#are you truly receiving POWER? or are you receiving gifts? if its in HIS power it isnt in YOURS.

[chaoxfix]

god i need the algorithm to stop recommending lore olympus to me.

reframing a kidnapping of a woman as romance, and painting her mother as an overbearing shrew rather than rightfully worried and protective, and portraying the kidnapper as sympathetic ... what about my overtly feminist ass makes anyone or any algorithm think i'd enjoy ANY hades/persephone romance retellings.

at this point the only hades and persephone retelling i'm interested in is a retelling that focuses on demeter's love for her daughter. one where persephone's abduction and transition from kore, the maiden, to persephone, goddess of the dead and queen of the underworld, was one where she carries out a revenge fantasy against her abductor... She cannot fully escape the underworld, no; she is death, doomed by the narrative. Underground she will stay for half the year. But she will not subject herself to be trapped with him.

hades dies at dawn; hades dies in the spring light, by persephone's power, and a knife garnished with evergreen thistles. demeter holds him down, and persephone cuts the head. judith slaying holofernes; persephone slaying hades.

[merakiui]

100%

yandere!malleus draconia x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, pregnancy, implied baby-trapping, captivity, very vague and slight implications of codependency, angst note - your mobile phone was at 100% when he took you away. with time, the percentage has diminished. so, too, does your hope for a brighter future.

The windowpane is spattered with rain.

Sitting cozy in a cushioned alcove, you watch the droplets slide down in regal rivulets, consolidating to form single streaks. The scenery beyond the window is bleak and dreary—a despondent landscape of gnarled, leafless trees and scratchy brambles stretching towards a dark, dismal sky. Sometimes you liken the rain to tears, wondering if Mother Nature weeps for all creatures or simply for you and your situation. Rare are the days in which the sun shines upon the craggy stone façade of your captor’s castle, and she is as benevolent as she is cruel.

For all of its sumptuous splendor, generational wealth filling the interior with priceless heirlooms and relics, it is an empty, cold structure. You’ve taken to enveloping yourself in thick furs, if only because these furs do not speak like the monster who so humbly offers his embrace. Though you’ve always considered yourself of strong, sturdy mind, your restraint is thinning. As the days pass and you shed clothing sizes like they’re second skins, you find yourself drawn to warmth.

Which is, ironically enough, contradictory to your current temperament. The windows, frigid like the grave, provide solace you cannot find anywhere else—for it is only tender warmth you receive from him. Had he not been so merciful, perhaps it would have been easier to shrink away and truly loathe him with every ounce of your being.

And yet, in order to escape the warmth which enshrouds, you seek the cold, bitter windows and their rain-weary countenance.

Lying beside you on the pillows, snoozing the afternoon away, a calico cat snores idly. She was a gift from him. You were neglectful of your mental health and thus, as per his guard’s suggestion, he sought to find a cat to cure your loneliness and inspire some form of happiness. You appreciate Silver—genuinely, you do—but the good luck a calico brings is not nearly enough to rescue you from captivity.

She was a stray, a scrawny thing with a limp and one bad eye. You took to her right away, scooping her up in your arms and lovingly naming her Cotton. Similarly, she returned your affections, rubbing her head against your palm and purring pleasantly.

Now she likes to nudge the dome that is your stomach, a great, round thing at only six months. Sometimes you think she’s more motherly than you are. You’ve never been able to care for much of anything. Plants wither under your touch, recipes spoil even when you follow them to the letter, and your electronics crack.

Your phone, more fractured than your very heart, is cold in your hands. The screen is blank; it’s dying. It was at 100% before. Now it’s been reduced to a sad 7%. There is no reception or connection to be had in Briar Valley. Your phone, once so powerful and all-knowing, is but a hollow shell. Useless. A digital photo album will expire at its final hour, and there’s no charger. He offered to use his magic to charge it, but he has never known his own strength and you couldn’t risk losing the treasured memories stored within.

Sometimes you’d return to old message logs and read through them. Now you can’t do that, lest you drain the battery quicker than intended.

“So this is where you’ve retreated,” Malleus notes, poking his head around the corner of a towering bookcase. Concern settles on his features. “Are you well? Sebek tells me you were absent for breakfast.” “I wasn’t hungry,” you mutter, watching his reflection through the stormy glass.

Malleus glances at Cotton and then at your phone as it rests in your clasp. “May I trouble you to eat just a little, if only some fruit?”

“I’m not hungry.” He nods, stalling. “Will you join me for lunch?”

“If I must.”

A small smile lifts his lips. “Are you cold? It can’t be very comfortable to sit there for such a long time. You’ll catch your death.”

“I hope.”

He tuts in disapproval and shrugs out of his cloak, draping it over you even though you’re already wearing a fleece robe. Malleus assesses you with a fleeting once-over.

“It doesn’t hurt to layer. You must understand where I’m coming from, dearest. Extreme temperatures serve to weaken those who are already so fragile.”

“I’m not fragile,” you snap, turning to scowl.

He doesn’t flinch at the heat smoldering in your eyes. “You’re human.”

“How many times did you have to practice that to come to terms with it?”

Malleus’s verdant stare narrows; his frown tightens. “It’s the truth.”

“I didn’t think you’d confront it.”

“I must if I’m to understand…” He exhales through his nose, deflating somewhat. “You’re in fine health. The physician tells me so. There’s no need to worry ourselves with ineffectual what-ifs.”

You turn your gaze on the sprawling forest next, unwilling to discuss the report and its subsequent conclusion: If she remains in good health and follows the recommended diet for an expecting mother, she’ll carry to term.

“My phone is dying, Malleus.”

“Is that not life? Lilia once said so.”

“My pictures… My everything is stored in this phone. It means so much to me.”

“Truly? Is there not a way to make physical copies of these photographs?”

“Unless Briar Valley has the technology to do so…”

“I’m afraid not.”

Malleus takes a daring step closer, endeavoring to comfort you. Cotton cracks her good eye open to peer at him. She hisses low in her throat, a protector standing small against something so tall. Pouting, clearly disheartened, Malleus heeds her warning and chooses to linger just within the bounds she deems acceptable.

“Yeah, that’s what I assumed.”

You heave a dejected sigh, your shoulders drooping. Seeking to cleanse your visual palate, you power the device on. 5% blinks back at you, an insignificant number sitting in a corner that you normally wouldn’t have paid much mind to. Now it weighs heavy, a reminder that the end is encroaching.

“I would’ve liked to keep these photos forever,” you whisper, mostly to yourself. Malleus hums his acknowledgement; you think he knows the feeling—or some variant of it, at least. “If I lose these pictures…”

“Do you not have memories?”

“I do, but it isn’t the same. One day I’ll grow old and my memory will be frail. I won’t remember nearly as much as I do now. Those memories will become ghosts and eventually I’ll—”

“You will not.” There’s a finality to the declaration—you won’t leave me; you won’t drain or die like this mobile device.

You rest your head against the window. The cool glass soothes your soul. I wonder what the others are up to right now… You place your hand upon your belly. I wonder if they’d have any good ideas for a name. I’m terrible at naming things. I can never pick something that feels right.

“I’d like to have a funeral for my phone.”

But maybe there is no right thing.

“Of course,” he agrees, perfectly serious. You will have that phone funeral, just as you will have every other request you make—however patently absurd it may seem. (Every other request except for freedom, of course.) “Materials may not have the same worth as a loved one, but the experiences they provide are just as valuable. Surely, no? Otherwise I would not feel so troubled when Roaring Drago…” Pausing to search for the placeholder, Malleus glances at your phone. “Perhaps there is no greater tragedy than existence itself.”

“It’s the most bittersweet burden,” you echo, scrolling through each picture with wistful remembrance. “But then I’d rather know the fleeting frivolity of life than endure hundreds of years of solitude. It makes me appreciate everything that much more.”

You stop at a picture of you and Malleus, a photo snapped by Lilia himself. Part of you often wonders why he chose you—why he adores you to such a degree when you, like everyone else, will inevitably perish. But therein lies the allure: That which is unobtainable is even more tempting. And because there is only one of you, a human destined to one day return to her home world, your very presence is more fleeting than a dream.

To Malleus, who has always dreamt, fond and fervent, of the unobtainable mundanity of normal life, you are a sweet, tangible blessing.

“Horns, do you think I’ll ever get another chance to have my phone at 100%?”

He softens under the nickname. It means more to him than his lofty station. “Would you like to know that joy?”

“It would be nice, yes, but then I’d just get sad when it reaches zero. I guess I should be grateful it’s stayed alive for this long. Sorry, it’s a stupid question. Just forget it.”

“Nonsense. There is no such thing.” He reaches to touch your cheek, but Cotton hisses again and so he refrains. She stands on unsteady legs and climbs into your lap, perching awkwardly in spite of your rounded belly. The sight draws a deep chuckle from him. “Your feline friend is quite taken with you.”

“It’s probably because I’m warm. She likes my belly a lot.”

“As do I.”

You roll your eyes.

“Your beauty is most beguiling. There’s a certain radiance to your person. It’s very charming. Do you not agree?”

“Flattery will get you nowhere—definitely not in Cotton’s good graces.”

“I’m simply voicing a fact.”

Your hand slides down from your stomach to pat Cotton. She purrs under your touch, and a weak approximation of a smile tugs at your lips. Amidst all of this sorrow, she is a glimmer of hope. In a way, she’s like you—a stray without a place in this world, snatched from the cobbles she once wandered and confined in a cage of royal opulence. Your similarities are striking, if not immensely devastating.

“Fact or not, I don’t care if I look pretty. It means nothing to me.”

“To be impartial towards appearances… Quite a noble mindset.”

I never once thought you were scary or strange, Horns. Even now.

You look at your phone once more. 3% flickers back.

You’re just lost, and in being lost you found me. But I was also lost. I never even belonged in this world to begin with…

“I’m not going to be a good mother.”

“You can’t know that.” 

“I can’t even take care of myself.”

“I shall care for you when you find yourself unable to.”

“I’d rather you not.”

With Cotton having curled on your lap, slumbering peacefully, Malleus chances to close the gap. His broad frame leans to make up for the difference in height, and he runs cold fingers along your cheek. He brushes away the tears you weren’t even aware you were shedding.

You grip your phone in shaky hands, your shoulders hunched. There’s a piercing ache in your chest, pain stabbing all the way through to your heart. It persists when you power it off, unable to delight in pictorial reminiscence for a moment longer. Silent like death, you sob; seismic dismay shudders through you in waves. Distantly, in a forgotten corner of your brain, you suspect this may be the last time you’ll ever use your phone. The last time you’ll ever look upon the photos you’ve amassed. Photos of friends, class notes, food. Photos snapped by mistake, blurry and unfocused. Photos taken when Ace and Grim stole your phone. Precious memories are preserved within the permanence of a photo album—an album that only remains everlasting so long as you keep your phone charged.

Your final shred of the world beyond Briar Valley vanishes in a blip, leaving you with the dark void that is an empty screen. Brutal is the agony, contorting your face, and you bawl like you’ve just witnessed the end of a life.

In a way, you have. You held it in the palm of your hands, and you watched it wither. Watched the percentages drop through numbers, double digits easing into singles. Watched every week and tried to spare your beloved phone of its fate. Watched and attempted to stall the impossible—a foolish undertaking. This was inevitable; you knew this, and yet you’re still mourning.

Perhaps that is the most tragic facet of existence. From the moment one is born, they are mourning. Humans mourn losing time—of allowing it to slip through their fingers when they should have put it to better use. Humans mourn aging even though it is celebrated yearly. Humans mourn for things that are inhuman—for robots stuck in an endless cycle of some menial task while gears grow rusted and systems shut down or trapped on a distant planet, never to return home. For the fruit that falls from trees and rots, trampled and forgotten. For the endings, good and bad, of novels. For art that will never see the light of day because it has been destroyed or stolen or silenced. For the friends they meet, have met, and will meet.

You mourn because you know it’s impending, and you spend all of your life coming to terms with it, only to break down when it finally happens because the truth of the matter is that you will never be prepared no matter how much you prepare yourself. You mourn because you’re a complex human with complex emotions, surviving in a complex world with millions of intricacies, and the only way to weather misery is to mourn.

To the little life cradled in your womb, who knows not of these difficulties yet, they cannot fathom the anguish that accompanies loss. And right now that is all you can hope for—a life without loss.

But that is impossible because loss is true to everyone’s experience. It is part of existence, and existence is inescapable.

Malleus does not gather you in his arms. He will do so if you ask, and he knows you want to ask, which is precisely why he waits. But you’re stubborn and you refuse to give in to the temptation, let alone grant him the satisfaction. It doesn’t offend him.

The windowpane is spattered with rain. So, too, is your phone, spotted with tears and snot.

Briefly, you wonder if you still look beautiful to Malleus.

Even at your ugliest, he would still cherish you. Desperately, as if he might lose you.

Knowing this does not soften the gutting grief.

[basset-babe]

five times: the one point five.

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

warnings: none but gossip yet again

word count: 2.9k+

a/n: please do send me a message or comment down if you would like to be added on the succeeding taglists for the five times series! here is 1.5 times with ben. enjoy! thanks loves <3! (also, pls do imagine ben holding a graft rose for this one heh)

five times series: the first. the one point five. the second. the third. the three point five. the fourth . at last. text divider from @heavenlayt and pattern banner from @cafekitsune thank you!

the one point five time.

In the hours of sunlight, callers have flooded the Y/L/N drawing room. All bringing gifts and performances in hopes to win the favourable yes of the season's paragon, Miss Y/N Y/L/N. The grand parlor, adorned with exquisite tapestries and sparkling chandeliers, buzzed with the lively hum of conversations and the tinkling laughter of society’s elite. Lavish bouquets of rare, fragrant flowers filled the room, their heady scent mingling with the aroma of freshly brewed tea and delectable pastries arrayed on silver platters.

Gentlemen, dressed in their finest attire, lined up to present their offerings to Miss Y/L/N, each one more extravagant than the last. Some brought intricate jewelry, glittering with precious stones, while others offered rare books, hoping to appeal to her reputed love of literature. Musicians performed virtuoso pieces on the grand piano, their fingers dancing over the keys in a bid to capture her attention through the power of melody. Poets recited verses composed in her honor, their words dripping with adoration and longing.

Miss Y/L/N, the epitome of grace and poise, received each suitor with a warm smile and a gracious word. Her eyes, sparkling with intelligence and kindness, moved across the room, acknowledging the efforts and intentions of each visitor. Her charm was such that even a simple nod or a softly spoken thank you felt like a cherished treasure to the eager suitors.

The hour had struck past 1 in the afternoon when, hopefully, the last caller of the day had bid his farewells. The Y/L/N drawing room, which had been a whirlwind of activity, now began to settle into a quieter, more contemplative atmosphere. The sunlight streaming through the large windows cast a bright hue over the room, highlighting the opulent furnishings and the array of gifts that had been presented to Miss Y/N Y/L/N throughout the morning.

Servants moved gracefully, clearing away the remnants of the lavish spread of refreshments while ensuring that every detail of the room remained immaculate. The air was still fragrant with the scent of roses, lilies, and other exotic flowers that had been brought by admirers, creating a heady, almost intoxicating environment.

"As much as I do love botanicals, all these flowers have turned obnoxious to my senses, Grandmama," Y/N sighed, feeling the urge to slouch on the couch. Her frame was poised elegantly despite her weariness, a testament to her upbringing and the endless etiquette lessons she had endured.

Her grandmother, the Viscountess Y/L/N, reentered the room with a look of satisfaction mixed with maternal concern. "My dear," she said softly, "you have conducted yourself admirably. The attention you have garnered is truly remarkable, but alas, this be the trials of being the season's paragon," she said with jest. "A small price to pay for such adoration and the opportunities it presents."

Y/N allowed herself a small, rueful smile. "It has been a most eventful day. I do hope I have shown the proper appreciation to each caller." She gently plucked a stray petal from her gown, its soft texture a stark contrast to her current mood.

"Rest assured, my dear, that this too shall pass," her grandmother replied soothingly. "Soon, you will look back on these days with fondness, perhaps even in laughter."

Y/N nodded, though she wasn't entirely convinced. She admired her grandmother's ability to see the positive in any situation. Lady Y/L/N had once been the toast of her own social season, and her wisdom was hard-earned through years of navigating similar waters.

"Would it be terribly improper to open a window, Grandmama?" Y/N asked, her eyes drifting towards the heavy drapes that concealed the afternoon breeze. "I believe a bit of fresh air might revive my spirits."

The Viscountess chuckled softly. "Not at all, my dear. In fact, I think it would do us both good." She motioned to a nearby maid, who quickly moved to pull back the drapes and open the window, allowing a refreshing breeze to sweep into the room. The cool air carried with it the scents of the garden outside, a welcome contrast to the overwhelming floral arrangements within.

Y/N took a deep breath, feeling instantly more at ease. "Thank you, Grandmama. That is much better."

"Now, my dear," Mrs. Y/L/N said, her tone becoming more serious, "while you have a moment of peace, tell me—was there any caller today who truly caught your eye?"

Y/N considered the question carefully. There had been many suitors, each with their own merits. Some had been charming, others earnest, and a few rather boastful. But it was not that she minded all these suitors; it was who she looked forward to that truly occupied her thoughts. It had been this Bridgerton man she'd hoped would be calling on her the entire morning. Unfortunately, he had not been seen yet in this drawing room.

"Y/N, my dear, are you still with us?" Lady Y/L/N's gentle voice broke through her reverie.

"Yes, Grandmama," Y/N replied, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "I was merely thinking."

"About anyone in particular?" her grandmother inquired with a knowing smile.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then decided there was no point in hiding her thoughts from her perceptive grandmother. "To be quite honest, I was hoping to see Mr. Bridgerton today.. well as of this morn," she admitted. "I fear he may have been otherwise engaged."

"Ah, Mr. Bridgerton," Lady Y/L/N said thoughtfully. "A fine young man, from a respected family. It is no wonder you look forward to his call. Perhaps he will still make an appearance."

Y/N nodded, though she knew the likelihood was slim as the noon wore on. She took another deep breath of the fresh air now circulating through the room, trying to shake off her disappointment. The season was long, and there would be other opportunities to see him again.

"There was Sir Nicholas Deveraeux. He was quite charming," Y/N remarked.

"He comes from a good family as well, but I've heard his uncle," Her grandmother leaned in conspiratorially, "envies the crown."

Y/N laughed at the Viscountess' antics. "Grandmama, that's quite scandalous. Wherever did you hear such a thing?" Y/N laughed.

"Deborah told me," her grandmother said, motioning to her maid. Y/N couldn't help but laugh at the notion of her grandmama indulging in gossip. "But I must tell you, I keep my options open still," she stated matter-of-factly, regaining my composure.

"Even though you are clearly captivated by Mr. Bridgerton's smile," Her grandmother teased. "It is wise to keep your options open, my dear, so as not to appear too eager for any one gentleman's attentions."

"Indeed," Y/N thought to herself, "it is prudent not to seem desperate and helpless this early in the season. After all, the season is just beginning, and there will be many more opportunities for maybe much more meaningful encounters."

The older woman patted the young lady's hand reassuringly. "You are a clever girl, my Y/N. Your charm and grace will surely attract many suitors. Just remember to enjoy the process and not to place all your hopes on one gentleman, no matter how enchanting his smile may be."

Y/N nodded, feeling a renewed sense of determination. The season was an adventure, and she was ready to embrace it with an open heart and mind. As her grandmama said, there would be many chances to find the right match, and she intends to savor every moment.

Just as she was about to resign herself to the wait, a soft knock sounded at the drawing room door. Both Y/N and her grandmother turned their heads in surprise as the butler entered.

"Forgive the interruption, ma'am," he said with a slight bow. "But there is one more caller who has just arrived."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat as the butler stepped aside, revealing none other than Mr. Bridgerton himself. He stood at the threshold, his confident demeanor softened by a warm, sincere smile.

"Good afternoon, Lady Y/L/N, Miss Y/L/N," he greeted them, bowing respectfully. "I apologize for my tardiness. I hope I am not intruding."

Lady Y/L/N's eyes twinkled with amusement as she replied, "Not at all, Mr. Bridgerton. We are delighted to see you."

Y/N felt her spirits lift instantly, her earlier fatigue forgotten. "Indeed, Mr. Bridgerton," she said, her smile reflecting the genuine pleasure she felt. "Your timing is impeccable."

Mr. Bridgerton's eyes met hers, and for a moment, it felt as though they were the only two people in the room. "I am glad to hear that, Miss Y/L/N," he said. "I have been looking forward to our meeting."

As he stepped further into the room, bringing with him an air of warmth and possibility, Y/N knew that this visit was just the beginning. The season held many uncertainties, but in that moment, with Mr. Bridgerton's presence brightening the drawing room, she felt a renewed sense of hope and excitement for what was to come.

He walked closer, offering his wrapped gift with a warm smile. "I know of your love of botanicals. Although, I wasn't sure what to get, but I opted for a grafted Rosa Falstaff from our estate's own gardens."

Y/N's eyes widened with surprise and delight as she reached out to accept the potted rose. "A Rosa Falstaff? From your family's gardens?" she exclaimed, her fingers gently tracing the leaves and delicate blooms.

"Yes," Benedict nodded, his gaze softening as he watched her reaction. "I thought it would be a fitting addition to your collection, considering your fondness for floriculture."

"Thank you, Mr. Bridgerton. This is truly truly thoughtful of you." Y/N's eyes lit up as she accepted the graft, appreciating the gesture.

Mr. Bridgerton smiled, a hint of relief and pleasure in his eyes. "I'm glad you like them, Miss Y/L/N. I thought something from home might be more personal and meaningful than the usual offerings."

Mrs. Y/L/N, observing the interaction with a pleased expression, decided to give the young couple some space. "If you'll excuse me, I have some correspondence to attend to," she said, rising gracefully. "Please, Mr. Bridgerton, make yourself comfortable."

As her grandmother left the room, Y/N gestured for Mr. Bridgerton to sit beside her on the elegant settee. "It's so refreshing to receive something so genuine," she said, placing the graft gently on the table beside them. "Tell me more about your estate's gardens. They must be quite beautiful."

Mr. Bridgerton settled into the seat, his expression brightening as he began to speak. "Our gardens are indeed a sight to behold, especially in the spring. We have a variety of flowers, from different roses to lavender, and even some more exotic species like that which my mother is particularly fond of. Each section of the garden has its own unique charm and character."

Y/N listened intently, her interest piqued not just by the subject but by the way he spoke with such genuine affection for his home. "It sounds enchanting," she said. "I would love to see it someday."

He smiled, clearly pleased by her response. "I would be honored to show you around Aubrey Hall, Miss Y/L/N. Perhaps you could offer some advice on expanding our collection of botanicals."

"I would be delighted," Y/N replied, her smile matching his. "There are always new species to discover and cultivate. It would be a pleasure to share that with someone who appreciates it as much as I do."

As they continued to talk, the conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on various topics of mutual interest. The room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them engrossed in their exchange. The connection they felt was palpable, a promising hint of what could be a deep and meaningful relationship.

The noon sun cast a golden glow through the open window, bathing them in warm light. It was as if the world outside had conspired to create the perfect moment, one that Y/N would cherish as the beginning of something truly special.

"Why not a change of scenery, Miss Y/N? May I enchant you to a walk with me this afternoon?" Mr. Bridgerton asked, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Y/N felt a flutter of excitement at his proposal, though very different from norm indeed. The thought of a leisurely walk, away from the confines of the drawing room and amidst the fresh air and beauty of the outdoors, was undeniably appealing. She glanced at her grandmother, who had discreetly lingered near the doorway.

Mrs. Y/L/N, catching her granddaughter's hopeful expression, gave a subtle nod of approval. "I think that sounds like a splendid idea, Mr. Bridgerton," she said. "A bit of fresh air through my garden will do you both good."

"Thank you, Grandmama," Y/N replied, her smile widening. She turned back to Mr. Bridgerton, her eyes meeting his with a mix of excitement and gratitude. "I would be delighted to join you for a walk."

Mr. Bridgerton offered his arm, which Y/N took with a graceful nod. Together, they made their way out of the drawing room and through the grand halls of the Y/L/N residence. The household staff, now accustomed to the comings and goings of numerous callers, discreetly stepped aside, offering polite smiles as the pair passed.

As they stepped out into the sunlight, the warmth of the afternoon embraced them. The gardens of the Y/L/N estate stretched out before them, a riot of color and fragrance that promised a delightful stroll. Birds chirped melodiously, adding a charming soundtrack to their walk.

"Your gardens are truly beautiful, Miss Y/L/N," Mr. Bridgerton remarked as they began their promenade. "It's easy to see where your love for botanicals comes from."

"Thank you, Mr. Bridgerton," Y/N replied, her gaze sweeping over the well-tended flower beds and neatly trimmed hedges. "I find great joy in spending time here. There's something so peaceful about being surrounded by nature."

They walked in comfortable silence for a few moments, taking in the beauty around them. Y/N's lady's maid chaperoning behind. The gravel path crunched softly underfoot, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves overhead.

"I must admit," Mr. Bridgerton said, breaking the silence, "I was quite nervous about coming here today. I wasn't sure if my gift would be well-received."

Y/N looked up at him, surprised. "You needn't have worried," she assured him. "Your gift was one of the most endearing ones I have received. It speaks volumes about your character and your genuine interest. Quite a change in the morn's most fragrant bouquets. All exquisite but a tad bit too much on my senses." I gestured towards my nose.

He smiled, clearly relieved. "I'm glad to hear that, Miss Y/L/N. I hoped to make a meaningful impression."

"You certainly have," she replied warmly. "And now, here we are, enjoying a lovely walk together. It seems your efforts have been rewarded."

As they continued their walk, their conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on topics both serious and lighthearted. They shared stories, laughed together, and discovered common interests. The connection between them grew stronger with each passing moment, the bond of friendship and potential courtship becoming more tangible.

"So, do tell me more about you, Mr. Bridgerton."

"Do call me Benedict, if you please. Provided, of course, that you feel comfortable and we are beyond the earshot of your lady's maid." his eyebrows raise in suggestive jest.

Y/N chuckled, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. "Very well, Benedict. You may address me by Y/N as well."

Benedict smiled, clearly pleased by her informal, now more familiar, address. "My days are usually spent at home, but sometimes, I spend my time in my art studio at the academy."

"Yes, you've mentioned of yourself an artist, I remember." Y/N remarked, intrigued. "That is fascinating. What sort of art do you create?"

Benedict's face lit up with enthusiasm as he began to describe his passion. "I work primarily with oils on canvas, though I do enjoy sketching as well. There's something incredibly satisfying about capturing a moment or a feeling in a piece of art. It’s a way to express myself that words sometimes fail to achieve."

Y/N listened intently, her admiration growing. "I would love to see your work someday. It must be wonderful to have such a creative outlet."

"It is," Benedict agreed, a note of pride in his voice. "And I would be honored to show you my studio and some of my pieces. Perhaps I could even paint your portrait, if you would allow me."

Y/N blushed at the thought, a mixture of shyness and excitement. "I would be delighted, Benedict. Though I must warn you, I may not be the most patient of sitters."

Benedict laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I’m sure we would manage just fine. And who knows, you might find the experience enjoyable."

"I look forward to it," Y/N said, her smile reflecting her genuine interest. "But tell me more about your family. I have heard much about the Bridgertons, but I would love to hear it from your perspective."

