#i just fucking want peace. i want to not dread each and every time my parents are in the same room

[appalachiancowboy99]

After Dark

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

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

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

Gif by: @sunwingsunset

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As always, sending my love - M. <3

[s1ckh1mb0]

🌷♡₊˚geek lover! eren🦢・₊✧

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This is a remake of the already geek lover eren, but specifically a sfw version but I actually really love this story

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Eren is a geek lover. He absolutely is enamored with you. Watching your lips with every word you spoke. The way you got excited telling him about every single new detail of the things you got interested in. Eren worked hard as a famous rnb singer, long days in the studio trying to perfect his songs. Then having to perform when he literally had the WORST anxiety known to man. It always felt like someone needed him and was on his ass about something.

But he did it all for you. So you can have everything your heart desired. He left nothing behind when it came to you. You wanted to see a new sci fi movie? He already bought out the theater. There’s a new podcast you like? He’s downloaded all the episodes for you on both yours and his phone. Don’t even get started on books. On your first date you mentioned you like to read and study psychology in your free time. Once you moved in he had your very own book room built for you. Carefully picking out each book for you on his own. Your own desk and room for you todo your writings in. He even surprised you with a laptop and camera so you can start your own podcast! He just wanted to show you how much he loved and supported you.

For moment like this were he could come home and listen to you tell him. About the things you've watched in your huge list of video essays that you had in a playlist on YouTube. How you lit up telling him different facts from how the dating game killer had a coworker that also happened to be a serial killer and he didn't know to the conspiracy theory of the 27 club, no matter what you said it always made you so happy and seeing you all giddy and stimming while you talked to him made him so content with his life.

"I know cotards syndrome, Koro, Diogenes, fregoli, hypochondria, pica, capgras, boanthropy, apotenmophilia, kulver bulcy, ekbom, erotomania, Stendhal. Pics is like one of the more well known. You know that show my strange addiction that we watch together? Yeah so like those people who eat the random shit like the lady who ate rocks- omg that reminds me!"

Erens ass was not listening one bit. He was watching you, watching your body. You guys had been apart for a little over a month so could do a very short tour in another country and he was sick as fuck that he couldn't bring you.

Everyone knew it too. His attitude fucking sucked that trip. He was antsy, his anxiety was through the roof, he snapped at everyone, overall he fucking hated it. But now, sitting here with you he finally felt at peace.

You were sitting on his lap, yapping his ear off.His eyes couldn't help but wander to your legs which lead him to notice you were wearing his boxers. Your hands thick thighs were filling them out so well. His hands moved to grip them as he watched you talk. You’d kill him later for not listening but he just felt so much dread when he was away from you that he couldn’t help but just stare at you forever.

“Rennie, papa are you okay? You’re getting all red. Are you feeling sick baby?”

You were worried, he had a bad history of getting sick easily. With him coming back from another country he could have likely caught something. It would hurt your heart to know he wasn’t feeling well.

“I’m fine baby. Keep going. I wanna hear you talk.”

“Are you sure baby? We can go lay down if you’d like.”

It warmed his heart how much you cared for him. You made him the man he was. He used to be so closed off to anyone that wasn’t your friends mikasa and armin. You taught him how to deal with the grief of life and got him therapy to get through the rough days of his depression. He just loved you so much and truly couldn’t imagine being anywhere without you.

“I’m fine baby, just missed you so much..”

For my girlie @merakidoll

[signanothername]

hhhhhhh i love your art so much man it's just so rrrrrrrrg words can even describe it 💥💥💥

butt like like genuinely how do you figure out poses and shit that fit who you draw so well likeee

idk me personally i just struggle with that stuff, yk always stuck with the -looking front on with hands in pockets- or the dreaded -peace sign with hand in pocket- fjdjdj

sorry for the yap sesh butttt any advice would be like so cool

also the way you portray killer and nm is like godly just 💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

HDHDHHDHD THANK YOU <333333

And oooh that’s a very valid struggle, cause the thing is, I used to struggle a lot with posing characters in a way that actually satisfied me, going for the stiff front look a lot dhdhhdhdh

But the thing is with art, is that it isn’t just lines on a page y’know? At least, I stopped treating my art as such, every time i draw an artwork i want the artwork to tell who sees it something, I treat every artwork as a story in of itself

Ok imma generally give you what I learned from my art journey so far, i’m gonna start with a more general advice and then get to how I choose poses for certain characters, and imma try to explain the best I can but I can be really bad with wording things so bear with me

Art can be difficult cause different art concepts are interconnected with each other, so sometimes you need to think of so many things just to be able to do something as simple as posing a character

Before we start tho, here are 2 tips:

-everything you know about anatomy? Throw it out the window, no i’m not joking I’m being completely serious

The reason many artists suffer with making dynamic poses is cause they think too much about anatomy, they think the anatomy should look correct and perfect, and no, anatomy is the biggest reason the pose you draw is going to be stiff, you need to forget “correct” anatomy if you want your poses to feel alive and dynamic

- practice gesture/figure art, IM ON MY KNEES I BEG YOU, cause it teaches you to let go of perfect anatomy and actually learn how to draw figures in motion (which is extremely important for fluid and dynamic poses!)

———

With that in mind, here are a few things i keep in mind when posing a character:

1- line of action

You hear these three damn words a lot yet no matter how much you research them you can never find a good explanation for what they mean (me after i researched this bullshit so much shbdhdhhs)

But simply put, think of the action line as the spine in a human, the more you bend it outta shape the more dynamic the pose is going to be

And it’s genuinely so important cause it can make a very simple pose such as a character standing doing nothing much more dynamic when you put line of action in mind

Even a very slight bend in the line can make the pose more natural/dynamic, because an action line dictates the movement of a character

So if you want to avoid a stiff pose? Avoid a straight action line (you gotta make that action line Queer af💅✨✨✨✨)

But here’s a mind fuckery, the tricky thing with action lines is that it’s better if you keep them in mind but not consciously think of them if that makes sense

You gotta understand them and implement them and practice them, but when you draw a character posing a certain way, thinking too much of the action line can actually make it difficult to maintain and in turn, makes your art stiff af too

Like you got to internalize this concept and to keep it in your subconscious rather than actually consciously think about it when you draw your artworks

Ok Anó, how the fuck do i do that? Start with practicing them consciously by actually drawing the action line and then the pose in art studies, and then level yourself up by practicing them by drawing characters posing a certain way WITHOUT putting an action line first, i’m sorry to say there’s no way around it, there are no short cuts

Here’s a helpful visual guide/summary of what i mean by the paragraph above cause words suck

(but sooner or later, what you learned gets burned into your muscle memory, and your hand would start doing all the work without you consciously thinking about it, then congrats!! Action lines are now part of your subconscious)

Ok but does that mean straight lines are bad/should never be used?? NO

I can never emphasize how important straight lines can be

One thing that’s beautiful in art is that there’s no such thing as “bad” or “wrong”, art is subjective, and something that’s perceived as “wrong” by one artist, can be right/ something implemented in another artist’s artstyle that makes it unique

In fact, straight action lines can be great to use depending on what you wish people to take/understand from your art (a simple example: a turn around reference sheet for a character tends to use straight lines, cause in a reference sheet you focus on clarity, and drawing with queer lines can cause that clarity to be thrown out the window)

But I especially love to use straight Action lines with Killer, I sometimes make him stiff as a fucking rock and it’s completely intentional on my part, cause i love to use stiff poses to enhance the uncomfortable/unnatural atmosphere Killer gives, or to further emphasize an already uncomfortable situation

So to summarize, if you wish your poses be more natural/dynamic and to avoid stiff poses, use queer Action lines, but straight lines are also great to use depending on what you want people to understand from your art

———

2- perspective (camera angle)

Variety is key!

What is the perspective you want to focus on? I know this seems like it doesn’t have anything to do with posing a character, but it does, (remember, art concepts are interconnected!) cause the perspective you decide to draw from can also influence the pose you decide to draw or vice versa, and help you make the pose more dynamic

Hell sometimes, perspective can do the poses justice even if they’re literally the most boring stiff poses you’ve ever drawn chchchhcch

Like are you going to draw the character from an upper perspective? Lower? Fish-eye? Third person? First person?

Is the perspective tilted? Is it normal?

What is the perspective you want and why did you choose it? What are you trying to tell the people who see your art?

Here are a few tips when it comes to perspective:

-More dynamic perspectives (upper/lower) are good for artworks that have tension in them, or have some sort of stakes going on (fights, horror, uncomfortable situations)

That of course doesn’t mean they can’t be used to simply make your artwork look cool :D

-choosing how many vanishing points there are (one,two or three points perspective) can also make your art tell a different story depending on the situation you’ve chosen them for

-and most importantly, when you draw a pose, foreshortening is going to happen to the body depending on the perspective!!

But my point is, I make sure i draw in variety, sometimes I draw the character from upper, lower, tilted or even a mix of all of them, all to enhance my poses to look more dynamic/natural

Ok Anó, got it, but what if I don’t care to include a crazy perspective and i want to draw in a normal perspective? Then how do i make my poses more dynamic?

That brings me to my next 2 points

———

3- camera shots

Same as perspective, there has to be variety!

Your art doesn’t always have to be full body, try to draw different shots, draw a headshot, draw closeup shots draw half bodies

If you go for different shots then you’ll be forced to think of different poses to fit such shots :D

———

4-bodies are like little toys, break them

One thing you can do to bring more variety to your poses is to have different body parts facing different directions, not all limbs have to face the same direction >:)

Generally the characters don’t have to face front! Try to mix it up and draw from the side or back

———

5-emotional weight and a story to tell

And this is where i’ll bring my point about treating my art as a story back

A really good way to actually put variety in your poses is to treat any sort of artwork/sketch you make as a story you’re trying to tell

Before you draw a character posing a certain way ask yourself, why is this character posing this way? What are/were they doing before that pose? Are they alone or are they reacting to something/someone?

Is there a point to them posing this way? (It’s ok if there’s no actual point to it! But the poses still would need to tell a story regardless)

Cause if you’re posing them reacting to another character (off screen for example), you pose them in a way that makes sense for their emotions of the other character right? (So if the character has negative feelings towards the other one then it makes more sense to draw them in a defensive stance or a fight or flight pose)

If you’re drawing them all alone then what are they doing alone, are they doing something important or is it their off time? If it’s their off time what are they doing for their off time? Do they like to spend it reading a book for example? What are they reading? Is it a horror novel that makes them scared? If yes then how do they deal with fear? Do they throw the book across the room or do they hide under a blanket?

Cause a pose also holds emotional weight, it shows you what emotions the character is exhibiting, it’s not just the expression of the character that tells you about their emotions, it’s their body language, and body language can be translated through poses

Let’s say they’re doing a peace sign pose for example, why are they doing it? Are they taking a picture with someone they love or are they doing it to annoy someone? Hell maybe they’re being forced to do it, and so they do it half heartedly maybe?

Get what I’m trying to say?

———

And now with all of the above in mind, time to get to the most important thing and the main point of this post

How do I choose poses for certain characters?

6- personality

who am I sketching? Cause each character is unique and each character is gonna act a certain way other characters won’t, and depending on the situation, the poses change too

Understand the character and how they act, try to analyze them and take in their quirks and behaviors, and before you draw a pose for them actually ask yourself, would this character EVER do this pose?

Like you say you fall in the peace sign trap right? Now think about a peace sign pose, but with Nightmare… it doesn’t make sense right? Cause the pose is an absolute striking contrast to Nightmare’s personality, like Nightmare would never do a peace sign till the day he dies, hell i’m sure if he’s forced to choose between death and doing a peace sign he’d choose death (it’s a lot more mercifull than the humiliation he’d feel making a peace sign hcchchch)

See what I’m getting at?

For example, I draw Nightmare with his hands behind his back a lot, but you won’t see me do the same with other characters often, not cause other characters would never put their hands behind their backs, but because it’s a quirk in Nightmare’s character, Nightmare TENDS to do that a lot, he acts so formal and royal like, and so i draw him do it a lot

But here’s the thing, if i draw other characters having their hands behind their backs like i do with Nightmare, i do it in a way that makes sense for them! An example is how i draw Nightmare and Dream with their hands behind their backs :D

But I also keep in mind Nightmare’s character, so whenever I pose him a certain way, I ask myself “would Nightmare actually stand/sit/lie down like that?” If the answer is yes, then I continue, if not then i change it to fit Nightmare

To further explain, I tend to think Nightmare is defensive in nature, so you’d see that I also pose him in a way that reflects that, with his hands crossed in front of his chest for example or generally his hands close to his body, sometimes hunched in on himself, I also think Nightmare is egotistical and self centric, but most importantly, he sees himself as an elegant King, and so I draw him crossing his legs or generally have him sit in such a formal manner or a hand on hip kinda pose etc

So when you draw a pose ask yourself if it fits the personality, mindset, and pattern of behavior for said character!

———

With all that being said, while it’s amazing to be able to do a variety of poses, I think it’s also important to keep in mind that art is supposed to be fun, take your time trying to learn, don’t overwork or frustrate yourself with learning new things, and it’s completely fine to not do poses that have meaning sometimes (do that peace sign to your heart’s content <333) it took me 10 whole years to get where i am today, and compared to many other artists my own progress is extremely slow, and it used to bother me cause I treated art like there was some sort of deadline above my head and that I should learn things in a timely manner (which is absolute bullshit), my point is, take your time with learning poses, even if it takes you years, the important thing is that you will get there eventually <33333

———

Finally, here is one art resource for poses that i think is really good/useful

Keep on creating and hope my endless ramble helps a lil chchchchchch <33333

[wnbnny]

wish you back - h.js

w.c - 2.0k | genre - highschool!au/slice of life | pairings - jisung x gn reader | authors note - omfg i'm back from hiatus 😭 anyw req by my bby @starseungs i hope u enjoy <3 req can be found here!

life brings about many surprises, one of which comes in the form of han jisung.

life as a highschooler wasn't easy, navigating through workloads, teenage crushes, and the struggles of a growing and developing brain.

most of all, the concept of soulmates.

soulmates were a thing you would expect from a movie, a fictional world. yet, it was very much true, girls gossiping over potential soulmates in the hallways, boys proposing to their girlfriends in soccer games, happy couples strolling down the streets of the city. your life was lived in monochrome, the classic black and white. it was only when you met your supposed soulmate at the age of 18 that everything would explode, a vibrant splatter of colours that finally allowed you to see the world as it was, not just through a filter. people described it as the feeling of warmth on your skin, the thrill of it all, the reds, oranges, yellows, greens, blues, purples, pink, all the hues, like home.

but that blood red string scared you.

what was so good about soulmates? the idea of having the rest of your life laid out before you, pre-destined and fated, scared you. what if your soulmate lived halfway across the world? what if you would never meet your soulmate, destined to die a lonely death while everyone else danced under the stars with their loved one? what if you didn't like the life planned out for you? what if you had to live the rest of your life seeing only black and white, and never see the yellow of the sun or the fresh green of the grass and the vibrant red of the flowers? what if your soulmate didn't want you?

it was especially the latter of the questions that haunted you the most.

you feared, with a frightening worriedness, that your chosen one would reject you. you had heard stories of people being rejected by their chosen soulmate, only to either live out their lives in misery or take their own life. no one was ever the same after meeting their soulmate. 

to be honest, you would rather live forever in a world with only black and white than to go through that heartbreak. you would never allow yourself to fall in love, you vowed. soulmate or not, heartbreak was something you never wanted to experience.

---

"oi!" 

"what do you want for your birthday? y'know what, nevermind, it should be a surprise." jisung grinned, ruffling your hair as you scowled at him.

"don't remind me, you know how much i dread the damned day." you groaned, shoulders sagging in defeat. 

your 18th birthday. 

the day you would finally meet your soulmate. 

life had been so peaceful until now, you thought. until someone would come into the picture and fuck everything up.

just 7 days to go until the day. 7 days wouldn't be that bad, right?

wrong.

day 7. day 6. day 5. day 4. day 3. day 2. 

each day, you could feel the trepidation settling into your bones, a chill running through your spine every time you looked at the clock on the wall, until that very day.

the day was normal, well-wishes from your parents and your gift given to you, the new bag you had been yearning for, significantly improving your mood, a smile on your face as you walked to the bus, corners of your lips lifting up and eyes crinkling. your eyes zeroed in on every person as you boarded the bus, squinting in anticipation of the bright colours that were supposed to burst in your vision. luckily, the world remained black and white, not a single spot of colour. you looked down at your phone. damn. the only classes you had with jisung were in the afternoon.

throughout the day, everyone showered you with birthday wishes, gifting you beautifully wrapped presents, yet you couldn't find it in your heart to be genuinely happy, a fake smile plastered on your face as you thanked them for the wishes. it wasn't that you didn't appreciate the gifts, truly. you just dreaded the change that would come in a few hours or so. in a few hours, you would be meeting the person that you would spend the rest of your life with. 

"class dismissed!" you startled awake with a jolt, unconsciously having daydreamed throughout the class, lost in thought. as you scrambled to move onto the next class, hastily picking up your textbook, a hand stopped you. you flinched in surprise, heightened alertness instantly kicking in. a girl held out your pen to you, the world still remaining in black and white.

thank goodness.

up next was biology, your hated arch nemesis. groaning half-heartedly to yourself as you dragged yourself to your locker to dump your heavy textbooks in, a voice broke you out of your reverie.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY-" a voice screamed, causing you to yelp in surprise, head whipping around in surprise as you finally saw the offender of your eardrums.

oh.

time seemed to stop.

red, the colour of his old beanie.

brown, the colour of his soft silky hair that you loved to thread your fingers through.

black, the colour of his old sweatpants and backpack.

yellow, the colour of his pins on his backpack.

blue, the colour of his fluffy hoodie.

purple, the colour of his keychain.

white, the colour of the blinding brightness that seemed to overtake you for a millisecond.

han jisung was your fucking soulmate.

in his hands was a badly wrapped present, wrapped in a bright yellow paper, his lips parted in shock and surprise as he started dumbfoundedly at you.

"oh."

he could only sputter, his boba eyes round and wide as the present dropped to the floor in shock.

han jisung was your soulmate. 

fuck.

"uh- so-" jisung's hand came up to scratch the back of his head, eyes wide in disbelief. 

"so uh- we're..."

"soulmates." you could only say in response.

should you be happy? you were supposed to jump in joy, after all. anyone would expect someone to be happy after bagging the person who was simultaneously your best friend and your secret crush. 

but why did it feel like you and jisung were headed on a one way train to doom?

"i- i gotta go." you stammered, turning around and dashing out the hall, breathing laboured as you heard him call after you in desperation.

no, no, no-

life was going so well. he would never want you, ever. he would never see you in that way. your friendship would be ruined. you would lose your best friend. 

life seemed to bustle around you as you ran. greens, pinks, purples, hues of every shade faded into your vision as you ran, tears finally cascading down your face, dripping onto the lush grass beneath your feet. you couldn't bring yourself to look at anything, eyes tightly shut, a stark reminder of what would change.

