Yet, the tunnel itself trembled as if acknowledging its presence.

Ran recalled the games she played with Shinichi Kudo during their childhood. They would use the wooden floor as their ocean, maneuvering their dinosaur models to collide with each other. Sometimes her thoughts would wander from the game, focusing instead on the boy across from her who playfully uttered childish remarks. Sunlight danced between his brows and eyes. Now, in retrospect, she felt that her affection for him had extended beyond what she initially believed, reaching back further than their time in New York City.

Her heart trembled, and instinctively, she reached out to the side, her hand being effortlessly caught. She turned her head to look at Shinichi, knowing that he was reminiscing about their aquarium date. He had an unreasonable memory for every occasion when she refused to acknowledge their relationship, playfully keeping a tally for future reference. Truly a child at heart.

As they emerged from the silent tunnel, the melodies of birdsong reclaimed their sense of hearing, bringing boundless joy of life. On their return journey, they attempted to take a different path than before. Guiding their way was a short-tailed albatross, with a slight damage to its right wing and a red string tied to its left foot. As it took flight, the red thread traced a swaying arc, and its white feathers gleamed in the twilight.

Shinichi remembered that the albatross was a friend of the Kasahara couple on the island. He and Ran had dined at their home, where Mr. Kasahara, with his infectious smile, had treated them to ramen, a trendy dish for his generation. Reflecting on their connection with the albatross, they had once been buried together under scorching lava during a volcanic eruption in the Izu Islands.

The albatross led them to the reunion banquet, and the long walk left the two children with sore legs. Ran began to miss having an adult body. The adults on the island had a wicked sense of humor and enjoyed welcoming every visitor with a colorful spray. By the time Shinichi and Ran arrived, the venue was adorned with streamers, and parents, children, couples, and friends were dancing around a blazing campfire.

When the Kasahara couple saw them, the twirling skirts came to a halt, and they asked where they had been in the afternoon. But the two children remained silent, determined to let the mystery of the dinosaurs be something only they knew.

"Who came today?" Shinichi arranged the dishes for Ran. Since his arrival, he quickly became familiar with everything, and after her arrival, he went the extra mile to do all the little things for her. Mrs. Kasahara blinked her deep brown eyes, gesturing for him to look at the couple not far away. Unlike the laughing and joyful crowd, they remained motionless, embracing each other. They formed a silent silhouette as if burning in the midst of the fire.

"Was I like that back then too?" Ran gazed at them, feeling a long-lost sense of embarrassment welling up in her heart.

The encounter with Rose and Jack after their deaths allowed the aged woman to relive her youth, forever staying on that Titanic. Seventeen was the best time in Rose's heart. Many significant events also happened when Ran was seventeen—her childhood friend's disappearance, confirming their romantic relationship and, reunion. Yet, she met Shinichi as a child, as if denying the young adulthood, they were supposed to share after their long separation. Fortunately, Shinichi was understanding of her vulnerability, perhaps out of remorse. He knew the fleeting nature of their reunion, so he refrained from asking.

They brought the chiffon cake back to the yard, filled with Endless Summer, intending to save it for tomorrow or maybe yesterday. As they pulled up the curtains, Shinichi finally embraced Ran affectionately. It was the usual position they always slept in on the small bed, even though she teased his childlike body, unable to do anything. The dinosaur plush toy nestled quietly beside them.

Before going to sleep, they chatted about dinosaurs, hoped for rain the next day, and were reminded of playing It Takes Two by the couple they met today.

In the midst of their conversation, their silent gazes met. Ran thought to herself that life would be better if it only consisted of childhood. They had already spent countless days and nights together on this small island, but it felt too brief compared to her long solitude and his abruptly interrupted life. Perhaps one day, like Mrs. Hope, they would have no more regrets. But until that future arrived, they had unlimited time together.

FIN

#dcmk #shinran #kudo shinichi #mouri ran #detective conan #life after death #ShinRan

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