Benedict's expression softened as he spoke of his family. "We are a large, close-knit group. There are eight of us siblings, and we were all raised with a strong sense of duty and love seeing my late father and mother attend to our household. My mother, Violet, is the heart of our family. She has always encouraged us to pursue our passions and support each other."

"That sounds wonderful," Y/N said, touched by his words. "Family is so important. I imagine it must be lively with so many siblings."

"It certainly is," Benedict replied with a grin. "There is never a dull moment at Bridgerton House. We have our share of disagreements, of course, but we always come together in the end. All the laughter and camaraderie make it worthwhile."

Y/N felt a warm connection forming between them, their shared values and interests creating a bond that felt both natural and exciting. "I would love to meet them all someday, even so now that your brother has found himself a wife. Such exciting things!" she said.

"And they would be delighted to meet you," Benedict assured her. "I can already tell that you would fit right in."

"He thinks of me as someone who would fit with his family? I could feel my heart flutter," Y/N thought, the realization sending a warm, thrilling sensation through her.

As they continued their conversation, the afternoon sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the garden. The hours had slipped away unnoticed, a testament to the ease and enjoyment they found in each other's company.

Eventually the day had struck shy of 3 at afternoon and they made their way back to the main house, the promise of future meetings and shared experiences hanging in the air. As they reached the steps, Benedict turned to Y/N, his expression earnest and hopeful.

"Thank you for a wonderful afternoon, Y/N," he said. "I look forward to our next meeting."

"As do I, Benedict," Y/N replied, her heart full of anticipation. "Until then."

With a final, warm smile, Benedict took his leave, leaving Y/N with a sense of happiness and a fluttering hope for the future. The day had been more than she could have imagined, and she felt a deep sense of gratitude for the connection they had begun to forge.

taglist: @novausstuff @pussyslayerhd @amoosarte

[kingofbodyrolls]

Friendcation (m) | myg | wedding special

Yoongi has done everything in his power to make your wedding truly special, what he couldn’t plan for was the rain. But fret not, a bit of rain will not make your day less special when it’s surrounded by friends and family. And your wedding night? Well, being pushed down into the sheets by Yoongi is easily one of your favorite things.

→ Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female) → Other characters: the whole gang + family 🥰 → AUs: roadtrip!au, non idol!au, established relationship, wedding!au, mechanic!Yoongi. → Genres: slice of life, humor/crack, smut and fluff → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 12.2k → Warnings (general) + triggers: Yoongi is so sweet 😭 You’ll see what I mean when you read, but he’s also a horny man that just wants to make the wedding day and night the best for his love 😭 Also, there’s still the usual sexual jokes and banter than friendcation is known for— there’s a few inside jokes, but you really don’t have to have read the whole series to understand them! → Warnings (explicit): unprotected sex, hair pulling, dirty talk, sexy lingerie, oral (male receiving), deep throating, multiple orgasms, sexual banter, pregnancy kink, spanking, pussy rubbing, nipple play and sucking, clit play, creampie, cockwarming, slow and hard sex, first a bit rough and dirty but then it turns slow and more passionate 🥹  → Author’s note: Remember when I did the winter special and I said that I would probably write more? Well, here I am with a new edition to Friendcation! This special is actually set before the ‘winter special’ 🤭 I do have two more specials planned for this lovely couple 🥳 I know that this is a special to a completed and established series, but I still do think that it kinda works as a one-shot still. So if you find this, not having read Friendcation before, I think you’d still be able to enjoy this, and if you end up liking it, you can always start reading the series (it’s filled with a lot of crack and sexual tension 🤭). And please don’t let the very sweet and romantic beginning fool you—this is very much still friendcation and the story will get filthy towards the end 👿 The taglist is technically closed, and I just went with the old original one— but if you want to be added to the taglist for the two other specials I’m gonna do, just let me know. And If you for some reason don’t wish to be tagged anymore, please let me know that too! → Author’s note, pt2: So… remember how I said I would post this on the 20th? SURPRISE! I’m in my feels because of the ot7 photo— so here’s an early gift for you all 💜 Also, I did not really proofread this, simple because I’m too much of a happy mess to do so, so I’m sorry for any mistakes and whatnot. → Read on AO3? [link] ✨

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This moment, bathed in magic, will weave itself into the very fabric of your memory, an indelible mark that time dare not erase until your very essence transcends this forsaken world.

But until that fateful day arrives, every precious moment enveloped in your boyfriend’s presence is a treasure to be savored—a sweet prelude to the boundless joy awaiting you when he finally becomes your husband!

At times, the surreal reality of marrying Yoongi, your once-friend-turned-best-friend-turned-soulmate, eludes comprehension, prompting you to pinch yourself just to affirm that this enchanting journey from friendship to love is indeed your reality.

A simple getaway—a friendcation with your best friends, and the simmering tension between you and Yoongi exploded like a tightly wound spring finally released, echoing the burst of a bubblegum bubble reaching its limit before bursting in a cascade of flavor and delight.

That’s precisely why you now find yourself immersed in the tranquil embrace of Seoul’s outskirts, enveloped by a forest alive with verdant splendor—a tapestry of towering trees crowned with emerald foliage, interwoven with lush grasses and bushes displaying an array of vibrant green hues, painting a picture of nature’s untouched magnificence.

Under Yoongi’s careful hands, string lights dance like fireflies, weaving around the sturdy trunks and graceful branches of the trees, forming a celestial canopy above. Amidst this enchanting glow, he has created a makeshift altar, a sanctuary for your love to bloom amidst the verdant embrace of nature.

Every detail meticulously arranged by Yoongi leaves you in awe, a tender reminder of his deep devotion—a gesture that fills you with a bittersweet mix of wonder and gratitude, as you realize anew the depth of his commitment to making your wedding day a cherished memory.

As the string lights cast their gentle glow, the forest transforms into a captivating fairytale image, each illuminated leaf and dancing shadow conspiring to steal your breath away. In this magical moment, Yoongi’s tender side shines through, igniting a newfound appreciation that fills your heart with a fluttering joy you never knew existed.

“Do you like it?” Yoongi’s voice, soft as a whisper, accompanies the gentle caress of his calloused fingers tracing circles on your skin. In that tender moment, as his touch soothes the frantic beat of your heart, you’re overcome by a puzzling mixture of nerves and anticipation—after all, it’s Yoongi, you don’t understand why you’d be nervous.

As he gestures towards the enchanting scene he’s meticulously crafted—the trees adorned with twinkling fairy lights, the stools arranged before the makeshift altar, even Holly parked to the side, adorned with ribbons and lights—Yoongi’s efforts overwhelm you with a wave of affection for the man who’s not just your partner but your future husband. Each thoughtful detail he’s woven into this momentous occasion stirs your heart, amplifying the love that binds you together.

With a tender smile gracing your lips, you lean in closer to Yoongi, your eyes reflecting the warmth of the fairy lights surrounding you. “I love it,” you muse softly, your voice a gentle melody in the tranquil forest. As you draw him nearer, your touch carrying the weight of affection, you add, “But I never knew this side of you—so soft, so tender. It’s like seeing you in a whole new light.”

He chuckles, that deep, resonant sound that melts your insides and sends your heart soaring, like a bird set free in the vast, open sky.

“You know I want our wedding to be perfect, or at least as close as we can get. Perfection might be an illusion, something that doesn’t truly exist, but damn, you’re the closest thing to it, babe. Anything for you.”

Your cheeks flush with warmth as you divert your gaze to the damp grass beneath your feet. “Thank you,” you whisper, your voice tinged with emotion. “I love it.”

Yoongi’s gaze sweeps over you, his eyes lingering with admiration. He gently runs a warm hand over your flushed cheeks. “I love your dress,” he murmurs, his voice filled with sincerity. “Everything about you is stunning. You’re absolutely gorgeous.”

You’re adorned in a simple yet elegant dress, the delicate lace you adore gracefully hugging your figure. To complete the look, a flower crown, woven from nature’s most exquisite leaves and blossoms, rests upon your head, making you feel like a woodland fairy in a fairytale.

You chuckle, warmth blossoming in your chest at his words. “Thank you, Yoon,” you reply, your voice soft and filled with affection. “You look incredibly handsome in your suit. I love you, and I can’t wait to marry you.”

“Speaking of marriage— you did tell our parents what time the wedding is, right?” you ask, your voice tinged with nervousness. You glance up at the sky, the sun hanging low, a golden reminder that the ceremony is imminent. Anxiety bubbles within you as you realize none of your friends or family have arrived yet.

“Did you give them the right location? What if they can’t find us out here in the forest?” you ask, your voice rising with mounting anxiety. The nervousness gets the best of you, your heart pounding with worry as the reality of the secluded setting sinks in.

“Relax, babe. They’ll be here soon. The officiator will arrive, and everything will be fine,” he reassures you, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. As always, his calm presence grounds you, steadying your racing heart with just a single touch, or even the reassuring depth of his gaze.

Instantly, his words soothe you, the nervousness ebbing away with each syllable. You smile back at him, then glance down at your gown. It’s a simple, white dress—though you had wished for a different color, given how many traditions you’re already breaking. This fact has upset both your parents, who have scolded you countless times for not having a traditional wedding. But you and Yoongi are determined to follow your own path, and this forest wedding is exactly what you want—a heartfelt ceremony in the very place where your love story began.

As the distant hum of engines grows louder, you turn to see your parents’ and Yoongi’s parents’ cars winding their way up the uneven forest road. A rush of excitement courses through you as the vehicles come to a stop, and one by one, your beloved family members step out into the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees, their faces radiant with anticipation and love.

Your mother rushes over, enveloping you in a tight, loving hug that fills you with warmth and reassurance. Moments later, your father joins in, his embrace just as comforting. Then, Yoongi’s parents step forward, wrapping you in their arms, their affectionate gestures bridging the gap between families. In a seamless exchange, your parents switch, their hugs crossing boundaries and symbolizing the unity and love that binds you all together.

“Is it too late to have a traditional wedding?” Yoongi’s mother asks, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she bats her lashes, her voice carrying a playful tease that dances on the air like a feather.

“Eomma! We’ve discussed this before. We don’t want a traditional wedding,” Yoongi groans, his frustration palpable as he defends your choices once again. You can practically feel the weight of his exasperation, as if he’s on the verge of pulling out his hair in sheer frustration.

“Yes, yes. I know,” she says softly, her smile tinged with wistfulness as she gently nudges Yoongi’s shoulders. Despite her words, her eyes shimmer with fond memories and unspoken hopes, casting a warm glow that belies her timid demeanor.

“Shouldn’t you just be happy that I’m getting married at all?” Yoongi frowns, a hint of playful defiance in his expression, but his lips curve into a crooked smile that reveals the warmth of his affection, his gums peeking through like hidden treasures.

“Yes, you keep surprising me. Next, you’ll give me grandchildren, yes?” she asks, her voice laced with playful anticipation, her arms enveloping Yoongi in a tender embrace. With a loving smile, she presses a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“Eomma, no,” Yoongi groans in mock disgust, though a playful twinkle dances in his eyes at the attention his mother showers upon him. You catch the subtle excitement in his voice, a reflection of the shared dreams you both harbor for the future. And as you exchange knowing glances, anticipation tingles in the air, as you are looking forward to all the nasty and dirty stuff you and Yoongi will be doing under the moonlight tonight.

You might just make a baby, who knows?

As you stand beside Yoongi and his mother, your attention is abruptly drawn away by the distant hum of engines. You turn to see multiple cars pulling up, their tires crunching on the grass as they park beside your parents’ vehicle. With each arrival, the air fills with a sense of excitement and anticipation, signaling the imminent gathering of loved ones to celebrate your special day.

You scan the arriving guests, and your eyes light up with delight as you spot your friends and Yoongi’s heavily pregnant sister. Despite her advanced pregnancy, she radiates a vibrant glow, her anticipation palpable in the gentle curve of her belly. You can't help but feel a surge of excitement and warmth, knowing that she’s on the brink of welcoming new life into the world.

Your gaze sweeps over the arriving cars, and your attention is snagged by one unfamiliar vehicle, its sleek silhouette contrasting with the rustic charm of the forest surroundings. A spark of excitement ignites within you as you realize that this could be the arrival of the officiator, the final piece in the puzzle of your wedding ceremony.

Your friends spill out of their cars, their laughter and excited chatter filling the air as they rush towards you and Yoongi. In a whirlwind of embraces and enthusiastic greetings, they envelop you both in a cascade of warmth and affection, their love palpable in every heartfelt hug and joyful smile.

Jimin strides in solo tonight, a vision of confidence in his sleek suit. Namjoon arrives with his date—the one he couldn’t stop texting since your vacation months ago. She exudes grace and warmth, fitting seamlessly into the group. Seokjin’s arm is wrapped protectively around his girlfriend, her gentle smile glowing despite the weight of her pregnancy. Meanwhile, Jungkook and Taehyung arrive without dates, their playful banter and laughter hinting at the unbreakable bond between them, yet leaving you curious about their romantic adventures, or lack thereof.

Surrounded by the warmth of your friends and family, your heart swells with happiness, as if it might burst from the overwhelming tide of love washing over you. Amidst the joyful chatter and laughter, your gaze falls upon Yoongi, his eyes alight with a radiant smile that seems to stretch from ear to ear, his conversation with his sister and brother-in-law a testament to the deep bonds of family and the anticipation of this special day.

As the sun begins its descent, casting a golden glow across the forest, the air seems to hum with anticipation, the vibrant hues of the surroundings intensifying under the magical embrace of the golden hour. The fairy string lights, once subtle, now twinkle like stars amidst the verdant canopy, weaving an enchanting tapestry of light and shadow that dances with the gentle breeze, infusing the atmosphere with an ethereal charm.

The officiator locks eyes with Yoongi and gives him a subtle nod, and a surge of anticipation courses through you. Your heart flutters with excitement, mingled with a hint of nervousness, as you realize that the moment you’ve been waiting for is finally here. Giddy anticipation bubbles within you, causing your palms to grow clammy with nervous energy. You fumble with the delicate lace of your dress, trying to dry your sweaty hands, your fingers trembling with a mix of excitement and nerves.

Your friends and family settle into the chairs meticulously arranged by Yoongi, their laughter and chatter filling the air with warmth and anticipation. The chairs are nestled on the lush grass, forming a cozy circle in front of two majestic trees adorned with twinkling string lights that cast a soft, enchanting glow. As your loved ones take their seats amidst the magical ambiance, you feel a sense of unity and excitement building, like the anticipation before the opening act of a grand performance.

With a sense of solemnity, the officiator leads the way towards the towering trees, their branches adorned with twinkling lights that illuminate the gathering dusk. You and Yoongi follow closely behind, your fingers intertwined in a reassuring grip, each step echoing with the weight of anticipation and the promise of forever.

As the warm summer air envelops you, carrying the hum of insects and the symphony of nature’s song, you can’t help but feel a sense of serenity wash over you. This is your element, being embraced by the gentle caress of nature’s embrace, surrounded by the vibrant energy of the forest. With each breath, you and Yoongi are united in your love for the great outdoors, and in this moment, amidst the tranquil beauty of your wedding venue, you feel more connected than ever before.

The officiator begins to address you, your loved ones, and the assembled guests, his words weave a tapestry of emotions and imagery. He speaks of the intricate journey from friendship to love, likening it to the delicate bloom of a red tulip, its vibrant petals unfurling in a display of magnificent colors. His voice resonates with tales of enduring love, reminiscent of the fairytales of old, and despite your initial skepticism, you find yourself drawn into the beauty of his words. While your own love story with Yoongi may not fit the traditional fairytale mold, there’s a raw and genuine beauty in the imperfect, real-life moments you’ve shared together.

As the officiator speaks, your gaze naturally drifts to Yoongi, his hands clasped lightly in yours. You hold him with a tenderness that belies your fears, as if he’s fragile and delicate, but deep down, you know he’s as sturdy as the roots of the trees surrounding you, built to weather any storm. It’s evident in the strength of his embrace, the gentle yet firm touch of his fingers interlocked with yours, offering silent reassurance and unwavering support.

When your eyes meet his, you’re captivated by the intense love shining in his dark chocolate brown eyes, a depth of emotion you’ve never seen before. His smile radiates warmth, softening the lines of his face and illuminating his features with a tender glow. Dressed in a sharp suit with a crisp white shirt underneath, he exudes an effortless elegance that takes your breath away, his presence commanding attention and admiration.

As the officiator begins the ceremony, the world around you fades into a soft, low buzz, like the distant hum of bees in a summer garden. Despite the faint background noise, Yoongi’s voice cuts through clearly as he recites his vows, each word carrying the weight of his love, lifting you higher than the clouds. His words wrap around you like a warm embrace, grounding you in the depth of his devotion. When it’s your turn to speak, you watch the impact of your vows on Yoongi, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears, his trembling lip betraying the depth of his emotion. In that moment, the love he holds for you shines brighter than any star, illuminating his handsome face with an ethereal glow.

Yoongi says ‘I do’, and a surge of exhilaration floods through you, lifting your spirits as if you could soar high into the clouds. This moment, the culmination of your deepest desires and fondest dreams, fills you with a profound sense of joy and fulfillment. For so long, you harbored secret feelings for him, uncertain if your love would ever be reciprocated. But now, as you stand on the brink of forever, you’re overwhelmed by the realization that he loves you just as fiercely. In his ‘I do’ you find the reassurance that your hearts are perfectly aligned, destined to journey through life together as one.

Yoongi’s touch is tender as he clasps your hands in his, his eyes shimmering with an unspoken vow of love and devotion. With gentle precision, he slides a golden band adorned with small, glistening crystals onto your ring finger, each delicate touch imbued with the weight of a promise that spans eternity. As the cool metal meets your skin, a rush of warmth floods through you, a tangible reminder of the enduring bond you share and the beginning of a new chapter in your love story.

A smile spreads across your face, one of those ‘I’m stupidly in love’ grins that lights up your entire being. You’re acutely aware that your expression must look utterly comical to anyone watching, but in this moment, you couldn’t care less. All that matters is the overwhelming rush of joy and adoration that fills your heart, painting your world in vibrant hues of love and happiness.

As the officiator’s gaze falls upon you, a sense of gravity settles over the scene, and you realize it’s your turn to say I do. Locking eyes with Yoongi, you feel a subtle shift in the atmosphere, as if the very air around you becomes charged with anticipation. The once bright skies darken, heavy clouds obscuring the sun, and the forest is cloaked in the earthy scent of moss. Yet, you’re unfazed by the changing nature around you, your focus solely on the man before you. With unwavering determination, you speak the final words, ‘I do,’ and as if in response to your declaration, the heavens open, showering the world with rain—a fitting testament to the intensity of your love and the power of your union.

The rain pours down in torrents, soaking you to the bone, your once-flowing dress now clinging uncomfortably to your skin. Oblivious to the chaos around you, the cacophony of your friends and family’s screams as they scramble for cover, you lock eyes with Yoongi. His long black hair is plastered to his face by the relentless downpour, and yet, there’s an undeniable joy in his laughter that mirrors your own. With a shared glance, you burst into fits of laughter, the absurdity of the situation only strengthening the bond between you. As you slide the ring onto his finger, your laughter mingles with the rhythmic patter of raindrops, a symphony of love and laughter. In that moment, as the officiator pronounces you married and grants you permission to kiss, you share a tender embrace, sealing your vows amidst the exhilarating chaos of the downpour.

And kiss you do. With an urgency born of love and longing, Yoongi leans in, his soft lips meeting yours in a tender yet passionate embrace. Despite the rain drenching you both, you can’t help but chuckle into the kiss, the warmth of his touch melting away any discomfort. As he pulls you closer, his arms enveloping your drenched form, you feel a surge of electricity coursing through your veins, binding you together in an intoxicating dance of desire. For a moment, the world fades away, leaving only the sensation of his lips on yours, the beat of your hearts echoing in perfect harmony. In the background, amidst the cheers and applause of your friends and family.

The kiss feels like a spell woven between you, a moment of pure magic and transcendence. It takes you back to the day when Yoongi proposed, a memory etched in your heart like a cherished melody. You recall the day vividly: Yoongi toiling away in his garage, hands stained with motor oil, yet his eyes ablaze with a passion that mirrored the fire in your own heart. It was one of those late nights, the air thick with the scent of metal and oil, as you shared takeout amidst the hum of machinery. Unbeknownst to you, he beckoned you over to the car he was working on, his intentions shrouded in mystery until the moment he kissed you—deep and fervent, igniting a flame of desire within you that threatened to consume you both. For a fleeting moment, you thought he might rip your clothes off and take you atop the very car he was fixing, the thrill of anticipation quickening your pulse. Instead, he pulled back, his eyes shimmering with unspoken love, as he uttered those life-changing words. It wasn’t a grand gesture, but it was quintessentially Yoongi—unexpected, sincere, and overflowing with the depth of his affection. And in that moment, as you uttered the easiest ‘yes’ of your life, you knew that your love story was destined for greatness, forged in the quiet moments of intimacy and the simple beauty of everyday life.

The rain continues to pour down, drenching you both to the bone, yet Yoongi’s kiss remains unbroken, as if time itself has stretched out to accommodate this perfect moment. Each passing second feels like an eternity, your senses heightened by the coolness of the rain and the warmth of his lips. You can feel a deep, growing desire unfurl within you, igniting a fire that burns brighter with every tender caress.

“Hey hyung! You shouldn’t stick your tongue down her throat like that, it’s gross!” Jungkook’s playful shout pierces through your passionate moment, jolting you back to reality. You reluctantly open your eyes, laughter bubbling up despite the interruption, only to lock eyes with your mother. Her expression speaks volumes, a single displeased look delivering a silent scolding that makes your cheeks flush with embarrassment. The contrast between the fiery intimacy of Yoongi’s kiss and the sudden, humorous reality check from your friends and family fills you with a mix of emotions—embarrassment, amusement, and a deep, abiding love for the man holding you close.

Yoongi pulls away gently, his hands steadying you as he straightens you up. A chuckle escapes your lips, quickly blossoming into full laughter as you realize the intensity of your kiss might have been a bit too much for your audience. The amused glances and knowing smiles from your friends and family only add to the humor of the moment, making you feel both exhilarated and slightly sheepish. The love and joy of the occasion, however, remain undiminished, as you and Yoongi share a private smile, basking in the sheer delight of your unrestrained affection.

Despite the rain, your friends and family rush towards you, their faces alight with joy and excitement as they shower you and Yoongi with heartfelt congratulations. Your parents, though expressing their initial desire for a traditional wedding, admit with warm smiles that this ceremony was uniquely beautiful and special. The mingling continues for a while, laughter and chatter filling the air, but soon, the persistent downpour compels both your parents and Yoongi’s to consider heading home. 

You embrace your parents tightly, feeling the warmth of their love despite the rain. They are the first to depart, leaving behind words of encouragement and happiness. Next, you bid farewell to Yoongi’s parents. His mother, ever the tease, turns back with a mischievous smirk. “Have a lovely night. I expect grandchildren!” she calls out, her voice carrying a playful lilt. You laugh, feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement, as her cheeky remark adds a final touch of joy to this unforgettable day.

And with that, they depart, their figures slowly disappearing into the misty depths of the forest. You and Yoongi are left behind, choking on your laughter, the echoes of their playful words lingering in the air. The sound of your mirth blends with the soft patter of rain and the rustling leaves, creating a symphony of joy that perfectly encapsulates the magical moment. As you watch them fade from view, a sense of serene happiness washes over you, knowing this enchanting night is just the beginning of your beautiful journey together.

Yoongi’s sister and her husband approach next, their smiles warm despite the rain. You exchange heartfelt hugs, feeling the comforting swell of family support. “Thank you so much for coming,” you say sincerely, your voice thick with emotion. They nod, their eyes shining with shared happiness, before bidding their farewells and disappearing into the misty evening. 

The officiator steps forward, his eyes twinkling with genuine pleasure. “This was an absolute joy for me to officiate,” he says warmly, shaking your hand with a firm, friendly grip. “I rarely get the chance to oversee non traditional weddings, so this was truly special for me as well.” His words carry a heartfelt sincerity that touches you deeply. With a final nod and a parting smile, he bids you farewell, leaving you with a sense of profound gratitude for the unique and beautiful ceremony he helped create.

With only your friends remaining, they close in around you, a joyful swarm of affection and excitement. Their laughter and exuberant chatter fill the air, wrapping you in a warm, comforting cocoon of love and support. You feel their genuine happiness radiating towards you, each hug and congratulatory word a testament to the deep bonds you share. The moment is electric, their energy infectious, making you feel incredibly blessed to have such wonderful friends by your side on this unforgettable day.

“Did you bring your camera?” Yoongi asks Taehyung, his voice filled with hopeful anticipation. Taehyung nods enthusiastically, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Of course! It’s in my car,” he replies, his eyes sparkling with excitement. 

“But do you really want pictures in this rain?” Taehyung asks, his brows furrowed in uncertainty, his concern evident in his tone. The rain continues to pour, casting a shimmering veil over the forest clearing. Despite his hesitation, there’s a glimmer of determination in Taehyung’s eyes. “My camera is weather-sealed,” he reassures, his voice tinged with resolve. “And I can always enlist Jungkook or Jimin to hold an umbrella over it, just to be safe.” 

His willingness to brave the elements for the sake of capturing your special day fills you with gratitude and admiration.

“Yeah, just some shots over by that tree over there,” Yoongi muses, his lips brushing softly against your cheek in a tender gesture that sends a shiver of delight down your spine. The gentle touch of his kiss elicits a soft giggle from you, the sound echoing amidst the gentle patter of raindrops. In that fleeting moment, amidst the tranquil beauty of the forest, you feel an overwhelming sense of love and contentment enveloping you, binding you ever closer to the man whose presence fills your heart with joy.

“Okay,” Taehyung says with a nonchalant shrug, his excitement palpable despite his casual demeanor. The fact that Yoongi had asked him beforehand fills him with a sense of pride, evident in the way he confidently reaches for his camera. You watch as Taehyung, fueled by anticipation, turns to Jungkook, a mischievous glint in his eye as he enlists his friend’s help. With a shared grin, Jungkook readily agrees, stepping forward to be Taehyung’s trusty assistant for this impromptu photoshoot. Together, they gather the necessary equipment—a camera and an umbrella—and set off towards the designated tree, their laughter mingling with the soft patter of rain.

You don’t want to capture too many photos, just a select few to encapsulate the ethereal beauty of this rain-soaked day. Hand in hand with Yoongi, you approach the towering tree, its branches adorned with twinkling string lights that cast a soft glow against the backdrop of the darkening sky. Taehyung guides you further away from the tree, his camera poised to capture the perfect shot. With expert precision, he explains the importance of separating you from the background to achieve a stunning bokeh effect in the photos. Following his instructions, you step a few meters away, the string lights creating a halo of warmth and intimacy around you both. As twilight descends, a magical transformation takes place. The gentle hum of nature fills the air, accompanied by the soft patter of raindrops and the distant chirping of crickets. Suddenly, tiny pinpricks of light begin to dance around you, their soft glow illuminating the darkness like miniature stars. You gasp in awe as you realize that the air is alive with fireflies, their luminous presence adding an enchanting touch to the already magical atmosphere. It’s a scene straight out of a fairytale, a fleeting moment of pure, unadulterated magic that you know will be etched in your memory forever.