---

[57 missed calls]

jisungie 

hello?? y/n? i know you probably don't want to see me now... but i'll be here waiting for you, ok?  it's probably hard to accept that we're soulmates... but take your time:) seen at 12.03 a.m

jisungie

you didn't come to class today...  r u ok?? take care of yourself seen at 15.39 p.m

jisungie

its been five days already i miss you seen at 23.12 p.m

---

you threw your phone across the room, head buried in your shoulders as you muffled a sob. 

fuck him and his perfect personality.

if only he were that easy to forget, to let go. 

but he was han jisung. perfect in every way. as if you could ever dream of forgetting him and his warm touch, his wide grin, his fluffy brown hair hanging over in his eyes with a boyish innocence.

"ding!"

you groaned in annoyance, flinging the sheets back, stumbling out of bed, and quickly wiping away your tears. 

probably one of mom's online deliveries again. 

walking down the stairs, you swung open the door. 

"hi, you can leave the delivery there-"

except it wasn't even a delivery man.

it was han jisung.

"jisung-?" 

you could only stammer in response, eyes widening as you took a step back.

after all, what was one supposed to say to your soulmate that you'd been avoiding for days?

a flash of white and pink caught your eyes. your gaze drifted down to his hands, only to be met with a bouquet of pink, white, and red tulips, a beautiful arrangement wrapped in pink tulle and tied together with a elegant white ribbon.

"uhh... surprise?" jisung smiled anxiously before scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as his face turned crimson red.

too stunned to speak, you could only stand there gaping at him. after what felt like an eternity, you finally spoke.

"what are you doing here?"

"wait... lemme just- uh- compose myself. big speech, y'know?" he grinned in nervousness, fidgeting slightly, clearly a bundle of nerves.

"so..." he exhaled. "i know i'm probably the last person you want to see right now, but... i don't blame you. but however you feel about us being... soulmates, it doesn't change the fact that i don't mind being your soulmate. i was... pretty happy at first, but then you ran away, so i-"

"wait, happy? i thought you would be mad, or angry, or anything-" you cut him off, brows furrowing in confusion.

jisung gulped. "i had feelings for you." 

"what-?" your heart rate skyrocketed, a ringing in your ears, the thumping of your heart against your ribcage, all making you painfully hopeful, pleading with the gods to not break your heart and dash your hopes again.

"i- i had feelings for you. so... no matter how you want this whole soulmate thing to turn out, even if you don't feel the same, i'll be happy either way knowing you're my soulmate. if you don't want it to, this won't change anything between us, we can go back to living our normal lives-"

jisung was cut off by the feeling of soft, plush lips on his, crashing into him with a ferocity as your arms were thrown around his neck, teeth clashing with his, warm hands threading into his hair.

you didn't think you would ever get used to kissing jisung, you thought. every single touch, smile, even a tiny glance set your nerves ablaze. the feeling of his pillowy lips on yours was thrilling, his hands threaded into your hair and pulling you closer by your lower back, pressing you flush against him until there was so space between the two of you, bridging the gaps that felt like oceans forcing the two of you apart.

finally, the two of you parted with a gasping 'pop', ears red and cheeks flushed, staring at each other in childlike wonder. 

"thank you for the tulips," you smile, taking them from his hands and planting one last kiss on his cheek, "they're lovely."

jisung's ears turned bright red, stammering out a 'you're welcome' in response as you laughed at his antics. "oh, that reminds me," he smiled giddily, hand reaching into his pocket to pull out a beautiful baby pink coloured box, gently opening it. you gasped, inside was a beautiful necklace with a heart charm in the middle, simple and elegant. "i was gonna give this to you on your birthday, but... well, you ran off, so here." he smiles nervously awaiting your reaction, and is pleasantly surprised when you squeal and plant a big fat kiss on his lips. he helps you put it on, your lips finding his again as you wrap your arms around his neck and tug him closer. "it's beautiful, thank you." you smile, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

"so you'll accept me as your soulmate?" he asked, eyes wide as he worried his bottom lip between his teeth, anxiously waiting for your answer.

you nod, smiling. "i accepted you as my soulmate the moment i found out, i just... thought you wouldn't feel the same way back... so i just avoided you. in hindsight, that sounds pretty stupid," you sigh.

"aish, we could've kissed a long time ago if i had just told you i felt the same!" jisung groaned, pulling you closer as you laughed and smacked his arm in playful indignation. "at least we worked it out." smiling softly, you allowed yourself a moment of peace, tucking your head into the crook of his neck.

"out of all the people in the world, i'm stuck with you, han jisung. but you're the best person to be stuck with."

[iho6hi2]

Infrunami.

Type: Oneshot

Pairing: Matsuno Karamatsu/F! Reader

Summary: Getting kisses from a hot lady? Karamatsu would love that. Almost getting ran over by a hot lady? Not exactly on his bucket list, but Karamatsu checks it regardless.

Warnings: Near Death Experiences, Fluff, Attempt at Humor, Light Angst, Drinking, Getting to Know Each Other, Feel-Good, Ridiculous

Word Count: 8,037

A/N: MY HOMESLICE 🧀🧀 Karamatsu deserves someone he can be a flop with T__T BTW Im so insecure about this so pls either give me a 10 page essay on why this sucked or one 'this was cool Lol' otherwise ill kms

Karamatsu ambles near the bridge, his usual hotspot for courting women in this cruel game life likes to call love; or more accurately the place where he stands still like a traffic sign with the hopes of someone giving him the time of day for once (huge spoiler alert: nobody does, as expected).

He chuckles, feigning smug amusement as he runs a hand through his hair in one smooth motion. "The stars must not favor me today, for all of my Karamatsu girls are nowhere to be seen. Heh, if that is the fate of a sinful man, I shall accept it and retreat with peace.''

The looks passersby shoot him border on mentally perturbed and downright horrified, because who the hell monologues atrocities like these out loud? Without being under the influence of something, nonetheless.

With that declaration out of the way, Karamatsu straightens up and decides to head home for the day, deeming it appropriate. What with his love endeavors turning out to be unsuccessful once again, also to no one's big surprise really.

On his way home, whenever the opportunity presents itself, he stops to window-shop every time he passes by a fashion boutique and admires clothes his broke bum probably couldn't afford.

Of course, he attempts not to appear interested, and instead only crosses his arms critically and gives the mannequins clad in clothing the stink eye (even if he's wearing shades of all things) while the workers glance at him warily through the window.

Before another demented sentence is said, suddenly all chaos breaks loose and there are people yelling and instantly he's all too aware of the motorcycle nearing him with each passing second. Karamatsu shrieks so loud he's sure everyone from the next town over had heard him.

"Get out of the way!" The biker shouts and waves a hand to the side for emphasis, and he feels like a fly being swatted away, but even if Karamatsu wanted to move it's almost as if his legs are rooted to the ground.

A wave of panic washes over him and strangely enough there was still enough time for dread to settle in the depths of his stomach. Even if it may be cliché, his life does end up flashing before his eyes － and it's just plain sad how fucking boring it is.

"Get out of the way," you repeat, though you sound more adamant, your tone coated with a sense of urgency.

Ahhh, Mommy! I'll die a virgin, I'll die a loser! Karamatsu cries in his mind. If I survive, I'll get a job, I swear! I'll even stop talking in English, just please! He pleads mentally, to whom is unknown.

Suddenly, you remember that brakes exist and you swerve with such mastery you weren't even aware you possessed up until now, coming to an abrupt stop right in front of your spared victim, tires screeching harshly against the pavement. Karamatsu deadpans, God had a real sense of humor.

He's still frozen in place, barely containing the natural instinct to piss himself. Though he's also pretty sure the urge to urinate will hit him like a shit ton of bricks post-shock.

Fortunately, he's not Ichimatsu and so he doesn't shit himself in front of the cute girl getting off of the motorcycle, even if she barely missed out on becoming his murderer.

You approach him cautiously, expecting the berating of a lifetime. Though judging by his state － him shaking like a leaf despite his thick leather jacket, also not to mention the buckets worth of sweat rolling off him －, you doubt you'll get an earful.

"Are you okay?'' Obviously, he's not. ''You're not hurt or anything, right?''

Karamatsu shakes his head timidly despite not even listening to a word you said. Then, he gulps and raises a trembling hand to his face, lowering his sunglasses just a smidge to take a good peek at you. ''H-Heh, you have, um, nothing to worry about my dear Karamatsu girl..."

You do your best to smile at him in response, but the need to physically recoil is understandably strong. ''Oh, uh, that's good to hear. I'm sorry for, you know, almost killing you and giving you a fright... It happens a lot for some reason.''

You need to get your license revoked, Karamatsu's eye twitches but he smirks regardless, willing to disregard everything that had occurred just because you were one hot lady. Plus, he is a gentleman, if nothing else.

''As if! You have no reason to fret, mon amour. The thrill of living or dying, chasing that high is what makes or breaks a man! Such a thing couldn't possibly scare me."

''Are you sure? 'Cause I'm certain I heard you scream,'' you grin with more teeth than you should. It'd be such a pleasure to knock him down a couple of notches, you think.

''T-T-That was most definitely not a scream, my darling, I assure you! It was but a noise of excitement at the divine gamble, ahahaha, that's all!'' Karamatsu stutters, stumbling over his words.

You blink, positively unimpressed. "You were excited to get ran over?"

After that, an uncomfortable silence stretches between the two of you. You're pulled into reality by the fact that just about anyone could see your number plate, so it was time to leave and flee the supposed crime scene. You're not getting fined for this, hell no. If anything, you're the one who's in desperate need of reparations after this degenerate conversation.

You mount your motorcycle again and look at him with an almost impish smile, ''You have weird tastes, man." And with that last comment, you're gone in the same breath, leaving behind only a cartoonish dust cloud.

Karamatsu's legs give out and he collapses, falling to his knees. Nobody helps him up.

★

Karamatsu doesn't really visit clubs often. Going by himself makes him feel strangely out of place, going with his brothers makes him feel like a circus attraction, though it's not like it has ever bothered him before.

He would usually lie through his teeth and strive to come off as unbothered and remarkably experienced; a well-seasoned veteran among premature ejaculators, but crowded places like these aren't his scene, at all. Never really have been in the first place.

Perhaps that's why he thinks he doesn't belong here as he observes the rest of the partygoers live it up on the dancefloor while babysitting his beer, one sip at a time.

The music isn't even good, Karamatsu frowns and pinches his eyebrows together, deep in thought. Man, did this place fucking suck. How much did they have to cough up in order for others to rate it a 4-star club?

Well, he supposes it doesn't really matter in the end. As long as the booze's good, that's all he needs to forget this horrible day. A 'nice' hangover is all it takes to wipe his memories clean, which isn't much to brag about.

''Oh, it's you!'' Someone exclaims and he whips his head forward before spitting out his alcohol. What are the odds? You point at him, just as shocked as him at this turn of events, ''Mr. Painful!''

Karamatsu chuckles, raising his glass full of beer as a greeting. ''Madame. Charmed to see you here.''

You roll your eyes but that doesn't hinder you from grinning back at him, ''Oh, the pleasure is all mine, trust me.''

''I would hope so. What are the chances of our paths crossing once more? It leads me to believe that this is no chance encounter. Hmph, why it must be fate.'' Karamatsu blabbers on, implementing wild gestures into his dialogue, takes his sunglasses off and his eyes shine with what you presume is a romantic glint.

You cough a little and wipe the bar clean with a towel, ''Yeah, no. I just work here.''

''The universe works in mysterious ways.''

You laugh. ''Whatever helps you sleep at night, buddy.'' Then, you pat the back of his hand twice. You watch him jump up in surprise and tilt your head to the side, confused.

Karamatsu clutches his hand to his chest, but realizes how fucking ridiculous he must look and simply clears his throat with that same proud expression.

You squint your eyes. ''You're not sick, are you?''

Karamatsu hurries to shake his head, which did nothing but give him a sense of déjà vu. ''N-Non, non! Don't worry your pretty little head over my health, angel. I'm nothing else if not alright, haha.''

You narrow your eyes at him further.

His hands are bundled over his crotch and he has one leg crossed over the other and if Twitter had taught you anything useful at all, it would mean that these are early signs of cock shame. And all of his prior mannerisms, could it be that he is... ''A virgin?''

You did not mean to say that out loud.

Karamatsu's face turns blank for a brief second before he's flapping his hands left and right in firm denial. His face is flushed, panicked, and you swear he's on the brink of tears.

When you said that you wanted to knock him off his high horse, this wasn't what you had in mind, at least not exactly. As a matter of fact, you feel sort of bad for the poor guy.

''Hahaha... What are you talking about, my Karamatsu girl? You should be able to tell by now that a man like me is sought after, which is one of the many punishments I must endure!'' He announces, posing with his index and thumb on his chin, a shaky smile slapped on his sweaty face.

You blink, then prop your elbows on the front bar, lean in and ask, ''And in reality?''

Karamatsu sits back down in his stool, then promptly downs the rest of his beer. ''A jobless virgin who lives in his parents' house.''

You register the somber look in his eyes. You sigh under your breath and open up the fridge, pulling out the same brand of beer he had been drinking until now and pass the bottle to him casually.

Karamatsu looks up at you in disbelief, glancing between you and the bottle of beer frantically. You flick his forehead, ''Drink up, it's on the house just this once.''

Karamatsu stiffens and then smiles gently, rubbing his wet eyes with the sleeve of his jacket, snivelling. ''Thank you, my Karamatsu girl!''

You cross your arms and huff, ''It's [Name]. And besides, I almost ran you over earlier today, it's the least I can do for you.''

''Thank you, [Name].'' Karamatsu parrots himself and happily takes a swig of his new, freshly refilled drink.

You watch him out of the corner of your eye while serving other customers. When a majority of the people disperse, leaving the two of you mostly alone again, you quickly scribble down your number on a napkin.

''Here,'' you call out to him as you hand him the piece of paper. When he shoots you a curious look, you redirect your attention elsewhere in mock embarrassment. ''You seem like fun, let's drink together for realsies next time. My treat.''

Karamatsu gasps, screaming like a banshee with a voice mutation and you think he emotes a strange, outdated gag while leaping ten feet in the air.

His head hits the ceiling but he comes back down just as quick, blood dripping down his face. Planks come crashing down on top of him, somehow on fire, and you clench your jaw. This will definitely be deducted from your paycheck.

★

Karamatsu wakes up, but he doesn't remember how or when he got home.

He ruffles his hair, only to find his broken shades and several bandages wrapped around his head. He attempts to jog his memory and yet the only thing he's able to recall is slamming face-first into a roof and... And...

He sits up and Olympic dives straight into the couch, barbarically searching for that blessed piece of paper which could very well change the entire trajectory of his life.

When he pulls it out of his leather jacket's pocket, he breathes heavily and fakes a falsetto, opting to roll around on the floor in some sort of wild frenzy.

This is it. I'm finally presented with an opportunity to abandon my virgin ways, Karamatsu thinks with a serious expression, shadows covering his eyes dramatically.

He raises a lone victorious fist in the air, cutting through the Matrix itself. Then, Karamatsu gulps and surveys the area, noticing that the living room is empty, which can only mean one thing. Now is the perfect time to plan a romantic rendezvous with you.

Tip-toeing his way to the hall where the landline is located, Karamatsu muttered curse words whenever the floorboards creaked under his weight.

When he reaches the house phone, he gently unfolds the napkin and smoothes out the wrinkles, then sucks in a deep breath and forces his balls to turn into pure steel.

Dialing your number with practiced caution, he bites his nails and anxiously taps his foot. The longer he waits for you to pick up, the more he loses hope.

Just as he was about to hang up and snap back to his miserable reality, maybe cry for an hour or two, your voice croaks out a, ''Hello, who is this? I can hear you breathing, creep. Helloooo?''

''A-Ah, [Name]! This is, uh, Karamatsu.'' He stutters and twirls his hair around his finger. ''I was pondering over the possibility of us taking a stroll together, bathing in the sun and sharing masterful pastries－"

''A date. You want us to go on a date.''

''Yes,'' Karamatsu admits, or rather embraces the simplified idea of it all. ''It's okay if you don't want to, of course, m'lady! I-I wouldn't force you or anything, it's entirely up to you.''

You pinch your nose on the other line, ''Karamatsu, shut up, 'kay? Yes, I wanna go on a date with you, otherwise I wouldn't have paid for your broke ass last night. Now give me a time and place.''

''You do? You actually want to willingly hang out with me?'' He questions and you can practically smell his meekness and self-doubt oozing out of him even through the phone.

''You're the one who hit up my line first, no takebacks hotshot.'' You say, half-joking.

''Why, yes of course. As expected of my favourite Karamatsu girl!'' My only Karamatsu girl up-to-date. ''Obviously, you desire to spend every waking moment together with me, just as much as I do.''

''Time and place, please and thank you.'' You cut him off mid-effusion.

After arranging the date and going over the details, Karamatsu giddily spins and hugs himself. Then, he slaps his face and nods to no one in particular, as a form of confirmation to his invisible hype men.

Choromatsu stares at him judgementally from the stairway, face twisted in its usual sociopathic manner.

Osomatsu leans over in order to whisper in his ear, "What's up with him? He's acting weirder than usual."

Choromatsu scowls. "I don't wanna know, besides if we show interest that means we're going to have to put up with him."

Osomatsu nods in agreement and rubs under his nose with a finger, "True. It's way too damn early for his theatrics." Then, he throws in his assholish laugh for good measure.

The two of them choose to close their eyes and pretend this never happened in the first place, trudging up the stairs and going right back into their shared room without a care in the world.

★

You check the time and grimace. He's awfully late for someone who asked you out first. You wouldn't say you're the most punctual person in the world, but even still you decided to get all dolled up and ended up arriving early for a change of pace.

At first, you didn't mind waiting for him. Life happens after all, right? Maybe something came up last minute and he couldn't put it off, but if that were the case he would have informed you beforehand, right? Right?

You feel as though you're a step closer to becoming a wacko, but suddenly shake your head to rid your mind of such thoughts and smile to yourself. He'll show up, you're sure of it.

But after thirty more minutes of this nonsense, you're on the verge of throwing a tantrum and disrupting the public tranquility because you got stood up. What a fucking jerk, you think and puff out your cheeks.

Just as you're about to leave, maybe actually run someone over and kill them to make yourself feel better and perhaps blow all of your money on cheap gigolos, you stop and widen your eyes at the sight that greets you.

There's no mistaking those sequinned pants and shiny cowboy boots. Your date, with his wounds all gone and miraculously healed, saunters over to you like he's a runway model, catwalking with a bit of an attitude as if he didn't keep you waiting for half an hour.

He halts when there's barely any distance between the two of you, takes off his shades and flashes you his pearly whites which emit an ominous sparkle and you're temporarily rendered blind. ''Sorry for the wait.''

You grind your teeth together and force yourself to grin, ''Don't worry about it, but what took you so long.''