Taehyung presses his finger on the camera’s shutter, immortalizing the tender moments unfolding before him. First, he captures you and Yoongi standing side by side, your expressions innocent and serene. Then, with a playful glint in his eye, Yoongi leans in and plants a soft kiss on your cheek, his touch sending shivers down your spine. The scene shifts as Yoongi gently turns you to face him, the world around you fading into a blur. With a sudden, passionate intensity, he captures your lips with his in a fiery kiss, the heat of it igniting every nerve in your body. Taehyung’s camera clicks rapidly, capturing each electric moment as Yoongi’s embrace tightens, pulling you closer until there is no space left between you, just the shared breath and the undeniable love that burns brighter than the fairy lights around you.

Yoongi’s fingers glide to the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. His lips leave yours, tracing a fiery path down to your throat where he kisses and sucks, leaving a deep purple mark on your skin. A groan of delight escapes your lips, your senses consumed by his touch. The world around you fades into oblivion as Yoongi’s lips travel back up to your ear, his breath hot and tantalizing against your skin. He whispers sweet nothings, painting vivid images of all the things he wants to do with you tonight, each word stoking the fire of lust and making your pulse race with desire.

Jungkook clears his throat, breaking the spell of Yoongi’s intoxicating kiss. As you reluctantly pull away, your gaze lands on Jungkook, whose cheeks are flushed a deep crimson, reminiscent of that day he accidentally walked in on you and Yoongi in the garage. The memory flashes vividly in your mind—the startled look on Jungkook’s face, the awkward shuffle of his feet, and the embarrassed apology that followed.

“I’ll only take photos of you kissing,” Taehyung huffs, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he lowers his camera. “If you want more raunchy photos, you should hire a professional.” He places the camera carefully to the side, while Jungkook, his cheeks still faintly red, lifts the umbrella higher to shield Taehyung and the equipment from the rain. 

You and Yoongi both nod, a shared understanding passing between you. It’s so easy to get lost in each other’s embrace, to forget the world spinning around you. You offer a quick apology to Taehyung and Jungkook, but the sincerity is wrapped in the light-heartedness of the moment. Despite the raindrops falling around you, you all burst into laughter, the sound mingling with the patter of rain.

“But you are a professional photographer now, Tae,” you giggle, pulling Yoongi away from the tree. The rain continues to fall softly around you, creating a magical ambiance as you make your way over to the rest of your friends, who are still waiting for you with bright smiles and open arms. Yoongi squeezes your hand, and you feel a rush of warmth and happiness, knowing that this moment, surrounded by loved ones, is exactly how you imagined your special day.

“Yeah, but I don’t do that kind of photography. But I do know a guy who does amazing boudoir shoots,” he smiles, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Your eyes light up at the mention, the wheels in your brain churning with ideas. You turn towards Yoongi, your husband, a playful grin spreading across your face as you imagine the possibilities.

“Would you prefer photos of me in my wedding dress or in my wedding lingerie?” you ask, your voice a soft, teasing whisper. You notice how his pupils dilate, his breath hitching slightly, which brings a lovely, satisfied smirk to your lips. The anticipation in his eyes makes your heart race.

Jungkook scoffs and rolls his eyes, quickening his pace to escape the conversation, his discomfort evident as he strides ahead, trying to distance himself from your playful banter.

“Wedding lingerie?” His voice comes out raspy, almost strangled, as if the very thought has taken his breath away.

“Yeah,” you confirm with a nod, a surge of excitement coursing through you, your heart beating faster with every step closer to your friends. You squeeze his hand in yours, feeling the warmth of his touch anchoring you in the moment, while the smiles of your friends awaiting you ahead fill you with a sense of joy and anticipation.

“Are you wearing it right now?” he asks, his gaze trailing over your body with a hunger that makes your skin tingle. It’s as if he could see through the layers of your wedding dress, his eyes sparking with curiosity and desire.

You chuckle, feeling a playful surge of excitement as you bounce in front of him, a mischievous glint in your eyes. With a coy smile, you purse your lips and quip, “Guess you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?” Your words are laced with anticipation, leaving him intrigued and eager for what’s to come.

Taehyung’s chuckle ripples through the air behind you, rich with amusement, while Jungkook emits a soft sound of discomfort, his unease palpable in the subtle shift of his stance.

“You can give me that photographer's contact info later, right Tae?”

You hear Yoongi’s voice behind you, his tone tinged with curiosity and a hint of excitement. It makes you chuckle softly, surprised yet pleased by his interest in the idea. You hadn’t been sure if he would entertain the thought of such intimate photos of you. But as his words sink in, a warmth spreads through you, and you’re filled with a newfound eagerness. You’ve always been curious about boudoir photography, and the idea of exploring it with him fills you with anticipation.

You finally catch up with the rest of your friends, who immediately turn their attention to you and Yoongi, their faces lighting up with big, joyous smiles. The warmth and love radiating from them wrap around you like a comforting blanket, and you can feel the excitement and happiness in the air as they welcome you with open arms and congratulatory cheers.

“This wedding is a celebration of love in its purest form,” Namjoon begins, his gaze sweeping over the enchanting forest setting. The fairy lights twinkle in the dusk, casting a magical glow over the scene. You can see the admiration in his eyes, knowing he envisions a similar backdrop for his own wedding someday. With his deep love for nature, this setting, with its lush greenery and serene ambiance, is indeed the perfect venue.

“Thank you for inviting us,” he adds, a big smile spreading across his lips as he pulls his girlfriend into his embrace and plants a tender kiss on her forehead. Watching them, you can’t help but think how incredibly adorable they look together, their affection radiating a warmth that adds to the magic of the evening.

“Of course. We’re just so thrilled to have everyone here to celebrate this special day with us. You’re welcome to stay if you want—sleep under the stars like we did on vacation,” you quip, a big smile lighting up your face. Your eyes glisten with the fond memories of those three magical months, filled with laughter and unforgettable adventures with your friends.

Jungkook is the first to look away, clearing his throat but remaining silent. Jimin, however, turns to you with a playful smirk plastered on his face. “We didn’t bring any tents with us, sorry,” he teases, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Seokjin chimes in with a knowing smile, “We need to sleep at home, closer to the hospital, you know, just in case we go into labor. Can’t risk it out here.” His hand gently rests on his partner’s belly, and you can see the mix of excitement and nervousness in his eyes.

His girlfriend shoots him a stern look, “I’m the one going into labor. Me. I’ll be doing all the pushing and stuff while you just sit and observe.” She scoffs slightly, her irritation clear as she places her fisted hands on her hips, her eyes blazing with a mix of frustration and determination.

“What? Do you think I’ll just sit and watch you give birth? No, no. I’ll hold your hand, your thigh, whatever you need, love,” Seokjin breathes, rushing over to reassure his pregnant girlfriend. The moment his hands rest on her stomach, you see her shoulders relax and a hint of a smile touches her lips. His touch seems to melt away her irritation, and the love between them is palpable, a beautiful testament to their bond.

You smile, savoring the moments when you observe your friends with their partners. It reminds you of how grand and sweet love can be, or how it can bring laughter with its quirks. Your heart swells with affection as you watch Seokjin and his girlfriend banter playfully. Their lighthearted exchange makes you chuckle, resonating deeply and reminding you of the delightful dynamic you share with Yoongi.

“We have some spare tents in Holly that you can use,” Yoongi quickly interjects, pulling you closer with a firm yet gentle grip on your hips. His touch sends a warm shiver through you, grounding you in the moment and making you feel cherished. You lean into his embrace, smiling as you think about how considerate he always is.

Taehyung swiftly stows his camera away in his car, sheltering it from the relentless downpour, before rejoining the group. He inserts himself into the conversation with a playful yet teasing tone. “Look, we just don’t want to hear you have sex again, thank you very much,” he quips, his expression a mix of amusement and mock exasperation.

You shoot a wide-eyed glance at the guys, their cheeks flushing with vivid hues of embarrassment, vividly recalling the escapades from your vacation days. Your own ears burn crimson with the memories flooding back, a mixture of nostalgia and amusement swirling within you.

“Yes, it’s probably for the best, yeah,” your words tumble out in a nervous chuckle, accompanied by a nod of agreement. The memory of past escapades tinges your cheeks with a hint of embarrassment. Deep down, you're relieved by their decision, grateful to avoid any repeat performances in front of your friends. Their words resonate, striking a chord of truth, and you find yourself conceding to their wisdom.

Jimin sidles up to you, enveloping you in a warm embrace, while your fingers remain intertwined with Yoongi’s. 

“It’s your wedding night. You should get to enjoy it unrestricted, you know what I mean?”

His voice is a hushed whisper against your ear, igniting a blush that creeps across your cheeks. Oh, you understand his meaning all too well. After all, he was the one who lent a hand in selecting your wedding lingerie. In that moment, you’re struck by a surge of gratitude for your loyal confidant — your ultimate ride or die. Next to Yoongi, of course; he holds a special place in your heart.

Jimin extricates himself from the embrace, and you catch the familiar glint of disapproval in Yoongi’s gaze. It’s a look he often wears, a silent protest against the closeness he perceives between you and Jimin. But there’s no cause for concern; Yoongi needn’t fear. Your affection for Jimin is pure and platonic, a bond woven with the threads of years of friendship and trust. Yet, you can’t help but wonder if Yoongi sees something you don’t, something lurking beneath the surface of your friendship.

Jimin then sidles over to Yoongi, enveloping him in a snug embrace, his lips moving in a hushed murmur that escapes your ears. Whatever secret message Jimin imparts seems to evoke a predictable response from Yoongi—a roll of the eyes accompanied by Jimin’s infectious laughter, a silent exchange that speaks volumes of their friendship.

“Time to head back,” Jimin announces, gently guiding your friends towards their awaiting cars. “We’ll leave the lovebirds to enjoy their first night as a married couple in peace.” His laughter ripples through the air, a contagious melody that makes you chuckle.

As they make their way to their cars, each of your friends pauses to envelop you in warm hugs and heartfelt congratulations, their genuine affection palpable in the air. With bittersweet smiles, you wave them off, watching their cars disappear into the distance.

You pivot toward Yoongi, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Now that we’ve got the whole forest to ourselves,” you say, a playful lilt in your voice, “what’s your pleasure?”

Yoongi’s smirk widens as he raises a suggestive eyebrow, raindrops still clinging to his skin and clothes. “What do you think I want to do?” he teases, his voice low and inviting. 

“Get in the van, babe,” he adds, his tone hinting at a world of thrilling possibilities.

Excitement and arousal surge through your body like an electric charge as you stride towards Holly, your hand eagerly grasping the handle as you step inside, ready for whatever adventures await with Yoongi by your side.

Yoongi follows you eagerly, the click of the door shutting behind him echoing the finality of the moment. With a soft sigh, you sink into the cozy embrace of the makeshift bed, the anticipation of the night ahead palpable in the air.

You lay down on the bed, smirking up at Yoongi as you lick your lips, trying to decipher the thoughts swirling in his mind. You wonder how he wants to take you, what he plans to do tonight. One thing is certain—you know exactly what you want to do to him.

Yoongi hovers over the bed, looking down at you with dark pools of lust in his eyes. Your gaze drops, catching sight of the bulge in his pants, and a soft, seductive chuckle escapes your lips.

“You’re already getting hard,” you breathe, your voice feather-light. The thought of having him in your hand, or even taking him deep into your mouth, sends a shiver of anticipation through you.

He grunts, “What did you expect? Now strip so I can see that lingerie, babe.” His voice is rough with desire, sending a thrill down your spine.

You laugh wholeheartedly, the sound echoing in the intimate space, because that is so Yoongi. You know the thought of your lingerie has probably been driving him wild since you hinted at wearing it.

With a teasing smile, you rise from the bed and stand tall before him, well, not taller, but still. Holding his gaze, you let your hands travel to your back, finding the zipper and pulling it down slowly. The sound fills the van, and you see Yoongi’s brow twitching, his anticipation evident. He's probably doing all he can to resist the urge to ravish you right then and there.

You let your wedding dress cascade off your frame, sliding down your hips and pooling around your feet. Yoongi’s expression is priceless; his adoration for you is unmistakable, his lust palpable in the way his lips curl into a smile and his eyes unabashedly roam over your body. You bask in his gaze, loving every second of it. Your hands find their way to your breasts, groping and pressing them together. “Do you like it?” you ask, mirroring his earlier question, batting your eyelashes at him with a feigned innocence that you both know is far from the truth.

For a moment, he doesn’t respond, just stands there, taking you in. His eyes roam over your white lingerie set, lingering on the lacy bra that’s sheer enough to reveal the darker hue of your nipples. Delicate strings extend from the cups, winding over your shoulders and around your waist, accentuating every curve. You’re wearing a white lace g-string to match, barely covering anything, and to complete the look, a suspender belt holds up a pair of white lacy stockings. His silence speaks volumes, the heat in his gaze making you feel more desired than ever.

You chuckle softly, the sound filling the silence as he remains speechless, mesmerized by the sight of you. The power you feel in this moment is intoxicating, knowing you have him utterly captivated. Your eyes sweep over him, taking in every detail, and you lick your lips slowly, savoring the anticipation. Your mind races with wicked ideas of how you can tease him further, heightening the delicious tension between you.

“There’s a wet patch on your pants, Yoon,” you purr, closing the distance between you. Leaning in, you whisper into his ear, your breath hot and tantalizing. Your right hand glides down to his crotch, cupping his dick through the fabric, feeling the heat and firmness beneath your touch.

“Speechless?” you tease, your voice a sultry whisper in his ear, sending shivers down his spine. His response is a low, guttural grunt, and you smile, knowing you have him right where you want him. With a subtle increase in pressure, your hand caresses his cock through his pants, relishing in the power you hold over him.

“Gonna suck your dick, Yoon,” you whisper seductively, your voice dripping with desire. “Gonna make you come down my throat. You can make me choke on your cock. Then you can fill up my pussy, maybe get me pregnant, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Each word is laced with a potent mix of passion and anticipation, igniting a fiery hunger between you both.

You feel a surge of empowerment, like a femme fatale in control of her prey—savoring every moment of rendering him speechless. Damn, you enjoy it way too much. It makes you soak your panties. The anticipation ignites a wildfire of desire within you, causing your senses to heighten. You can practically feel the electric tension crackling in the air as you drop down to your knees, a siren of seduction ready to unleash your desires upon him.

With a swift and practiced motion, your hands move with purpose, deftly unzipping his dress pants and pulling them down, along with his underwear, revealing the object of your desire in all its glory.

His dick springs free, a tantalizing sight that never fails to ignite desire within you. You revel in its presence, appreciating its length and girth, knowing how perfectly it fits you and the pleasure it promises. In this moment, with his dick before you, you feel a surge of ownership and longing, your heart racing with a potent blend of love and lust, knowing that it’s now exclusively yours to enjoy.

You take hold of him, your fingers wrapping around his dick, and you give him a slow, deliberate stroke, feeling him pulse in response to your touch. Then, with a teasing smile dancing on your lips, you lower your head and flick your tongue across the sensitive tip, savoring the way he shudders with raw desire at your touch.

Your gaze meets his, a facade of innocence masking the minx within, especially when it comes to him. You lock eyes, finding his already lost in ecstasy, as you trail your tongue along his cock, savoring the way his breath catches and he bites down on his lower lip, unable to contain his desire.

“I want to hear you, Yoon. And I want you to fuck my mouth. I’ll let you know if it’s too rough, okay?” You don't wait for a response; his stunned silence tells you all you need to know.

You take him fully in your mouth in one smooth motion, your hand gripping the base of his shaft firmly.

You take him deep, your mouth accommodating his full length as you breathe rhythmically through your nose, ready to embark on your task. Working your mouth back and forth along his shaft, you elicit low, primal sounds from him. His fingers thread through your hair, anchoring you as you establish a steady, deliberate rhythm.

You ensure to maintain eye contact with him, locking gazes as you work your magic. His intense stare reflects his captivation with you, every movement you make drawing him deeper into the moment. Swirling your tongue around the sensitive tip, you create a vacuum, engulfing him in a whirlwind of sensation. He tightens his grip on your hair, emitting a primal hiss of pleasure, lost in the ecstasy you provide.

You take him deeper, pushing past the boundaries of your comfort to savor every inch of him. As he brushes against the back of your throat, you battle your gag reflex, determined to accommodate him fully. Finally, your nose nestles into his soft curls, and the heady scent of him envelops you. A primal moan escapes your lips, unleashing a torrent of arousal that courses through your veins, igniting every nerve ending in a frenzy of desire.

You maintain a steady rhythm, your lips and tongue caressing him with a practiced finesse. Yet, as your jaw begins to protest and your throat yearns for respite, you glance up at him, silently begging him to take control. Your eyes implore him, a silent plea for release, while a gentle tap on his thigh conveys your need for a change in pace.

“Damn,” he finally speaks, his voice hoarse with desire. Running a hand through his tousled black locks, he gazes at you with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. “You look so perfect like this,” he continues, his fingers tenderly tracing the curve of your cheek. “With my cock in your mouth. Let me take over, babe.”

Relief washes over you as you relinquish control, allowing yourself a moment to simply savor the feeling of his dick between your lips, the weight of him against your tongue. It’s a welcome reprieve, a chance to lose yourself in the pure physicality of the moment.

With a firm grip on your hair, he sets a rhythm, each thrust pushing deeper into your eager mouth. Your jaw slackens, welcoming him eagerly as he moves with a primal urgency that ignites a fire within you. The intensity of his movements sends shivers down your spine— rough and fast.

Panting, he murmurs, “You in that lingerie set are really doing something to me,” his words punctuated by the force of his thrusts, each one harder and more desperate than the last.

Your eyes begin to water, but the overwhelming pleasure makes you love every second of it.

His breath comes in ragged pants as he locks eyes with you. “That suspender belt on your waist… you must be trying to kill me, because, fuck,” he groans. Sweat begins to form at his hairline, and the sight of his damp white shirt clinging to his skin makes him look utterly sinful.

“I want to fuck you wearing that so bad, babe,” he groans, his voice heavy with desire. You feel him twitch in your mouth and respond by suctioning your cheeks tighter around him, humming softly to intensify his pleasure.

It makes him shudder, and you can tell he’s close. Just a bit more, and you’ll have him spilling down your throat, you’re sure of it.

“Shit, I’m gonna come. I can’t hold back with you looking at me like that,” he groans, your name falling from his lips as he spills inside your mouth. Your hands grip his hips tighter, feeling him pulse as he thrusts a few more times, making sure you take every drop.

It tastes salty, just as always, but you savor it like a fine wine. When he finally pulls out, you make sure to show him your tongue, every drop swallowed, a wicked smile playing on your lips.

“Such a good girl,” he praises, his words sending a shiver down your spine. You can feel the heat pooling between your legs, your panties already soaked, the wetness likely trailing down your thighs.

“Yoongi, I love you,” you gasp, breathless, your hand brushing away the tears that had escaped while he fucked your mouth.

“I love you too,” he murmurs tenderly, his hand cradling your jaw before his fingers trace lightly over your lips. “Come on. Get up and get back on the bed.”

You nod, a shiver running down your spine as you comply. Rising from your position on the floor, you crawl over to the bed and settle yourself down, anticipation coursing through every fiber of your being.

Yoongi steps out of his pants with fluid grace, tossing his shoes aside before shedding his blazer and pulling his shirt over his head, revealing his naked form. You’re captivated by him, every inch of his body resonating with an irresistible allure. His skin, its familiar pale hue, speaks of hours spent indoors tinkering with cars, sculpting his lean physique with just a hint of muscle, a testament to his dedication and hard work.

As Yoongi draws near, he takes your feet in his hands, removing your heels with a gentle tug and allowing them to drop to the floor.

“What do you want, babe? I’ll give you everything,” he murmurs, his eyes filled with tender affection, awaiting your heart's deepest longing.

“I want to have your babies. Like we talked about. I want that future with you,” you confess, your voice trembling with anticipation, your body arching towards him, showing him just how wet you are, a silent invitation for him to claim you completely.

“Oh, babe. You know I want that too. It will be a moment before I’m ready to go again,” he murmurs, his hand moving to your leg, his touch sending shivers down your spine as his fingertips trace patterns of intimacy on your skin, making goosebumps appear.

“Just touch me. I want your hands all over my body, please, Yoon,” you plead, your eyes locking with his, your voice a soft melody of longing, your lip quivering as you await his touch.

He traces the map of your skin with a feather-light touch, igniting a trail of anticipation that sends shivers down your spine. As his fingers dance closer to the apex of your pussy, you hold your breath, yearning for his touch, but he tantalizingly skirts past, teasingly exploring every inch of your being before finally reaching your breasts. 

“Your boobs are so perky,” he murmurs, his touch tracing the delicate contours of your bra, coaxing your nipples to a tantalizing peak.

“No, they’re not,” you pout, feeling your pussy tighten and your body quiver in response to his touch.

“Don’t speak ill of your body. You’re beautiful,” he says, his voice a soft murmur against your skin as he gropes your breasts, his thumb tracing tantalizing circles around your nipples. Your heart races, torn between the desire for him to take you now and the intoxicating thrill of the teasing.

“And now you’re mine,” he murmurs, his voice dipped in darkness and possessiveness, thick with lust, sending shivers down your spine.

You chuckle softly, a playful glint in your eyes. “I was yours long before we said ‘I do.’ Marriage didn’t change that, you know?”

He chuckles softly, his touch sending shivers down your spine, yet his eyes hold yours, intense and full of promise. “Oh, I know,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing delicate patterns over your skin. “But now I have a piece of paper that says you’re mine and mine alone.”

You ask with a playful giggle, shifting closer into his touch. “Yoongi, are you possessive?” It’s more a statement than a question; you already know the answer. He’s likely the most possessive guy you’ve ever met, but it’s a quality you adore, one that ignites a wild, untamed energy within you.

“You know I don’t wanna share you with anyone,” he murmurs, locking his gaze with yours. The intensity in his eyes makes you wonder if he’s truly afraid of losing you, even though he shouldn’t be. You’ve loved him for so many years, most of them spent in denial, but they still count. His possessiveness only reassures you of the depth of his feelings, and you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“You know I’d never leave you, right?” you whisper, your voice filled with unwavering devotion and the weight of all the years you’ve shared, your eyes searching his for the reassurance you know you don’t need but crave to give.

“Hmmm, yes I know. You love me and my big cock too much,” he laughs, glancing down as his dick twitches back to life. 

“God, you’re so full of yourself,” you roll your eyes, only to moan as he pinches your nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. “But I guess it’s okay when you can back it up.”

“And yes, I love you,” you purr, your voice dripping with desire. “Now show me why I can’t get enough of that big cock of yours. I’m so wet already, Yoongi. Touch me,” you plead, spreading your legs even wider, a desperate invitation for his touch.

He licks his lips, a predatory glint in his eyes. “Then get on your hands and knees and lift that gorgeous ass for me, love.”

You shudder, anticipation coursing through you as you turn around and lift your hips, presenting yourself just the way he likes.

His hands glide over the curve of your ass, sending shivers through your body. His fingers find the straps of your suspenders, tugging them taut before releasing them to snap back against your skin. The sharp slap makes you hiss in pleasure, each stinging contact like a playful spank that only fuels your arousal, leaving you wetter by the second.

He does it again, and this time, a needy moan escapes your lips, the sound of it echoing through the van and blending with the rhythmic patter of rain outside.

You feel his hard cock press against your ass, and a surge of anticipation courses through you. The thought of him entering you, filling you completely, drives you wild with desire. You crave it, crave him, more than anything.

He seizes the suspenders once more, pulling them taut, their snap against your skin echoing in the confined space of the van, a sharp punctuation to the electric tension between you.

Fuck. You’re probably dripping on the sheets now.

With precision, he adjusts his position behind you, his touch gentle yet purposeful as he shifts your panties to the side, his fingers tracing the curves of your ass before the tantalizing sensation of his dick against your folds sends shivers down your spine.

“Down,” he purrs, his voice low and commanding, as he presses your back and head into the sheets with the firmness of his strong hand, igniting a primal thrill that courses through your veins.

You comply, sinking into the plush sheets, your anticipation mounting as you feel his cock teasing against your slick folds, yet he doesn’t yield to the sweet surrender of penetration.

With each powerful thrust, his hands firm on your hips, you feel the friction igniting a wildfire of need between you, his desire branding your skin with each passionate press.

“Fuck. You look so pretty in this. So sexy,” every movement sends ripples of pleasure through you, his words adding fuel to the fire of arousal burning within. His praise ignites a fierce longing, amplifying the intensity of every thrust against your folds, like he was fucking into you.

Desire courses through you like a wildfire, consuming every rational thought in its wake. The sensation of his fervent thrusts against your skin is intoxicating, yet beneath the surface, a primal yearning gnaws at your core, demanding to be sated with the ultimate union of your bodies.

Surging waves of pleasure crash over you, catching you off guard as your senses reel from the approaching climax. His name escapes your lips in ragged breaths, a fervent prayer whispered into the fabric of the sheets as ecstasy dances on the precipice of release.

As his tip brushes against your sensitive nub, a wave of ecstasy washes over you, eliciting a throaty moan of pleasure. It’s almost overwhelming, the intensity of sensation sending shivers down your spine. Every nerve ending ignites with desire, leaving you breathless and craving more. Fuck. Why does it feel this good? The question lingers in your mind, lost amidst the whirlwind of bliss.

“Do you think you can come like this?” His voice is a sultry whisper, laden with anticipation, as he plunges deeper onto your pussy. With each forceful thrust against your throbbing clit and slick folds, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy. 

You clamp down on your lip, fighting back the wave of pleasure that threatens to engulf you completely. 

Through a choked sob, you manage to gasp out a breathless affirmation, your voice trembling with anticipation and need. “Yes,” you confess, your admission punctuated by the primal rhythm of his thrusts, each one pushing you closer to the precipice of ecstasy.

Every nerve in your body hums with a delicious tension, coiled tight like a spring ready to burst. With each electrifying touch, each tantalizing thrust, you teeter on the edge of oblivion, your senses ablaze with the promise of release. You’re on the brink, trembling on the precipice of ecstasy, and you know it won’t take much more for him to send you spiraling into blissful chaos.

“I’m already close,” you gasp, your voice a breathless plea, heavy with need and desire.

That admission ignites a fire within Yoongi, prompting him to alter his rhythm, trading speed for slow deliberate, powerful thrusts.

Fuck! His cock now pounds against your clit with even more intensity, sending waves of exquisite sensation coursing through you. It’s almost unbearable. It feels fucking delicious and you can’t take it anymore.

The moment is so intense, and you cry out his name as pleasure washes over you, without his skilled fingers or tongue touching you. It’s mind-blowing.

“Good girl,” his words of praise rain down on you like a soothing melody, even as he continues his slower thrusts, allowing you to savor the waves of your orgasm that leave you trembling with desire.

“Fuck, Yoongi. That was amazing, I—,” 

You’re cut off as Yoongi slowly eases his length into your entrance, the sensation of stretch mingling with pleasure, sending shivers down your spine. It’s intoxicatingly good, so utterly delicious, causing your fingers to clench around the sheets in a desperate grip.

“Fuck!” you pant, each inch he pushes in sending tremors of pleasure coursing through you, igniting every nerve ending with a feverish intensity of lust.

“Shit, you’re always so tight. And taking me so well,” he praises you, his voice husky with desire as your body responds, your inner muscles clenching around him in a rhythmic dance of ecstasy, eliciting a deep, primal moan from him.

When he’s finally fully in, you feel a rush of relief flood through you, the sensation of him stretching you sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. His hands roam your ass with a possessive hunger, seeking out the suspenders once more. As he pulls on them, the satisfying slap against your skin sends a jolt of delight through you, causing you to instinctively clench around him, eager for more.

“You really like that huh?” he chuckles, his voice laced with a mix of amusement and desire, “I do too. Seeing you like this, feeling you react to me—it’s intoxicating.”

“Yes! Just fuck me, Yoongi. I need you, I want you. Fill me up. Fuck me good and make me yours,” you plead, your voice laced with urgency and desire, each word punctuated by the heat of the moment.

“What my wife wants, she’ll get. You can count on that, love. I’ll fuck you good, don’t worry,” he reassures you with a firm pat on your back before plunging into you with renewed intensity, his movements becoming faster and harder with each thrust.

You moan uncontrollably, the sound escaping you in a crescendo of pleasure, unabashedly indulging in the obscenity of your own desire as he drives you to the brink with his relentless and skillful thrusts.

As he strikes that tender spot deep within you, a surge of ecstasy washes over you, rendering you utterly powerless to resist the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body, each thrust opening you up to a realm of bliss.

“Shit, I’m happy that I’ve already come, otherwise I’d be done for already,” he gasps, his grip on your hips tightening as he drives himself deeper into you, each thrust a symphony of raw desire and primal need.

Your relief mirrors his own, knowing that this time together will stretch out deliciously, allowing you to savor every moment of his passion. The anticipation builds within you, a craving to witness every expression, every twitch of pleasure on his face.

“Yoongi, please, I wanna see your face while you fuck me,” you plead, yearning to lock eyes with him as he thrusts into you. You strain to turn your head, craving the connection, the intimacy of sharing this moment with him, body and soul.

He pauses, withdrawing his cock from you momentarily, his breaths heavy with anticipation. “Then flip over, love,” he murmurs, his voice a husky promise, “Lie on your back, so I can see your face too as I make you mine.”

You comply, following his command eagerly, turning over and settling onto your back, legs parted invitingly. As he approaches, his dick in hand, slick with your essence, your anticipation heightens, every nerve alight with the promise of his touch.

“You look so gorgeous,” he murmurs, his voice husky with desire, as he guides his cock back into your pussy, each inch a testament to the intensity of your connection. A soft moan escapes your lips, his name a melody of pleasure on your tongue, as you revel in the ecstasy of his touch.

In this intimate position, you relish the opportunity to witness his unraveling, to see every expression of pleasure etched across his face as he reaches the pinnacle of ecstasy. When he finally succumbs to the waves of climax, it’s a sight that steals your breath away, one of the best in this world.

As he fills you up to the brim, a surge of affection floods through you, reflected in the warmth of your smile. With deliberate patience, he establishes a rhythm that's both tender and intense, each deliberate movement igniting a firestorm of sensation within you. The tantalizing dance of his hips against yours is almost torturous in its exquisite pleasure.

“You’re so handsome, Yoon,” you praise him, your voice a breathless whisper. “The way you’re making love to me right now… Fuck, it’s so good, I love it.”

You feel him twitch inside you, a subtle sign that he might not last as long as he thinks he will. A smirk dances across your lips, silently daring him to prove you wrong.

He descends to kiss you, the connection between your lips deep and passionate, matching the rhythm of his slow thrusts. The intimacy of the moment envelops you, igniting a fiery passion within. As he trails down to your neck, his kisses turn into playful nibbles, then a light bite, accompanied by a low, guttural groan of pleasure.

As his movements become more erratic, you sense his dick twitching more, prompting you to inquire, “Are you getting close again, Yoon?”

His voice, husky and filled with desire, caresses your ear as he murmurs your name, pulling back slightly to meet your gaze, his eyes smoldering with lust. “Not yet,” he breathes, his words sending a shiver down your spine.

His eyes rove over your body as his hands follow suit, moving to your breasts. He tugs at the lace, pulling the cups and bra up to expose your bare skin, wanting to see you fully, unobstructed by the fabric.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, his fingers trailing over your breasts, teasing your sensitive nipples, sending shivers of pleasure cascading through you.

With a teasing pinch of your nipples, he makes you hiss his name in pleasure, a satisfied chuckle escaping his lips as he rolls his hips into you.

He moves down again, latching his mouth onto one of your nipples, making you arch your back in delight. He swirls his tongue around the bud before sucking hard, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

The knot in your stomach tightens, the sensation building rapidly. You feel like you’re teetering on the edge, almost ready to be pulled under, but not quite there yet.

“Fuck, Yoon. I’m so close,” you pant, your hands tangling in his black hair. You tug, making him release your nipple with a groan.

“What do you need?” he asks, his voice dripping with desire and affection.

“Touch my clit,” you pant, desperate and so fucking close, craving his touch to push you over the edge and come around his cock.

Before he sits back up, he leans in to kiss you deeply, then his hand finds your clit, teasing it lightly before tugging at the swollen nub. As his dick hits your soft spot, the pleasure intensifies, and you know you’re on the brink of coming, seeing stars with every thrust.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, rolling his hips into your pussy. His fingers work your clit with vigor, perfectly synchronized with his thrusts. The light pressure on your clit is just right, deep enough to make you shudder, your toes curling in pure delight.

“Yoon!” you warn him, feeling your body tighten in response to his touch. Then, like a coiled spring released, you cream his cock, his fingers still swirling slow circles on your clit.

You pant for air, your body thrashing on the bed, but Yoongi, skilled and attentive, steadies you somewhat with his other hand.

“So pretty. You’re leaking,” Yoongi murmurs, his gaze fixed on the point where your bodies are joined. You sense his appreciation for the sight, the way his eyes trace the path of his cock disappearing into you. Damn, you love seeing it too, and his fascination with your joined bodies sends a thrill through you. You can only imagine the mesmerizing image below, your cum dripping out of you while he continues to fuck into you.

Your pussy pulsates around his dick, a rhythm of its own, coaxing a deep, primal sound from his lips as he spills his seed inside your warm, welcoming depths, filling you up with each pulse of his release.

“Shit, sorry,” he pants, his grip on your left leg tightening slightly as he adjusts his position, his breath hot against your skin.

You shake your head, a grin spreading across your lips. “Don’t apologize for not warning me, Yoon. I don’t care. You can come where and whenever you want.” Your words are laced with desire, your voice a sultry whisper that sends a shiver down his spine.

You pull him down into your chest, enveloping him in the warmth of your embrace, his head resting against the softness of your breasts, while you feel a mixture of yours and his liquid seep out of you.

Yoongi breathes hard, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of his exertion, his ear pressed against your chest, soaking in the comforting cadence of your heartbeat.

“Damn. It hit harder the second time. Caught me off guard,” he chuckles against your chest, his voice husky and tinged with fatigue, a testament to the intensity of your shared passion.

“Don’t worry,” you murmur, your hands soothingly tracing patterns on his back, eliciting a shiver from him that resonates within you as you feel him twitch slightly inside your pussy.

You don’t want him to pull away from you yet, so you hold him close, relishing in the intoxicating blend of his musky and sweaty scent enveloping you.

“Thank you, Yoongi. For marrying me, for loving me,” you start, your voice heavy with emotion, tears brimming in your eyes, each word carrying the weight of years of pining, love from afar and all the moments you’ve shared with him. 

He adjusts himself, his gaze locking with yours, “I should be the one thanking you. For loving me, for marrying me. For putting up with all my shit over the years.” His words carry a mix of gratitude and sincerity, a testament to the depth of his appreciation for your unwavering support and enduring love.

You chuckle softly, your eyes shimmering with affection. “Thank you for making today magical. With the twinkling lights and all the little surprises you had in store. You truly are the sweetest.” Your words are tender, carrying a warmth that reflects the depth of your appreciation for his thoughtfulness and effort.

With a soft smile, he leans in, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss, a silent affirmation of his love and gratitude.

As he draws back, his gaze sparkles with boundless affection, warming your heart and coaxing a smile from your lips in response.

“Where will our adventure take us for our honeymoon?” you inquire, drawing him close for another tender kiss, eager to embark on this new journey together.

“I’ve already booked it. You’ll wait and see, it’s a surprise” he declares with a grin, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. You’re left wondering if it’s a tropical paradise with sandy beaches or a lush, verdant haven tucked away in nature’s embrace.

Taglist: @idkjustlovingbts @constancelayon @wobblewobble822 @ktownshizzle @moonchild1 @ultimatefangirl0 @baechugff @jimintaemin @parapiop7 @fckkntired @iluvfndms @citypop-princess @tarahardcore @bergandysam @massivelyfullenthusiast @tatyhend @gimeow @jeonsbabygirlsworld

Did you like it??? Are you excited for where they’re going on their honeymoon? 🥹

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[fr0stf4ll]

Forge of Stralight - Part 2

here is the link for part 1 or part 3

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the heart of Velaris, a skilled blacksmith's quiet life is turned upside down when unexpected bonds begin to form with the enigmatic Spymaster of the Night Court. As she navigates the challenges of her craft and the complexities of newfound relationships, she discovers that love and loyalty may be the strongest forces of all in a world where darkness often lingers just beyond the light.

Word Count; 4k

notes; Hey everyone! This chapter is more centered around the IC. New clues and questions will arise while following Y/N from a different perspective. Also I already wrote a good part of the story, I will try to publish a new chapter every day/two day. I hope that you will like the part 2. Do not hesitate to comment. Bisous <3

---

Two weeks had flown by, and the long-awaited night of the Winter Solstice had enveloped Velaris in a festive blanket of snow and twinkling stars. Inside the stately townhouse of the High Lord, the inner circle—Mor, Armen, Cassian, Azriel, and Rhys—gathered around a roaring fire, the room aglow with the warmth of friendship and laughter.

Mor, ever the heart of any gathering, clapped her hands with a bright, infectious enthusiasm. "Alright, everyone, it's the moment we've all been waiting for—gifts time!" she announced, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Laughter and cheerful banter filled the room as small, beautifully wrapped packages began to change hands. Azriel joked about how he hoped his gift was better than last year's infamous "invisible cloak"—which turned out to be just an empty box. Cassian roared with laughter, slapping him on the back, while Rhys watched on, a sly grin playing on his lips.

As the gifts made their rounds, the moment came for Cassian and Azriel to receive their gifts from Rhys. With a dramatic flourish that matched the occasion, Rhys presented them each with an elegantly wrapped, long, slender box. "For my brothers, who deserve nothing but the best," he said with a warm tone of brotherly affection.

Cassian and Azriel exchanged a look of curiosity and anticipation before tearing into the wrapping. As they lifted the lids, the room fell into an appreciative silence. Inside each box lay a masterfully crafted sword and dagger set, the metal gleaming even in the soft light of the fire.

Azriel’s set was sleek and shadowy, with subtle, intricate engravings along the blade that seemed to shift and move in the light. The hilt was expertly crafted to fit perfectly in his hand, and the syphon stone nestled at the base pulsed with a faint, mysterious glow.

Cassian's sword and dagger were robust and commanding, with bold designs etched along the blades and a heavier, more aggressive build. The handles were wrapped in dark leather that contrasted starkly with the bright gleam of the steel, and his syphon stone throbbed with a powerful, steady light.

"Rhys, these are... incredible," Cassian finally broke the silence, his voice thick with emotion. "Seriously, brother, they're more than I could have hoped for."

Azriel, ever the more reserved of the two, was quietly inspecting his blade, but his impressed expression spoke volumes. He looked up at Rhys, a question in his eyes. "Was this why you sent me to the new blacksmith’s shop? To deliver our old syphons?"

Rhys nodded, a satisfied smile lighting up his face. "Yes, I wanted Y/N to incorporate them into your new weapons. I knew she could breathe new life into those old stones."

Mor leaned forward, her interest piqued. "That was a brilliant touch, Rhys. Y/N’s craftsmanship is truly remarkable. Did you see how Az’s blade almost seems alive with shadows?"

"And Cass’s looks like it could lead an army on its own," Armen added, smirking as she felt back in her comfy sofa.

The conversation spiraled into a lively discussion about the craftsmanship, the battle stories that the old syphons had seen, and how these new weapons would soon make their own marks in history. Laughter and heartfelt thanks filled the room, creating memories that would warm their hearts for many solstices to come.

As the night wore on, filled with more stories and laughter, Cassian and Azriel handled their new gifts with something akin to reverence. It was clear these were more than just weapons; they were symbols of their brotherhood, their strength, and the silent, unbreakable bonds that held them all together.

As the Winter Solstice celebration unfolded in the warm glow of the townhouse, Rhysand and Azriel found a brief moment of quiet near the crackling fire. The High Lord, nursing a glass of wine, caught the spymaster's thoughtful gaze and smiled knowingly.

"Y/N, hmm?" Rhysand began, his tone light with a hint of intrigue. "I heard about her long before she set up shop in Velaris. It was during a meeting with Helion at his court. He couldn't stop boasting about the spear she crafted for him—it was truly magnificent."

Azriel, leaning casually against the wall, raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "Helion? That's high praise coming from the Day Court. She must be something special."

Rhysand nodded, a gleam of pride in his eyes. "Indeed she is. From what I gather, she keeps to herself, lets her work speak for her. Mysterious, but fiercely talented."

Azriel’s interest was clearly piqued. "She seems to have a knack for keeping a low profile. What do you know about her background?"

Rhysand’s gaze shifted to the fire, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. "She’s originally from the Night Court, Velaris to be exact. But beyond that, she’s a bit of an enigma. Not one to share her story readily."

Azriel nodded slowly, absorbing the information. "Her work speaks volumes, though. Each piece feels imbued with a story, a history."

Rhysand chuckled softly. "Sounds like someone else I know," he teased, nudging Azriel playfully. "But she’s different. There’s a depth to her craftsmanship that’s rare."

Meanwhile, across the room, Mor and Cassian were engrossed in their own revelry, their laughter filling the air as they enjoyed the solstice festivities with abandon, seemingly oblivious to the more serious conversation unfolding between Rhysand and Azriel.

Azriel’s gaze lingered thoughtfully on the flickering flames before returning to Rhysand. "Do you think she’d be willing to collaborate with us more closely? Her talent could be a valuable asset to our efforts."

Rhysand nodded in agreement. "I was thinking the same thing. Let’s give her time to settle in, though. If she’s as exceptional as we believe, she’ll find her place in our plans soon enough."

Their conversation shifted to lighter topics as the night wore on, but Azriel couldn't shake the intrigue Y/N had stirred in him. Her presence in Velaris promised more than just exceptional craftsmanship—it hinted at alliances, mysteries, and a potential for change that resonated deeply within the heart of the Night Court.

----

A few days after the festive celebrations of the Winter Solstice, Rhysand was deep in discussion with Madja, the esteemed healer of the Night Court. They were seated in a quiet, sunlit room in the House of Wind, poring over scrolls and plans aimed at enhancing the health infrastructure of their court. They debated new strategies and shared insights on how best to equip their healers with advanced resources.

As their meeting drew to a close, Madja, ever observant, shifted the topic with a hint of intrigue in her tone. "Rhysand, have you heard of the blacksmith Y/N?" she asked, her eyes sharp and probing.

Rhysand nodded, a hint of pride in his response. "Yes, I'm quite familiar with her work. She crafted the weapons I gifted to Cassian and Azriel for the solstice. They were exceptional."

Madja leaned in slightly, her voice lowering to a confidential whisper. "Keep her close, Rhysand. She bears a power that could save many lives, far beyond what her craftsmanship alone might suggest."

Rhysand's interest was immediately piqued, his strategic mind already turning over the implications. "What do you mean, Madja? What kind of power are we talking about?"

Madja sighed, and her gaze became distant as she recalled the day she visited Y/N's smithy, prompting a flashback:

The day had been unusually brisk for Velaris, the winter chill seeping through even the warmest of cloaks. Madja pushed open the door to Y/N's smithy, greeted by the familiar clang of metal on metal and the comforting heat that rolled out from the forge. The shop was lively, with customers admiring the array of weapons and tools displayed with meticulous care. The air smelled of iron and burning coals, a scent that Madja had always associated with strength and resilience.

Y/N emerged from the back, wiping her hands on a leather apron, her sharp eyes taking in the scene before settling on Madja. "Healer Madja," Y/N greeted with a nod, a small smile on her lips. "What can I do for you today?"

Madja reached into the folds of her cloak and pulled out an old, well-worn sickle. The blade, while still sharp, had seen many years of use. "I need a new sickle," she explained, holding the tool out for Y/N to examine. "Something similar to this, but I’d like it embedded with healing gems—something that can amplify my abilities when I work."

Y/N took the sickle, turning it over in her hands, studying the craftsmanship with a discerning eye. "I can do that," she said after a moment. "I’ll need a few days to gather the right materials, but I’ll make sure it’s exactly what you need."

As they spoke, the shop was bustling around them. Alexander, ever energetic and eager to help, was darting about, juggling several tasks at once. At one point, he was carrying an armful of swords, trying to show a client the finer details of a blade while managing the chaos around him. Madja watched with a smile, amused by the boy’s enthusiasm.

But then, in his haste, Alex’s foot caught on the edge of a carpet that had bunched up beneath the weight of all the activity. He stumbled forward, the swords in his arms clattering to the ground with a sharp, metallic crash. His wide eyes filled with panic as he lost his balance, teetering dangerously.

Y/N reacted instantly, her hand shooting out to catch Alex before he could fall, her grip steady and sure. But in the chaos, Madja’s old sickle, which had been resting precariously on the edge of the counter, was knocked off, plummeting toward the floor—and directly toward Alex.

Madja’s heart leaped into her throat, but before she could move, Y/N’s other hand lashed out, snatching the sickle by the blade just inches from Alex’s head. The sharp edge sliced through Y/N’s palm, blood welling up immediately. But the sickle never reached the boy. Instead, Y/N held it firmly, her expression more concerned with Alex than her own injury.

"Alex, are you okay?" Y/N asked, her voice calm despite the cut on her hand.

Alex, wide-eyed and shaken, nodded slowly. "Y-Yeah, I’m fine. I’m so sorry, Nana, I didn’t mean to—"

"It’s alright," Y/N assured him, her voice gentle. She set the sickle down carefully, then knelt to help Alex gather the fallen swords. "Just be more careful next time, okay?"

Madja stepped forward, her healer’s instincts kicking in as she moved to examine Y/N’s hand. "Let me see that," she insisted, reaching out.

But Y/N pulled her hand back slightly, shaking her head. "It’s just a scratch. I’ll be fine."

Madja was about to protest when something caught her eye—small, flickering blue flames that danced across Y/N’s wound, sealing it shut with a soft, almost musical hum. The flames vanished as quickly as they had appeared, leaving behind smooth, unbroken skin where the cut had been just moments before.

Madja stared, her mind racing. "What... was that?" she murmured, more to herself than to anyone else.

Y/N seemed unfazed, her focus still on Alex, making sure he was steady on his feet. "Nothing to worry about," she said, her tone casual. But there was a tension in her voice that didn’t escape Madja’s notice.

The healer hesitated, unsure of what she had just witnessed, but knowing better than to press the issue in front of others. "If you’re sure," she finally said, though the uncertainty lingered in her eyes.

Y/N nodded, giving her a reassuring smile. "I am. Thank you, Madja."

Madja left the shop soon after, but the image of those blue flames stayed with her. She couldn’t shake the feeling that what she had seen was more than just a simple healing ability—there was something deeper, something powerful about Y/N that she couldn’t yet understand.

Back in the present, Rhysand’s expression was contemplative, his mind turning over the possibilities. "Blue flames that heal… That’s not something you see every day. You’re sure it was real, Madja?"

Madja nodded, her expression serious. "I’ve never seen anything like it before, Rhysand. There’s a power in her that could be incredibly valuable. Her abilities could redefine healing, or perhaps... something more."

Rhysand leaned back, his thoughts racing. "This is something I need to look into further. If Y/N possesses such power, she could play a crucial role in the future of the Night Court."

"Be careful, Rhysand," Madja warned gently. "Power like that isn’t always easy to control. But if anyone can guide her, it’s you."

Rhysand nodded, the weight of this new revelation settling on his shoulders. He knew he needed to approach this carefully, to understand the full extent of Y/N’s abilities—and to ensure that whatever power she held, it would be used to protect and strengthen the Night Court.

----

The day had been kind to you, the steady hum of work filling your hours, and now, as night fell over Velaris, you decided to treat Alex to a well-deserved meal. The two of you strolled along the Sidra, the river reflecting the twinkling lights of the city, casting everything in a magical glow. The restaurant you chose was a cozy, yet elegant establishment with an outdoor terrace that overlooked the water. The warm, inviting lights and the soft murmur of other diners created a serene atmosphere that was perfect for unwinding after a long day.

You had dressed nicely for the occasion, opting for well-fitted pants and a tailored shirt that allowed you to feel both comfortable and presentable. Alex, too, had cleaned up well, his usual enthusiasm shining brightly in his eyes as you both took your seats at a small table by the river.

"This place is amazing, Nana," Alex said, his voice filled with excitement as he scanned the menu. "We should come here more often!"

You smiled, taking in the joy on his face. "We’ve had a good run lately, haven’t we? I figured we deserved a little treat."

The waiter arrived, and you both placed your orders— your young apprentice going for sugary drink and you for a glass of white wine. As you sipped your drink, Alex leaned in with a mischievous grin.

"You remember that client who came in last week?" Alex began, his tone full of amusement. "The one who insisted he needed a sword for 'taming wild beasts'? Turns out he thought the sword would actually talk to the animals and convince them to behave."

You nearly choked on your wine, giggling at the absurdity of it. "No! Did he really? I thought he just wanted a strong blade for hunting or something."

Alex nodded, laughing. "Yeah! I had to explain to him that swords don’t exactly come with instructions for bear negotiations."

Your laughter was soft and genuine, the joy of the moment spreading warmth through your chest. It was in that moment of shared humor that the door to the restaurant opened, and you caught sight of Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian entering. They were dressed as impeccably as ever, their presence immediately commanding attention in the room. 

The three of them were clearly expected, as a table near the river, a bit more private, was promptly made available for them. However, before they were seated, Rhysand’s gaze fell upon you and Alex. His eyes lit up with recognition, and a charming smile spread across his face as he made his way over to your table, the others following behind.

"Y/N," Rhysand greeted warmly, his voice smooth as ever. "What a pleasant surprise to see you here." He turned to Alex with a grin. "And this must be the famous Alexander I’ve heard so much about."

Alex, never one to shy away from attention, beamed up at the High Lord. "That’s me! Nice to see you again, my lord!"

Rhysand chuckled, then glanced back at his brothers. "Y/N, allow me to introduce Cassian, our esteemed General of the Illyrian legions. I believe you’ve already met Azriel, our spymaster."

Cassian extended a hand with a friendly grin. "I’ve heard nothing but good things about your work, Y/N. It’s a pleasure to finally meet the master behind the blade."

You shook his hand, feeling a bit shy under the attention but managing a smile. "The pleasure’s mine. I’ve heard a lot about you as well."

Azriel, standing slightly behind Rhysand, gave you a nod of acknowledgment. "Good to see you again, Y/N."

Rhysand then motioned toward their table, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. "Why don’t you both join us for dinner? We’d love the company."

Caught off guard, you hesitated, glancing at Alex before responding. "Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude. This is your night out, after all."

Cassian waved away your concern with a laugh. "Nonsense! The more, the merrier."

You were still about to politely decline when Alex piped up, his eyes wide with excitement. "Please, Nana! I’ve always wanted to have dinner with them. Plus, I think they’ve got some cool stories to tell!"

You bit your lip, trying to hide your smile. Alex’s enthusiasm was hard to resist, and the idea of joining them, despite your initial reluctance, was becoming more appealing. Finally, you sighed playfully and nodded. "Alright, alright. You win, Alex."

Rhysand’s smile broadened as he gestured toward their table. "Perfect. Let’s make this an evening to remember."

The evening by the Sidra continued to unfold beautifully as you and Alex joined Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel at their table. The atmosphere was warm and inviting, the city lights reflecting off the river, casting a soft glow over the terrace. The five of you settled in comfortably, and soon, food and drinks were ordered—a mix of hearty dishes and lighter fare, with wine flowing freely.

As the meal progressed, the conversation naturally turned to more personal topics. Rhysand, ever the curious and perceptive High Lord, leaned in slightly, his eyes twinkling with genuine interest. "Y/N, you’re a bit of a mystery. I’d love to know more about your story—where you’re from, your family, how you came to be the talented blacksmith you are today."

You hesitated for a moment, swirling the wine in your glass as you considered where to begin. The table fell into a quiet, expectant silence, all eyes on you.

"Well," you started, "I’m originally from Velaris. My father was a guard here, dedicated to protecting the city, and my mother came from a family of old politicians who eventually left Hewn City to make a life here."

Cassian nodded thoughtfully, sipping his drink. "Sounds like they were strong people. What happened to them?"

You sighed softly, the memories bittersweet. "My mother died giving birth to me. It was... hard on my father. They were mates, and the pain of losing her was too much for him. He passed away a few hours after she did."

Cassian’s brow furrowed, his voice laced with concern and curiosity. "He just... passed away? How?"

You took a deep breath, meeting his gaze steadily. "He killed himself. The bond they shared was so strong that living without her wasn’t an option for him."

The table grew solemn, the weight of your words settling over everyone. Rhysand reached out, "I’m sorry, Y/N. That’s a lot for anyone to bear."

You nodded, appreciating the gesture. “I never actually knew them so I’m fine with it I guess. After they died, I was raised by my father’s best friend—my master. He taught me everything I know about blacksmithing. We traveled to most of the courts and across the continent, honing my skills. Alex," you added with a fond glance at the boy beside you, "is my master’s son. After my master passed away, I took Alex under my wing."

Alex, who had been quietly listening, smiled up at you, his admiration evident. “Y/N's the best teacher. She’s taught me everything."

Azriel, who had been quietly observing, spoke up, his tone thoughtful. "You’ve had quite the journey, Y/N. It takes strength to turn pain into something as beautiful and powerful as your work."

You smiled softly, nodding in agreement. "It wasn’t easy, but it’s the only way I know how to honor them."

As the evening wore on, the conversation flowed freely, accompanied by the delicious food and the soothing ambiance of the Sidra beside you. After sharing your story, a question that had been lingering at the back of your mind finally surfaced.

“You three,” you began, glancing between Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel, “are you truly brothers? I’ve heard stories, but I’ve always wondered how much truth there is to them.”

Cassian chuckled, exchanging a glance with Rhysand and Azriel. “Well, not by blood,” he admitted, “but in every way that matters, we’re brothers.”

Rhysand nodded, his expression softening as he looked at his two closest friends. “We grew up together in the Illyrian war camps. It wasn’t an easy upbringing, but we forged bonds that can’t be broken. Cassian and Azriel have been at my side through everything—through battles, victories, losses… they’re my family.”

Azriel, who was usually reserved, added quietly, “We’ve faced more together than most blood-related brothers ever would. That kind of connection goes beyond anything as simple as blood.”

Cassian leaned in, a grin spreading across his face. “And if you need proof, just look at how often we bicker like brothers.”

You laughed softly, understanding now the depth of their bond. “It’s clear there’s a lot of history between you. It’s… comforting to see that even in a place as powerful as the Night Court, family—however it’s made—still matters most.”

Rhysand smiled at you, his eyes reflecting the sentiment. “Family is everything to us, Y/N. And it’s something that grows—not just with blood, but with loyalty and trust.”

At this, Cassian turned his attention to Alex, who was listening intently. “Speaking of family, Alex, how about joining ours in a different way? Ever thought about training to be a warrior? You’ve got the makings of a good one.”

Alex looked up at Cassian, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “What time would the training start?”

Cassian grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Around dawn. What do you think?”