Karamatsu nervously chuckles and glances to the side, looking anywhere but you.

How the hell is he supposed to tell you that he spent most of the time hiding and sneaking peeks in your direction, but simply didn't have enough courage to approach you and that it took him at least twenty minutes to muster it? Simple, he won't tell you.

Instead, he strikes a pose under the nonexistent limelight. ''A star like me is obligated to be fashionably late.''

''Well, the star better make sure it doesn't happen again or it'll be one sad day for your fanbase,'' you threaten with an innocent smile, batting your eyelashes.

Karamatsu gulps and nods, but an invisible light bulb turns on above his head and he snaps his fingers. ''Oh, yes! How can I forget? I got a present for you, my Karamatsu girl."

You 'ooh' and 'aah' in curiosity, while he retrieves whatever he brought along with him in the meantime.

When he pulls out a tank top with his face on it, the exact same one he's wearing as well, you don't know what to say in response. In fact, your brain might actually be buffering.

Have we lost the impact of shame in our modern-day society? You think in disdain, fighting off the pain in your ribs.

He blushes and hands it to you nonchalantly, ''Here, wear this so suitors know not to mess with you. Once they see you and I together, matching garments and walking hand in hand, they shall understand who the one true power couple is.''

You blink twice and slowly accept the gift, then without any hesitation whatsoever you put on the tank top and wear it over your clothes. You're in too deep already, anyway.

''Thanks a lot, Karamatsu. I, uh, don't know what to say,'' you fake flattery at his sincere act of courtesy, though you're not necessarily lying either. You genuinely have no idea what to say to this entire ordeal.

''No need to thank me, sunshine.'' He pirouettes in slow motion and when he stops, he stretches his hand out for you to take. There is an aura surrounding you and you can make out dreamy bubbles floating around him. And where did the harp come from? ''Now allow me to whisk you off to paradise.''

You grab his hand and excitedly lead him to your parked motorcycle. ''Great, let's go!'' You pat the pillion and stare at him expectantly.

Upon noticing his silence, you stop ushering him to the seat. ''What's wrong, Karamatsu?''

He scratches his nape and lets his head droop low. ''Is it... Um, do we have to get on top of that...'' He points a weak finger at the bike and trembles. What can he say, he has a fear of motorbikes now.

You pout at his inquiry. ''What, you don't wanna? But I thought you were into stuff like this. Why else would you wear a leather jacket?''

Karamatsu winces and immediately rushes to pacify you. ''No, no! That's not it! I was testing your limits, my dear Karamatsu girl. I apologize if－''

You laugh and place a hand on his shoulder, rubbing it soothingly. ''I was just kidding, but if you're really scared we don't have to. It's my fault, after all.''

Karamatsu juts his lip and furrows his eyebrows in determination. He draws a breath and wraps his fingers around your wrist with ease, advancing towards the vehicle with you right behind him.

You gaze at him with something akin to awe, or is it incredulity? He plants himself on the seat and looks back to address you.

''A real man knows better than to turn down a lady and disappoint her,'' he states conclusively. You chuckle and follow suit, sitting down on the saddle.

You grip his arms and move them so they're wrapped around your waist. You twist and turn the key and the engine roars to life in one swoop. ''Hold on tight, [Name] boy.'' You tease his way of talking and take off without a second warning.

His head smacks against your back with a rather rough thud and Karamatsu's clasp around your midsection is already tight enough to cut off your air supply. And even if you feel his tears dampening your clothes, you don't comment on it. Instead, you pick up even more speed and in turn, Karamatsu's hug deepens.

''Shouldn't we be wearing safety helmets,'' Karamatsu yells through the lump in his throat, his ears ringing and head spinning.

You shout back at him, ''Who even wears these things nowadays?'' At the lack of your elaboration, he figures you're dead serious and he's petrified all over again.

You laugh maniacally, or at least you do so in his mind, as you go off course, making sharp turns left and right at every corner to wreak havoc on innocent people's lives.

You narrowly dodge two pedestrians and Karamatsu is finally desensitized enough to smile and blush as he takes in the ever-changing view.

There's something sweet in the way you repeat a certain motion whenever you hear him chuckle and cheer, he can't pinpoint if that's the starving desperation that thirsts for touch and companionship or something else entirely.

But then something punctures your tire and he's pulled out of dreamland all at once.

The two of you wobble on the unstable bike for a bit before you pull him by the jacket and jump off the motorcycle, rolling on the ground like you two were in an action movie. The motorcycle continues on its way without your guidance and eventually crashes into a tree, exploding.

A tire with a flame on it flies over your heads and you study the fire, unimpressed with pursed lips. ''Thank god it was a gift from my ex, otherwise I would've been in some deep shit.''

Karamatsu sinks to the ground and curls up in a ball.

★

You plop your ass on the grass next to Karamatsu, handing him a soda you bought from the convenience store nearby. Karamatsu mutters a small 'thank you' and takes a sip.

The two of you sit in complete silence on the riverbank and you're too abashed to begin talking first, finding the whole outcome to be your fault. You've given this man too many apologies for them to feel truthful at this point. Maybe he should do the most logical thing and start evading you. You deserve it.

Amidst your inner conflict, Karamatsu fixes you with a solemn look and chooses to break the ice. ''[Name], am I ugly?''

Taken aback by the unusual question, you cock your head to the side. ''Huh?''

''Tell me, am I ugly?''

You consider him for a moment longer and then gently cup his face with your hands, inspecting it from every possible angle you could manage.

You narrow your eyes in concentration before ruffling his hair. ''Not at all.''

''Really?''

''Not in the slightest. Well, at least I see the appeal." You shrug noncommittally. ''Why're you asking, though? That pretty much came out of nowhere.''

''Because if I'm not ugly, then why would you want to kill me? Every woman I meet either ignores me, beats me half to death or hates me. Why? Am I really that painful? Is that going to be my fate for the entirety of my life?''

You blink and hum in thought, placing a finger on your chin. ''Very, you're real painful but not enough for me to want to kill you, I guess. I think you just have extremely bad luck.''

Karamatsu frowns and crosses his arms, ''You think so? Is it really just bad luck or is there something bigger at play?''

The two of you ponder over what the real cause of Karamatsu's misfortune may be before your stomachs growl in protest simultaneously.

This seems to revive his alter ego because Karamatsu jolts and he appears pleased, almost as if he had been waiting for this exact same moment. He chuckles and spreads eagle, facing the sun. You're concerned he's going to get a heat stroke.

''It's finally my turn,'' Karamatsu announces, though you're not sure he knows what he's talking about. ''I shall take the princess to an exquisite place, where she can try real fine dining!''

He strokes his imaginary facial hair, winking. Even his eyebrows seem more refined. ''Follow my lead, dove.'' You were going to do just that even without him saying anything, but you salute him regardless.

Even though mere minutes ago it was still sunny, for some reason it's already dark out. You and Karamatsu trek for what must have felt like hours until he stops dead in his tracks. You wonder why until you spot the lonely food stall and smile.

You and Karamatsu make yourselves comfortable on the bench and he greets the owner, ''Yo, Chibita! How's your night been so far?''

It just turned nighttime... You deadpan.

''Y'know, dealing with jackasses of your kind－,'' Chibita scoffs before pausing, turning to you with unblinking eyes. Then, after he's done assessing you, he redirects his attention to Karamatsu. ''You payin' for rental girlfriends again? Get some dignity, man.''

You raise an eyebrow in question, but sneer and hide it with your fist. ''Rental girlfriend? That's a good idea, why didn't I think of that?''

Karamatsu's expression sours. ''[Name] isn't a rental. Besides who are you to talk, Chibimi?''

''Shut up, don't remind me! I was in a dark place, idjit,'' Chibita yells in response and smacks him on the head with a ladle and you watch their antics with a hint of amusement.

''Anyway,'' Karamatsu waves him off, despite the large bump he earned on his forehead. ''Give us the best oden and beer you've got in store, I'll make sure my woman eats right tonight.''

You shudder in surprise as Karamatsu takes your hand into his own, gazing at you with what must be an entire galaxy in his eyes and you wonder where he found those E.T. contact lenses. ''Don't hold back, order whatever your heart desires. It's all on me.''

Chibita complies with the request, serving two portions of oden and the beverages Karamatsu asked for. Though, he can't help but want to sate his curiosity. ''With what money?''

''With the money I exploited from my Mommy,'' Karamatsu boasts like that's something to take immense pride in.

After three to four rounds of drinking and pigging out on Chibita's oden, it was time to wrap up and call it a night.

Karamatsu snakes his hands in his pockets in search of the money he claimed to have, but he freezes as he finds nothing instead. Turning his pockets inside out, a fly flutters out of them and Karamatsu pales.

You seem to get the memo and nod conspiratorially his way.

You square your shoulders as Karamatsu nervously clears his throat. ''Chibita...,'' he begins before throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. ''I'm so sorry, I'll pay you back someday!''

Chibita stands still for a couple of seconds, processing. Afterwards, he lunges over the counter and begins chasing you. ''Damn it, idjit! You promised you'd pay, get back here! Damn it!''

With Chibita hot on your heels, Karamatsu goes through several alleyways as last resort shortcuts, and you come to the conclusion that Chibita is probably really scary if Karamatsu's going through so much trouble just to lose him and shake him off your trail.

"You can put me down now," you grumble and make a face. Karamatsu panics, just now realizing what predicament he had put you in, and sets you down with extra care.

"I apologize for that," he huffs out, attempting to catch his breath with his hands on his knees. You rub his back, acting as his emotional support.

Looking around the vicinity in search for any signs of Chibita, you come up empty. Helping Karamatsu to his feet, you deliver the good news. "He's gone, so you can stop looking constipated."

He sighs, relieved. "Such is the result of an eventful night. However, I will make sure your journey back home is undisturbed."

You shake your head in disagreement and throw an arm around his shoulder. "I think you've had enough, tough guy. Here, how about I take you home?"

Karamatsu seems distraught at the very idea of it, but for your sake he flips his hair and leers. "Your wish is my command."

With his directions, you manage to escort him back to his house safe and sound. Karamatsu opens his mouth to blurt out something, but is caught off guard by the abrupt change in the weather.

You both run with impressive speed under his house's roof to take cover and you deduct that the rain wouldn't be letting up for a while.

"Well, this sucks," you point out the obvious. Karamatsu nods wordlessly.

You think about calling a taxi, but something gets draped over you. You look down and are pleasantly astonished to discover that it's Karamatsu's leather jacket.

Said man is quivering in his flimsy excuse of a tank top, licentiously grinning at you with a very obvious snot bubble emerging out of his nostrils. "C-C-Can't le-let my favorite Karamatsu girl catch a cold." He elaborates for whatever reason.

"Well, I can't keep my favorite [Name] boy out for much longer, either." You give him a brief hug and were about to pull away, but Karamatsu is apparently not done dishing out surprises.

He grips your shoulders with resolve, before leaning in and kissing you on the cheek. It's a quick, demure kiss and if you were to blink, you would've missed it.

Nonplussed by his own boldness, Karamatsu stumbles towards the door with two left feet, barely succeeding in opening it.

"Get back home safely, [Name]!" He bids you farewell in true virgin fashion and slams the door shut in your face. You cackle, violently laughing to yourself and then crack a small smile, pressing a palm to your kissed cheek.

You must look like a fool, standing out in the rain while wearing a loser's clothes, but honestly? You've never felt better after such a tragic date.

★

You sigh and sling a towel over your shoulder, more than a little happy to finally clock out. Tonight had been particularly busy for some reason and working with a slight hangover was far from ideal, but it wasn't something you couldn't handle.

You dab your fellow bartender up, not even bothering to spare him a glance, and begin packing up your things with fervor.

He issues you a sly wink, ''Going home so soon, [Last Name]?''

Get a clue, wise guy. You internally roll your eyes, but only offer an exhausted smile. ''Not necessarily, got to make a pit stop on the way home.''

Akihito, you remember, folds his hands behind his head, rocking on his heels. ''Paying your boyfriend a visit?'' He hums cheekily.

You blink. ''Huh?''

He gestures towards the paper bag in your hands, which barely concealed the shitty leather jacket you were so generously lent.

You furrow your brows and scratch your cheek with an awkward expression. ''Wouldn't really call him a boyfriend...''

Akihito stretches, whining, ''You can be so cold, y'know. I feel sorry for the poor guy.''

''Another word and I'll really make you sorry.''

Akihito throws up a peace sign, grinning from ear to ear. ''Night, [Last Name]!''

You grumble under your breath and throw the towel on the ground. Akihito hears you say something along the lines of 'thought so' and other such death threats, but he feeds off your negativism. He odiosynthesizes and you know that, which makes you feel better about brushing him off, at least.

The walk to Karamatsu's place is as unmemorable as can be, and while it wouldn't kill you to see him again and chat for a bit, you don't think you'd be able to put up with him for long (or anyone else for that matter). When you spot his house, you brace yourself before sharply knocking on the door.

Well, you were supposed to knock but somehow developing last-minute Spidey senses, Karamatsu tears open the door to his balcony and puts a stop to your supposedly evil schemes. ''Don't'!'' He manages to both whisper and scream at the same time.

''What are you doing here at this hour, angel? Trying to get me crucified, perhaps?'' Karamatsu interrogates you and considering how disheveled his appearance is, you reach the conclusion that his fictional persona is merely an afterthought at the moment. You find a peace of mind at the conjecture.

''I'm just here to return your jacket,'' you say like it was obvious, which it should have been.

''I see.'' He doesn't see jackshit. ''But I cannot help but wonder why you didn't call beforehand. I, too, need my fair share of beauty sleep, sweetheart.''

Your eye twitches and you ball your fists, but remember to count to ten in your head.

''For your information, I called three times but maybe if someone bothered to pick up, I wouldn't be robbing you of your sweet dreams,'' you hiss in reply, proud of yourself for not chucking his damned jacket in the trash can in his presence.

Karamatsu rubs the crust from his eyes, though he does appear sheepish to a degree. ''My sincere apologies.''

You scoff, glad to have come out on top at this pointless back-and-forth.

Karamatsu anxiously chews on his lower lip, trying his best to conjure up a plan that will avoid his certain death at the hands of his brothers. Not even for waking them up at three in the morning, but for the mere fact that he was 'romancing' a hot chick.

Then he grins and looks down at you like a mad genius. He couldn't be further from the word.

''Climb up and join me on the roof, [Name],'' he suggests and acts as if it was a perfectly reasonable demand.

You undeliberately blank out for a second before chuckling lowly and nodding in understanding. ''I get it now. You're actually fucking nuts and escaped from a correctional facility.''

Look who's talking, Karamatsu wants to retort but he keeps it to himself. He beckons you over encouragingly, ''Please, [Name] dearest. I promise I won't let anything happen to you. I'll be your guardian angel.''

You're acutely aware that something will definitely happen, so you only click your tongue, still apprehensive about the proposition.

Karamatsu continues to stare at you with that tender smile, though it's different this time. His hair is sticking out in different directions, ungroomed. His eyes are heavy, bloodshot and sleep still clings to him as he staggers slightly in his step. But he's smiling at you, it's real.

You put aside your concerns for now and exhale slowly, biting the handles of your paper bag.

You jump and grab a hold of the portico, flailing your legs to help stabilize yourself. Your fingers burn because this is the most physically exerting thing you've done in your life thus far.

You push yourself up on the portico and, just like a mollusk, inch forward bit by bit. Karamatsu tries his hardest not to laugh at your misery, but he's unable to take you seriously. You're moving slower than an old man with two broken legs, plus you look like you have a stick shoved up your ass.

Once you're a safe distance away from the edge, you extend your arms and Karamatsu takes this as his cue to act and be useful.

He grabs your hands and hauls you up on the balcony, but this quest is not over just yet. You have to conquer the final boss; the rooftop.

''I have an idea,'' you both blurt out at random. You don't care much about that, but Karamatsu is over the moon at the perfect synchronization.

Coincidence or not, the two of you end up cooking up the same strategy.

You get on top of Karamatsu's shoulders and with the sudden added height, reaching the roof is a piece of cake. After settling your ass down on the tiles, you grit your teeth and clasp hands with him for the umpteenth time, having him work his way up as well.

With a heave-ho, Karamatsu is free to lie down beside you.

You're hit with a much needed reality check. All of this over a second-hand jacket? Unbelievable.

Tossing the paper bag on his lap carelessly, you scowl. ''You're welcome, asshole.''

''C-Come on, my dear Karamatsu girl. It wasn't that bad, right?''

''Speak for yourself...''

Karamatsu props up his elbows, craning his head up just enough to be able to see you. ''It's such a shame, however. The view from here is perfect, all that's missing is my guitar. Too bad my precious brothers are sleeping soundly.''

''Yeah, about that. I don't know what any of your brothers have to do with this, 'cause whatever the fuck this was could've been easily prevented.'' You cross your arms and turn away from him, establishing a decent amount of room between the two of you.

''You wouldn't understand, darling. Yes, even if I did give you an explanation.'' He responds, and you feel as though he was reading your mind. You shiver at the sheer thought.

The two of you don't indulge in idle chatter afterwards since you're too busy looking back on all of your previous life decisions, trying to figure out what led you to go down such paths. Karamatsu, on the other hand, is gliding himself closer to you.

You notice his ventures and decide to cut him some slack. You shift, erasing the previous space you set and move a hand to place on his shoulder. He hiccups at the touch and begins stammering, playing with his fingers. ''Hahaha... your eyes shine so brightly under the moon's glow.''

You shush him, still not in the mood to listen to his poetic nonsense and bullshit of similar nature.

The two of you stare each other down and Karamatsu does his best to put up a brave front, but you're not blind and you see the way he peers at you from under his lashes, sweating like a musclehead.

Before things could escalate any further, which you doubt is something that would have happened considering who exactly you're dealing with, the both of you slip off the edge.

You're falling and Karamatsu is too, and while you're mostly accepting of the scenario, he isn't. You're more surprised at the fact that this man-child's shrill wails aren't waking up the entire neighbourhood, though they're probably accustomed to these kinds of phenomena by now.

In order to break your fall, Karamatsu adjusts mid-air so as to be under you. He shoves your face into his chest, embracing you but his actions prove to be the wrong move as they merely speed up the process of nosediving into the concrete.

The two of you flop like prepped meatballs on a grill, a sinistrous thump resonating at the dead of night.

You briefly register the sizzling elbow pain you've obtained and Karamatsu's jaw headbutting you at the last second, but other than that you took it pretty well － all thanks to Karamatsu's interference. Perhaps chivalry isn't dead?

While you got out of this with barely any injuries, just small scratches, the same couldn't be said for Karamatsu, who was currently experiencing concussions.

You pat his chest lightly to snatch up his attention. Karamatsu groans, seeing stars floating above him. You make yourself comfortable despite the joint strains, snuggling up to him. ''I'm egging your house soon, be aware.''

He passes out before he could formulate a coherent reply.