Alex wrinkled his nose playfully, causing everyone to chuckle. “Dawn? That’s way too late! By then, Nana and I have already finished our training.”

The table fell into a momentary silence, the surprise evident on the faces of the Night Court’s inner circle. Azriel raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “You train before dawn?”

You couldn’t help but smile at their reactions. “What did you expect? We don’t just create weapons; we know how to wield them, too. Alex is becoming quite skilled, actually.”

Cassian let out a low whistle, visibly impressed. “Well, consider me impressed. Maybe I’ll join you two sometime—if you’ll have me.”

Alex beamed with pride. “You’re welcome anytime, but don’t expect to keep up!”

Laughter erupted around the table, the earlier heaviness of your shared stories giving way to a light-hearted camaraderie that wrapped around you like a warm embrace. The night continued with more stories, jokes, and the easy flow of conversation that only comes when people truly connect.

As the evening drew to a close, and the stars twinkled brightly above Velaris, you felt a deep sense of belonging. This dinner by the Sidra had revealed not just the pasts of the people around you, but had begun weaving your own story into the fabric of their lives. It was the start of something new, something meaningful—both for you and for Alex—and you couldn’t wait to see where it would lead.

tag list: @annamariereads16 @hanatsuki-hime @elsie-bells

don't hesitate to comment if you want to be added to the tag list ;)))

[whereisloe]

Tough

“Like a .38 made out of brass” ꗥ arthur morgan x fem reader

a lil dutch x reader action cuz i’m just that girl - warnings n/a

𓆝. 𓆟

“You have my condolences for your father. He was a very valuable man” You watched Angelo Bronte carefully from your black fan that covered half of your veiled face. You had to really sell this mourning look if you wanted to fool such a powerful man so, that you did. Getting all dressed up in your black attire everything matching from the black, layered ruffles of your petticoat to the lacy parcel carried by your escort. “Because of his loyalty, I will extend my offer of protection onto you so as long as we still do business together, hm?” He took a sip of his glass before leaning back onto his loveseat with his legs crossed.

“I thank you, truly, Mr. Bronte. But, the extra protection won’t be necessary. We’ve got our own guns for hire on our land” You maintained a harsh stare onto the man across from you as he savored another sip from his wine glass. He laughed amused with your simple answer before tipping his glass to you. “Ha, your father says the same thing. Like daughter, like father then”

“Mr. Bronte, I am no fool to business. With all due respect, I did not come here to reminisce nor, have you invited me here to, no?” Bronte gazed up at you from across the table. Eyes narrowed and unreadable as though he couldn’t figure what to think of you. “You are a very…smart girl” You felt your mouth twitch as he continued his speech. You couldn’t stand the man’s voice, how degrading his words were as you feigned oblivion to obvious exploitations that were about to leave his mouth. “Your father received 10% of all government related endeavors. Whether it was busting criminals or busting vaults, didn’t matter to me just so long as I got 20% of his business.” He paused as he licked at his lips. “Your father did not remain in good standing with me for the money. Instead, he wanted security. Security, that nothing would happen to him or his precious daughter while he worked with me, and security I provided” This man reeked on lies, your father had been shot doing a job for this man but only after he demanded a raise in his cut.

“I can assure you I am not my father. I am here for money, security is something I may provide myself” You gestured over at the guns you hired not too long ago before this meeting. “Daddy was never too smart when it came to funds. Thinkin’ our oil plant would be enough with no back up money to lean on” You lightly began to fan your face as you felt yourself get worked up. “Then we was robbed, Daddy may have turned a blind eye to it but, I ain’t one to show weakness”

“I take it you want my help with this” He gestured to the air before pulling a cigar from a tray. “this show of strength” You nodded and carried on with your story.

“Those boys you’re in good spirit with robbed us good and as a long devotee to your cause, Mr. Bronte, I don’t take too kindly to it”

“My dear, as much as I appreciate your kindest regards, you must understand this business. If I was worried about my clients opinions of one another I’d be the poorest man in Saint Denis. The most I can do is keep them out of your business but, they’re fickle men…not to be trusted” He blew the the smoke of his cigar off to the side as your foot tapped rapidly. You were ready to lay your cards out, prove a point that your father raised woman fairly gifted in her trade. “I completely understand, I just request that I may also be in kahoots with these outlaws”

“Why? So you can get them arrested?”

“Precisely, Mr. Bronte. Of course, on your word. But, if I get in good standin’ with the law they’ll send some men over to the plant. That way we produced more, with less risk” Your foot halted its tapping pausing as the man in front of you thought carefully of your words. On paper, the plan was foolproof and a win-win. “So, whaduya think?” You attempted to expedite the man’s response but was only met with another deafening silence.

“I think I’ve been doing business with the wrong (l/n)” Angelo stood from the loveseat before offering you a hand to follow. You smiled, accomplished with the reaction you received before resting your freehand in his. “I must ask one favor of you, though” You nodded before lifting yourself from the seat. “I need you to host one of my official parties. To test if these men can be trusted, I’ll give subtle hints about your booming business.”

“Are ya fixin’ these men to rob me?”

“I’m fixing you an opportunity to meet these men…” He took your silence as compliance before continuing on. “The plan is, you catch these rats red handed and negotiate, later you tell me if they’re treacherous. If not then I’ll set up a meeting for you and the boss.” He scoffed at word as though he was amused by the thought of it. “And do not worry, I’ll have men everywhere for this event”

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Mr. Bronte” You both shook on it before he walked you up to the front gate. The sun beamed down on you the second your foot met with the cobbled path of the front patio. Your escort was quick to your side with your parasol before you could even muster the words to complain. “The details will be delivered shortly, a presto, miss”

Today was the day.

You could finally put the face to the name that robbed you. Van der Linde Gang. You sighed at the name, as you fixed the headdress adorning your maintained curls. You still kept your attire relatively dark as your father’s death was still fresh in the press. All you had to do was briefly preside over the party from your balcony, allowing Bronte enough time to present you to his friends new and old. Maybe you’d commute down to your gardens to briefly acquaint yourself with your guests.

“Are you ready, Miss” Your maid questioned from your balcony doors. You adjusted yourself one last time before standing from your seat. “Ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose” You promenaded your way towards the doors as your maid rushed behind you as to raise the dragging silks of your skirt just enough to hover the dirty concrete of the balcony but not enough to reveal your petticoat or bustle. You stood straight presiding over all your guests that took it upon themselves to socialize. None of these men meant anything to you except two.

You noticed Bronte with two men, who cleaned up well considering their circumstance, as they prattled on about god knows what. That was until one of seemed to motion up to you.

Nice shaven beard, tall and broad, with a subtle slick to his hair. None of these men would be able to tell but, you’d been admiring the man from afar staring down at him with shameless eyes. “Miss, your stares could be noticed as rude” Your maid whispered to you having you straighten yourself out before giving the man one last glance. Now, the other one had looked up at you but only briefly. He wasn’t too bad himself.

Perhaps, you wouldn’t mind going downstairs and acquainting yourself.

“My goodness” You spoke breathlessly to your maid. “Aren’t they some neat lookin’ fellas?” She hid her smile as she giggled at your unserious behavior.

“They are quite the sight—”

“Ohh, I bet you were lookin’ at the boss, Mr. Van der linde, hisself, huh?” You waved for the older lady to follow you inside as you teased her with your antics. “Well” She began while she laid the train of your dress neatly against the wooden boards fixing the bunched up silks that rested on your bust, “I won’t deny such a thing” the maid smiled softly as you laughed, briefly allowing yourself to calm down.

“Shall we get acquainted with them?” You turned to your maid, fixing her cascading curls as you waltzed past her. “C’mon, this is excitin” By the time you and your maid made it down stairs you could practically feel your heart beating out your chest. You hadn’t the slightlest clue why you were so nervous like some young faced girl talking to a boy for the first time. “Goodness, I’m nervous” You turned to your maid with a hand resting on your cheek.

“It’ll alright, miss. Just remember, you’re here for business negotiations not suitors” She chimed amused with your rather inappropriate reaction. You laughed to yourself as her words hit you. “I’m actin’ ridiculous…alright, cmon”

“Ah, There she is, the woman of the hour” Bronte was quick to call as you approached the men now facing you. You felt your nerves burning you up inside as you grabbed Bronte’s forearm and greeted him with il bacetto, an Italian courtesy you’d learn amongst the time you’ve spent with Bronte. Once you pulled back your attention was instantly on this so called boss standing off to the right of Bronte.

“Missus (l/n)” The man held out his hand as his eyes never left yours. You smiled, masking the slight in embarrassment you felt as you corrected him. “Miss, is just fine.” You placed your hand in his allowing him to kiss your knuckles. Amongst all the intense eye contact, you would think with how you felt moments ago, you’d be a flustered mess just right about now. But, your gut was telling you something serious was up about this man. You’ve been played a fool by many before, and you’ve caught almost just as many amidst their schemes. That glint in his eye, even the courteous gesture was a warning. This man was plotting and it all began with buttering you up.

Subtly, you recalled your hand before carrying on conversation. “I take it, you’re the one that runs things. Mr. Van der Linde, if I’m not mistaken”

“You wouldn’t be, miss. And here my…consort, Mr. Morgan” You noticed the slight pause in his speech before motioning over to the other man. Your head was quick to turn as you stared over at him. Eyes widening as you noticed his attractive features now closely. You smiled and nodded as a greeting to the man. “Ma’am” He returned your gesture with his slight acknowledgment. Couldn’t really hear it in the boss’s voice but, with Mr. Morgan’s you’d instantly picked up on the western candence.

“You don’t sound local, Mr. Morgan. You all from the west, I take it?”

“We’re from all over, Ma’am” He was short with you and rather mysterious, more than likely to hide his western drawl. But, they’ve got something greater to hide, you could feel it. “Mr. Bronte, may I ask a favor of you?”

“Anything, dear” He took a huff of his cigar before you suspiciously looked around for any ‘peering eyes’. “I’ve got the money but, there’s been talk of some group of boys runnin’ around robbing folk—You boys wouldn’t know anything of them, no?”

“No, we certainly do not. Saint Denis is new to us as well as its crime” Van der Linde was quick to respond. You nodded and grabbed his hand with a feigned concern and furrowed brows. “You all stay careful out there. They’re robbin’ houses and coaches from what I’ve heard. I could lend you both a couple of escorts, tonight as well”

“We appreciate the concern but, we’ve got ourselves handled” He reassured with a palm covering your hand.

“Alright, alright” You turned your attention back to Bronte. “The money’s in Daddy’s old office, I a-ain’t know what to do with it—”

“Calm down, the money will be fine. Go on, enjoy yourself.” Bronte played along with your little performance you put on. “What should I do with it? I ain’t never ran a business before.” Bronte tutted his tongue before leading you further into the gardens where all the officials rendezvoused.

“We’ll be back, boys. Help yourselves to some drinks while you’re here” Bronte spoke back to the men as the both of you, alongside your maid, disappeared in the crowd.

“Go find out where that money’s at, Arthur” Dutch wasted no time before turning to Arthur and bringing his voice down to a whisper. Arthur looked over toward him with a practical disbelief.

“Jesus, you ain’t serious? The girl’s daddy just died, now we’re robbing her of her own inheritance”

“Her daddy just died. Meaning that other people are gonna to rob her and, I’m not too sure about you but, I’d rather it be us that gets that money” His voice stained against the low volume he attempted to maintain before lighting a cigar. “I need you to trust me, Morgan, now…” Dutch backed away before tipping his hat to the man. Arthur sighed and made his way inside where the more quiet and intimate conversations took place.

By the time, Mr. Morgan had snuck his way upstairs you’d already been sitting in your father’s office chair shotgun light in your grasp. You had snuck your way around toward the back entrance of your estate which led straight up into the room. You double check the chamber making sure that you were sure to shoot if needed. Growing anxious with nothing but the drowned out voices from outside to distract you, you placed a cigarette to your lips before striking a lonesome match against the underside of your heel.

You’d get through half your cigarette before the soften floorboards creaked from the other side of the door. Quickly, you smothered the stick with the ashes of previous cigarettes your father burned through.

The door crept open and you were slowly met with the deadly end of a revolver and soon after an arm. “I’d put that down if I were you, Mr. Morgan” You stared down the barrel of your shot gun as the man slowly crept from behind the door. “Nobody has to get shot, I’m here to negotiate. Come sit with me, Mr. Morgan”

“Arthur.” He said curtly, clearly fed up with this whole event. He slowly holstered his weapon before seating himself in the chair sat on the opposite side of your desk.

“Arthur Morgan” You let his name slip your lips as you tested it. “You’re quite notorious, you know that?” You spoke clearly and watched him with your gun pointed toward him as you figured him out. “I’ve got family, down in Blackwater, sir. Say, they know all about you.”

“Do they now?” You nodded, slowly as your heel tapped against the wood. “What exactly are ya lookin’ to negotiate, Miss”

“I want to hire your gang as some guns and in turn I’ll keep this and your relation to the Blackwater massacre secret. And, if things play out as I’ve planned, I could probably get those Pinkertons off ya, for a moment anyway” You leaned back into the leather chair before setting your gun off to the side. “I’m tired of listenin’ to these men talk, empty promises followed by another all they is. Leviticus Cornwall for one, Angelo Bronte for another”

“Don’t you have your own men to escort you, why us?” Arthur questioned before leaning back as well, in his wooden seat legs spread and arms crossed. “I ain’t hirin’ y’all on a babysitting job. I need money, gold. I’d be sending y’all on robberies, I need experienced men not no, rich cat on a high horse” You licked your lips before getting desperate. “I’m tryna to buy off an oil plant from Cornwall but, I can’t do that without Bronte keeping the police distracted off of my daddy’s debts. With my daddy dead and me being a woman, my percentages have taken a hit. I can’t pay ‘em both”

“You sure are in a situation—”

“So are you. You need Bronte to trust you and the Pinkertons to fuck off. You need me.” You both stared at one another for a moment before letting your eyes soften. Even though, you’d been mid negotiation, you couldn’t help admiring his blue eyes, warmly lit from the lantern in front of you. God, what you would do just to be able to hold his face in your palms as your thumb rubbed the rosy blemishes of his cheeks.

“You ain’t wrong.”

“I know I ain’t. Now, would you escort me down to your boss, Mr. Arthur Morgan” You spoke sweetly before making your way over to his side and grabbing his arm. You would be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying every second of holding this man. With your one hand wrapped around his elbow and the other gently gripping his bicep, you followed his lead as you both left the room. “You know, you had me fooled back there…playing all helpless” You looked up at the man with a curious gaze mostly because you hadn’t heard the first half of what he was saying to you. “That was a set up, right? There ain’t no money.” You shook your head and smiled up at the bachelor to keep up a friendly appearance as you passed up some guests of yours.

“Bronte wanted to see if y’all were worth trustin’. ‘S nice to know if you lot like robbin’ helpless women” You winked before laughing at the matter only to get a rather dry chuckle from Arthur in return. “It’s alright, I won’t tell a soul, I promise” You placed a reassuring hand to his chest before letting it fall once you both reached the garden. “You know, you’re a handsome fellow, Mr. Morgan. Are you married? I can’t imagine that bein’ easy being in a gang and all.” You started up some small talk as the two of you walked around in search of Dutch.

“I ain’t married, no”

“What about your boss?” You urged.

“Well, he ain’t neither. Got a woman, though…back at camp” They had a woman traveling with them? You held back questioning about her before carrying on. “I take it you don’t, then? No women waitin’ on ya at home?”

“Not in that sense, no” Arthur said plainly as he maneuvered the two of you through the crowd carefully accommodating for you. “Y’all got more women traveling with you boys?” Your eyes brighten with the assumption you made. He nodded and watched as your face lit up. “You should bring ‘em over if this conversation with Mr. Van der Linde goes over well” You spoke outwardly not even thinking about what context the two of you were in currently. “You’re quite odd, Miss” Arthur chuckled before waving Dutch over with his freehand.

“Arthur. Miss (l/n).” Dutch greeted the both of you before visibly growing curious of the atmosphere. Your smiled faded as you grew more serious with the other male.

“Mr. Van der Linde, how would you feel about bein’ business partners?”

[ashessonfire]

FIRST KISS WITH KAZ!!! Maybe through fabric or just working through his touch aversion to get there

'Need' - Kaz Brekker x reader

Prompt - An overview of the relationship which brings the Bastard of the Barrel's hardened walls crashing down. But how long will it take for him to show his true longing for you? - Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Reader(gender neutral) - Warnings: Mentions of Kaz's trauma but nothing too detailed, just Kaz being desperate to be with you :) - A/N: Thank you so much for requesting anon! I hope this is okay, its my first fic ever so please leave any criticism or improvements you may have. also please let me know if we like this style of writing <33 PLEASE REQUEST!!

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Kaz had many things he wanted. Kruge, power, and revenge were among his most desired, however there was only one thing that he slowly began to realize he truly needed.

You.

After a long period of brushed hands and stolen glances, the Bastard of the Barrel had finally confessed his fondness for you, planting the seed of a rough but beautiful love. Even before the possibility of a true relationship bloomed, you knew that any form of intimacy was a weakness for Kaz, and an opportunity for his enemies to strike.

In order to counter this, you and Kaz spent endless hours breaking down his barriers within the confines of his room at the slat, and on occasion the office at the crow club. It began with small acts of service, bring Kaz tea when he was working too long, him bringing small gifts back from the market, even exchanged notes of gratitude or compliments.

As Kaz began to remove his armour, he reluctantly allowed you closer and closer, until the two of you began to work on his undeniable fear of physical contact.

It started off slowly and rarely, with his gloves still permanently clinging to his scarred hands as he adjusted to touching your arm or hand through several layers of material. Each attempt left Kaz with a bubbling feeling in his chest as if he was longing for something he couldn’t quite place, although he pushed down any thought of needing you more than he already did.

Each gentle smile, kind touch, or loving word chipped his armour more, growing the intensity of the feeling within his chest. A need for you.

This feeling buried itself deep within Kaz’s heart, growing in intensity each time he saw you, and consuming him completely if he ever saw you in the embrace of another.

Kaz trusted you fully, at least to his personal limit, having been raised by a city full of deception and misfortune himself. As a result, he would never blame you for seeking comfort in the touch of others despite your relationship, he knew it was cruel to deny you this, and was confident in your loyalty and love for him.

Yet his heart and mind found it easy to experience a taste of bitterness towards whoever was fortunate enough to be graced with a swift hug or gentle touch from you, often being another of his crows.

Deep down he knew it was immature of him to have something as low as jealousy completely overtake him, but each touch they received sent daggers flying directly through his chest, lodging themselves deeply into his already aching heart.

The boiling jealousy would be quickly dispelled as you made your way over to him, brushing your fingers over his gloved ones and smiling softly at the clearly frustrated boy.

As time went on, the touch Kaz’s body could allow increased, both in receiving and giving. Words of praise besides the touch aided in the rocky yet manageable journey, however eye contact was easily the most efficient way of communicating what both lovers meant.

To most throughout the barrel, a quick glance from the infamous Dregs leader is enough to set even the fiercest gang member’s blood racing, chilling their insides simultaneously with its razor-like edge.

Yet somehow, after studying your beautiful bosses face for long enough, you cracked the code on his impenetrable gaze, soon being able to decipher even the smallest slips of emotion through a twitch or a shift in his glare. Kaz often contemplated how you managed to read him so efficiently, settling on you perhaps using one of his own lock-picking techniques to unravel his emotions and ultimately, his heart.

════ ∘◦ᵒ 𓅓 ᵒ◦∘ ════

As a result of this skill, you were immediately able to sense a change in Kaz’s stance and mood as you gently shut the door to his office behind you and made your way over to his desk. “I brought you tea my love,” you quietly said, not wanting to provoke the clearly tense man in front of you.

Frequently Kaz would be in difficult moods after jobs, his mind buzzing with adrenaline and further plans for more tasks he needed to instantly begin planning. As you broke down his barriers, you managed to reduce this urgency, always gaining at least an hour or two to help him; bringing him tea, running him hot water to wash with, finding new books to discuss and read together, or even just admiring the city from the rooftops.

However this was different, the job was supposedly simple, but every aspect had gone awry and almost cost multiple dregs their lives. After complicated missions such as these, you knew Kaz needed space to breath, with a single glance in your direction a clear indicator of whether your presence was needed or not in that moment (however he always called for you as soon as he was able).

Tension radiated through the air, and although you weren’t afraid of his tempers like the others, you were feeling uneasy at your own inability to read what was crossing his mind. His shoulders were hunched as he slowly lifted his blistering gaze to meet yours, lacking the usual softness they held only for you, yet not containing any hostility.

He huffed out a sigh, stormy eyes locked on yours, thoughts racing inside, but not translating to his eyes, your only window into his troublesome mind. “I don’t know what to do” he finally muttered as you patiently waited for him to formulate his words.

After many hours spent with him, you had learnt how strenuous verbal communication was for him, and how often he just needed time to articulate his answers and force them out into the open. So, as he settled back into the silence of the office, you shifted the chair opposite to his and made yourself comfortable, allowing him to calm his raging thoughts with your familiar presence.

“Its too much. Each time we leave and come back it grips me, tighter and tighter,” he stumbles out, forcing the sounds of each word out of his mouth as if he is battling with his mind to allow them to be heard. Despite your lack of context, you gave a soft reassuring smile, nodding towards him and taking a sip of your tea to allow him a moment to breathe and continue.

“On jobs, or at the club, I can’t escape it,” he states breathlessly, before continuing, “How is it possible to need something so badly, yet my greatest need is the one thing I cannot truly have?” immediately signalling that this must be about his feeling of imprisonment his body forces upon him.

He slowly rose from his seat, limping towards you with a strong air of determination, eyes glued to yours as you scanned him in a failed attempt to decode his actions. You gazed up as he loomed over you, planting himself only a few feet away, the proximity making a beautiful warmth spread through your chest at his comfortability with you.

“I know I cannot give you what you need. You reassure me, yet I know it is not enough to live behind walls, barriers, defences.” He states, voice shaking at the end of each cadence, showing an impressive amount of bravery to admit his deepest concerns to you. He continued, “But I cannot live that way either,” his face leaning closer to yours, your breath suddenly hitching in your throat, cheeks glowing with a rosy flush.

“It’s too much, knowing I cannot have you in the way that you deserve. That…” he trails off, face shifting closer to yours with each word, inch by inch breaking down both of your defences. After swallowing thickly and regaining himself, he continues “That I want.”

By now his breath sends warm ripples across your skin, rendering you speechless at Kaz’s ability to fight his demons, striking them down for just enough time to reach you, even for a moment.

“But I know what I want, and I will be damned if anything stops me from getting it,” he demands, dangerously low, conflicting with the vulnerability displaying in his eyes, showing his internal conflict as he pushes his boundaries to the limit, leaving you certain the waters are chest high by now. However, his next action dispels any thoughts you had before, rendering you stunned.

“I want you,” he whispers before crashing his lips against yours.

Although it couldn’t have lasted longer than 3 seconds, the bliss that overwhelmed the pair of you was astounding, pure love radiating between you without the waters washing away the moment. Shortly after, the ocean regained its grip, forcing him to stumble back a good few feet, shaking violently and gripping the desk for support.

What surprised you the most was his expression.

He wore the faintest, yet most heartfelt smile you had ever seen grace his lips, filled with pride at his victory and ability to not only communicate, but finally act on his desires.

Your eyes pricked with tears as the emotions overcame you, your chest filling to the brim with love for the man, however you knew better than to stay any longer and prolong the inevitable current that was already overwhelming him. You stood quietly, slowly removing your jacket and placing it neatly on the table, eyes permanently glued to Kaz to ensure you remained a suitable distance.

He shakily nodded his head in thanks, breathing becoming shallower as he attempted to regain a sense of rhythm, grabbing the coat and waveringly making his way around his desk.

Early in the process of unravelling his fear of touch, you discovered that he found great solace in items of yours, especially for the times when he couldn’t convince his own mind that you were warm and present, not like the frigid bodies that plagued him. They gave him a piece of yourself to grasp onto when your physical presence was too much.

It shattered your heart into splinters at the idea of leaving him in this state, but you knew it was what he needed, and the certainty that within an hour or two he would be calling for your presence brought a sense of calm over you.

As you reached to lightly close the door, you looked up to find him staring at you through his trembling state, a triumphant look still faintly glittering in his eyes. You sent him a comforting smile, tears creating a glassy sheen over your eyes, illuminated by the candlelit office.

“I’m proud of you Kaz. So proud, more than you could ever know. I’ll see you later my love,” you breathed, loud enough for him to hear.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you shut the door, as the pride, pain, and love overwhelmed your senses. A lone tear slipped as you descended the stairs to process the night’s event, which unbeknownst to you, mirrored the boy sat in his office.

Kaz also shed a single tear amongst the panic his body forced upon him, however instead of the pure pain, grief, and dread that usually fell, a strong sense of victory escaped with that tear too.

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[adelarsims]

a pure creature 🦄

he speaks in a very quiet and soft voice, almost a whisper. just like he would stomp his hoof to cast magic in his true form, he can pretty much slam his fist on the wall or table to do the same.

things that curious students learned about unicorns, despite the class being not about unicorns but about artifact enchantments:

contrary to common belief, they really don't care about your virginity. isn't it a little silly to imagine that they would want humans to go extinct before communicating with them? the purity unicorns are drawn to is of your thoughts, your intentions, your heart. they won't come over to liars, traitors, murderers, people who let the darkness and corruption into their souls. they would react negatively to infidelity (as it is the form of betrayal), but not to just people physically loving each other. and how do you think unicorns reproduce?..

yes, there were people who were riding upon unicorns, especially elven people because they naturally reject corruption, but that doesn't make unicorns their "mounts". they're partners, companions and friends, and letting someone ride them is simply for convenience in terms of speed and maneuverability, just like you would give a piggyback ride to a friend with sprained ankle.

unicorn horn dust, a rare, expensive, and extremely potent ingredient for healing potions and medicine, comes from baby horns that unicorns shed the first few years of their lives, much like humans lose their baby teeth. they gather and keep their baby horns. to get one of those from unicorns, it must be traded or received as a gift, but not stolen or taken by deception and violence - it's an unforgivable crime. and there's no worse soul corrupting act than to kill a unicorn. the horn taken from a dead unicorn loses its healing power.

a unicorn truly loves only once in their lifetime, and to fall in love with someone with a short lifespan is a tragedy that will lead to lifetime of heartbreak, sorrow, and loneliness. that's one of the reasons why they don't communicate with people often and aren't keen on getting to know them on personal levels, but they have better relationships with elves.

a question that he couldn't answer for sure:

if a unicorn stabs someone with their horn, will that person die or be healed? who knows. are you willing to find out? no? hmm...

[apomaro-mellow]

King and Prince 32

Part 31

Steve was lounging in his sheets, still dressed in his bed clothes as he reread one of Eddie’s letters. The way he described it, Steve was some sort of hammer-wielding hero of legend. Last he’d heard of Jason, he had slinked back home. Steve was through with worrying about him though. The people had seen his strength and honor and any who had doubts about his and the king’s courtship were now swayed in his favor. But at the end of the day, it was just about him and Eddie.

The next day, Steve was gifted a beautiful sketch drawing of himself, hammer held in a protective stance. Steve traced the lines of his face, his nose, and his mouth. Did he really look that handsome to Eddie? Eddie was completely open with his adoration now. Not that he had cared to keep quiet about it before. But now Eddie held nothing back. Hence the amount of love letters he had received. 

Eddie seemed a natural talent when it came to both writing and orating. He had such a way with words that made him believable and gave him a command that most men would never even dream of. His own father wasn’t nearly so eloquent as king, choosing instead to let force and cruelty ensure his power and position. Eddie was different from his father in a lot of ways. Most particularly in his shows of emotion.

Steve didn’t even know if his parents had ever been in love. He had no memories of them being affectionate or ever professing their feelings for one another. Steve wanted it to be different between him and Eddie.

To that end, he found Robin, who was in the middle of polishing some brass.

“I need help writing.”

She looked up from her work, eyebrow raised. “Are you…incapable or…?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I am perfectly capable of writing. I just-need help making sure it sounds right.”

“Are you really about to make me proofread poetry from you to our wet rat of a king?”

“Careful, that nearly sounds treasonous”, Steve teased.

“I don’t hear any disagreement.”

“Well, I haven’t seen him in any state but dry. So I don’t have a frame of reference”, Steve said. “Now will you please help? You’re the only one I can ask.”

“I reserve the right to gag.”

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

My sweet king,

Your words touch me in a way no one has. I find myself wasting the night hours and candle wax, reading them before bed. If I am half the man you espouse, then I must be truly worthy of your grace. To know that you are just as enamored with me as I am with you has me floating on clouds. 

Dare I tell you my dreams? How I long to be closer to you? I know we play these games of propriety but I can never remember why. You know I am not untouched. So what makes you stay your hand? Is it a law that exists outside of us? If so, I yearn to know. For there is not a force between us that could keep us apart.

It was signed simply with Steve’s initials but Eddie would have known even without that who the sender was. There was only one responding to his correspondences after all. The sun had already dipped below the horizon, dinner and dessert had been served and now the castle was winding down for its slumber. He had already bid Steve good night, but he had to see him now. He was dressed for bed, a loose shirt and pants, feet bare, rings already removed and put away for tomorrow and he figured Steve would be in a similar state, but he couldn’t keep himself away. Not after having read his latest letter.

So he crept out of his room, not a particularly hard feat as the patrols were set in such a way that his room was rarely guarded at night. Eddie needed the least amount of protection. He made his way to Steve’s door and knocked, hoping he was still awake.

“Who is it?”, Steve’s voice was muffled by the thick door.

“Your greatest admirer”, Eddie said, cheek pressed to the door. 

“Sir Cox?”, Steve joked as he opened the door and just as Eddie had guessed, he was dressed in a similar fashion, prepared for bed. 

“Sir Cox? Who is that? Has he been sending you letters?”, Eddie asked.

Steve snickered and he looked like a dream with the candlelight from his room lighting him up from behind. “There is no Sir Cox. Only you and your delightful wordsmithing.”

“Well now I wonder. I’ve no doubt you must have several admirers after your bout with Carver.”

“You are the only one that sees me as a man to be pursued”, Steve said.

“Then I am the only one with eyes. Come with me”, Eddie held out his hand.

“Where to?”, Steve asked, already giving his hand.

“You’ll see.” Eddie pulled Steve along, their steps echoing in the dark halls. 

Steve felt like a kid again, going out past curfew for mischief and wondered what he and Eddie might get up to. Was this just a silly excursion under cover of darkness? Or did Eddie have something more intimate in mind? Eddie snickered as he pilfered a sheet from the laundry and then draped it over Steve like a veil. Eddie was struck by how bridal he looked.

“What I’m about to do is called shadow travel”, Eddie said, coming in close to whisper to Steve. “It can be disorienting for the first time, so close your eyes and hold tight to me.”

Steve nodded, doing as instructed. His arms went around Eddie and he closed his eyes. Eddie held him and suddenly Steve felt a cool rush of wind. He was tempted to open his eyes but worried he’d be disoriented if he did. When the rush stopped it was replaced by a soft breeze. He ventured to open his eyes and saw that they were beneath a large tree. Eddie led Steve from under it and took the sheet to lay it on the ground. Eddie sat down first and then patted the space next to him, prompting Steve to do the same.

The moon was a half eaten pie in the sky, glowing a pale white in a way that was rivaled only by the tapestry of stars.

“Do you have any favorite star stories?”, Eddie asked.

Steve thought about it. “I can’t remember what the constellation looks like, but I like the Two Lovers. And the Mother of the Skies.”

Eddie grabbed Steve’s hand and used it to point to a star duo. “The Two Lovers.” Then he pointed to a bright twinkle. “The Mother and right under her is Eldest Daughter, then Foolish Son, then Helpful Son, then Wisest Daughter, then-”

“Are you going to name all of the children? We’ll be here all night”, Steve laughed.

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

“If you attend the council with bags under your eyes, I won’t be blamed. I’m sure they already don’t care for me.”

Eddie released Steve’s hand but moved closer to him. “Fortunately, they’re not the ones courting you.”

“But they do make decisions concerning you and your kingdom. Their opinion of me is important.”

“I think most opinions have turned favorably to you now, little prince. There’s hardly a word against you anymore.”

“But what about for me?”

Eddie blinked. “What do you mean?”

Steve’s knees pulled up to his chest. “You treat me like a prince. But a prince is supposed to have power and importance… My father has yet to respond to my letter. Without his involvement, I can’t promise you anything. If you marry me, you’ll get nothing but myself. There’s no promise of peace or even an opportunity for any sort of harmony between our kingdoms. Why should you marry me if there isn’t an advantage for you?”

“Sweet prince, good prince.” Eddie took Steve’s chin to turn his face towards him before continuing. “Benevolent prince, honorable prince. You say that as if you are nothing. You think you have nothing to offer when there is nothing more precious than yourself.”

“Me?”

Steve looked at him, eyes sparkling with starlight. His legs lowered and he turned to face his body to Eddie, opening himself up. Eddie leaned in more, their noses bumping.

“You”, he said, closing the distance between their lips.

It was dipping into a lake after a hot day. It was opening a door to someone smiling at you. It was being told you did a great job when having doubted yourself. Kissing Eddie could be described in many words. But the one that came to Steve right now was relief. Relief when he felt Eddie’s lips move against his own. Relief in knowing that Eddie had wanted this just as much.

A feeling that turned into something more heady when Steve sighed against his mouth and Eddie whimpered. 

“Why have you been holding back?”, Steve asked, sharing the same breath as Eddie when he pulled away.

“Because I felt like I couldn’t stop if I got a taste”, Eddie confessed, chest moving up and down before he chased after Steve’s lips.

“Stop”, Steve said, putting a hand up.

Eddie froze in place, waiting for his next command. Smirking, Steve came forward again and dug his fingers into Eddie’s hair.

“See? You know how to follow orders.” He couldn’t see Eddie blush but he could feel the warmth in his face when he rubbed their cheeks together.

“You’ll be the death of me”, Eddie groaned.

“Imagine that, immortal king taken down by a single kiss”, Steve grinned.

“A single kiss, a dazzling smile, bewitching laugh. You have many weapons in your arsenal.”

“You know”, Steve said before leaning in for a kiss. “This would be much better-” kiss “in a bed.” Kiss.

Eddie’s eyes bulged at the prospect and they sneaked back into the castle, dropping off the sheet off at the laundry. Overcome, Eddie ended up kissing Steve along the way, against this wall, against that wall, it seemed they could only go a few feet before getting lost in each other’s lips again. They were nearly to Steve’s room when they heard voices and saw candlelight from around the corner.

They froze in place when Mike, Dustin, and Lucas came around the bend. The three boys also froze. 

“What are you guys doing here?”, Dustin pointed his finger first.

“I was just-I was escorting Steve back to his room. And here we are and here he is and this is where we say good night. Good night, Steve”, Eddie kissed Steve’s cheek and then hightailed it back to his own quarters. 

Steve was smiling the whole time at Edward’s frantic act, going into his room and having nearly closed the door all the way when he realized - what were the boys doing sneaking around at night.

“Hey wait a minute!”, he opened the door back up to the hallway, only to see darkness and hear silence. 

They had already scurried off. Well, no matter. Steve touched his lips, the feel of it still fresh. He went to bed, dreaming of Eddie’s mouth and hoping he was doing the same about him.

Part 33 coming soon

If you saw me make a post about them having their first kiss in the winter, no you didn't.

Taglist CLOSED

@thesuninyaface @only-evanescent  @snakeorsquid  @ignoremyworld  @theclichefortunecookie 

@goodolefashionedloverboi  @just-a-tiny-void  @0body0disphoria0  @cinnamon-mushroomabomination  @samsoble 

@jamieweasley13  @y4r3luv  @xtkxkrzrizir  @un-knownperson  @greekgeek24 

@justdrugsformethanks  @potato-of-the-lord  @notaqueenakhaleesi  @swimmingbirdrunningrock  @queenie-ofthe-void 

@nebulainajar  @lil-gremlin-things  @nicememerino  @robininblue  @hornedqueenofhell 

@anne-bennett-cosplayer  @moomkin77  @here4thetrama  @bookworm0690  @autumncrocusandladybug

@lil-gremlin-things @littlebluejane @puppy-steve

[vixeneptune]

2024 : MANIFESTED ALL MY DESIRES IN ONE YEAR

Part 2

Love life :

I'm having the best relationship this year! It's literally the healthiest relationship I've ever been in, its even beyond what I imagined! I literally met my perfect match our compatibility is off the chartsss we're so perfect together. He's def my soulmate we get eachother so well without even speaking. It's amazing how much fun we have together , it's so lighthearted yet deep , it's transparent and beautiful and pure. Ugh our love is so powerful! He treats me so well he spoils me all the time like I'm his princess all I do is just exist and he's like "omg goddess I'm obsessed with you". Not to mention he's so loyal, honest, generous, kind, masculine, secure, handsome, rich, he provides for me endlessly, he makes me laugh, I feel so comfortable and safe, our dynamic is the best I feel so grateful and he feels the same. This is literally one of the biggest highlights for me this year 😍 a love so powerful, passionate yet peaceful and uplifting. Marriage is def around the corner!

Social Life :

My popularity increased so much this year! Everyone seems to wanna be either my lover or my friend! Ig bc I've been focusing on myself and my life everyone is so magnetically attracted to me! I made some really amazing solid friendships this year ♡ I feel so blessed to have such good genuine friends who share my interests! It's amazing how much my social circle expanded this year I've def been getting out of my comfort zone and feeling much more extroverted, outgoing and confident socialising and connecting easily with others! I'm so charming and pretty and smart that people fall in love with me easily, I'm so easy to love, I lost count of how many love confessions I got this year! So many men interested in me and pursuing me, I'm literally everyone crush this year! I'm such a people magnet, my aura is so attractive and magnetic people find me so interesting and fascinating! Im not only pretty but i have a great personality, the best energy, and a beautiful rich mind and soul, that's why everyone is so drawn to me. I'm so good at relationships , I'm consistent, secure, open to give and receive. It's easy for me to maintain relationships and allow them to grow and flourish naturally and beautifully! I feel so blessed to be surrounded by supportive loving trustworthy people who understand me and want the best for me, they truly care about me. I love how comfortable I am meeting new people and forming genuine deep connections, it's so natural for me. Everyone is so sweet and kind to me, they treat me so well, they buy me gifts ,they constantly spoil me with love and attention ,they see my worth and value.

Extras :

I'm such a money magnet! I'm making sooo much money this year it's crazy it's like money is obsessed with me lol. A high value expensive woman like me deserves the best and attracts the best always ♡ I'm treated like VIP everywhere I go. My energy is so powerful it shakes every room I enter, I'm easily the center of attention cuz w my charismatic presence, everyone's eyes are hooked on me they're so infatuated w my beauty. My aura radiates abundance , security and confidence, I'm so calm and secure which makes me naturally the most confident girl in the room. My confidence, my charm, my popularity and my charisma increased dramatically this year! I'm fully tapped in my inner siren inner goddess energy this year and it SHOWS. My sex appeal and my beauty is beyond compare. I'm known as the it girl and everyone is inspired by me and thinks of me constantly, they're waiting on my every move bc im so iconic and such a trendsetter. I put myself out there and I succeed everytime without a doubt. I'm born to be seen I'm such a star girl ☆

For my 2024 subliminal visit my YouTube channel kali777

[thisdayhappensonce]

i truly disagree with and resent the idea that “everlark is what snowbaird could have been”. rachel zegler said it recently in an interview, and in my opinion it couldn’t be farther from the truth. describing coryo as “a kind eyed blond” is so inaccurate it’s laughable. even in the film tigris says about the hatred in coryo’s eyes. from even the beginning of the ballad of songbirds and snakes novel, we see how highly coryo deifies power. from the start, he keeps up his image as a charming but humble rich boy, regardless of the fact he’s starving and penniless, simply because its the best way for him to maintain control over others.

coryo only ever is kind to others when it is convenient for him - take sejanus for example. his parents gave him gifts and fed him and treated him with great respect (to the eventual point of leaving him their fortune when sejanus dies) simply because coryo pretended to care about their son to receive those effects.

with lucy, it was, to use her own words “written in the stars” that their relationship would end up in ruin, because ultimately coryo was never a person who valued love over power. i stand by the fact that while he may have cared for and loved her, the ultimate truth is that that love did not trump (in coriolanus’ values) the inheritance of power he believed he was owed generationally, from his father and every other snow before him. he would have done anything to get back to where he “belonged”, in the capitol. even had she not run from him, it would have happened a different way eventually.

SHJDJFN STOP PUTTING SNOW ON A PEDESTAL AND SAYING U CAN FIX HIM NO YOU CAN’T HE’S HORRIBLE!!!!!!!!!!! THE WORST!!!!!!

i don’t think any love of his would have led him to a redemption!!

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

Better Of Two Evils

Summary: After Damian’s flirty nature comes to life, you’re left to deal with its aftermath with no other than the Demon King and his Human vessel.

Pairings: Bálor x F!Reader x Finn

Warnings: +18, smut, slight heresy, mentions of worship, p in v, oral (f receiving), curse words, slight dom x sub.

A/N: This is my birthday gift for the amazing @theworldofotps , she wanted a sequel to Salome so I hope you like it, babe. I wish you nothing but the best in your new journey and I hope it’s filled with all good things one can have in life! I love you so much, thank you for being my friend, and for being one of the most amazing people I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet in my life. You truly deserve the world and I hope you have an amazing day love ya.

Tags: @theworldofotps , @writtingrose , @daddyhausen , @melissahausen , @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @sultryfandoms , @new-zealand-chic , @crowleysqueenofhell , @thealliasylum , @legit9thlunaticwarrior , @mjfass , @josiewrites , @seeingstarks , @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch , @whenimakeitshine1234 , @moxkindagirl , @sunshinevirus , @im-just-a-mississippi-girl , @ripleyswhore

Of Damian’s flirty nature, you were already aware of, not only because of Finn’s endless warnings but also because you’ve witnessed the Puerto Rican man’s charm over women a handful of times now.

Damian flirts with everyone, literally everyone. No matter the age, gender, or ethnicity, he always found a way to captivate whomever he interacted with. And it was no different with you.

“Wow, mami” Damian whistled when you entered through the club’s back door. “You’re gonna give a man a heart attack”.

Your outfit was less than impressive, since it was a low night at the club you decided for a more casual look: a navy blue velvet tracksuit, along with a pair of black All Stars summed up your outfit for the night.

“Always a charmer, huh?” You chuckled, unaware that Finn was approaching you from behind.

“What can I say?” Damian smirked “A beautiful woman has the power to bring out the best in me”

“And your best is to be an ultimate flirt?” You narrowed your eyes playfully

“When it comes to you, yeah” the amused wide grin on Damian’s face was more than enough to make you giggle.

“You’re a menace, sir”

“Sir?” His eyes widened in surprise, not wasting the opportunity to tease you further. “Mami, if you’re gonna start calling me that then we just might have to go upstairs right now” Damian winked at you with a smirk plastered on his lips. “I’ll even rent the VIP room, just for you”.

Now you have to laugh. A little more than you should’ve, but who could blame you? The guy had great timing and impeccable humor.

“Wow, how could I say no to that” Your nonchalant tone left no room for doubt that you took his teasing in an amicable way, similar to two siblings poking fun at each other, you had no intentions of taking this to a more intimate level, and neither did Damian. It was all lighthearted. Everyone knew that, everyone could see that, except them. To them, this suddenly became a pissing contest, a dispute, a challenge. One they never lost and didn’t intend to lose.

“The shipping of new furniture arrived this morning, Priest”. The doubled voice resonated from your lover’s body, the tenor contrasting with the bass as both voices complimented each other with each word. “Go unpack it…now”.

“Isn’t that Dominik’s j-“

“I said NOW!” The bass voice screamed, settling its dominance. Finn’s eyes began to shift colors. One remained blue as the other turned a fierce shade of orange-red.

“Ok, Boss” Damian set his hands up as a sign of submission. “Chill out”.

Before Damian could even blink, Finn stood in front of him. His face got so close to Damian’s that they almost seemed the same height.

“If you ever dare to tell me to ‘chill out’ again, those will be your last words in this pitiful earth before you become hellhound’s breakfast!” The demon left no room for debate. Bálor learned how to tolerate humans after being in Finn’s body for over 40 years, that didn’t mean he liked them or that he wouldn’t kill one for fun. The only human Bálor seemed to truly like was you, but that could easily change if his pride is on the line.

“Bálor, he was just-“

“Silence!” He growled at you, voice bubbling with hatred, “If you dare to speak one word to defend him, little girl, you’ll know a side of me that you’ll wish you’d never met!” His fiery gaze fixed on you as he pointed to Finn’s room. “Go and wait for us there, and don’t make me repeat myself!”.

Reluctantly, you walked up the stairs, mouthing “I’m sorry” to Damian as you reached the top.

If there was a god, you were praying to him now, silently begging him not to let Bálor hurt Damian just because of a lighthearted teasing.

“He doesn’t listen to anyone’s prayers, why would he listen to yours?” Bálor’s voice rumbled in your ear, quickly making you turn around to face him at the foot of the bed.

“Do you think you’re that special, pet?”

Oh, he was mad.

At first, when you met him, Bálor called you “pet”, it was a deprecating term at the time, filled with disdain. But after a while, you became “little girl” when he was in a good mood, “my pet” when he was annoyed with you, and “pet” when he was mad at you.

“Are you God's precious little thing? That’s why you think He’ll hear you, huh?” When only silence answered him, Bálor growled loudly “Answer me!”

“No-“ Your voice was cut off by the sudden pressure of Finn’s hand amplified by Bálor’s strength around your neck.

“Good. Because HE won’t hear you! You belong to a demon and a human, the only god you should ever pray for is ME! I’m the only one who’ll hear you, and when you do pray, make sure to keep your eyes down on the earth where I am, because I’m not up in the sky, pet. Your help won’t come from up there, so stop searching in the clouds!” His hand abruptly left your neck, causing you to give two steps back due to the lack of force around your throat.

“Kneel”

Your brows furrowed at his statement, trying to understand the reason for that order.

“You were praying, weren’t you? Humans usually do that on their knees, no?! So go on, pet, kneel at your god’s feet and pray”.

“Bálor, please, let me-“

“I.said.kneel.and.pray”

Bálor pushed you down on the floor, making your knees hit the black hardwood floor with a thump. A small cry escaped your lips, your watery eyes looked up to stare at him, who had now taken full control of Finn’s body. His thick veins were black, red irises, canines sharp as razors, hair jet black, and nails tainted black at the edge.

You hoped to every sacred being that your next move wouldn’t anger him even more, but you remember when Finn once told you “Bálor is like an ice cube, cover him with some warmth and you’ll watch him melt”.

“Can I please touch you?” You asked with a meek voice, but he didn’t answer. You took this as a silent green light and pressed your palms against his torso.

“I didn’t mean to enrage you, my lord, I’m deeply sorry”. The correct word to use would be ‘upset’ instead of ‘enrage’, but Bálor didn’t deal with feelings and vulnerability well so you knew how to choose your words wisely by now.

“But trust me when I say that there was no ill intention on my part nor from Damian” You felt his abs harden at the mention of the name, the color of Bálor’s eyes began to dance like the most aggressive fire and your hands soon began to travel up and down his stomach, using touch to soothe his raw emotions.

“You’re the only one for me. You and Finn are the only men I’ll ever want, the only men I’ll ever need. I don’t want anyone else” Your hands began to travel down his abs, reaching his v-line that you traced with your nails. “Only you can satisfy me, only you can drive me insane with just a look”.

Your hands now stopped at his black jeans, one hand began massaging his crotch as the other caressed his lower belly - the most sensitive part of Bálor. “Only you can make me ache for you for days on end, only you know how to make me cum in mere seconds, only you can make me so hungry for your touch that I feel like I’m about to lose my mind if I don’t have you”.

“I don’t like when you respond to the flirtation of other men, pet”

“Damian flirts even with the walls, sir. He flirted with you, countless times” You tried to reason, feeling his cock begin to harden underneath the black jeans.

Bálor let out a small huff as you continued “Am I lying though? You know he did, with both you and Finn. And I always laughed at it because I knew there was no ill intention behind it. In the same way, there was none between him and me. You know that” You leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss on his clothed erection, “You’re the only one for me, my king”.

“On the bed” Bálor lowly hummed, cupping his hard cock with his palm.

You felt someone pushing you onto the bed from behind, panic covered your features until you saw who it was.

“You’re gonna join us?” Your soft smile pressed against the bare skin of his abs. His hands gathered your hair, softly pulling your head down to rest on the mattress.

His hand pulled the zipper of your jacket down, humming in approval at the sight of your bare breast.

“Came prepared I see” Finn grinned, head leaning down to close his warm mouth around your nipple.

“My good little pet” Bálor spoke from your right, the bed dipped as he knelt on the mattress. His hand pressed your cheeks together, causing your lips to open in a partial pout. “Let’s see how much you can handle it” He chuckled, grabbing you by the hair to quickly turn you around to lay on your stomach.

Your vision was blurred, your voice hoarse from so much screaming and cursing. Two became one, same body, same face, different details. One was sweet and sensual, the other was rough and raw. They were the perfect match, both drove you crazy in their way. The sun and the moon, night and day, dark and light, good and evil, residing within the same man, one born in hell, the other, heaven sent. Either way, you loved the duality, loved the experience, and most importantly, loved them.

“Shit, shit, shit” You whispered in a hurry as Bálor rapidly moved behind you, his cock slipped in and out with such ease that made you wonder how long you could take this.

In the meantime, Finn watched you, his hand lazily stroking his cock beside you in bed, admiring every little frown, every gasp, every moan, every plea. Your eyes instantly closed when Bálor hit your sweet spot, but they instantly reopened at the prickling feeling on your cheek.

“I didn’t say you could stop looking at him!” Bálor stated, landing another burning slap against your cheek, “Don’t you dare close those beautiful eyes, my pet”.

Finn smirked, leaning forward, placing his flattened tongue against the burning skin of your cheek. He gave a few kitten licks until the skin lost its vibrant reddish color, “You taste so good”, he licked again, only changing the route of his tongue.

Finn danced the tip of his tongue across your skin, traveling down your belly, stopping right above your mound. Bálor grinned at the sight, pulling your leg to rest on his shoulder.

“Oh my fucking god” You moaned loudly, feeling the tip of Finn’s tongue circling your clit as Bálor’s cock grew harder inside you. “I’m gonna die, I can’t take it”.

“Of course you can, love” Finn’s muffled voice echoed between your legs.

“Not only you can but you will, my precious pet” Bálor snarled in your ear “Because we won’t be done with you until the sun rises”.

[arkus-rhapsode]

When you see yourself in trash (Gachiakuta Discussion)

So with the positive reception of my recent thinkpiece, I wanted to make good on my promise that I’d post more. And this has kinda been one I’ve been wanting to do for a while. But due to the deeply personal nature of it, I wanted to really give it the time it deserved to come together.

This is going to be a post about Gachiakuta, which if my multiple posts on it haven’t been an indicator, I'm kinda a big fan. But what’s more, I really wanted to talk about why Gachiakuta speaks to me more in depth.

Background 

So for those who don’t know, Gachiakuta is a weekly manga series by mangaka Kei Urana. Urana is a former assistant of the student of the Soul Eater and Fire Force creator, Atsushi Okubo. This series premiered shortly after Okubo’s Fire Force finished up, and stars a young boy named Rudo who lives in the slum area of a place called “The Sphere” (Or Heaven depending on the translation). Rudo has a habit of stealing from waste deposit sites and repairing broken items he finds. He lives with his adopted father Regeto after his biological father was sentenced to “The Abyss” for murder. The Abyss is a gaping chasm where all of the Sphere’s trash and prisoners are dumped. 

Rudo is a somewhat surly child, and noticeably struggles with properly expressing his emotions despite the fact he is a highly emotional person. Smiling in particular is a struggle for him. Rudo one day comes to find Regto killed by a mysterious masked man, and blamed for this crime. Rudo is sentenced to the Abyss where he cries in anger he will return and kill everyone here. In the Abyss, Rudo is met by monsters made of trash and people devoted to fighting them, the Cleaners (Or Janitors depending on the translation). This fighting force of magic garbage men use the power of a “Giver” to empower items dear to them known as Jinki. With Rudo discovering that he can do the same with his gloves given to him by Regeto. Now he’ll work with the Cleaners killing trash monsters as he unravels the mystery of who killed his adoptive father and how he’ll escape the Abyss.

And it has been the newest manga series in the last four years that has not only made me feel hyped but await every chapter since its release.

Now if everything I said previously sounded like “well that sounds like a fairly straight forward if somewhat interestingly flavored revenge action manga. What makes it special?” Well then we’re going have to talk about Rudo. 

Rudo

So Gachiakuta is a series with a lot of weirdos in it and some unconventional story structures to it (and we’ll touch on that later) but I think the character who embodies the core of this series is its MC, Rudo. 

On the surface Rudo is a character that could feel at home with any number of shonen manga protags. Really expressive, yells a lot, spiky hair, and a power that’s kinda special amongst its power system. Basically, If Deku from MHA was a bit more angry and sleep deprived, you probably think he and Rudo were the same person on the surface. And for the most part, Rudo seemed to be that way, an angry kid out for revenge who treasured the last remaining gift he received from his foster father. Yet then we get to chapter 15 of Gachiakuta. A truly special chapter. 

When Griss, Rudo’s teammate for this mission, was run through with claws by the villain, Jabber Wongar, Rudo seems to suffer some for of PTSD as the world goes hazy and he sees Griss as Regeto, stabbed and bleeding. We cut to Rudo as a child in Regto’s care and there, Rudo is banging his head against a wall to the point blood is coming out. 

When Regto asks why Rudo would do this, the only thing Rudo can describe is how he has nothing. He has these feelings he doesn’t know how to describe yet he believes he’s nothing from the abuse he suffered at the hands of parents. All he has to really express it it this sort of frustration. While Rudo’s parents being murders may have been a lot for any child, Rudo carries literal scars given to him by his father. His hands peeled and scared and burnt black. The pain in his hands stops when he wears the gloves Regto gave him. 

And when Regto wants Rudo to find something to focus his passion into, the thing that catches Rudo’s attention the most is a broken mannequin. Rudo cries letting out those feelings he said he couldn’t describe. Wanting to fix something and can’t believe it was tossed away because it was “a little broken.” At that moment, Regto realizes something about Rudo. He sees himself in those same objects that weren’t valued and tossed away.