★

You haven't seen neither hide nor hair of Karamatsu ever since the rooftop fiasco. And you don't want to sound needy, or downright crazy for that matter, but you miss the man with horrible pick-up lines and over-the-top attitude. Him and his awful sense of fashion, not to mention the strong cologne.

Perhaps you've been infected with some new kind of mental illness, one so new and fresh out of the oven it has yet to be diagnosed by teenage girls with too much free time on their hands.

First, you visit Chibita for any sort of intel he might possess.

''Karamatsu? Sorry, him and his brothers hadn't stopped by as of recent.'' He shrugs apologetically and whips out oden skewers, serving them to you.

You nod and grin at him in understanding, paying for the food before scurrying away on a full stomach.

Next, you consider what other options you have at your disposal. Calling him has proven to be absolutely useless and you're not sure if paying his house a visit would be a good idea, given how worked up he got over such a possibility last time.

You search far and wide, in every nook and cranny, not leaving a single stone unturned. But alas, no dice. Not a trace of him anywhere and you speculate the probability of him glitching into The Backrooms.

You're about to give up, hunting Karamatsu for sport and worrying about him won't do you any good.

You're not getting paid for this, you also don't know him all too well to be actively seeking him out. His dramatic temperament has rubbed off on you, but you're ready to wash it off.

See if I care, you huff and kick a stray can in your way. You're aware of how childishly you're behaving, but you bluff fake indifference as if anyone would be stupid enough to believe you.

You stomp angrily and punt another can with your foot, but accidentally hit someone when doing so.

You flinch and prepare to half-ass an apology before realizing you hit the man you've been getting grey hairs over.

''Karamatsu?'' You blink and crouch down to shake him by the shoulders. ''Hey, what's wrong?''

Karamatsu weakly smiles and shuffles away, offering you a seat next to him on the curb.

You frown, ''Seriously, what happened?''

Karamatsu laughs, manspreading. ''I'm grateful for your concern, but it's... Well, it's simply a foolish thing to be upset about.''

''If it upset you, then it's not dumb.'' You respond, reassuring him to the best of your ability. ''Now, spill the beans.''

''I've been thinking about my personality, I guess?'' He mutters and cracks his knuckles, he tends to fidget quite a lot. ''Like, am I annoying? Trying too hard? Should I stop?''

You listen to him and stay quiet, occassionally rubbing his back. ''I want to be liked.'' You quirk an eyebrow at that, but don't interrupt him otherwise.

''It's lame at my big age to want to be popular, but I wanna be kissed. I wanna have a girlfriend and go on dates, but I'm afraid my personality will drive everyone away."

For fuck's sake, he was called Shittymatsu and frankly, he's surprised you were able to withstand him for so long.

''Karamatsu, want me to be completely honest,'' you ask. He nods rapidly at you. You hum softly, ''I didn't lie before, you are painful. You say so much corny stuff, I'm impressed you can even look yourself in the mirror.''

He cringes, but you pay him no heed. Instead, you continue, ''I mean, really? Who wears tank tops with their face slapped right in the middle, what a fucking dork. But, y'know, I kinda like it now.''

''Huh?''

''I think that type of shit grew on me, for better or worse. I, too, have become a member of the cornball community." You admit and you shudder at your mushy honesty.

You rub the back of your head in embarrassment, "When you say all of these dumb nicknames and act like you own all of Akatsuka Ward a small part of me wishes I die on the spot, but I don't necessarily hate it.''

You hug him and bring him closer to you. You snicker and peck him on the forehead, ''Don't worry so much about who ignores you or hates you is all, when you have someone who likes you despite every cringe one-liner right in front of ya.''

''You're right.'' Karamatsu returns the hug, sniffing and holding back tears. ''[Name]?''

''Yeah?''

''You're a true Karamatsu girl.''

Getting kisses from a hot lady? Karamatsu would love that. And the prospect of you being the one to give them to him, with that warm smile which makes your nose crinkle up, makes the scenario sound even better.

But for now, he's content with you simply pressed up against his side, where he can easily peer over at you and study your face until it's burned and etched forever into his brain. Subtly, of course.

You look up at him with a raised eyebrow after feeling him drill holes in your head since forever, which in turn leads Karamatsu to let out an urbane chuckle and lamely pretend to fix his stray strands of hair, and you can't help but snort at his usual theatrical character.

You sigh and rest your forehead against his. "Painful," you mumble under your breath, though definitely loud enough for him to hear, then giggle.

Karamatsu playfully frowns in response. "My flower, you should know by now that no pain means no gain." He tuts with an exaggerated wag of his finger, eyes animatedly glittering.

You laugh in utter disbelief before shaking your head, wrapping a loose arm around his waist. "Sorry, sorry. You know damn well I don't mean it, right?"

Karamatsu hums and his lips curl upwards to form a small, fond smile. He places his chin on your shoulder and you lean into him even more.

Yeah, Karamatsu could get used to this. For now, that was more than enough for him.

Getting kisses from a hot lady really would be nice, but watching the sun set on the cold pavement with you next to him feels good, too. And hey, you are a hot lady, so what's there to hate?

And to think all of this was thanks to your irresponsible driving.

Osomatsu whistles, nudging Choromatsu as they stared at the two of you from afar. Despite their earlier sentiments, curiosity got the better of them and they decided to investigate their brother's own private time. It's not like he could file a restraining order against them, he would be tortured.

"Kudos to Karamatsu, I actually salute him for managing to bag a real human being. Didn't think he had it in him." Osomatsu snickers, hands deep in his hoodie's pockets.

Choromatsu appears depleted beyond belief, eyeing you both with evident disapproval on his facial features, "What sort of lobotomized romance was this? Felt more like a simulation."

Osomatsu and Choromatsu sigh, both fully synchronized, and groan out, "It should have been me."

[choimari-achoochu]

Playing... "This Love" by Taylor Swift

"How good can that certain love make you feel so good to the point it's too/down bad?"

Non-idol!Lee Heeseung x F!Reader

Tags : Angst, Hurt, fluff, comfort, NOT PROOFREAD, Reader fell first but Heeseung fell harder<3

"You kissed my cheek, I watched you leave. When you're young you come back to... To what you need. This Love is good, this love is bad. This love is alive back from the dead (oh-oh). These hands had to let it go free, but, this love came back to me. This love, left a permanent mark. This love is glowing in the dark. These hands, had to let it go free, but, this love came back to me."

You never really know where it all went wrong when the time came you and Heeseung had to break up. He was the perfect man. Always soft and caring, patient, he was the epitome of perfection, good looking with a lot of green flags. Being someone who was more than what you asked for, you hardly thought that a time would come where you would be separated from each other. More so, after 4 years of relationship.

You met him during your second year of college, he was in his third year. You had the fattest crush on this basketball player who aced every single class he took. So of course, you approached him. He was reluctant to even respond to you at first, but warmed up to your cheery personality sooner or later. Or maybe, too soon. You experienced love at first sight, but he slowly fell for you as time went on with the both of you hanging out.

He found you pretty cute, very cheery and bubbly. Your aura always radiates a sense of warmth that infects the whole room, the whole building if not. He was attracted to how your cheeks flush everytime you see him, how a shy smile always creeps to your face when he winks at you during a game, how your smile and laughs absolutely make his day.

You were what he considered constant happiness in his day-to-day routine. Sometimes when he wakes up in your dorm room after a movie night sleepover, his heart always swells with gratefulness and love when there, laying beside him on the bed, was your body presses against the sheets in a deep but peaceful slumber. He loved you so much to even ever think about being separated with your absolutely pure soul.

Yet, there in his dread, he's standing before your figure on your doorstep. His hands trembling and anxiously tapping his thighs as he gulps, not knowing what to say. When all of his academic pressure was weighing on his shoulder to the point he pushed you away, does he really deserve a second chance? You're not sure yourself.

"What are you doing here, Hee?" You asked with spite but pain at the same time.

"I-..." He paused. He wasn't trying to find what words to say, no. He was trying find the words to associate right after "...sorry...". But what should he say? "I'm sorry, I hurt you because I was too occupied with my own problems" ? Or was it "I'm sorry, I had to prioritize myself over our relationship and your feelings because I had "unintentionally" hurt you due to the fact I had assignments and projects to pass that led to me irrationally blurting out the words 'Let's break up'... " ?

"I don't know, Y/N, fuck..." He ran a hand through his hair and slightly pulled on a few strands.

You both know what he wants to say but you both take for granted the silence between the two of you, no matter how uncomfortable it may seem due to the tension.

However, he broke the seconds of silence with a sharp inhale and spoke again. "I'm so fucking sorry and regretful of the things I've done that I just— I don't even know how to start saying that sort of shit without thinking about how stupid it is. How stupid my actions were, how stupid it is for me to even seek for you after what I've done... " He stalls as tears well up in his eyes as he, with all the courage he has, looks into your eyes. You don't know if the pain and love you still absolutely have for him and from him seeps through the cracks of your broken hearts with the way he's trembling.

"...But I'm so fucking sorry. " He breathes out, a feeling of relief washing over him as he finally let every thought and emotion out of his chest. The only thing that remained was the feeling of dread that was to come after you reject his apology. You would definitely do that after all those stunts he pulled during your relationship—

"I forgive you." You say as you take your eyes off him, letting him process what you said without the burden of thinking you don't mean it. But as you break eye contact, his eyes go wide in surprise, an ineffable feeling washing over him as he thinks his ears are betraying him. So he asks...

"What?" He mutters but loud enough for you to hear.

"I said, I forgive you." You fiddle with your fingers as you answer him. "Also, it's not stupid."

"Huh?" He tilts his head in confusion, he feels he's too broken to even be able to think properly.

"It's not stupid to apologize. And I absolutely understand how you prioritized your studies above our relationship—"

"No, Y/N. Baby, that wasn't okay." He cuts you off.

"Yes, sometimes those sort of things can get in the of our relationship because, as students who want good grades, we have to put it first rather than our relationship. But that doesn't mean outburts are reasonable just because of all the academic stress. I'm happy that you forgive me, but please never seek for something less than what you deserve from me, Love." He reaches to meet your hand with his trembling ones for him to hold, he slowly lifts it up to his mouth and kisses the back of your hand.

Tears stream down your face as the raw emotions you've felt from the past week comes rushing back to you. All the pain, the misunderstandings that made you confused, the loneliness... Everything was too much to bear all st the same time.

"I'm sorry, too, Heeseung." He said in between sobs and he pulls you to his chest, wrapping you in his warm and comforting embrace.

"Don't say sorry. There's nothing for you to apologize for. I was in the wrong..." He mumbles sweet comforting word, but are still coherent enough for you to understand, as he kisses the top of your head.

"No, no..." You protested and shook your head. "I'm sorry for not being understanding and still being clingy. I should have been more mature." You sniffle as the words almost seem like queit mumbles, but Heeseung understands. He always does. How much you doubt yourself. It breaks him to be one of the cause for the cacophony of your negative thoughts to be the only thing you hear because of his actions. He softly runs a hand through your back as he sighs.

"Shhh, baby... You did nothing wrong. I wish I could have done better for you, but I'm here to do right now. Will you please give me a chance to make things right between us?" He pulls away, but his hands are still firm on your waist. He stares at your face.

He kisses your cheek and asks again, "Hmm? Please, Love?"

The moment you give him a soft nod, he wraps you back into arms once again and heaves a sigh of relief. He is never gonna lose you again. No, never. The week where he had to be away from the warmth you brought into his light was enough for him to suffer in darkness, all alone... He doesn't want that again. For the both of you. He doesn't wanna hurt you anymore, don't want to leave you all alone again, and you want the same thing. To never be away from his calming and comforting presence that he brings due to his love for you.

"Please never push me away again."

"I won't. I never will. Not again, never in the lifetimes where I have your love with me."

@strxwbloody

[justyanle]

Home in the war.

(Spider x f!Reader)

Spider has been talking sweet about a woman to Lo'ak, you were certain that he yearned for someone else.

Home in the War. | CH 2

Taking a stroll amongst the bioluminescent forest that becomes more breathtaking night was a way to make me feel at peace, especially at times like this - a war.

The Sky People have returned, worse. They have more weaponry and power, stronger than the last time. Bullets flying faster, more propellers in the sky, and dreamwalkers turned Na'vi - Avatars.

I have been trying to get my mind away from thinking about the war that has affected me and my friends, especially Spider, our bond is closer compared to others, we were polar opposites but we still magnetize one another - He was outgoing, loud, and cheerful. I have stayed in the lab for as long as I can remember, observant, and apparently "too behaved" according to Spider. I would be lying if I said I hadn't taken a liking to the boy,

he was practically my everything. Spider's smile could beat the shine of a thousand stars, Spider's eyes could emit light brighter than any fire in the world, Spider is the peace and home I find amongst all the havoc.

The memories of my friends and I have taken it's way into my mind, making a soft grin plastered to my face, it's peaceful.

"Yeah bro! She's literally so pretty as well!"

The state of tranquility has left and my heart basically falls to my feet, I could recognise that voice anywhere.

It feels like there's a crack forming in my heart, as fragile as glass.

"Bro, you're sappy as shit right now it's making me feel like my vomit went all the way up to my mouth." Lo'ak replied with a tone obviously laced with such sarcasm.

"Shut up! You're acting like you don't find her pretty too! I mean she's crazy smart, nice, and practically perfect, who wouldn't like her?!" Spider spat back with a louder voice.

The crack is imitating an earthquake's breaking ground.

"She's pretty alright, but there's no way I could like her the way you do, you're so all over her it's disgusting."

"She's fucking perfect.." He breathes out in a hushed tone, almost silent, laced with an entranced dreamy tone.

The glass shatters.

I fled the tree I was hiding from, gosh, what the hell was I thinking. I knew hiding and eavesdropping on my two best friends was wrong, yet I couldn't pull away from the conversation, curiosity really kills the cat.

A few days have passed since I heard the words exchanged from the two boys. Specifically distancing myself from the boy I had grown to desire - Afraid I would be annoying him, especially because I might get into the way of the girl he liked. I worked harder in the lab that I ever had. Stayed longer in the lab than I've ever been.

Me and Spider have only shared quick glances and longing looks, I wanted to talk to him, I had hoped he reciprocated the desire.

I had excused myself every time the Sully children had visited the lab, locking myself in farther areas in the lab, trying to get away from facing the cause of my shattered heart.

I was quite certain that the girl he was wondering his mind off was Kiri, I had seen the way they laughed with each other, looked at each other, and smiled at each other - Each time, I prayed that it was me in that position, I wanted to be the reason he laughs, why he looks in my direction, and I wanted to be the reason he reveals his toothy smile.

"Hey kid, you okay?" I had not noticed that Norm had made his way in my direction, a hand landing on my shoulder in a way of reassurance.

An uncomfortable aura had step foot into the conversation. I wanted to just disappear at the very moment, wanting to be left alone.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"It's not visible you're fine"

"No, please trust me, I am." I let out a dreaded breath, trying to get away from the bubbling conversation.

Norm sighs, he grabbed my chair that I am seated in that was once facing the studies I have conducted on my desk, now facing him.

"Listen kid, I want you to be comfortable with me, you've told me every single thing that has happened to you growing up, I care for you." He gives me a sad smile, I knew he was getting upset seeing me in a blue mood as well. I couldn't help but let the salty liquid build up in my irises.

I tackled the scientist that had fostered me growing up. "I just- I don't -" The tears and weeps couldn't be helped as I stood and cried in Norm's chest, his arms wrapping around my back in a way of comfort.

"Shh, you're going to be fine kid, as long as you have us here you can tell us everything, your feelings will be accepted no matter what, y'know," he sends reassuring rubs on my back in a sense of giving me the well needed comfort.

"It's Spider, and.. I like him, Norm, it's just that.. I heard Lo'ak and him having a conversation once about a girl, Spider just sounded so dazed by her, I just wish it was me." I confess, breath heavy and shaking trying to make up words to spill the feelings I felt to my father figure.

Norm lets out a chuckle "Oh [Y/N], if only you saw the way that kid looks at you."

"Huh?" I questioned quizzical with a confused expression.

"Believe me, I've watched the two of you hang out enough to see how he feels about you, it's so visible he's head over heels for you, kid!" Norm releases a breathy laugh.

My breath hitches in my throat, backing away from Norm and looking up at his face, I let out a few sniffles due to the tears.

"I think, I have to go for a moment Norm.. I need to think." Norm nods as he lets me go, watching me from a far.

Was I going insane trying to actually consider his words? There were multiple girls from the clan trying to obviously flirt with Spider, trying to compare hand sizes, asking him what it's like to be a human, trying to beautifully bat their eyelashes at him, it's sickening, not because of them obviously fawning over the guy I had grown to like, it's because he might reciprocate their wanting for him. They're tall, strong, and could probably fool everyone with their bubbly and sweet persona, while I am just a mere human, an awkward girl that prefers to be left alone and barely had any skills that the Omaticaya are searching for.

The girls were beautiful, El'tera was one of the healers under the lessons of Mo'at, Namari was one of the greatest hunters amongst the youth of the Omaticaya, Desina't was the most fierce dancer of the clan, often having young Na'vi boys locked their eyes on her.

Putting on my exopack as I left the lab, trudging once again to the familiar forest, back go where I had my mind fogged and heart practically getting squeezed.

I was close to a pond, not just any pond, one that held many memories. Memories of him.

"HEY [Y/N]! GET BACK HERE YOU SKXAWNG!" Spider yells, trying to chase after me as we played in the water, splashing each other in the process, getting water on our bodies. The wide land filled with trees only had the vibration of laughter in it's air.

"Catch me first, bitch! You can't keep up with me!" I cheered as I kept on sprinting in the water trying to get away from my crush. He even looked perfect when both of us were causing a wreck.

Once he was close enough to me, he grabbed my wrist, placing a close proximity between us, I glanced up to look at the beautiful boy,

He was already looking into my eyes first.

A twig snapped, the peaceful memory that had replayed in my mind faded, I get my knife that I mostly kept with myself when venturing into the forest, in case of any horror that I face.

Unfortunately, the cause of the noise I faced was worse than any horror I anticipated. The boy I had been going above and beyond for, trying avoid for almost a week.

"[Y/N], I finally found you." Spider stated in a serious tone, awfully knowing the thick tension between the two of them for the past few days.

"Hey Spider!" I quickly put on a cheery facade, acting like nothing has happened between us. Afraid he would only bring it up.

"Don't "Hey Spider!" me, [Y/N]! Why the hell were you avoiding me?!" And shit. He did bring it up.

"I don't know, I'm pretty busy, Spider, I have to study a lot." I replied, trying to keep my stance up, obviously not wanting to be having this conversation.

"That's such bullshit, [Y/N]! We were just hanging out a few days ago before you started to ignore me, why?!" His voice was laced with the poisonous venom of anger, voice almost cracking - wanting an explanation to erupt from me.

"I told you Spider! I'm busy! Why won't you believe me?! Don't you have a girlfriend to go talk with or something?! Go talk to her instead! I'm busy." I was getting teary eyed, quickly turning away from his face and trying to pack up the stuff I had brought with me to the forest, ready to go back to the lab.

"Girlfriend?! What the fuck are you talking about?!" He was puzzled, not knowing he apparently had a girlfriend until now.

"Huh.." I was just as confused as he was, turning back to face him, tears now gone as a baffled look was now replaced on my face.

"Why would you think I have a girlfriend, [Y/N]?" He breathly laughs, stunned at the assumption.

"Well, I thought you had chosen amongst El'tera, Namari, and Desina't, y'know. Those girls are really beautiful. You should try to go out with one of them! You still look good with them either way." I put on a cheery facade once again, trying to obviously get away from the conversation that was now calming down.

"None of them is the girl I like though." he states while taking a seat next to me.

"Oh, can you describe her to me? She must be very lovely." Looking in the other direction, I try not to let out another set of tears threatening to slip down my cheeks.

"Well, she is lovely, the loveliest of every woman here, her intelligence is unmatched, she's so fucking smart it's insane. Her personality can warm me up so fast, my heart can't help but go on a marathon when I'm around her, her eyes beat the glow of the bioluminescence in Pandora, her smile is like the a drug you'll keep looking for over and over again... She is the drug you'll keep looking for over and over again."

I turn to face him with a sad smile, a sinking feeling in my heart. Expecting him to be looking at the water with a longing gaze but,

He was already looking into my eyes first.

My heart rate increases, my brain feels like it's going numb, petals of roses practically blooming in it, the blood in my body circulating to my face faster than the speed of light, the shards of my heart rebuilding like it was never broken.

The memories we had on this pond had flooded back into my mind.

We were younger, lankier, louder, and more playful.

Yet on this very place, young and old, he still looked at me the same like before.

"You're driving me insane, [Y/N]." he grabs ahold of my hand, interlacing our fingers and stacks his free hand above our laced one.

"You are the only girl I would choose throughout this whole planet."

RAHHHHAHRHAHSHAH OMFG THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING A FANFIC AND I FEEL LIKE THE ENDING IS PRETTY RUSHED BUT THE SONGS I LISTENED TO WHILE WRITING THIS WAS MAKING ME SMILE SO MUCH OMG

also requested by anon! i forgot to write it in the request 😭

[kitmoas]

maimed underneath wreckage

TGU--Season 2 Installation 1

Warnings: **18+ ONLY** **MINORS DNI*** Mommy Kink, light talk of breeding, hostage talk, light degrading, talk of weapons and magic

as usual if I missed anything let me know!

Author's Notes: IT"S SEASON 2!!! Hi Hello, the beginning of season 2 is here! It's a day late and I'm sorry. Also no editing cause fuck that shit I'm sorry if there's mistakes. Hopefully its a good intro to the vibes of season 2 :) Lemme know your thoughts even if you wanna stay anon in my inbox

Training Grounds Master List | Navigation Post | Inbox

Flickering, a small flame breathing in air as it grows slowly. Despite the darkness and the isolation, it almost feels as though the world is solid. Firm and rooted in a good foundation, but it won’t take long for that to crumble. Falling, spiraling about as if gravity no longer exists. 

Nothing in this place had longevity, changing within a single breath, a flaw in its creation. The insatiable need for peace drove the inevitable hysteria, and that’s where the structure falters. Slowly everything will become normal once more, forcing a reality check in which will leisurely chip away at the sanity within. 

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

The sounds of conversations mixing is a nice change to the beeping of the lab and the clicking of keys in the office, a light wind blowing through your hair as you allow your eyes to laze around your surroundings. The heat lamp next to you allowed for you to sit atop the roof despite the snow along the grass under the balcony. Having spent the past few months keeping your head down after your first semester into your masters, it was nice to finally be back to something a little more normal. A moment between everyone that feels cozy, and you even feel comfortable with the arm that lays along the back of your chair. 

Empty plates are scattered and you know that your brother is confused, and a bit off put, but you try to ignore it. This isn’t where you thought you would be, but it’s okay. Life is a rollercoaster and you need to start understanding that, you cannot control everything nor can you put someone else in control of the levers. You need to move on, learn to take the hits like an adult and live. 

The talk was light the entire lunch, almost cordial which felt weird,and maybe you should have taken that as a sign that this was destined for doom but you shrugged it off. You were here for fun and not everything had to be serious, which made your skin crawl because you knew that wasn’t the same mindset of the girl next to you but it was the one you were stuck in. 

“So have you thought anymore about Peter’s offer?” It never happened on purpose, the dreaded swing back. An end to almost every interaction that you have with anyone at this point, never really detangling yourself from those that left your world rocky. 

You know your brother doesn’t mean it maliciously, but you can’t help but glare at him every single time he brings up the offer. A step into the same world as those that used to be your pillars, the ones that created your world as it once had been. 

Sighing, your eyes divert as you notice the hopeful look of both your lunch companions. “You know I haven’t Cars, you know that it isn’t the only offer I have and there’s no reason to even entertain it. I have school.” Despite the want for your voice to be strong, almost commanding, it wavers on each syllable. “I don’t need another distraction. I want to do well.” 

Before you even finish you can sense the change in his body language, jaw stiffening and eyes rolling. “Personally I think it’s time you stop running from what you’re actually good at.” 

Your mouth opens, just slightly, as your tongue dips out to wet your lips. “You know damn well that I won’t ever truly become part of that world, not full time.” The low simmering anger, the one that exists in you at all times, starts to heat up. You know where this is going, where it has gone for the past couple months. 

“Running from dad and who he was isn’t going to make you happy, we both know that.” The words were out of his mouth, put out into the world, but it was almost like you lost your ability to hear. It wasn’t healthy, your coping mechanism with your father, and you know that but at the end of the day you still weren’t ready to change. It almost felt too familiar, too cozy, and the thought of more change scared you. 

An answer for his statement never came, just your footsteps in the light layer of already melting snow as you walked back into the building. The loud chatter within the food court of your student union masking your emotions, as Cassie stumbled to thank your brother for having a meal with the both of you. Only the brief reflection of them parting indicated what happened at the scene you left behind as you conceal yourself within the wave of people all heading for the coffee bar. 

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

A small stack of papers go flying through the air, hand slamming down on the large oval table. “We can’t keep acting like expansion is impossible! The world needs different types of technology so let’s give it to them!” Kate leers over the table, glaring at the projection of their end of year statements. 

You could feel the tension in the room, everyone was just a bit too scared to fight their boss. “Ms. Bishop, what….what would you mother do in this moment?” Apparently not everyone was scared, a single older man raising his hand with a strict look on his face. 

The young girl blinks, straightening her back as she stares down the table. Her jaw sets and she uses the moment of quiet to smooth down her blazer lapels. Kate settles down in her chair, allowing the smooth soft leather to calm her down more before she speaks. “Maybe you should remember where my mother got this company, yes? At the brink of forced federal shutdown, and practically bankrupt when our combined assets were seized. She destroyed the reputation of this company, disruption within the entire field, because she wanted to be rich. When I took the seat, and responsibility, of this company I swore that I would bring it back to what it could be but you all want to stay what my mother created. If that is true then security can escort you out because I will not be working with criminals. Meeting is dismissed and you all are required to go home, do not return to this building until or unless your mindset changes. We are not villains in this company and I will not entertain the idea of such ideals either.” 

Slowly each person leaves, shock on their face after being practically punished by such a young girl. They had always thought that she would be a fun loving kid, the one that was barely a good secretary but they knew she was growing into a good firm CEO. 

Letting the door lock behind the last person to leave, Kate leans back with her feet on the wood table. Sighing she rubs her hand along her face, staring out at the skyline. Her mind drifts as she tries to settle her heart rate. Memories of her favorite times plague her mind.  

“You wouldn’t dare, Mutt!” Her words held no real venom, voice cracking with laughter as she tried her hardest to keep the nerf gun aimed properly. The ginger staring down Kate as she holds you in a chokehold, her own gun against your temple. 

The body behind you shifts, the arm loose around your neck. “Bring it on, old lady, I’ll pull the trigger. I ain’t no scared lil bitch!” Everyone in the room cracks up at your girlfriend’s random accent that she puts on. 

Neither of you noticed Wanda, hovering in the back, eyes gleaming ruby. Just a tilt of her head and the brunette’s nerf gun is hovering above her hand, the two of you separated slowly. Her hands land on you and Nat is tackling Kate next to you. “Well hello, my little one. No one keeps you hostage but me, understood?” Her voice is deep, smooth as her lips move directly against your ear. 

The sight of the ginger straddling the younger girl below you, hand wrapped around her throat as the two kiss messily. You can’t help the whimper that falls from your mouth, teeth tugging at your bottom lip as you try to focus on the feeling of Wanda’s hands on you, but you can’t help as your attention is pulled to the wetness growing between your thighs as you watch the beginning of dry humping. 

“Now, if Mommy’s little girl doesn’t start paying attention I’m not going to be able to take care of that issue growing between your pretty little thighs. Are you my brainless obedient hostage or not?” Her nails grips at your hips now, digging painfully into you as she tugs you backwards into her. Her bulge is prominent as she grinds purposefully into your ass. 

You can’t help but get lost in the sensation, arching your back as much as you can to feel more of the woman behind you. The sound of the witch’s annoyed sigh only turns you on more, as she lets one of her hands claw at your jaw–forcing you to nod your head. “Such a stupid little slut already?” Her other hand is pushing its way into your pants, fingers roughly swiping along your wet folds. “Do you want to play a game with Mommy?” 

Even though you are eagerly nodding your head, the claws that dig into you are forcing your head up and down as well. A sharp whistle makes you flinch, the piercing sound right in your ear as the woman behind you calls for the attention of the others. “It’s time for the puppy to learn how to breed our pretty little fucktoy.” 

Kate practically falls out of her chair at a gentle knock, the door disengaging as her secretary pops her head in. “Are you staying late? I can stay so you're not alone.” Her sympathetic smile makes the young brunette feel almost pathetic. 

Pulling herself up, politely she dismisses her and lets her know that she too is heading out. That she has a busy night ahead of her with some very important plans, but had just lost track of time. The brunette spends the next few minutes cleaning up, taking great care to make sure that her co-worker is fully out of the building before starting her descent down the stairs. A heavy sigh as she pulls up Doordash for some random pizza shop, trying once more to find a place that can take the place of her once favorite parlor.  -----------------------------------------------------------------------

Crickets softly chirp, a sound in the early night that still brings a soft smile to the blonde’s face, under the slowly raising moon. A chill is settling over the dead grass and bare branches, a sure indicator that another night time snow fall is approaching. It’s been a while since she felt like this, everyone around her had been so stressed out and tense but she just wanted the world back as she had fallen in love with it. That’s selfish but it’s what she wanted, even though she knows that the pain and despair she is going through is bare minimum compared to her closest people. 

“You know, when we were younger mom would also find you fallen asleep out here. She used to say that you were meant for the night. Viridescent in the moonlight.” Natasha’s smile is forced, and her younger sister can see it from a mile away. It had been for months now, if not even longer but it’s only gotten worse as each day passed.  

The hum is soft, barely loud enough to even be noted in the noise of nature. “I miss them.” Her voice breaks causing her to flinch at the obvious weakness she displayed, a quick flash too early in the conversation. 

Wrapping her arms around the blonde, the older woman takes a moment to press a kiss to her temple before rocking with her. “They loved you so much Y. You don’t even understand. When you came to us, god, that was it. We were complete and we all wanted to protect you so much. I wish we would have done a better job, we kind of failed there.” Even as the ginger looks out into the yard, a newly installed play gym shines in the dim light, she can’t help but let her mind wander to some of the best years she had in this neighborhood. 

“You…Sha, you say Mama and Daddy loved me and I knew that but why do step straight to them?” Yelena blinks up at her sister, relishing in the first sign of emotion from her. She watches her contemplate for a while, silence filled with the chirping of crickets, before she stutters out a few syllables. It ends in a stubborn snap of her jaw, the muscles there tensing as she clenches her mouth shut. “I just believe that they would enjoy it here. We will reunite with Mama soon and maybe by the grace of the gods Daddy will show, but we have people we love here. They once said that we find love grasp on tight, you remember?” 

Natasha nods, hot heavy tears filling her eyes. Forcing them down, she tries to chuckle. “The idea of that man being graced by the gods is hilarious, if anything that man would make it back to Yav in the form of one of Mom’s pigs.” At the dead end glare she receives the older woman gulps, trying to collect her thoughts. “Okay, I had to walk away. Okay? Okay. I think everyone can agree that I had to. I had no other choice but to remove myself from the situation. It wasn’t fun or nice but I had to. I had to. I had to Y. Okay?” It wasn’t on purpose but her voice was getting louder and her younger sister could see the anger and desperation rising in her. 

Pulling away to sit directly facing her sister, Yelena takes a deep breath as she goes through her thoughts. She knew that it wasn’t going to be easy and that she needed to take her time, but at the same time it had to be direct and quick to make sure that Natasha didn’t run. “The situation did not require leaving, you should never leave and even Daddy spoke to that. Do you not realize that staying would have allowed you to growth instead of leaving and the entire would becoming rubble?” Internally she flinched, the words spoken were harsh but she knew what she wanted out of this. At the end of the day, she herself was angry. Her sister walked away, without a fight, and the blonde knew that she was in the wrong. No matter how much she may idolize her older sibling she has to knock her off that pedestal once in a while. 

The two sit there, for almost an hour, in silence. It’s agonizing and tedious, a feat that almost feels athletic but it ends with Yelena retreating. A gentle kiss to the ginger’s forehead as she sighs, shaking her head and heading back into the house to allow her to have some time in a calm isolation. 

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

Your brow was dripping slightly, the back of your hand doing barely anything to stop the droplet from stinging your eyes. A chorus of laughter echoes in your ears as you stare down at the facetime call, both Peter and America are frantically running towards your shared destination. “Okay, whoever gets there first needs to make sure that they try and get them to honor our reservation!” 

The boy yelps as he nods, the world rushing as he swings towards the science wing of campus. “I’m gonna beat you both!” He’s laughing loudly as he flips about, and for a moment everything almost seems normal. Just a couple college friends trying to finish some research, all of you aiming to practically overdose on caffeine. 

Trying to focus on not tripping as you exit the gym and keep up with conversation as America runs across campus, the rapid wind being Peter’s only real contribution to the call, you almost miss running straight into someone. Dropping your phone, the dreaded clatter never came and you realize that the beloved item is hovering within a glowing red orb. 

“You truly are just a clumsy little thing, you know?” Her voice is quiet, almost hesitant, as she looks up at you through her lashes. 

Frantically reaching up to your air pod you hang up your call before your friends can realize who you just ran into, literally, as you try to scramble your brain into thinking of any sort of retort. “Um.. I-” Your vision blurs slightly, but it’s then you realize she’s still crystal clear. The world around her is blurry and fogged, but as per usual she’s the brightest thing to exist. 

She smiles, a sullen thing pulling her lips, and shakes her head. “I just missed you, but you don’t have to reply.” A quick shush stops your arguing and her eyes dim for a moment. “It’s not fair of me but I just wanted to see you, just for a moment. I could never stay too far away from you for long could I?” There’s a slight cocky tone to her voice as she expresses her thoughts, her body straightening as she realizes you still react the same way towards her. 

“Why.. um.. Why didn’t you call me? I would have answered. I always would.” You try to reassure her or maybe that’s all for you, but you can’t help the words as they pour out of you. “You don’t need to miss me, I’m always at your access if you need me. We always promised that and I don’t ever want to break that promise.” 

The older woman chuckles, almost in spite of herself while she takes a few steps away. Her magic forces its way into your hand as it sets your phone there, waiting patiently for you to catch up to what was happening. It’s the last thing you feel, her scent pulling away as she moves farther backwards.

Gentle vibration that you cling to, but you never got to say goodbye as the entire world melts into nothing.  -----------------------------------------------------------------------

The door closes behind her, a barely warm pizza in hand. It doesn’t smell very appetizing, but anything with cheese should do the trick nowadays. The feeling is instant, the box hitting the counter without a sound. An arrowhead slips down her fingers almost at an instant, swinging around the young girl tries to play her paranoia off casually but her shock is something she can’t. There bent over the chair is Wanda, almost in a frantic state. Her face is flushed and wet with tear stains. Her demeanor is nothing like the CEO is used to but she knows their lives have changed a lot. “W-Wanda? Are you okay? What happened?” Her concern for not only the woman in front of her, but those that connect the two takes over. 

“Please I just want to see someone, anyone. Please. Where is Tommy? Billy? I’m begging you, I’ll do anything.” The woman is sobbing, the words slurring together as she struggles to stand up. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her frame was thin. It almost looked like she had spent weeks searching for these people, but Kate was completely confused. Who was she even speaking of? Did she find a whole new group in just a couple of months? 

Taking a step towards the crouched older woman was a mistake, causing her to practically fling herself backwards. For the first time the young girl stopped, head tilting in confusion and her hand falling to her side, Wanda was scared. It was something that she never saw before, and felt like even on the battlefield she had never even seen an ounce of hesitation from her. 

Slowly Kate slips to the floor, setting the arrowhead out in front of her so that she could seem less like a threat. “Hi, Wanda? Do you know who I am?” She was starting to think that maybe she suffered some kind of brain injury or maybe she was on some sort of drug. 

The frantic woman’s bloodshot eyes snap to match the calm dark waves, and it seems to help her breath a bit better. She shakes her head, pushing away until her back can hit the wall. “I don’t… I don’t know who you are. Am I supposed to?” 

It was a possibility, a small chance, and Kate knew that it was there but hearing it stung. A woman that not only did she look up to but also had grown a large liking to doesn’t know who she is. Though the hurt was sharp, and overwhelming, the young hero tried her hardest to ignore it. She had to save the woman in front of her, she had to make sure that she was taken somewhere that they could restore her memory. 

As gently as possible the archer reaches out, palm upwards. “Can I touch you?” Her voice was soft, almost as if she was talking to a sleeping baby. At the shy nod of Wanda’s head, she smiles. It’s not a beam or bright, but almost like the beginning rays of the sunrise–soft and warm. 

Her hand never makes it there, never touching what looks like a soft sweater, instead the world blacks out and it almost feels like Kate falls into a black hole. 

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

Natasha had grown accustomed to darkness, the time of day when even the moon goes to bed. It happened to be one of her favorite times of the day, a peace that was laid over her like a blanket. When everyone else wanted to do everything during the day, she just wanted to wait for the shadow of night. She worked and thought best at the latest of times, and sometimes that backfired on her; as it was currently. 

She knew that her world was crumbling, but didn’t the destruction start two years ago? The daily life she had created was put on a pause and when she was able to hit play again, the script was rewritten. She was so far behind on rewrites and the new cast members that catching up was impossible, so she went along with what she knew. 