So this is where I get to one of the things about Gachiakuta and Rudo in particular that speaks to me. Rudo, to me, is an example of a neurodivergent child and the text actually bothers to focus on how this affects his life. Now I know the moment I’ve said that there will be a lot of people who want me to explain, and the first thing is, no the manga doesn’t come out and say that Rudo is on the spectrum. But rather it lays a pretty explicit analogy to someone who may not be typical in some regard mentally or emotionally. I know in the space of neurodivergent individuals representation is… difficult. Not just to find in the media, but also represented in a way that isn’t just “they’re a super genius.” Because there are many many forms of neurodivergence and how the manifest can be different for many individuals. Someone with ADHD may have their life affected in ways different than someone diagnosed with Autism. This is where I think it's very important for me to say, I’m just one guy on the spectrum. I’m speaking from my personal experience but you shouldn’t take my opinion as gospel. This is just me and my experiences. And my personal reading of this  

So when I say, a “mentally different character” in the media can be a tricky tightrope to walk, I mean it. Wanting there to be a positive representation for a community that may not get representation, but also not wanting to be like some monolithic depiction of what living with one of these conditions may be like. And there are plenty of ways where this could go very wrong (Anyone remember the time Aquaman cured Autism?). So when the text can’t just say “I am X” it's not uncommon for the readers to begin to see or relate to how a character may act. Speaking of how they act, in the case of anime and manga another “complication” can occur in the fact that many of these characters can act… well whacky and that’s treated as most acceptable in the universe. Whereas in real life, its likely anywhere from Gon to Goku would get side eye with their behavior. And thus you have the basis for plenty of head canons, one prominently being a character’s place on the spectrum. 

Let's take any character, say Rill Boismortier from the series Black Clover. He’s a relatively second character in the series with an aptitude for art magic, who had locked himself in his room isolating himself from others till his butler reached him and now he’s a very eccentric, excitable, outgoing character. From the fact that he has a fixation on art to things like making sounds that could be read as vocal stimming, Rill could be read as an autistic character.

Or how about we look at one of the more memetic takes of the internet and all the jokes that Fern and Frieren from Frieren: Beyond the Journey’s End are autistic. This joke mainly comes from how in this world everything has a cool, somewhat mellow vibe with many people acting very muted. With Frieren herself struggling with making a distinction in the passage of time thanks to her elven aging and trying to understand the human condition. And Fern also a relatively reserved and subdued individual only really expresses her feeling a sensation of frustration or annoyance through “Kawaii pouting” puffing out her cheeks.

There are plenty more examples, but I wanted to illustrate that there are characters in manga and anime that I believe-yes, someone with neurodivergence could identify with, however, would I go as far as to say that this was the writer's original intention? Well choosing to err on the side of caution, I'm going to guess not likely. Someone could easily say, “you’re reading too much into it. There is nothing in the canon that outright says that. Rill is just a joke character, Frieren is a completely different species so it can’t really be neuro-atypical from a human standpoint, Fern’s pouting is just a gap moe trope.” And to be honest, I don’t necessarily think people holding these beliefs would be wrong. Nor do I wish to imply that if someone sees themselves in one of these characters that means they’re on the spectrum.

I'm saying there’s nothing wrong with either option. If you are someone neurodivergent and you see yourself in someone like Rill, that’s great. If you are someone who isn’t neurodivergent but still sees themselves in someone like Rill, that’s also great. The point I’m trying to make is that it may be unintentional, but a neurodivergent person seeing a neurodivergent story inside a specific character can happen and in many ways offer insights into the character.

And for someone like me who has spent a long time coming to grips with how my atypicality has affected my identity, Rudo’s story hit me. Hit me in a way I don’t think many series have. Rudo is a character who shows a fixation on trash, particularly broken pieces of trash. His old wounds he covers and just the feelings on this specific piece of clothing is able to make the feelings of his wounds go away. And just the way he described having emotion inside, but not being able to properly express it to the point he was doing self harm, it tore me up inside. 

Made even more dramatic by the fact that Rudo is having this flashback being triggered by Griss being stabbed. Griss is a guy Rudo has known for a day who is shown to be a cool guy, but most importantly, when Rudo spent his welcome party sulking in a corner all tied up in his shell, only for Griss to ask him about his future. Rudo truly was feeling like he was losing a fatherly figure again in front of him

This was one of the moments that in my mind showed me the sort of direction this series wanted to go in with Rudo. Edgy, dark, cool, and stylistic revenge series in manga have existed for years. In fact, they’ll exist long after Gachiakuta and myself have expired. Many of these series can vary on the portrayal of their MC, conflicted, ready to embrace destruction, righteous in their pursuit, yet Gachiakuta has been unique for me, seeing Rudo have all the hallmarks for a vengeful story yet people always come to speak with him on his behavior. 

Not in a sort of guidance counselor way, but more in a natural way of trying to make this kid who has had a life where he hasn’t had to properly think about/experience certain things life can throw at you and they want him to improve. From telling him it's okay to not know what he wants to do in the future, to letting him know it's okay to make mistakes, to learning how to properly have a conversation and connect with others. I think a lot of these moments can feel like sweet nothings, but for me I saw it as a part of growing up. Or rather something I wanted growing up. I’ve experienced many moments of my life where I felt lost not in small part to the fact it felt like no one could meet me on my ground. And something about Gachiakuta is the attempt that almost every character has made trying to reach Rudo and show him a form of empathy. And as the series has gone on that empathy has really changed. He went from a kid not understanding what was wrong about saying “I'm only working with you till fulfill my goal!,” demanding cooperation from others, to actively trying to ask for help when hears of an opportunity to come closer to his goal. 

This sort of vulnerability I think was present in his moment screaming his revenge. He’s visibly crying. Despite all the bluster and crassness, there’s clearly a frustrated and overwhelmed boy who has been condemned by a society that brands him “unclean.” This is also where I should mention Urana is an absolute master with art and expressions. Making everyone feel so alive. Rudo’s faces are an absolute highlight. Despite a person who seems set up to have a chip on his shoulder, he may be one of the wackiest in just how big he can let his emotions go. Which ties into our next part.

Zodyl and the Watchman Series

Now I'm sure you’re wondering, “Arkus, you said that this manga hasn’t hard confirmed Rudo is actually neurodivergent, yet you say the text makes the analogy so does someone finally say it?” Well to answer that, I’m gonna need to talk about the main villain of this series and the tools he’s after, The Watchman series.

Our seemingly main antagonist of the series is a man named Zodyl Typhon, leader of the organization The Raiders (Or the Vandals depending on the translation) a group of evil givers who seem to be devoted to the destruction of The Sphere. As they living in a world where the natural order is simply that they are a people who have garbage raining down upon them. Polluting them, crushing them, and people of the Abyss have gradually become accustomed to it all. Zodyl wants to shock the system and he wishes to get his hands on all the various powerful Jink known as the “Watchman series.” So far it's known that only Rudo’s gloves, Amo’s boots, and Zodyl’s coat are part of this set. 

Zodyl is depicted as an amoral, somewhat sociopathic person, with intense eyes, viewing people as experiments to test his theories, and showing practically no emotion. He describes each piece of the Watchman series as containing extremely powerful emotions in them. A normal person couldn’t use these items with going mad due to these emotions. Yet people like Rudo and Zodyl haven't gone mad. Well that’s being they’re not like others.

In one of the most painful visual analogies, Zodyl describes that in this world there are people born missing pieces that every other human is born with. This leaves them as something sort of empty. WIth Rudo knowing exactly what he’s talking about. This was already hinted at by Amo who says wearing her Watchman boots feels as though she’s a toy that had a new battery inside. Zodyl doesn’t think that missing something fundamental is a bad thing though, in his opinion not being born with it has made him a vessel for this power. 

I once again cannot say with a hundred percent certainty that Kei Urana was intentionally channeling the experiences of those who may be told “they’re not like others because they were born atypical” but it's so hard for me to not read it that way. Especially the part where Zodyl rejects the idea that there’s anything wrong with this. He’s not wrong for how he’s born, look at all the cool stuff he can do now. While Rudo stands there and thinks about how isolated he felt from everyone else. It's easy to see these as two very valid responses to someone with a mental health diagnosis, lamenting how this puts you at odds with others and how being different in this way makes it harder for you to connect. While the other rejects needing the validation of others, there isn’t a problem. 

Once again, no one just flat out says it, but so much of the subtext is basically there in your face in regards to Watchman and Zodyl’s speech. But the fact this power is only wielded by something that is described as a missing piece. With the image of a heart in pieces. To me, the emphasis placed on the value of one’s emotional and mental capacity as something that can be filled, like its just so out there how can I not see something there? 

Well maybe its because I want to?

Artistic Interpretation 

Look, I'm not gonna to give you a dry lecture on the value of artistic interpretation. I think we’re all mature enough that multiple people can have multiple different interpretations of a single world. With art being something that lends itself to being read in a variety of ways. I'm not making this post to delegitimize any interpretation.

Rather I wanted to come all the way back to the pin I put in when mentioning the unconventional story structures. Now it should come to no one’s surprise that the woman who was an assistant and student of the guy who made Soul Eater makes some bizarre choices. Not the least of which being the characters and tone.

No, rather I wanna touch on something that I find Urana and Okubo do better than a lot of people which is visual interpretation. Both utilize the visual aspect of this visual medium to make some points. But rather, both of them allow these visuals to hang out there and allow you the reader to come to your own interpretation of this. 

This type of storytelling in my opinion can force the audience to actually engage with the work in a deeper meaningful way. While some would argue that it leaves things open in a way that may never truly be satisfying. I think in the case of Gachiakuta it has less of that tha an Okubo work, but there are plenty of things I do believe Urana leaves out there for you to read as you will. 

When I see her going out of her way to make a doll with their heart missing and a man describing a feeling of them missing, Uruana is not expressly saying anything, but allowing us the audience to decide how we read it. I'm certain she has her own way of viewing this story, but I do appreciate that she’s allowed Gachiakuta to be a series where we are allowed some creative liberties. Especially in the fact this is a weekly shonen manga. A demographic I feel often can suffer from needing to make everything somewhat obvious in its meaning or intent. 

But Urana really knows how to capture this sort of vibe. Allow the art to speak for itself and I find myself having to put some of myself in the series when I read and interact with it. So while I’m sure there will be people who think I have basically convinced them of nothing and that this might all be reading to deep, I do at least want to point out that Urana herself has at least allowed for me to make these connections on my own and I think that is worth something at least on her part as a creative.

Conclusion

So yeah what was that all about? Welp like I said this was to be a more personal thinkpiece. One where I wanted to work through my own feelings on why this series had me captivated. Also it's possibly my attempt to broaden the discussion of Gachiakuta. 

Despite the fact many have made the prediction its gonna be a “big deal” it really isn’t. At least by pure sales wise. Nothing bad, but nothing remarkable at the time of writing this. Honestly its doing much better than a series that’s not on the extremely accessible SJ app. It’s a good series but it may just always be underground. 

Every influencer wants to be on the ground floor, whether it's this, Red Hood, Kagurabachi, Nue’s Exorcist, Astro Royale, Mama Yuyu, Centuria, etc. I get that hype and memes are a powerful thing in this internet consumer world. But I do want a series that may be big or important one day to touch on things that make it good beyond hype and anticipation. 

And for me that is what I got with Gachiakuta. There’s an element to it that I haven’t really felt in manga in other media. And the fact it could make me feel that… that’s special to me. I know I’ve talked about some heavy topics and I do hope I was as respectful as I possibly could be. Opening up like this was hard for me. 

As I do truly love this series and hoped I could illustrate why it resonated with me, perhaps it resonated with a lot of people who can see themselves in this one trashy boy.

I hope everyone reading can have that sort of character they see themselves in, and if you enjoyed please like or reblog as it tells me you'd be interested in reading more

[thatsatricky1]

𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥 || 𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐜𝐤

It was like a punch to the gut. He never thought he’d be able to see you again. Not in his wildest dreams could he have imagined that fate could be so cruel yet so beautiful, a bittersweet scene to behold.

But there you were.

Fate testing his own patience with her very presence. It was a punishment, that was clear. To be able to watch but never touch. To be in her presence but never up close. To faintly smell that floral scent yet not be able to get a proper taste.

Her head was tilted back as if the moon that illuminated against her face was actually the sun that she could soak Victim d into her soft supple skin. Leaning ever so slightly backwards, hands gripping the metal railing tightly with her fisted hands as to not lose balance.

He remembered the day he’d lost her. Due to his own selfish power crazed hunger. How she has tried her best to hold him back from it, but he just couldn’t control the feral rage pitted inside of himself.

Not a day has gone by without the guilt and regret plaguing his mind. No matter how much time passed by he would not forgive himself for the actions he had taken part in and therefore consequences he would have to live with.

In that moment it has been worth it. That taste of pure unfiltered power he had held. Then it all crumbled only one mere second later. Not allowed to enjoy the chaos that had occurred only to instead deal with the nightmare that would follow him instead.

At first he thought his punishment was to live an eternal life without her, to roam the earth alone without her by his side. But then came the night terrors, replaying her last words over and over again.

Had she not been so selfless, her life would have been able to continue existing, yet she offered herself up with no complaints in order to balance the world out and put structure back into it. All because he had wanted too much. His greed has exceeded its limits.

For two decades Donghyuck continued life without her, never aging, never forgetting. The constant reminder of her absence was not just through those wicked nightmares but through the mundane life. No longer filled with her aura, her thoughts, her gestures or her touch.

So it was cruel to see her there sitting on the metal ledge of a bridge swinging her legs back and forth not a worry or negative emotion in the air, eyes closed in content. Yet for twenty years he had roamed without her, only for him to see this sight in front of him.

His eyes burned, desiring just one second to be able to close, yet he did not allow the itching dry ache to disappear in favour of continuing taking in her presence just on the other side of the bridge.

Many words clogged up his head and throat preventing him from calling out to her. His beloved. The one he had foolishly let slip between his fingers in return for glory.

And in that moment it was as if time itself slowed, moving at such a deliberately timed pace. The way her body stayed facing the water's edge and scenery, yet her head turned.

Those sweet eyes that held what he felt as though was the sun itself in them, locked on to his own. She looked exactly like twenty years ago, not having aged just like himself. He thought to himself maybe fate has taken pity on him. Understood that he would never do what he had done in the past ever again and decided to gift him with the only thing he truly wanted, craved, no, the thing that he needed.

However, fate was cruel.

One moment he was soaking up the eyecontact he was receiving from the love of his life and the next he watched her hands raise up towards her face. Motioning with her hands in a silent gesture.

Thought it all clicked too late for him. Her hands had left the railing and he watched her lips form a soft gently smile, her eyes looking back at him with longing mixed with disappointment.

Her body, her presence was with him, and then it was gone. Falling at an inhuman speed downward into the shallow water filled with jagged rocks. Plummeting to her second demise.

A scream rolling through the air filled with agony and torment. His fingers tearing and scraping down his face in order to wake up from the hellish new night terror, only for the pit in his stomach to expand as he realised. His head snapping upwards to look towards the now empty railing.

What a fool for him to think he'd only receive night terors as punishment. His beloved had been real, and he had watched her life disappear once again.

Fate was not done with supplying punishment to him. It would happen every twenty years on the same day, same time.

Donghyuck, punished to witness the one he loved most die over and over again, for it was his own hands that took away her life in the first place. For just a moment of glory, for his greed had become too much for others and his own self.

His chaotic nature had gifted him immortality in that moment of time twenty years ago.

Yet fate punished him swiftly by taking the one thing he loved most. Over and over again.

Y/n who was supposed to finally find peace in her eternal slumber was forced to die repetitively. All for his sake, to remind him of his choices and the consequences that always followed.

Fate was cruel, but it was deserved.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @rotinyzen @wonyoungmywife @snflwrhaerecs4u @thegreenlynx @serinebsblog @delululi @bubusebu @hanniehq @molensworld @morkiee @marvelahsobx @kaciebello @kgneptun

(If you want to be tagged in my Nct Dream writing comment, inbox or message me)

Thank you for reading I hope you enjoyed. Don’t forget likes, reblogs and comments are always encouraged and help keep writers like myself motivated to continue our stories.

𝐊𝐩𝐨𝐩 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

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[anika-ann]

Thirty-Three Minutes (S.R.)

Type: Modern-college-professor AU - part of Attached series or a standalone

Pairing: professor Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 1700

Summary: Giving your fiancé a nice gift was all you intended.

You receive back more than you bargained for.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, smut (light bondage, light D/s, edging, oversimulation, hand kink (?), term ‘babygirl’ (no daddy kink), hints of dacryphilia, mirror kink and professor kink (if you squint)), language

A/N: Either a standalone (because it’s just a prof Steve, established relationship and filth) or a part of the Attached series. Figures that I'll return to Prof Rogers for filth. Sorry?

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The sound falling from your lips was unhuman – a sob, a mewl, a plea – but you had no capacity to feel truly embarrassed. No time.

It was too much – so much and yet not enough – your body set on fire and yet standing too far from its satisfying heat.

And that bastard knew it. He knew it and you knew he did, because even though your vision blurred, starting to swim in tears, you could feel his intent gaze on you, his smile, so deliciously dark, his low voice whispering the filthiest praise as you tried to buck into the soft teasing touch of his fingertips.

It was all your fault, you were aware.

But how could you have known? You had just wanted to give him a present worthy of his standing and age. You had been saving so meticulously, barely keeping it secret from him, only to be rewarded by his utter awe when he opened his only gift for his fortieth birthday. A new quality watch; not a Rolex, but expensive and luxurious enough. He showed you exactly how much he appreciated it shortly after inspecting the watch and lid them carefully back in the box to put on later.

You had not expected the present to backfire like this. You had not expected the things done to your gut, to your poor core, to your hindbrain, sending indecent thoughts about how damn well his hands looked, adorned with a piece of practical jewellery.

You had no damn idea what it was what had you squirming; the testament to his position? The testament to power he might not hold over half the world like some fancy CEO would, but certainly over you? The way the leather bound his wrist so gently and perfectly, like a second skin, contrasting with the beautifully raised veins on the back of his hands?

It didn’t matter. What did matter was that he was doing something so awfully mundane like grading essays at his desk while you were supposed to be working on your thesis and… and you were staring. You couldn’t-- you couldn’t possibly form a single coherent thought about history of literature or whatever the topic of our thesis was when he hadn’t even changed from his shirt, only rolled out the sleeves, and sat there like this in your view. His fingers held the pen so elegantly, his other hand laid by the paper, the soft glint of the watch catching your eye every time he moved, drawing your gaze to his hands like a magnet.

Those damn hands. Soft and gentle. Large and strong. So sinfully talented. He could have you fall apart for him in a matter of minutes just by teasing you with those long dextrous fingers; and the image your mind had conjured, the image of your juices straining those elegant fingers on the very hand wearing those watch was just-

“Babygirl, you keep watching me like that and I’ll have to do something about it,” he said light-heartedly, unaware of your panties being shamefully soaked already, core weeping at the emptiness and acute need to be filled.

But Steve had a sharp mind; he understood soon enough. And he understood what precisely it had been that riled you up so much and way too fast, a smirk curling up those plump lips, hand cupping your chin to steal your breath with a filthy kiss, his free hand pushing your laptop aside and pulling you to your feet just to kiss you over and over as he walked you back to the mirror.

Fuck, the filthy gorgeous picture. Possessive hands sprawled over your stomach, over your pubic bone, as his fingers slipped under your leggings to tease you; pulling them down so you could watch as he dipped his fingers in your slick.

“My girl’s making such a mess for me, look at that, babygirl, isn’t that a sight…”

Coming almost untouched, a tingly feeling spreading to your toes as his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you upright and press you firmly to his front, to let you feel what you were doing to him. He had you on a bed so fast afterwards, propped up on the headboard so you could watch, with your hands tied so you had to take whatever he was giving, legs spread wide so he could fit his broad shoulders between them and lick an indulgent stripe all from your opening to your clit, beard burning against your sensitive flesh, only to return to work with his hands.

That gorgeous smart bastard, having you all figured out. Using his new watch, a gift from you, to time you, to time how fast he could push you over the edge for the second time. And then again, trying faster. And again.

And now. Fuck--- now. Now was the real torture.

“Steve, please-“ you whispered, voice hoarse, cunt clenching around nothing as he withdrew his fingers again, all but a fingertip petting your slick swollen petals, your thighs trembling with exertion.

“Shh, love…” he hummed soothingly, free hand pushing your hips down to keep you still, taking away his touch altogether to turn his wrist and look at the watch pointedly, his fingers coated in your slick glistening in the low light on the nightlamp, causing to try and fight against his hold. More. You needed more, you needed it right now. “It’s only been twenty-three minutes, babygirl. You can hold on for a little bit while longer.”

“No! Steve, please, please, pretty please-“ you babbled, word slurring, because gods, you could not. You needed him to make you come again, for the last time, your body was strung so tight, like a string on a violin the menace of your fiancé knew how to play all too well.  

“Oh sweetheart, you beg so prettily. Such a good girl for me, aren’t you…”

The praise washed over you like a tide wave, a shiver running down your spine, a tingle in your lower belly.

He released your hips, only to grab your thighs, spreading them further, tasting you again, tongue circling your clit and sending your head spinning, the tug at your insides almost violent, causing you to pull at the binds around your hands on instinct – you were so so close now, if he could only-

“No!” you your cried out breathlessly as he stopped and rested his forehead under your heaving breasts instead, placing a torturously soft kiss above your belly button.

Your thoughts were a never-ending spiral of please, please, please, Steve, love, please, I need to cum, I need to--- I need you to fuck me, please, please, PLEASE, I need it and there was no way out, no way out but through your safeword, but you wouldn’t, no, he called you his good girl and you were so close, your whole body burning and if he could only do one thing, if he could just--- Please, please, your fingers, your mouth, your-

Then, a sudden clarity, a deep inhale and exhale. You licked your lips.

“Professor, please-“

His fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs, sending a thrill and a sparkle of hope through your veins. He looked up from his spot, eyes impossibly dark, traces of your juices on his lips, on his beard. His mouth curled in a smirk, your racing heart stumbling in your chest.

“Oh babygirl…” he whispered, his thumbs petting the junction of your thighs, bringing the sweet sweet relief closer to your reach. His lips traced a line over the swell of your breast, teeth grazing your flesh, a breathy chuckle warming your already burning skin and you let your head lull back, revelling in the sensation. “That’s playing dirty. Naughty girl…”

Two fingers entered you without warning, but with a fabulous sensation of bliss, aiming straight for your g-spot, stretching you deep, over and over, curling and hitting an even better spot, his mouth ghosting over your collarbone, over your jaw and you panted.

“Yes, yes-“

Your chant was cut off by Steve’s lips, swallowing your sounds of pleasure and letting you taste your own, bringing you rapidly to the brink of a white-hot orgasm—

Only to pull away from your lips with a wet pop, his fingers stilling.

You snapped your eyes open to find Steve with a downright menacing smile on his kiss-swollen lips, horrible realization washing over you and causing your vision to blur anew.

“Steve-“

“So naughty…” he mused, pulling his fingers out as he retreated, admiring his hand – the very image you had daydreamed about, slick-coated long fingers of the hand where his new watch remained seated comfortably – before he used your juices like a paint, tracing a pattern on your inner thigh and you knew. You realized your terrible misstep, which would only prolong your most delightful torture. “I think you deserve another ten minutes as punishment, what do you say?”

You never got the chance to answer, soft fingertips having returned to their teasing, hungry lips stealing any words of protest from your lips.

By the time a few tears actually rolled down your cheek, your ten minutes clearly having passed, Steve had you boneless and soaking his hand and the sheets alike. Your release, coming with releasing your hands as well and letting you lie breathless and without a single coherent thought in your mind, came with Steve’s release as well, when he spooned you from behind, taking what was rightfully his with all but wordless encouragement from your side.

He held you close, chaining kiss after kiss wherever his lips could reach, the most tender of praises whispered to your skin lulling you to sleep.

Perhaps your choice of a gift was the best decision you had ever made, was your last thought. The best, right after sending the wrong attachment and saying yes to not only a date, but eventually, to Steve’s proposal as well.

Seeing what a damn watch on Steve’s hand had done to you, you were both wondering what a sight of a wedding band on his ring finger would do. But you still had some time before you’d figure that out…

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Series masterlist

S.R. masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Thank you for reading 💕 and potentially for your feedback 🥰

Really, blame @murdock-and-the-sea and this pic sent in the wrong/good time 🤐

[shadowkoo]

The Taste of Sin

→ Summary: Following his sister's passing, Taehyung faced a daunting battle within himself, one where he eventually succumbed to the enveloping shadows that gripped his soul. Your task is to free him from the clutches of the black magic that now consumes him. The only problem? He doesn't want to be saved.

↠ taehyung x f.reader | 6.7k words | 18+ ↠ genre: angst, strangers to lovers, smut, black magic au, warlock/witch au

→ Warnings: Read at your own risk! Includes scenes of abduction/kidnapping, minor and major character death & dead bodies, murder, stabbing, knives and other weapons, blood, rituals and witchcraft (duh), slight torture / exorcism-like behavior? idk how else to describe it askldjf;skljdl, illusions to scars, burning skin, unprotected sex, explicit sex, angry sex, fingering, choking, oral (female receiving), teasing, begging, rough kissing, magical fucking? (we’re making that a thing lol), deep dicking, creampie

→ Author note: Thank you so much for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. If you would prefer to bookmark and read it later on AO3, you can find it crossposted here.

Long ago, every instance of magic served a positive purpose. According to the tale, the cosmos gave rise to two mighty entities, Kai and Nyx, after many years of stagnant magic. For magic had been around for centuries by this point, but no one truly had mastered it.

When the culling eliminated many witches and warlocks, the magical line of descendants began to diminish. Kai and Nyx would become the light that the survivors could look to for guidance and protection.

They grew in unison, fostering and educating their apprentices about the complete potential magic can provide and how to harness their talents. Nyx was beloved by the people, and Kai’s gifts were powerful enough to keep them safe from those who dared to harm them.

Over time, Kai's feelings of resentment towards Nyx and his responsibility to safeguard only grew. He yearned to be worshipped. The affection that was once mutual turned into malice, and a sinister shadow wrapped around his soul. It tickled his spine, twisting around through his veins, until he let it take over and embraced the darkness within.

That was the day Black Magic was born.

In the present day, those who are gifted with magical powers are either deemed Sacred or Sinful once they’ve matured. It’s common knowledge that all witches and warlocks are originally born Sacred. Evil isn't born. We know that to be true. It's a learned behavior, created over time. However, the path someone follows in life can change everything.

It's not a matter of what side a witch chooses, but what side chooses them. And unfortunately, it's not as simple as good versus evil, light versus dark, or right versus wrong. 

It boils down to a witch's determination to defend themselves and the length their loved ones will go to in order to resurrect the person they once knew.

But black magic doesn't discriminate. It shows no concern for your family lineage, your economic status, or your future aspirations.

It's patient. 

It bides its time until your vulnerability allows you to embrace even the slightest taste before it creeps into your soul, waiting until you make the choice to devour it completely. 

At that point, you can no longer tell where the darkness ends, and a witch begins. They are now one.

So when the Kim family unexpectedly lost their sweet boy to the Sinful, they knew it would be nearly impossible to get him back.

The only way his soul can be saved is by someone who is accustomed to the taste of black magic helping to remind him of who he truly is.

"This is a photo we took on his eighteenth birthday. That was five years ago. We didn’t know it would be the last photo we would ever take of him..." Mrs. Kim hands you the photo and sniffles, a sign that she’s attempting to keep her composure.