It’s not like she didn’t enjoy everything, nor did she not finally fall into a groove but the foundation she created was not the one everyone stood on. No, instead it had almost felt like a bridge–one laid upon the old foundation. It was strong but it was heavy upon the slowly cracking stone holding it up, time was the only thing in the way of the wreckage. 

For now this was her life, time in the neighborhood that could have been her identity. She could have been part of that family across the way, the one that is sleeping soundly currently and will wake up and get their children to school before heading to work. Maybe she would have been part of the couple that have three dogs and a cat, and work remote jobs so that they can travel the world together. 

Gulping down a thought, she hates to have the visions cross her mind. It could have been her and maybe someone else. Someone else right next to her, smiling and laughing; crying and healing. They could have survived the world together, but the fights would be corporate life and monthly bills. The two of them could have dogs and a cat or two, maybe even a kid if they really wanted. It’s a vision she sees every time she lets her eyes scan the backyard, fairy lights now twinkling dimly to allow enough lighting for safety. 

It’s then when she sees two small crimson orbs, floating. A sense of dread and urgency sinks in her stomach, her fight or flight kicking in and the need to grasp at her widow bites strong. As the circles approach, the figure being illuminated by the string of twinkling dots, Natasha realizes the familiar feeling. Taking her back to Sokovia twelve years ago, she realizes Wanda is the one once again hiding in the shadows; but this time Strucker is not a part of it. 

“Well hello Agent Romanoff.” Her voice was deeper, a bit of that old rage still there. “What are you doing out here, all alone?” 

Despite the girl being far enough out that Natasha could easily escape her, she still felt an overwhelming sense of danger. She knew what this Wanda was capable of, even if it was barely a fraction of what current age Wanda could do, and that was enough for her to let her widow bites activate. She doesn’t give the young girl the sense of pride to speak back to her, just stand at the ready. She couldn’t let her have a moment of the upper hand, she refused to feel her hex again. 

Wanda tilts her head, a mockingly curious look on her face. “Why do you seem so scared, aren’t you the great Black Widow?” She smiles widely, every single one of her teeth shining a faint red as her eyes pulse with her magic. “Or maybe it’s because your best friend Tony Stark isn’t here?” 

Blinking, slowly, Natasha tries to piece together what was happening. What does she mean? Did she lose her memory in the past couple months? Originally she had thought that maybe her magic had consumed her and that it reverted her back to a darker sense of dress, but the way she speaks isn’t something she understands. 

The one thing she is conscious of is the growing ruby orb rolling around in Wanda’s left hand, and the rapidly expanding magic glow around her. The presence of the magic was stronger than almost every moment Natasha had ever seen of the other woman. It scared her and that was the only thing that saved her as she jumped out of the way of the impending attack. 

Except it never happened, the world blurring almost as if her magic stole the ginger’s sight. 

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

Chaos, that’s the only word that can really describe what is happening. It’s only a moment after the world blacked out, only a moment since three lives were blurred and melted back together. 

You didn’t really understand what happened, just a moment ago you  were staring at Wanda for the first time in months and now you were in some random room with people freaking out all around you. She was standing, somewhat away, trapped in a box. She looked confused, but almost at peace, and you wanted to help her. She had been caged before and you never wanted her to ever feel like that again. You didn’t even get to take one step towards her before you watched her start to glitch, almost like a computer screen, before she just disappeared. 

Swinging your head around you tried to find someone who would tell you what was happening, but that’s when you saw her. Kate, your archer, wait no. Kate. Just Kate. She was on her knees, talking to another Wanda who was curled up in a ball crying. It was only another second before that one turned to static. You watched as the brunette frantically stood up, begging for help from the first person she could find. 

Next to her, with shocked eyes, stood Natasha. Her arm is held up by the CEO as her voice gets caught in her throat, but her other hand is outstretched to where a crimson fog is dissipating. The two stare at each other for a moment before Kate apologizes, trying to leave the situation in a professional way. 

In the crowd you blend in, hiding yourself as agents and other Avengers run around. There’s screens and machines all around, things you don’t really understand as everyone is trying to piece together what could be happening. You almost couldn’t tell if you wanted to be seen by the other girl, or even by the widow. Your soul and heart craved her attention, and you knew that your body would relax just from the sight of the ginger’s eyes, but how could you look at them? You had destroyed their lives and now you must live in the ruins of it. 

“ENOUGH!” The loud voice of Dr. Strange freezes everyone, and for a time you think you’re safe. It’s until everyone turns to you, the summoning from the stupid wizard, that for the first time you drown in the salty blue of the eyes you missed most. It was pain, a stabbing through your soul that you knew you would never survive. The need for her attention, even the most miniscule amount of it, was like oxygen. You need it to live, and for the past few months you had none. 

You weren’t sure what any one spoke of, people pushing and shoving not only you but the other two to the center of the floor. A large table there that now seated the rest of the Avengers, three empty chairs left. Even though there is yelling and arguing around, you can’t help but stop. You want to just look at them, forcing your eyes away from Kate was a mistake as you struggle to stay still. You wanted to run to the widow, get on your knees and beg her to come back. 

It was a clearing of a throat that interrupts your thoughts, stern and firm. “We need to discuss Wanda.”

[victoriouscabaret]

Get to know you - tag game!

I was tagged by @preciouslittlebhaalbae - thank you! <3

Last song you listened to:  Bad Girls - M.I.A.

Favorite color: Green!

Currently watching: Nothing really. If I'm having a bath and don't feel like reading I'm working through Penny Dreadful again, but that's it. I found my ability to sit on the couch and watch things for extended periods went away when I quit smoking for some reason. Probably because being idle = cravings, so the more occupied I keep myself the better. Looking forward to the latest season of The Boys though!

Favorite flavor: Cherry flavored anything is usually a win for me. I crave that red dye. Bequeath unto mine buds the taste of red.

Current obsession: BG3 (Especially Astarion) has bewitched me, body and soul (I just left this from @preciouslittlebhaalbae's answer because it seemed stupid to delete it and re-type basically the exact same thing.) Also currently v obsessed with writing again for the first time in many years. Can I be obsessed with personal growth? Because that too.

Last thing I googled: "Do mosquitos bite more than once?" (I have Type O blood and they LOVE me because of it, but I'm also extremely allergic to their saliva, so the first few bites I get each summer are exceptionally reactive. I also have bed bug related PTSD having had two terrible experiences with them (I'm also very allergic to them), most recently a couple years ago, so like... every bug related itch immediately sends my mind to bed bugs.) If I was bitten by a vampire, I would probably go into anaphylactic shock or something.

Favorite season: Autumn! Summer is too hot, Spring is too unpredictable, and Winter can fuck all the way off. Autumn generally still has warm enough weather to enjoy being outside, the colours are utterly stunning, you get to wear fashionable and cozy clothing, it's spooky season, the air smells amazing, and it just has a vibe about it that makes me feel happy and peaceful.

Skill I’d like to learn: I'd like to explore archery/marksmanship more. I've done some over the years, and I have a bit of a knack for it (full disclosure: most of my "practice" has been in my eventual husband's garage with the fellas, many beers deep, lining up empties on the garage door frame and taking turns taking pot shots with my air soft gun. Ditto archery - just in our backyard years later with my little brother's recurve bow. It's just a really lovely feeling to have a bunch of big, burly mountain men arguing over who wants you around in the event of the apocalypse. I would hate to let them down.)

Best Advice: Don't worry so much about what people think - it's easier said than done, but really most people are actually too wrapped up in their own shit to care, and as long as what you're doing isn't actively harmful to yourself or anyone else, they can get over it (or not, because their feelings aren't your responsibility either :D)

Tags if you'd like to play! : @marlowethebard @scrytpe @myheartismadeofstars @thefallenangelsgang @babblebrain-blog @xxnashiraxx

[variantia]

BELLUM. and I OOP-

@bcdluckstumblcd forced me to write this it totally wasn't my idea that wouldn't leave me alone at all, this is the most I've written at one time in months

... the song is "Some Type of Skin" by AURORA (whose music is a big inspiration for my Elsa in general soooo um um um um)

WHO WANNA CRY WITH ME CUZ I AIN'T DOING IT ALONE

“Hit me hard where I am soft should my heart reveal itself to be more than a muscle or a fist covered in blood?”

The clock reads 1:52 A.M. Elsa’s eyes are heavy and she knows she should go home to sleep soon. She has an afternoon shift, so she needs to be sharp. There are texts sitting in her phone and they make her feel like a traitor to the man in the hospital bed.

That’s what he thinks she is. It’s funny how progress can be so hard-fought and won and then so easily lost and forgotten. It’s not Jin’s fault. It’s not Hawks’ fault.

So she’s left feeling like it’s her fault, sins bearing down on her that can’t be swept under the rug. Just the same as every other thing that’s weighed her shoulders down that probably wasn’t hers, but she knows this time she bears at least some of the blame.

How can she do that? To want so badly to help Jin while also defending her friend who did this to him? Who stabbed his family in the back?

There’s no apology she can give Jin that won’t sound incredibly fucking hollow. That won’t sound like an excuse, that won’t sound patronizing.

So she’s just stayed. Visiting hours extended for her, in an uncomfortable chair next to Jin’s bed, watching as the painkillers drag him into an uneasy sleep, and she does the only thing she can think of to help him rest.

She stays by the bed, and she sings quietly.

“… However much it feels to bleed it’s only temporary we’re good people and we both deserve peace, peace…”

Is this any comfort to him, she wonders? Any ease to his mind that she isn’t here to hurt him? She’s read his entire file and she feels horrible for what Hawks had to do. Not just to Jin, to the rest of the League too.

Sometimes she worries that she’s not cut out to be a hero, because she could never imagine doing what Hawks did. She knows, she knows that he genuinely liked Jin as a person. He wanted to give Jin a chance, and Jin didn’t trust him enough to take it, and the sad thing is that Elsa doesn’t blame Jin a bit for not trusting him.

She’s just hoping that she can build enough trust with Jin for him to take the chance she wants to give. It’s the unfortunate truth that right now, the small bit of trust he had in her is broken, because she cares about Jin, but she also cares about Hawks.

This man has been through so much. He probably doesn’t know who he can trust anymore.

“… My God! It’s a lot to build some type of skin I got to build some type of skin My God! It’s a lot…”

Her voice is a gentle lullaby, though she doesn’t even know if Jin can her it. Or whether her emotions, her desperation to give him options, comes through in her voice. All she knows is that she feels it. That it’s real.

For her to give him any options, he has to trust her. There’s a sick feeling in her stomach, the dread that he may never trust her as long as she’s also friends with Hawks. She clings violently to the hope that that isn’t true.

When she looks at Jin in the hospital bed, hooked up to monitors and an IV drip of a cocktail of different medications, her heart breaks. All she sees is someone who society forgot, ignored, broke apart. Someone who found their own family.

She’s seen clips of the League. That’s what they are, her mind has always whispered. A family. Their bonds with each other matter and they shouldn’t be dismissed because they’re criminals.

Someone should have given them all a chance. None of them should have been allowed to slip through the cracks.

But they did. And the only person she can give a chance to is Jin. She prays that she can eventually convince him to take it.

“… I guess I should build some type of skin and let breath be air and love the things I know might disappear…”

She doesn’t know if she can verbalize any of the things in her head, or if he would believe her if she did. Her friend nearly killed Jin, and Jin saw her on national television defending Hawks. That has to look like a betrayal in itself.

The media shouldn’t be tearing Hawks apart for doing his job, because they don’t have the whole story. But his job should never have had to come to what he did. While Jin isn’t entirely blameless, Elsa knows that there is a history behind his refusal to take Hawks’ chance at reformation.

It hurts her to be able to see both sides of this, to understand why Hawks did what he did and to understand why Jin did what he did. Anything she says in defense of Hawks is only going to make Jin want to trust her even less.

What happened was an awful situation that shouldn’t have happened at all.

But she cares about Jin. Isn’t that the whole point of a hero, to care about people? To look after them and make sure they’re safe?

So many people forget that doesn’t just apply to civilians. If a villain needs help, they should be able to get.

Someone should give a shit about picking up the pieces.

“… And the last light of the sun I let it slow me down I’ll crawl where everybody runs we’re good people and we deserve peace it’s difficult, it seems…”

Jin twitches. Groans in his sleep. His fist flexes, open and closed, before reaching up to dig at the IV in his arm. It’s painful, she’s sure it itches like crazy, and he’s really not fully conscious to realize what he’s touching.

Before he can get so far as to try clawing at it hard enough to rip it out, Elsa quickly stands up. Her hand goes immediately to his, carefully drawing it back, before her other hand sets over the IV site. Ice channels through her palm, pressing a cooling, soothing bit of relief to all the irritation. Soft shushing noises accompany her movement.

He seems to take her touch okay at least while he’s asleep, with just a grunt and a huff before his face is no longer contorted in discomfort. She’s noticed he really only ever looks relaxed while he’s sleeping; he settles, sinking back down into the thin pillows.

Tentatively, once he’s no longer agitated, Elsa reaches up to run her hand through his hair. An experimental touch, an attempt at giving him some solace among the battleground that she’s certain is his mind right now.

There’s an incomprehensible mumble from him, but nothing else. No sudden spring to wakefulness or glare aimed at her. No mistrust in the way he reacts. It gives her hope.

She lowers herself back down into the chair, watching him again as she continues to sing. This whole time her song hasn’t faltered.

The best way she can show him that he can trust her is to just… be here. To treat him kindly. While she doesn’t know if he’ll accept it, because this poor man has been burned so many times, she tries to stay optimistic.

“… My God! It’s a lot to build some type of skin I got to build some type of skin my God! It’s a lot my God! My God! it’s a lot to build some type of skin I got to build some type of skin my God! My God! My God! It’s a lot, it’s a lot my God! It’s a lot it’s a lot, a lot, to me, to me…”

Existence is heavy all on its own. To live is to know pain. And Elsa knows that’s true, because she has her own pain. Once that pain becomes a part of you, it can’t be removed without killing part of yourself.

The past will always hurt. But she wants to show Jin that the future doesn’t have to.

That’s all she can do now. Keep trying, and pray that she can make his future better than his past, without taking away the parts that have made him who he is. Without taking away the little bits of joy that he found with the League, and without making him think her friendship with Hawks means she’s a threat to him.

Jin’s life is precious. She will fight to make him see that.

Her hand stays in his hair for a long moment, falling away only when the final bars of her song taper off.

She should go home. But she won’t. She’ll spend the night by Jin’s side, in this uncomfortable chair, sleeping in the worst position possible, so that he won’t wake up alone again.

“… My God, it’s a lot,” is the last sigh of her breath before her eyes close and she lets the darkness claim her.

[ignyxdaughter]

𝐗𝐕𝐈𝐈 - 𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐒

(𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 /𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐤𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐳𝐨𝐯𝐚 𝐱 𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐨𝐧)

MASTERLIST

READ ON WATTPAD

A/N: Hey, everyone! How are you? Firstly, I want to apologize for the long delay. I let you down by making you wait for just a chapter, so I came back with two — one for today and another for tomorrow. I hope you enjoy them. Also, although not posting, I have seen and read and reread every note of yours. These were literally the motivations that took me back to writing, so thank you to everyone who's been reading, liking and commenting in the fic! I can't express in words how much you are important to me! Finally, I was gone for a while due to personal reasons. Honestly, I was a mess and, because of that, had to take some time for myself. But I am better now and have found pleasure in writing again! I think all I want to say is: take care of yourselves — mental health is really important — and remember that you are special; you are beautiful and perfect just the way you are💕

A/N: The Darkling's memories which have Baghra are made with quotes from "The Demon in the Wood", so it totally belongs to Leigh Bardugo!

A/N: English is not my first language. I’m gonna mix the books and the tv show to make the story line clearer (I read soc, the grisha trilogy and its tales). I don’t own Shadow and Bone and TO/Legacies characters; they’re, respectively, Leigh Bardugo, L. J. Smith and Julie Plec. Also, this is how I think the Darkling is,and some of the events will be changed due to the story's course!

word count: 4942

warnings: mentions of suicide attempts, self harm, death and witch hunt

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The shock on her face increases, for once not knowing what to do. Katherine can only stare at The Darkling as he talks. She hears a few accusations — truths — about her killing Malyen Oretsev, but doesn't pay attention to any of that, since the thought that occupies her head is that everything is not making sense. Kirigan created the Shadow Fold, he's The Black Heretic; he surely was chased by many otkazat'sya in his life, including tsar Anastas guards, and seen with his own eyes other Grishas fighting against each other for survival and then brutally dying. It's impossible that he hasn't seen any change in Ravka after the creation of the Unsea, that he hasn't seen his country beginning to have more peace and haven for his people. So why does he have the desire to end the Fold?

Only an idiot would want that, and she knows that Kirigan isn't one.

"Do you have something to say about all of this?" The witch is able to finally hear clearly an entire sentence from him. She blinks a few times to concentrate on the General's stern face and look at the dark brown eyes that are fuming with rage.

"What really is your plan?"

"The one that you possibly ruined forever?!" He yells at her, all his patience gone.

"Anastasia said that Ravka before the Fold's creation was a complete disgrace." Katherine blatantly ignores him. "Supernaturals and Grishas lived in dread of being accused of practicing small science or magic, of getting persecuted, tortured and killed. Or worse, of having someone they love find that destiny!"

The Darkling clenches his jaw in indignation. Katherine is close to discovering his true intentions, and he doesn't know what her reaction will be, because expanding the Unsea would probably break magical balance, which she so fiercely protects. "Who's that woman?"

"Someone older and cleverer than you and I. But she doesn't matter to this conversation. What matters is her saying: that the Fold reduced the number of mortals defying and sentencing our people, and even protects Ravka from the war against the Fjerdan and the Shu Han." She approaches him with a pointing finger. "Your creation, Kirigan." The woman pokes her finger on his chest, which slightly pushes him backwards. "Your bloody creation did that! So why fucking end it?!"

"You ruined my plan!"

"The plan that would bring disgrace into my people again? Yes, I ruined it, and thank the Ancestors that I did it!"

"My plan would strengthen Ravka!"

She chuckles. "Oh, yes, by giving all the power to an inexperienced lightscum."

Lightscum, as if Alina's power was something to be disgusted about.

Of course, the General heard from Genya and the Sun Summoner of how cold Ms. Anya, the handmaiden, was towards the latter. They used to say that she seemed annoyed whenever Alina was close and never talked to her unless she asked something. For a brief moment, he recalls a conversation with the younger woman in which she said that Ms. Anya had never shared a smile with her and was only second to Baghra in rudeness because she hadn't beaten her with a stick... yet.

At the time, The Darkling thought the issue was jealousy or contempt over a Grisha. However, now he knows that it can't be the latter, since Katherine is a witch, but at the same time, the first option doesn't seem right. The shadow singer's voice at the mention of Alina was of grudge instead of anger, and this isn't typical of jealousy.

Now it was his turn to let out a small mocking laugh. "You really think I would give all the power to her?"

"Of course you would! Her light blinds you till it destroys you! That's what they are: traitors."

"Alina is too young to have the mind to betray her kind." Kirigan has to gather all of his strength to not ask all the questions he wants the answers to. Of why Katherine truly killed Malyen Oretsev and why the name 'lightscum' for who has the power of light, of what happened to her when she was taken away from him, of how she got here and discovered he is The Black Heretic... He truly wants to know the witch, all of her; body, heart and soul. But there's a specific question that his whole being screams for an immediate answer — he wishes to look at her eyes and say 'are you alright?'. However, he feels it'll be better to wait until Katherine blurts out everything that's inside her head to then fulfill his desire.

Cheshire told him this morning to listen to her before acting, and that's what he'll do. After all, to gain this woman, he has to understand her.

"She hadn't been with her kind until a few months ago! No matter how much time she spends with Grisha, she will always prefer the mortals because they were who raised her!" Katherine's last string of patience runs out. Without being aware of her uncontrollable behavior, she starts yelling in rage, every concealed thought of hers pleading to be freed. "And even if that weren't the case, she would be capable of treason because that's how lightscums are: fucking snobs who only care about themselves. For you to have a glimpse of how much they lack character, they have a habit of stealing other lightscums' power for themselves, so that they are more powerful and have no competition in the way. I've never known one worthy of loyalty, mainly because everyone I've given the slightest bit of trust has stabbed me in the back!"

"I'm sure Alina is not like that."

"Stop defending her!" The General raises his eyebrows as she shouts in english, the shadows in the woods increasing and turning the place darker with all the fury she's feeling. Wrath took her completely, till the point she cannot control her powers and translate her words into ravkan. "I am a trickle in the middle of a river of them and they took every inch of happiness I have had from the beginning! My lightscums breeders used to beat me until I lost conscience, and those two wenches that were born along with me used to call me horrendous names. Years after I left and found a family, they took some of them from me. I know that because the man who whipped my back uncountable times was the lightscum who helped in the plan to kill my aunt, my uncle and my father. MY BLOODY FATHER!"

The Darkling's heart clenches in his chest while hearing these confessions; his mind, a mix of sadness and anger. Sadness for knowing how much Katherine has been hurt in life, and anger for those who dared to do that to her. These feelings only increase when he sees tears wetting her eyes. A stab in his guts would be better than witnessing these beautiful light green orbs full of sorrow.

"He was the only one who never judged me, and they killed him." Her knees give way to the freezing floor, weak from having to hold the weight of a heartache that was stuck inside her for decades, centuries, even. "I tried—" She takes a deep shaking breath to recompose herself, but fails miserably. "I tried to meet other lightscums, but they always betrayed me. The result was countless assassination attempts and lovers and friends approaching me out of interest only to turn their backs on me after I didn't give them influence in the Supernatural community."

"Katherine—"

"After so much effort for nothing, I concluded that they are scums! All of them, no matter what!" Finally, she faces him, which makes him see how wounded she still is with these horrible events. Saints, if he had the power to go back in time to kill everyone who helped on breaking Katherine, he would gladly do it. "You want to know why I killed your tracker? Because I'm fucking TIRED! I'm tired of being mistreated for having shadows. I'm tired of being replaced by a lightscum and seeing others live the consequences of their actions. But you know what I'm really tired of? To see my people suffering."

A shiver runs down through the witch's spine by what she is going to say next, for once, not caring about the Shadow Summoner's rejection. After all, she was classified as second place the moment when he choses Alina over her. Now, the only things that matter to Katherine are regaining Agatha's memories and protecting the Supernaturals and herself from two certain Grishas.

The Darkling, because he is the person who Katherine has fallen for and the mind behind the plan of destroying the Unsea. And Alina, because she is the puppet that will concret the plan.

"So don't expect me to do nothing when their safety is threatened." Her voice fails a little from physical and emotional exhaustion. "I will do everything in my power to leave this Fold intact and let that lightscum away from an amplifier. If you want to give her the Morozova stag, the sea whip and the firebird for her to produce magic, you'll have to pass through me. And believe when I say that my shadows are loyal, and will always protect me."

A fragment of her still screams to be freed — the one who wants to ask why would he destroy his greatest creation — but she conceals that part inside of her. It's not the time to question that, not yet.

Shock is expressed all over in the General's face. His dark brown eyes are widened; his eyebrows, raised; his mouth, slightly agape. He thinks of all the ways the witch could have discovered this, until he concludes that the most accurates options are through confidential conversations in the Little Palace or by rummaging through his chambers. However, none of them make sense. The first, because Kirigan never shared with anyone the plan to go after the other two amplifiers; the second, because he is sure that Katherine has only been in his room once, and on that day she was reading a page which had notes only about the Morozova's stag and, on the corner of it, the name 'hanging tree' was alone, without any explanation underneath it.

The Darkling opens his mouth to demand how she found out his intentions, but closes it as soon as he remembers the first time they had a real conversation. He woke up earlier to return those ludicrous books in Norse runes to the Little Palace's library just to then see 'Ms. Anya' carefully reading the Latin titles. Though what really caught his attention that day was the old red book on her hands, one with a worn cover and light brown pages from its use.

Katherine read the Istorii Sankt'ya. His Istorii Sankt'ya, which later he found out that she made notes on its final page. Katherine's wisdom, however, never seems to fail him, since all the scratches were written in Norse runes. So even if he wants to read it — and the Saints know how he tried —, he can't, because he doesn't understand the language.

He has to urgently find a translator as soon as he gets back to the Little Palace.

"My book."

The witch scoffs by hearing the realization in his voice. "I'm not a fool that cannot see through the images, Kirigan. The page with the Morozova stag, the sea whip and the firebird was opened on my lap as I learned about amplifiers. It took me a single look to question what would happen if a Grisha had more than one."

"Have you told—" He stops when she shakes her head, his heart racing as fast as a horse as she speaks again.

"Nature didn't make Grishas' body to handle magic. Even if they manage to practice it, they can't control it. You must know that." With her jaw, Katherine points at the Fold behind her. "Did it hurt when you did it? Had you felt you were going to die in agony?"

He takes a deep breath, as if the action would encourage him to confess. Finally, after what seemed like eternity, The Darkling says: "Yes."

Her answer is a simple nod, while her eyes fall to the ground in shame. "I've broken many magical balances in my life. All of them hurted, and in all of them I begged to die." Kirigan can feel his heart clenching as she tells him the truth, not wanting to imagine her in a breakdown worse than now. "I'm not proud of these moments, but they were from a time when I couldn't stand breathing anymore. Have you ever felt that? The need to just... end it all and rest forever."

He thought that so many times, but the most remarkable one was when tsar Anastas' guards murdered Luda in front of him.

He wants to say that to Katherine, to guarantee that she's not insane to have such thoughts, but he knows that only his experience won't prove anything to her. Therefore, instead of exposing his feelings, he states: "It's impossible to be an immortal and not think of that. You're not alone."

This makes the witch go into a trance, remembering all the times she tried to end herself. Silent tears run down her face as she realizes that she's had these sick thoughts for ages and that in no time they seem to go away. Of course, she also has good memories, but they are useless when sorrow gnaws at her, especially when it's related to her father. Elijah Mikaelson was the most special person in Katherine Morris' life; he gave her a home, a family, made her feel loved and comfortable with her own powers. His death made Katherine lose any sanity that kept her on her feet. No matter how many times the shadow singer tries to forget, she will always remember that the first magical balance she broke was while practicing necromancy in hopes of bringing her dad back. She almost died during the countless experiments, and actually succeeded in resurrecting some people, but never her father, nor her uncle Klaus or her aunt Hayley. Since they died, their bodies were nothing more than ashes running through the wind. If only these ashes were kept on an urn, maybe she could make another successful necromancy.

But they aren't, so these Mikaelsons will continue dead and the witch will have to deal with grief for eternity. However, there is still a place where she can reunite with them: afterlife. It didn't take long since Katherine started her attempts to end herself.

The woman looks at her forearms, at the permanent thin white lines she made in order to stop the grief and intrusive thoughts. "You sure?" Her voice trembles and her heart clenches by remembering such a dark period of her life.

"I am." The General reassures her with a soothing tone, wanting to calm her and prevent another breakdown.

Taking her silence as a cue, Kirigan moves his fingers and summons a tiny shadow. The small piece of darkness floats around his hand before he guides it towards Katherine.

The air in her lungs is gone as soon as she feels something putting a strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes look at her side to discover what has done this, but has no success, since the shadow is long gone. However, she faces the Grisha in front of her just in time to see him summoning another piece of darkness. He doesn't break eye contact as he releases the shadow to repeat the action with another dark brown lock of hers. The corner of his lips are twisted in an almost imperceptible smile. Almost.

"You're not alone, Katherine, and even if you were once, I won't let that happen again."

"You aren't able to do that."

"I am. But for that to happen, you have to let me in." Kirigan notices the darkness in the woods slowly coming back to normal, letting him see the place clearer. This is a sign that his plan is working. Calming Katherine down to then approach and hold her was indeed the right path to follow. "Let me know you and I'll let you know me. That way you will never be alone anymore."

The woman gives him a small smile when his shadow slightly touches her face, the tension on her shoulders instantly vanishing. It felt so good and relieving that she wants him to feel the same. Katherine then conjures a small piece of darkness and releases it towards him, making it circle his face.

The Darkling chuckles a little, enchanted by seeing his equal using her powers, and his heart skips a beat when she says: "You're not alone either, Kirigan."

The General wants nothing but to be close to her and hold her in his arms right now, however, he knows that the witch will easily be shocked if he does that without warning. So he slowly approaches her, analyzing her confused expression till he carefully sits by her side on the freezing snow. Kirigan makes sure that Katherine can predict every movement of his so that, if she gets upset, she can stop him. But she doesn't move, not even an inch away from him. The woman just observes as he unbutton his black cloak and cautiously places it on her shoulders, the heavy clothing instantly warming her cold body. Yet it's not only her body that is warmed with Kirigan's gesture, since her heart almost melts to see such tenderness coming from the most feared man in the country.

Then, without looking away from the witch's beautiful light green eyes, he whispers: "I don't want to end the Fold."

Katherine swears that she literally felt the air leaving her lungs. "W-What?"

He raises a hand at her, a silent request for her to listen to him without making any interruptions. She looks at him expectantly, ready to hear everything with as much attention as possible. So he tells her all: how he spent his whole life hiding with his mother, moving from village to village without even having a chance to interact properly with those his own age. The General lets out a rueful laugh as he briefly reveals his childhood fear of forgetting his real name, as each season both he and Baghra had a new identity.

'It's my own name I'm afraid of forgetting', he used to say to Baghra, and she would always tap his chest and draw the letter A on it. A of Aleksander.

'Your true name is written here', she would suddenly speak softly. 'Tattooed on your heart. You don't let just anyone read it.'

And he believed her in that till nowadays. Even not needing to hide his true nature anymore, he still conceals his birth name from the world. It's his most well kept secret; no one but he and his mother knows the truth. However, he is willing to extend this secret to one more person just for the incessant desire to hear Katherine say 'Aleksander'. Just the thought of hearing her calm voice calling to him makes his whole body shiver with lust.

Kirigan also tells the witch of his attempts to peacefully end prejudice against Grishas, that the formation of the Second Army was just that. With a heavy heart, the General also mentions Luda, a lover from centuries ago who he planned to run away with, but unfortunately was murdered before his eyes by royal soldiers.

Finally, The Darkling reveals that the famous story of the Black Heretic is partially true. He indeed tried to create his own army using merzost, but the motive wasn't out of thirst for power, but for revenge; resentment towards the injustice against Grishas and the desire to make a safe place for his people was all that crossed his mind at the moment. He always had that dream. Luda's death was just the push that made him fulfill it once and for all.

"The Fold protects my people from persecution and from the war." Kirigan lets out a tired sigh. "If I destroy it, I will doom them."

There's a moment of silence between Katherine and him, the quick and meaningless thoughts hammering the witch's head, who tries to put together all the pieces of the puzzle. After failing miserably, she has the courage to say her doubts out loud. "So what do you want to do? Why do you need to amplify Alina's power?"

The General's dark brown eyes meet her light green ones. "You're clever enough to find out, Katherine." She frowns, confused. "Why would I need to use merzost on the Fold?"

You ruined my plan! He yelled at her in rage. My plan would strengthen Ravka!

You really think I would give all the power to her? Kirigan let out a mocking laugh after she said that Alina would wield all magical power if she had three amplifiers.

Alina is too young to have the mind to betray her kind. He brushed Katherine's argument off as if he was sure that the Sun Summoner would never be able to challenge him, as if she wouldn't have the courage nor the strength.

I don't want to end the Fold.

A shiver runs down the shadow singer's spine as she realizes The Darkling's true purpose. Her gaze towards him transforms into shock. She opens her mouth, only to close it later due to shock. After a minute, she finds herself able to shake her head, almost pleading that her hypothesis isn't real. "No."

He only nods to her in response, glad that her wise mind discovered his intention without him needing to speak it out loud. "Yes."

"You want to expand it."

"It will protect my people even more."

"But you'll be hated by the mortals. You'll create another hunt. Grishas will be persecuted again, Kirigan, and so will be my people."

"I will have the power to stop them. No one, not even the tsar and the First Army, will dare to confront us."

"And what will happen to the Grishas that oppose you, who will prefer the Ravka of now instead of your idealization?"

"That won't happen."

"It's stupid of you to not even consider that not everyone thinks the same." Katherine grabs him by his black shirt lapels, wanting to shake him in order to bring sense to his body. "The majority of your army is young! They haven't lived the terror that Ravka once was. They hate the Black Heretic and live in the utopia of a better world without the Fold! If they see you attempting to expand it, Kirigan, they will witness a magical imbalance! They will fear you and your reign, and soon, start a revolution."

"I will be powerful enough to stop them."

"Power is good, but you must know when to stop wielding it, because it will destroy you if you have more than you're able to control."

He shakes his head in disbelief, his mind scolding himself for never seeing the possibility of his plan failing. "No, you are wrong."

"No, you are wrong!" She tightens the grip on his lapels, forcing him to look at her eyes more deeply. "You will destroy everything with that plan of yours. You want power? Take it in the most discreet way!"

"There's no discreet way, Katherine!" The Darkling abruptly separates them, standing up and running a hand through his dark hair. Saints, he's becoming frustrated! "Your people are free; they don't obey anyone because they hide themselves from the otkazat'sya. But mine will only be safe once that fucking tsar is gone!"

"Then do a bloody coup!" The witch shouts while standing up to face the General properly. "If you want the Lantsovs gone, make powerful alliances and discreetly turn people against them. The Second Army is already not fond of them. The Grishas just need a little more to finally hate them fiercely." She slowly approaches him without breaking eye contact. "You are stronger than the king's army; can easily take them down. So why not invest in this coup, which will unite and strengthen your Grishas, instead of expanding the Fold, which will destroy all conquests you've already achieved for your people?"

The woods now are almost without light, exasperated shadows of both Kirigan and Katherine darkening the place. However, the latter slowly fades away as the witch takes deep breaths to calm herself down. The silence between the two equals is tense, but the woman's sharp voice cut it like a blade.

"Find me when you give up that insane plan of yours and your brain finally comes back to your head."

The Darkling's dark brown eyes follow her as she walks towards a tree's shadow and, without looking back, enters it. After a moment, he goes to the same tree and tries to feel her in the darkness, but she's gone. Katherine has literally teleported herself through shadows.

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3 days later — Os Alta, Ravka

He can't sleep.

Tonight's the third night since his argument with Katherine, and also the third night in a row when he finds himself pacing around his room instead of sleeping. He is exhausted, mentally and physically; the witch has made a place in his head without permission. All he can think about are subjects that include her. Is she alright? What happened to her when she was taken away from him that day? Will she ever come back? Is her plan really better than his? Is expanding the Fold indeed worth it?

Finishing his glass of kvas in an only sip, Kirigan suddenly gives up to fight his needs. He abruptly picks a paper and a feather on his messy desk — full of research about magical imbalances and historical revolutions — and writes the message that will make Katherine search him. It's short, yet meaningful. The witch will certainly understand it.

The General slams the feather on the desk and looks around his room, carefully analyzing each shadow inside of it. When there's no sign of any movement, he finally speaks: "I know you are here! Appear now and deliver this message to her!"

The shadow of one of the armchairs near the fireplace moves in answer. Soon, a certain dark creature shows up to him, its big sharpy smile widening by seeing the paper on The Darkling's hand.

"I need to speak to her." With heavy steps, he approaches the monstrous figure. "Make her come to me no matter what, Cheshire."

The paper is taken away from his grip by the shadow, which nods in response before disappearing again. Kirigan makes his way to pour another glass of kvas and comes back to his bed, which is full of books and papers. He spends this night in the same way he did on the other two: by searching for more information about The Handler and rereading countless times the contract he made with Katherine, both of their names now stained with their dried blood.

[notfknapplicable]

I signed my lease at my new place today! Now I need to go to the water office at some point and turn on the water/trash service, and I'll be all set to move in on the 15th. And lemme tell ya I am so ready. I catch myself fantasizing about the most boring stuff ever - taking naps on my couch, reading on the porch, cooking whenever I'd like, cleaning with bleach and other chemicals, pooping with the bathroom door open, deep cleaning behind things and in the corners, showering with the bathroom door open, playing video games for hours, baking cakes, keeping the temperature where I'd like it to be, not having a dirty-wheeled bike hanging over my couch, doing aerobics in the liminal space where the kitchen and living room meet in my lil open-plan duplex. I really like this new duplex's layout way more than my old one too because the bedrooms are on the outside walls instead of on the inside ones, so the only thing on the other side of the wall from me is the outdoors. Our living room and kitchens are butted up to each other and I'll take that any day over having to hear my casually racist Spanish neighbors fucking in the middle of the day while I'm trying to pot nap.

My roommate seems to be calming down (she's started speaking to me again), but she's also doing passively aggressive things like turning the heat down lower and lower. When I came back from SF she was in there with the heat on 66 while it was below freezing outside, if you need an indication of how she keeps it. Always burning hot in the summer, always freezing cold in the winter. Honestly she just needs to live alone again. She's very particular about certain things and isn't great at compromising. I'm the exact same way, and I am willing to cough up a few extra bucks in service of being at peace in my home. She makes way more money than me and I'm fairly certain that she can afford the rent and bills on her own. Hahahahaha I bet that I'm gonna do all of this scrambling to find her a new roommate just for her to tell me "actually I'm gonna live alone / my dude is gonna move in" or something. She's been seeing this guy for a good lil' minute anyway - take the plunge!

All of that is one note. I'm gonna have my own place again soon, and just in time for summer. I was really dreading having to do another summer in that house (for real she wants the air on like 77 in Georgia in the summer) so I'm incredibly happy to have found this place. The yard is pretty much a dust bowl but that's okay, I'll probably plant vegetables and herbs once spring gets here proper. I just have no words. It'll be more expensive, sure, but it'll also be worth every penny.