'Please don’t cry, please don’t cry.’ you repeat to yourself. For being upper-class witches, they sure are some of the more sensitive ones. You can tell that they truly care for their estranged son.

Deep down you know that they have all the right reasons to feel this way, but your lack of certain emotions, specifically sympathy, makes it a little difficult for you to feel compassion in moments like this.

Ever since you were rescued from the darkness you've had a hard time understanding emotions and sensitivities. You don’t like either. They make you vulnerable, and vulnerability is dangerous for someone like you.

You are an exception to the rule, neither completely Sacred or Sinful. You’re a part of the Saved; a group of witches that have been brought back from the Sinful. Of course, you can never get rid of the darkness completely. It lingers in your blood, but you’ve learned to control it.

"So do you know what happened that allowed him to let the darkness in? I know that your family is one of the stronger bloodlines, so it couldn’t have been that his powers were limited. And he's not a half-blood either?"

Mr. and Mrs. Kim share a look, debating if they should disclose the reason to you.

"You're right. He was strong up until his sister died. He abandoned his powers and lost interest. We would have to plead for him to do anything remotely related to magic, and even then he put up a fight."

'That would do it. An emotional, grieving warlock that refused to use his powers would be an easy target.'

You rest your hand on Mrs. Kim's in an attempt to console her. "You know this is going to be difficult, right? He's been gone for so long. Are you sure your son is still in there?"

"I know he is. He has to be," she urges, her eyes begging for you to help them.

"Okay..." you say softly, "Were you able to track him? Where was he last?"

"On the east side of the city. We used a spell to pinpoint his exact location, and he was spotted three days ago on camera outside of this mini-mart." Mr. Kim hands you the blurry image. 

"Well, it looks like I’ve got some work to do. I’ll keep you two updated."

Taehyung gazes at the street lamps' reflection on the wet pavement. Unaware of the earlier rain, he stares at the puddles left in the wake of the storm.

His daze breaks as he catches the familiar sound of a woman's heels approaching. He closes his eyes, envisioning the woman within the shadows of his mind.

'She'll work,' he decides, watching her walk quickly in his general direction. Astral Vision is just one of the perks of turning dark. 

He waits until she’s closer, then conceals his body before she can see him lingering in the shadows outside of the bar. The spell took less than a second to manifest, and then he grabs her. One hand over her mouth and the other pushing her towards his car.

The woman is terrified, rightfully so, and Taehyung feeds on her fear. Her pale face, wide eyes, and fast pulse excite him.

He would have preferred to keep her lucid, but she wouldn’t stop screaming. Her high-pitched shrieks still echo in his ears. Thankfully, the sleeping spell he casts knocks her out, making the car ride enjoyable for the most part. 

If only there was a spell that silenced the constant whispering in his ear…

It doesn’t take long for them to arrive at his place. This part of the city was known for being the center of the dark arts, so when the woman's body trails behind him in the air, no one questions it because everyone is used to seeing some fucked up shit. Hell, last week someone set a captured spirit loose and kept walking through the walls of the old apartment building.

As they enter the dark lair, Taehyung waves his hand around and his magic carries the woman’s body to the worship room and gently lays her down on the makeshift altar table.

At the snap of his fingers, she wakes and frantically glances around at her new surroundings. A fireplace full of black flames, candlesticks everywhere she looks, pentagons and other unrecognizable sigils painted across the walls, and a mysterious man walking toward her with a devilish smile.

"Blood is old. Blood is powerful. Blood is exactly what the darkness wants." He starts chanting, making his way around her body, circling her.

"No, please!" The woman yells as she struggles against the restraints that suddenly appear from thin air. "Please. I beg you," she cries, "I have a child. She's two. *Please!*" The woman continues to sob as he lifts the knife in the air

"Shut up. This will go by faster if you just shut the hell up."

It wouldn’t matter if she was pleading as if her life depended on it. In this case, it did, but that’s irrelevant. Nor does the look in her eyes when she realizes she was going to die tonight. 

Taehyung doesn’t care. He just wants the whispering to end, and the only way to make that happen is to do what it told him.

So he did.

You listen quietly as Taehyung completes his incantation, completely drawn in by the way he handles his power. The unlit candles that fill his room all ignite when he finishes, signaling that your cover is close to being blown now that you’re no longer hidden from plain sight.

The girl notices your figure and wails out when your eyes manage to lock. If it hadn’t been for the fact that she saw you already, you weren't sure when, or how, you were going to make your presence known. 

That's how easily the darkness can get to you. You didn’t even realize when it had you paralyzed in time. And if a witch isn't aware at all times, they have a higher chance of being taken over.

"Please save me! I see you, help me!" Her shrill voice pierces through the empty room. You duck by a bookshelf and wait to see if he spots you too. 

Taehyung pauses to glance around; he doesn’t sense anyone so he closes his eyes and continues with his plan.

When you step out of the shadows she repeats herself, begging to be let go, begging for you to help her. 

You take another step closer, moving slowly while racking your brain for how you’re going to get her out of here when suddenly the dark flames quit dancing in the fireplace. Every candle in the room turns toward you and the room becomes too quiet.

Someone taps on your shoulder. Startled, you turn your head to find no one there. And when you move to face the woman again, a tall figure stands in your way.

"Who the hell are you?" Taehyung demands, a mere few inches from your position.

If you weren’t slightly concerned about what he was going to do to you next, you probably would have laughed out loud. That blade is pointless. You both know that he can do a lot more damage with his powers now that the darkness is on his side. 

Speaking of which, his other hand twists at his side and you guess he’s trying to inflict pain on you somehow.

You know this must be true when he frowns, clearly confused as to why you aren’t on the floor in crippling agony.

"Oh, yeah. That doesn't work on me babe, clearly not human." You admit rather smugly. His demeanor tenses as you close in on him. "You should really put the knife down. You don't want to accidentally hurt her, do you?"

"That's exactly what I want to do," he hisses, using his magic to send his knife flying through the air and into her chest before you can even process what’s happening. 

The second the blade touches blood, every candle in the room is extinguished.

You somehow manage to hold in your surprised gasp, despite not being ready for that.

This job isn’t for everyone. You’ve witnessed a lot of death in your short time as Saver. If it wasn’t for the good pay and the sense of accomplishment, (not to mention the high probability of making Nyx proud) there was no way in hell you would willingly put yourself in this traumatic position.

That's what you remind yourself of anyway. Especially since it’s hard finding anything else with your label. Damn witch society and their stupid social standings for making everyone believe that a Saved witch is any less of value than a Sacred one.

It’s been a while since your last assignment, and after how badly that one had ended, you’ve been contemplating if it was a mistake to come so soon - just like your coworkers had presumed. 

You brush those thoughts aside and remember why you’re here, to save.

"Did you have to kill her? Was that really necessary?" you prod.

"Yeah, it gets them off my back," he huffs, "What do you want?" He peers at you, trying to figure you out.

One ‘perk’, for lack of a better word, of being one of the Saved is that when a Sinful reads you, they catch onto the lingering darkness and assume you're one of them. It makes it easier for them to trust you, which inherently makes your job easier.

"Need a place to crash for a week or two. I sensed you from outside. Thought it was safe here since we're the same and all that." You had rehearsed this part, knowing you would need a valid excuse to get close to him. And it was normal, the Sinful did usually group together. Everyone is stronger in numbers.

"Does this look like a boarding house to you? Get the fuck out." He turns back to the dead woman's body and catches her blood in a vessel filled with ash and other unrecognizable ingredients.

"What kind of ritual is this?" You ask, ignoring his demand and following him around the room as he throws other components into the blood pool. "Looks very...ancient?" It looks disgusting if you’re being completely honest, but you have to play along. "Need help?"

"Why aren't you leaving?" He questions. "Did I not make myself clear? Get. Out."

"What if we make a deal," you suggest, starting your plan. "I'll clean up your messes and stay out of your way and you let me stay here. I'm a newbie, if you can't tell. So far I'm really enjoying how much I don't care. I can do whatever and go wherever I want. Well actually I can't, I think I'm being hunted-" Your rambling trick works and he interrupts you, clearly irritated. and doing whatever he can to shut you up.

Taehyung rubs a hand over his face when he realizes he can't get rid of you, "Okay! Okay, I really don't give a shit. Stay here then. Whatever. Just stop talking. Fuck."

It’s rather easy getting him to cave, but in retrospect, that's not a good thing. It just proves how far gone he is. For example, who doesn't care if a random person - specifically a person who broke into their home - stays with them for an uncertain amount of time? He just doesn't care. And that's scary.

He walks towards the door, the vessel still in hand, and turns to you to say, "I'll be back later. Take care of the body."

Lovely.

3:00 AM

There’s a reason why this time of night is called the witching hour. That's when witches and warlocks are the most powerful. 

So here you are, cross-legged and floating above the floor, getting ready to do something rather invasive, but effective. You aren’t sure if there’s a specific name for what you’re doing, but you’re basically putting yourself into Taehyung’s dreaming mind to pull the memories out of their hiding spots.

When the darkness takes over, it pushes everything aside and fills your mind with disturbing thoughts instead of your own, and it does this so quickly that you forget almost everything about yourself in a matter of minutes.

It’s also tricky because you aren’t able to detect what the memories are until after having drug them out from the deepest pockets of his mind. You have a 50/50 chance of this working in your favor, and you really need it to.

Being inside someone's dream is like being underwater. You don't move as fast as you usually do, and everything's a little fuzzy to look at. Thankfully Taehyung is smart enough to have his memories boxed away, so it isn’t hard to find them. You reach for the nearest one to you, then proceed to open the lid.

The first memory that you pull is one from Taehyung's childhood. You watch his family run around the beach, laughing and splashing around in the salty ocean water.

You reach for another, and suddenly it's autumn. Older Taehyung and his younger sister are kicking the leaves around in the park. A crisp breeze carries the leaves away in the wind while they play.

The next memory leaves you chilled. Taehyung is driving through a snowstorm on his way home after picking his sister up from school. He didn't want her to drive in this weather. You watch in horror as a deer runs out in front of them. He swerves and the car spins on the icy road before rolling several times. They're knocked out for a while, and when Taehyung finally comes to he notices that she's no longer next to him, and there's a giant hole in the windshield.

You return to your body, which is covered in a cold sweat. 'What a terrible way to watch a loved one die. No wonder he let the darkness in.'

You’re ready for your next plan of attack the following morning when Taehyung finds you in the kitchen. His face twists when he notices your bowl, he’s not-so-secretly judging your choice of food.

"What? A witch has to eat." You say, defending the sugary cereal. "Plus, it was in your cabinet. You bought it."

"Didn't buy it. Also not my house, I'm just ahhh - renting it for the time being." He grins, obviously satisfied with his response.

'He's in a rather decent mood. Especially compared to yesterday. Does that mean the memories worked? There's only one way to find out...'

"So," you start, even though you know Taehyung isn’t paying attention to you, "How did you sleep?"

"I relived my sister's death last night." 'Yeah. That one's on me. My bad.' "But I also dreamed about this breakfast cafe near my favorite park that my family used to eat at every time we came to the city."

Your eyes grew in size when you realize that he remembered a memory all on his own. This is really good. Really, really good.

Taehyung wakes up feeling different, but he can’t place how. For the first time in a while, he doesn’t hear whispering, and he can’t help but wonder if you have something to do with that.

'It must be', he decides. 'You, for whatever reason, keep the whispering at bay.'

And then it clicks. You're one of them. And he doesn't know what to do about it.

You're here to fix him. But he doesn't want to change. To go back to a normal life. Well, as normal of a life as a warlock can have.

He sits up in bed and opens his palm. The smallest flame appears and he watches it dance in his gloomy room. He doesn’t want to miss this. Without black magic, Taehyung is nothing but a weak man, incapable of protecting the people he cares about.

He plays it off when he sees you in the kitchen, choosing to talk about his dreams last night, and watches your face light up when he threw in that last one.

"Do you want to visit that place today? It sounds like it's nice," You suggest before getting up to put your empty dish in the sink.

Taehyung's face drops, he’s right. You’re one of the Saved.

"You'd enjoy that, wouldn't you? It's too bad that place doesn't exist," he hisses before driving you backward. Your head bounces off the wall and he doesn’t hesitate to push the knife he had hidden earlier against your windpipe.

"Do you think I'm an idiot? I know what you are," he seethes. His rage deepens as his face lowered to yours. His eyes burn into yours, "You're Saved. And now you're trying to save me. Correct?"

You swallow slowly and nod. This is a serious situation. At any point, Taehyung could snap. Then who would save him?

Both of you proceed to look at each other, waiting for the other to do something stupid. He presses the knife further into your skin, fighting with himself to end your life. But he can’t, for some reason, he’s intrigued and wonders ‘What if?’

"Fuck it," he breathes, having made up his mind, and closes the gap between you. His lips move against yours in a fight for power. The forgotten knife drops to the floor and his arms move to hold you tightly between his body and the wall.

You’re in shock. This isn’t supposed to happen. Definitely not a part of your plan. You don't sleep with the people you're supposed to save; you're pretty sure there's a rule against that somewhere. But strangely enough, you aren’t complaining. He’s a good kisser.

'This really shouldn't be happening.'

No matter how wrong it may be, you let things continue. He has you shoved up against the wall, his lips covering yours. 

Taehyung’s magic massages along the sides of your body, before joining in the middle and going right for your center.

He knows exactly what you want before you do, touching the right places, and bringing goosebumps to your skin's surface with every motion.

He’s addictive - whether it’s because of the taste of sin on his skin or the taste of the black magic vibrating through his veins - you can’t get enough of it.

Practically every nerve in your body is on fire and you haven't even gotten to the fun part yet.

You moan when the pressure between your legs grows, and bite your lip in an attempt to keep them in.

"You should be running in the opposite direction right about now," he purrs before leaning to drag his tongue along your neck.

"Oh please, I'm not going anywhere. Not until I get what I want." You pant. 

"And what do you want?" he questions with a sly smirk.

"You." 'And to save you.'

He doesn’t hesitate to tear your clothes off before removing his own.

"Please," you beg, needing to be touched by him. Your insides ache for more of him.

He brings a hand up and closes it around your neck, "No talking. Got it?"

You nod again, secretly enjoying the slight pressure and the tingling feeling the lack of oxygen creates.

He lifts one of your legs and you wrap it around his waist, opening yourself up for him. His fingers sink into your heat, moving at a pace you can’t keep up with, preparing you for what’s to come next.

Another moan leaves your swollen lips as he pushes into you without hesitation. Your back arches involuntarily and you squeeze your eyes shut at the amount of intense pleasure running through your body. 

Taehyung holds firmly onto your sides and he pounds into you relentlessly. His deep thrusts have you close to seeing stars. The magic he’s using simultaneously leaves behind sensuous, shadowy caresses upon your skin as he takes you to another dimension.

“Fuck,” he growls before placing lingering wet kisses along your neck. You marvel at how he stretches your insides out in the most delicious way.

“Don't stop. Keep going,” you choke out, unable to stay silent any longer, “Please keep going, oh god!” You’re so close to the edge. A few hard thrusts later and you’re shaking as the coil deep inside you snaps, sending waves of white heat throughout your body.

You whimper when he continues to pound into you, his release not far off. Taehyung moans one last time before releasing into you, and your convulsing walls suck in his warm seed.

You shudder when he slowly pulls out of you and dropped to his knees. A small gasp slips out when his parted lips meet your center. Your fingers grasp onto his hair as his tongue dove deep into you.

Taehyung indulges himself in your sweet taste. For whatever reason, he can’t get enough of you. It isn’t until you’re pleading for him to give you a break that he releases your already sensitive nub.

He takes a moment to catch his breath, and once he has he stands back up. Both of your chests are moving at the same pace as you look into each other's eyes, almost asking, what now?

"Okay. Well, um, I'm gonna shower... I'll see you later?" Fuck, you don’t know how to talk to him after that. Are you supposed to thank him for the best sex of your entire life? Do you just quit your job and run away?

Taehyung, on the other hand, is in awe. He isn’t sure what kind of spell you have over him but he’s already craving more.

He doesn’t care enough to argue about the fact that you lied to him. Not after that. 

Plus, sex is sex. If he has to put up with your annoying habits and attempts to 'save him' for a while longer for good sex then he will. Simple as that.

With his decision made, he accompanies you into the bathroom. "I hope you're ready for round two."

Honestly, you aren’t sure how long you’ve been with Taehyung. The days tend to blend together, particularly due to your inconsistent sleeping schedule.

You still have your mission in mind, but it isn’t something you desire to finish right away. The small sliver of darkness inside of you rejoices when you push your duties aside.

The second Taehyung becomes Saved and is returned to his family, you have to say goodbye. And that's something that you aren't prepared for. You know now that your heart has gotten involved, which is a dangerous game to play.

This is exactly why they say to never mix business with pleasure. It makes such a mess of things.

Taehyung keeps you in bed for most of the day, for reasons most can assume, and your exhausted body isn’t tired of this routine just yet. Habit has it that you usually fall asleep, phone in hand. So it’s no surprise that when you awoke to it vibrating you already knew what to expect.

After rubbing the sleep from your tired eyes, you squint at the bright screen in an attempt to read what it says.

Unknown Caller

Your heart sinks, and you crawl out of bed. 'This isn't going to be good.' You hurry to make it out of the bedroom before answering.

"Hey, Taemin-"

"It shouldn't be taking you this long to track a Sinful." Your supervisor interrupts, "What the hell is going on? Are we losing you?"

"Nothing's going on, I swear. I tracked him at first but then things got complicated. I even managed to break into his place." Your excuse is half-true. "I’ll keep you updated on my progress-"

"It’s been over a month. You have 48 hours to bring him in, or we're giving the case to Dino. My advice is to get the Sinful bastard on a leash and *bring him in.*" He hangs up on you and his words echo in your mind. 48 hours. 48 hours until someone else is taking him from you.

"Who was that?" Taehyung asks with a scratchy voice when you crawl back into bed.

"Wrong number. Go back to sleep," you whisper. You wait for his breathing to even out and take the risk of projecting into his mind once again. It’s dangerous to flood him with so many memories this fast but you don’t have a choice. You pluck memory after memory out of those damn boxes, hoping that it’s enough to make him come back. You’re running out of time.

The following morning, you realize just how dangerous it can be. Taehyung is in a sour mood from the second he wakes.

"Why can't you just stay out of my mind for one night!" he hollers, climbing out of bed and trying to get away from you as fast as possible. "I know you were in there. Why do you have to remind me of her." His voice cracks and it pains you to see how much he’s hurting.

You can’t stop though. Even though he’s in pain, he’s still feeling, and he needs to feel to get better. “Because your memories are important-”

"Stay out of my fucking head!" He rages, cutting you off and disappearing before you can say anything else.

It's now been several hours since you saw him last. Maybe you were pushing him too hard and the darkness realized that it's being forced out. They call it a flare-up; it’s like the last straw. The darkness will do anything to stay in its host, even if that means harming them.

Once Taehyung returns, you try not to panic when you see the bruises all over his body. Not normal purple-blue bruises, but deep green and black ones. Serious ones. Especially for a warlock. These kinds of bruises are caused by magic. Strong magic. Typically black magic.

"Oh my god, what happened?" You rush to him the second he steps in the door. He’s shirtless, hands all bloody, and covered in those god-awful bruises.

"I don't- I don't know. Blood everywhere. The bodies. I don't know."

Your hands rest over his and you close your eyes, focusing on retracing his steps with your gifts.

You’re transported to an alley, where you watch as Taehyung attacked a mob of the Sinful. You wince when he snaps the first man’s neck and then consumes the darkness seeping out of the slumped body. He claims the additional power for himself, as he does with the rest of the people that you see left lying around.

You pull yourself back to the present and look at Taehyung. With more black magic running through his veins, heat radiates from his body and his muscles tense, hoping to be used in another battle shortly.

"Taehyung, I know it hurts to remember and feel these emotions but I really need you to keep them. Don't let the darkness take them away. Please, Taehyung. It's important." His eyes meet yours and you can see the fight he’s putting up from the inside.

"I'm trying. I really am."

Your fingers trail down his cheek, "I know. I know how hard it is, and I know how strong you are. You can do this."

"I can't." Tears stream down his face, "I'm nothing without it, I'm weak. I have to let it in again. I need it."

His entire demeanor changes after saying those words, not realizing the weight that they carry. He’s so close, and now it’s back. He’s rid of the darkness for just a few short minutes and he’s so broken. There’s no way you can save him all on your own.

"You," He says, his voice deepening to something sinister, "Don't you know when to give up? Haven't you realized he doesn't want you to save him?"

"He wants to be saved. You just won't let him go. I'll get him back, and I'll get you out for good," you spit out.

"It's been too long, he's never coming back," the voice gloats, although the darkness that spills through his lips doesn’t match his eyes. "How pathetic it is that you have feelings for this weak warlock. Don't you know that he will never be the same? He won't love you. He doesn't even know what love is. Stupid girl."

"That's a lie." You remind yourself that this isn’t Taehyung talking. This was the darkness. “He’s capable and worthy of so much love, unlike you.”

Even though you know better, there’s a small part of you that’s scared it’s true. 'What if it’s impossible for him to love? Even after he comes back?'

Taehyung can’t help it. He really tried. But it’s just too strong of a fight for him. He doesn’t have the energy.

And you don’t have time to waste. Grabbing onto his head, you stare into his eyes, "I'll get you out of there, I promise." He tries to pry your hands off but you hold on strong. "I promise, Taehyung. Please hold on just a little longer."

You hate to leave him, especially after a momentary breakthrough, but you need help. So you dial the one person you know you can depend on.

"Hey Dino, how fast can you and the others get here?"

It's been different since you've left.

Taehyung doesn't understand why he feels this way, or why he feels at all. He doesn't care, at least that's what he's telling himself to get through the past couple of days. Although he can't help but wonder why you left, and if you’ll ever come back.

It’s thoughts like these that have him so distracted, that's why he doesn’t sense them. That's why they’re able to capture him. Once again, Taehyung is nothing but a weak warlock - even with black magic on his side this time.

Whoever it is, they’re strong enough to cast a sight spell. He can’t see anything. He doesn’t know where he’s being taken.

When they finally release the spell, he's confused by his surroundings. He was almost expecting to see more Sinful wanting to suck the rest of his powers out for their own benefit this time.

To his genuine surprise, it's you.

You and a crowd. All Saved witches and warlocks. Even though he knows what's coming, he's terrified. Not many make it through this part.

"I know you're smart, so I don't need to explain to you that this is going to hurt like a bitch. But I need you to hold on. The darkness is going to want you to give up, and I swear to god Taehyung, if you let that happen I will kill you. You need to hold on."

The group circles around his body and began chanting the spell while you prepared to do the worst part. You refuse to let anyone else do this. 

It’s horrific, to say the least. No one enjoys burning protective sigils into another person's skin, especially when that person is someone you love. You know better than to look at his face when you do this, but his screams remind you of how terrible it hurts, and the scars on your arms ache having been in this exact position. The smell of melting flesh is enough to make you sick to your stomach, let alone the combination of all of these things.

Hell is nothing compared to what a witch goes through to be Saved. The rush of everything that you have done but technically didn't do, the people you murdered, the emotions and memories that come flooding in. It's a lot to be overwhelmed with. And sadly, not everyone can handle it. 

You pray to Nyx that Taehyung is capable to make it through this.

'I'm okay, keep going.'

Raising your gaze to him as his voice sounds in your mind, he reassures you that this has to be done.

'Whatever happens, keep going.'

You nod, holding back tears when he lets out another blood-curdling cry.

You don't know what happened. An eerie sensation washes over you as you try to make sense of the scene in front of you. Someone screams. Who’s screaming? You don’t recognize them to be coming from you, but it has to be. The only thing you’re able to focus on is someone dragging you away from his cold, limp body.

Dino holds onto you through your endless fighting, "He's gone. We need to move. You know we're all at risk with that kind of dark power floating around, unseen."

And that’s the last time you saw Taehyung.

Life after leaving the city is hard. 

You refuse to talk to anyone about what happened, but they all have their own assumptions. Even your supervisor wants you to take more time off but you’ve been declining. Surrounding yourself with work is the only distraction capable of taking your mind off everything else.

You’ll gladly do anything but sit at home where you actually had time to think.

The assignment you recently returned from had been really underwhelming; you brought back and returned the woman to her husband in less than a day. A new record for you. All it took was a handful of wedding photos and snap - she was back. Granted, this one was only gone for a fortnight, so it was an easy job compared to... You let that thought end abruptly, refusing to say his name.

Unlocking your front door, you take a step inside and drop your bag at your feet, your magic closing and relocking it for you. 

'Something is wrong.'

You feel it, someone else’s presence. You have no idea how or why - but someone is in the next room over. Your magic can sense theirs.

Nobody knows where you live, not even the other Saved witches. You need to have your safe haven in case anything ever happens. Your house is spellbound to keep the Sinful from entering. However, if a Sinful took in an absurd amount of darkness, it isn’t impossible for that to happen. And you’re terrified to find out who is waiting for you.

It isn’t common for them to hunt you down but in the rare event that it does happen, you have certain protocols to follow, or else things can get very dangerous. Scared to death, you keep your hands at bay and pull yourself mostly together before walking into the living room.

"Why are you crunched over walking like that?"

Letting out a yelp, you immediately turn to your left. “Taehyung?" Your hand rests on your beating heart. 'He's alive?'

"Before you ask, yes I'm alive, and yes it's actually me." It takes you a moment to register his words, which he completely understandable. He knows you must have been through a lot these last couple of weeks. Especially since everyone assumed he was dead.

"There's no way... It’s not possible. Dino checked before we left, you were dead. I don't know how you are here right now." 

'You're hallucinating. That's the only realistic answer. You're going crazy and imagining all of this. There is no way Taehyung was alive this whole time. You would have known.'

"Well, apparently he didn't do his job very well because here I am," he chuckles. This is so not the time for chuckling and happy reunions.

You know it’s cliche to do so, but you really just had to poke him in the chest to check. Magic-wise, you can tell he’s alive. You can also tell that he’s still a warlock again, blessed with the gifts of Nyx, but you can’t place any darkness within him.

"How is that possible?” you mumble to yourself, reading his soul again.  All Saved have a trace of darkness...but he has none.

"This might be a wild assumption, but can it be due to the fact that I died and came back? I don't think the darkness could withstand that."

"That seems logical." You’re still weirded out by this whole ordeal but that answer would work for now, at least until you brought him to the base tomorrow to be checked out. "So then why were you hiding in the corner?"

His lips curl up, "What can I say, I learned from the best."

"Okay, so then why are you here? In my house?"

"I needed to see you. I didn't believe it at first either when I first woke up. I thought maybe I turned into a ghost or something, that my spirit was trapped since I died dark. But people noticed me on the streets. And for the first time in years, only my own thoughts were in my head. No whispering." He rests a hand on your cheek, "You saved me."

“It was my job,” you blurted out, not knowing what to say. This is absurd, everything that had just happened made absolutely zero sense. 

He gives you a look, knowing better than to believe that was the only reasoning for why you pushed so hard to bring him back.

"And can I just say for my personal well-being that I never wanted to hurt myself more than the day when fake-me said that it was impossible for me to love you. You have no idea how hard I was fighting to come through and say the exact opposite."

Taehyung steps forward and pulls you against his body, "Because I do, I love you."

Your heart nearly bursts having heard him confess the truth. Raising your hands up to his head, you pull him down into your waiting kiss, where you pour love and light into one another.

While you’ve become accustomed to the taste of sin on his lips, you’ve got to admit, the taste of love is so much better.

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