[mrssimply]

2nd : Miracle

I decided to do a fic advent calendar this year, and idea that was given to me by Bones a.k.a Riots from the Totentanz Discord Server.

You can find the prompt list here.

Every fic will be posted on my AO3 Account here.

This one is for @domicofo/@for-lovely-things :D thank you for prompting me, I'm so happy to be able to write something for you!

The prompt was: "angsty fic on Kerry overdozing with pills/drugs accidentally and either it has just the consequences of Ker being weird or almost dying, you decide :"D I'd love to see V's reaction at that. Could also be someone trying to specifically remove Kerry or make him an easy target!"

The dealer is suspicious, but at this moment, Kerry is past caring. She is promising never experienced highs, and that’s exactly what the rocker is looking for. He regrets giving Archangel to V. His hands are itching for the gun like he’s itching for the drug, to the point he became angry at V for taking it and disappearing with it.

It’s been ten days since that strange phone call, and Kerry is becoming crazy along with the rest of the city. His case is more personal: people lost assets, security, a career, he lost the love of his life, so really, he doesn’t give a fuck about them. 

Since the gun is unavailable, Kerry has to turn to other means of blowing himself up: he can’t bear his own mind a minute more, and that’s exactly what the girl is selling him. 

There are seven pills in the little packet, and only one indication: wait at least six hours between each of them, ideally half a day. The ambiguity of the prescription should raise more flags, and a voice that sounds suspiciously like Johnny of all people, tells him he shouldn’t take that.

He does anyway.

The pill is exactly what it promises: for five hours, Kerry feels free. He still wonders about V, but instead of dread or heartbreak, he only feels floaty. As he continues to think about V, since apparently he can think of nothing else right now, memories of their time together come to him. Their first date after their sexcapade on Kovachek’s boat, that time V tried to do yoga with him in the morning, or that evening Kerry took the merc to a five star restaurant, only for V to ask for a steak and fries. 

He’s snorting and giggling all by himself in the middle of the lounge room upstairs. The high leaves him feeling thirsty, but better. The rush slows down and there is no crash, it’s more like a quiet landing. 

Kerry takes a swim in his pool, feeling at peace.

It doesn’t last. He takes pills number two three days later, surprised at himself for waiting this long. Outside, the city is burning around him, fires, both metaphorical and real, hiking up the slope to North Oak and again, Johnny’s voice tells him he should start looking for a way out. That’s the moment he takes the pill. 

He floats, looking at the stars he can’t see, laying down next to the grand piano. He dreams the ceiling opens and he can see the moon and the galaxies. He flies away with a light heart. At some point, just as he’s starting to feel lonely, arms close around him.

“Hey,” V’s voice says right into his ear. A kiss lands on his neck, fingers brush the hem of his shirt. Kerry smiles and turns his head, straining for a real kiss.

V’s lips are dry against his, and Kerry can taste his smile against his mouth. He turns fully in his arms, and they fall into the universe.

When he wakes up, Kerry can’t help but smile.

The sensation dims too fast, and he wants that rush back. He takes pill number three the next day, and number four the day after. Each time it’s better, each time V feels closer, more real. 

Pill number five is hot like a midsummer day. He feels V’s mouth around his hard cock, he arches back with a whine and can’t stop stroking V’s hair. It’s so soft under his hands, just like his lashes when Kerry wipes the tension tears away. V playfully bites his thumb, and continues sucking on his fingers while he teases Kerry open. The musician’s legs fall easily apart for him, and when V’s lips trace a burning path downs to his thighs, he shivers and beg for more.

V’s cock is perfect inside of him, and his hands are strong where they hold his hips, and his smile is devious when he starts thrusting. He moves sinfully, makes Kerry gasp and throws his head back as his brain fizzes with pleasure. The barrier of their skin is too much, Kerry wishes they could fuse, become one, and it suddenly happens: he doesn’t know where he ends and where V starts, and the pleasure is all his. His body takes fire, his blood turns to stardust, and the sounds he makes are not human anymore.

When he comes, it feels like an earthquake.

The aftermath is depressing.

Six hours later, he takes pill number six. 

They take a trip through fields of gold, waste hours kissing under a cherry tree, naked, slowly rubbing against each other. The valley is lush and green, no place like this exists on earth anymore. The sun filters through the canopy, and Kerry can see each leaf clearly. He loses focus when V takes him, slow and deep. He wishes it would never end.

Which is why, as soon as the dream fades, he takes the last pill.

He falls asleep in V’s arms, a smile at the corner of his mouth, and a kiss brushed over his brow. 

“Sleep well, babe,”

Darkness welcomes him. It’s warm and quiet. 

It’s just perfect.

He wakes up to alarm sounds, to people shouting at each other, and to pain. His whole body feels like a giant bruise, but the worst is concentrated around his chest. He tries to breathe and it feels like the air itself is acidic. Intrusive hands rams over his body, moving him this way and that, up onto a stretcher. In flashes, he sees his ceiling, the sky, and the inside of a trauma team AV. He wishes he wouldn’t recognise that so easily but it’s not his first rodeo. 

Being alive, awake and himself is really awful for a few days. The clinic welcomed him back with a tired but genuine smile: he knows the staff by name, it hasn't changed much since last time. They keep him for a few days, just enough to make sure the drug has no lasting effects, and offer him to subscribe to their counseling program. Kerry says thanks but no thanks, and gets back home to sit in the dark. 

It dawns on him, as he’s sitting on the piano bench, looking at the black and white keys, that this is it. That’s his life. It’s not just a shitty moment to pass, it’s permanent. V was like a match in the dark: it burned bright and fast. Too fast. Kerry barely had time to enjoy his light and his warmth.

The piano makes a discordant noise when Kerry puts his elbows on the board and buries his face into his hands. 

He falls asleep on one of the downstairs couches, incapable of taking his old carcass upstairs to the bed. Plus, he nearly died in the sheets, so he thinks maybe it’s best if he doesn’t go there yet.

He dreams of V, of gentle hands touching his face, fingers trembling softly. He dreams that V calls his name softly, and then lies down next to him, gathering him in his arms. It’s a nice dream, so he stays there a little longer, and buries his face into V’s neck with a sigh.

When he opens his eyes, he’s not expecting much. The light of the day is fading, meaning he lost another day but he’s lost so many it brings no reactions in his mind. He registers that he’s warm, and that there is a body next to him on the couch. 

He jolts, suddenly wide awake, and nearly over balance, but strong arms catch him.

“Hey, Ker,” V murmurs, because it’s him, or Kerry thinks it’s him. 

He’s lost weight and his features seem sharper due to the hollowness of his cheeks. He’s lost his smile, and sleep apparently, if the dark bags under his eyes are any indication. 

Kerry looks at him with wide eyes, mouth slightly parted to let out ragged pants. V gives him a tired smile, but when there is still no answer, his expression turns unsure. It snaps Kerry out of his shock.

“Are you really there?” he asks and V winces, eyes suddenly turning sad.

“Yeah. Yeah I’m here.”

“It’s not a dream?”

V’s eyes sadden even more and he shakes his head slightly.

“No. You’re awake.” 

Kerry takes a few seconds to assess that declaration: he does feel awake, but he’s not sure he can trust the sensation yet.

“Sorry it took me so long to come back to you. I…” V stops, works his mouth around the words, but they can’t seem to get out. 

“I came as soon as I could. The screamsheets said you…”

Oh yeah. Of course it’s probably all over the news, in an attempt to distract people from the fact the world is crumbling around them. His misery is endlessly fascinating to the mass, and reassuring because it means fame and money are no shield against despair either.

“You were gone,” Kerry utters, “I thought you were gone.”

V seems to deflate and he slowly rises to a seated position, briefly looking to the side with a guilty expression. He then reaches for the musician’s fingers and his hands are shaking when they hold Kerry’s. He brings them to his lips, and kisses his palm reverently.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have waited that long.”

“Why didn’t you — Where were you?” Kerry chokes out, and V’s expression crumbles.

“I was… First I was at Vik's, then… Back at my place. I needed time to… Process things — think. I didn’t — I didn’t realize you would be that worried.”

Kerry wants to laugh, if only because the other option is to cry.

“You called me. It was weird, you were weird. Then the news said something happened in the Arasaka tower. And then you disappeared. I couldn’t reach you I — fuck!”

V winces and nods like he’s listening to a voice in his head. Before Kerry can inquire about that, V goes on.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Ker. It’s just. Johnny’s gone and I…” he stops, and Kerry gets the feeling he wanted to say something more but can’t right now. Instead, he raises his eyes to Kerry’s and begs him to understand “I should have come right away but I was…”

“Lost,” Kerry finishes, because it’s not like he doesn’t know the feeling. 

V nods, closes his eyes and his expression turns wounded. His grip over Kerry’s hands gets painful.

“Fuck, what were you thinking? If I had lost you, too…” He murmurs against the musician’s fingers, and he sounds terrified by the prospect. 

With a raw sound, V surges up and kisses him, making Kerry gasp into the embrace. He practically climbs in his lap to feel him closer. 

It’s nothing like in the dream, it’s so much better because Kerry can feel his weight, his strength when V tightens his arms around him, his heat when he slips his hands under Kerry’s top.

“You scared me,” V breathes between kisses, “fuck, I just needed time.”

Kerry refuses to promise anything, he feels tired, and now that the rush of V’s presence is starting to fade, anger rises instead.

“I’m tired of losing the people I love,” he retorts with a frown, “you don’t get to disappear on me and expect to find me right where you left me. You promised to chase the shadows away, V, you gonna keep that promise?”

The young man looks up at him and through his eyes, Kerry can see his weary soul. It’s strange to see someone so young being so burdened.

“I’m still dying, Ker,” he confesses softly, and the oxygen freezes in the rocker’s lungs. “It — it didn’t work. Johnny’s gone, but it’s only slowing the process. I’m still dying,” he repeats and tears gather in his eyes. V lowers his head and blink furiously, refusing to let them fall.

“t’s why I needed time… To process it all, to… Think.”

Silence stretches between them, and in the silence, one conviction blooms. 

“I’m not gonna let you die, V,” he breathes out like it’s the most obvious thing. The young man looks up and in that moment, he really looks his age: barely thirty, and still so hungry for life. It fills Kerry with rage to think of how the world is trying to destroy that.

“I’m tired of losing the people I love,” Kerry says with more force, “Stay with me and we will find a way.”

V chuckles sadly, and gives him a small smile.

“It’s gonna take a miracle, Ker.”

Gently, Kerry wipes his tears and kisses his forehead.

“You’re not dead, you came back, it’s already a miracle, what’s one more?”

[gyrannus-pasilton-trimm-bitch]

Strangers Like Me || Open RP

Baz knew he didn't know anything about being a vampire, but he didn't realize just how clueless he was until Eliot clocked him coming into the library. He'd chosen to sit at one of the long reading tables in the center of the room and was leaning down to retrieve a textbook from his satchel.

"I know your secret," He felt the whisper on his ear as much as he heard it. He forced himself not to turn around, not to give in to the mysterious voice. "I'm not the Batman." He responded sarcastically, placing the textbook on the table and making a small show of flipping through it to find the right chapter. All he wanted was one afternoon to read about linguistic morphology in peace. Dating a prophesized hero already got him into enough scrapes- he didn't need the university library to add more intrigue to his life. As the stranger moved into view, Baz recognized him from the front desk. The librarian half leaned, half sat on the table where Baz had intended to work, even scooting his book a little out of the way to accommodate him.

"Studying linguistics?" The librarian was clearly relishing the power he held in this moment. Baz's social etiquette dictated that he not tell this person to fuck off, raise his voice, or cause a scene. He hated being pinned down by someone like this. (Unless it was by Simon.) (And even then it had to be the right moment.)

"What do you want?" Baz gave in, meeting the stranger's gaze. The glint in his eye, his coy smile, everything about him said he wasn't just there to make small talk.

"I'm sorry, where are my manners?" The librarian offered a hand, "Eliot Waugh, child of Lamia." When Baz didn't take the offer, Eliot adjusted the cuffs of his shirt. "Lamia." Greek mythology. An early predecessor to modern vampires in literature. Baz felt a trickle of dread creep down his spine. He twisted his wrist, checking that his wand was still tucked in the holster on his forearm. If a vampire wanted to have a go at him it would be a nightmare to spell it out of all the Normal students' minds.

"Should that interest me?" He sat back and crossed his arms, still not sure if this person intended to be friend or foe.

"Drop the act, Pitch." He must've seen Baz's name when he scanned in.

* * *

Hurrying along in a torrential downpour, he replayed the scene in his mind. There was another vampire at school. And so far he didn't seem to be evil. (Then again, what villain reveals their true nature a few hours into meeting someone new?) Baz was running late getting home. He'd lost track of time in the library, having made a hasty exit as soon as he realized the hour.

Normally he'd love the rain. (Or at least he'd prefer it to sun.)The wind whipped rain and debris sideways, blinking in and out of pools of streetlamp light like a slow, wet strobe. A paper bag brushed defeatedly into him as he made his way through the city. He adjusted the strap to his bag- at least it was much lighter now that it was the summer term- and side stepped to avoid a puddle that was beginning to look more like a small pond had been dropped on the sidewalk. Rain hadn't been in the forecast- it was supposed to be perfectly clear the whole day. A perfectly clear, sunny day is what Basil had dressed for.

By the time he walked through the door to his boyfriend's apartment, he was soaked thoroughly through. His jade floral shirt clung to his skin, making him feel even colder every time he moved. "Snow, are you here?" He called out to the seemingly-empty flat, nudging the door shut behind him. Simon had to be around, it was his flat after all. A pair of trackies had been discarded by the floor mat, one laying on its side like it'd fallen asleep. He lined his loafers up next to each other, off to the side of the mat. "It's biblical out there." He called again. The thin little floor mat underneath him was already saturated almost beyond its capacity. His trousers were too wet to store anything. Everything was too wet. He gripped his keyring in his teeth for a moment and, modesty be damned, started to unbutton his soaked shirt.

((Seeking Simons but open to others!))

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

This had to be asked just how Protective and smothering was Estinien after the birth of the 9th and final child. Must have caused him to become more anxious then

(References to traumatic childbirth and surgery)

Agnes Varlineau was dreading the evening she was about to spend with her husband. I shouldn't be dreading it. I love him. I...I'm just not sure if he feels the same way anymore...not after Maeva...

She and Estinien had agreed to expand their not-so-little family one last time. Though the morning sickness was bad, the rest of the pregnancy proceeded like all the others.

Except at the end. No matter how hard she pushed, Maeva simply would not come. And when she did, I bled. And bled. And bled. The healers had to take "my parts" to save me, for which I'm forever grateful. I'm so happy to be alive and be with my children...and...but he...

He barely touches me anymore. He's still a caring and loving father. I...I hope he still loves me...but he...doesn't want to touch me. He'll hold my hand every so often, but he won't pinch my ass or rub my sides or anything like how it was...

Now, five moons after Maeva's birth, Luci and Edmont surprised the couple with taking the nine children to Ishgard for a few days (Mum is always a welcome guest at Fortemps Manor) so that the couple could have alone time.

And Agnes was in tears sitting on their bed in a new dress that H'nadia, Yararu, and Purple surprised her with.

He doesn't love me anymore. He'll want someone else. He thinks I'm ugly. He thinks...he won't...

"Agi? What's the matter?" Estinien whispered, kneeling in front of her. I must not have heard or seen him come out of the shower. Oh gods. "Are you okay? If you're not feeling up to going to Kugane, we can stay here--"

"YOU DON'T LOVE ME ANYMORE!" She sobbed into her hands. He doesn't...he...he doesn't love me... She felt the bed sag as Estinien sat next to her and took her in his arms. Rubbing my back...just like he used...used...

"Why would you say that? I love you, my angel. I've never stopped. Shhh, it's okay, my sweet. It's okay." He pressed small kisses to her dark red hair and squeezed her. "I love you."

"T-then why h-haven't you been touching me?!?! I-I feel like we're fucking roommates!" She continued to sob.

She heard a sigh. "Because I thought perhaps my touches would be...unwelcome. You needed time to recover, and I did not wish to be a burden on you..." He trailed off and swallowed. "I-I wanted you to recover in peace. You and Maeva were so close to death. I felt as if it was my fault..."

Excuse me what?! Agnes pulled away from her husband and stared. "What?"

Tears now flowed freely down Estinien's freshly shaved cheeks. "I was the one who wanted another child. I--"

Agnes silenced him with a sweet kiss. "We made that choice together. I don't regret it at all. Our family is complete. I couldn't be happier with our children. I love you, my grumpy dragon. I love you with all my heart, but what happened is not your fault. I need you, love."

Estinien smiled ruefully and nodded, pulling his wife into his arms once more. "Aye. As I ever need you. Forgive me for these past few moons. I've so missed holding you and..."

HE PINCHED MY ASS! HE DID IT! Agnes wrinkled her nose and giggled. "You naughty man! Get dressed and let's go to Kugane, love."

Nodding, he kissed her again. And one more ass pinch! "Never ever doubt my love for you, sweetheart. It only grows each day."

She giggled. "Like my bum."

Estinien stood and laughed heartily as he grabbed his smalls. "My wife has the best ass and tits on the star!"

He was just worried about me. Didn't want to burden me? Ser, I pulled Nidhogg's ugly fucking eyes off you! "You flatterer! As if you're not handsome as well." She rose as Estinien began buttoning his shirt and lightly tapped his hand away. "I'll do it, love." She murmured, taking my sweet fucking time doing every button. "I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions...I should've just talked to you."

"And I should've done the same. I was so worried about you and Maeva...and the rest of the children...but full glad am I that you're all well."

Agnes could not help but smirk as she did the last button. "Maeva's a little fighter, just like her father."

"Her mother too." He whispered, tucking a lock of dark red hair behind her ear. "Shall we, my lady wife?" He offered his arm, which Agnes gladly took.

"Always, love."

[stardust-in-my-mind-blog]

to father-in-law 9/7/23

You said something about having Ben train Fi to sing with his guitar. All three of the kids are able to sing this song together. They all did it at once one time and it sounded like an angel choir. (Link to Goodnight My Angel by Billy Joel.)

Music is a healing thing.

Theo might sing it for you a night he comes over!

This is also one of Theo's favorite songs.

I sing it in the shower every day as a prayer to my own well designed pantheon of divinity. But Venus loved war just as much as she loved beauty and peace. Your son has some outdated software in his subconscious that needs redirection when it comes to how you treat a woman you love and respect.

My Phoebus is now Apollo.

And like Daphne I will make like a tree shake off the mantle of your name that I accepted like the rotting leaves of a dying tree.

I am Andromeda and Perseus is getting too damn close to the sun.

Pegasus has bucked off plenty of Princes.

Raja has eaten their underwear.

Aphrodite was born from the old man of the sea being made into a ennuch. Sea foam.

I'm thinking in mythology these days, Zeus.

I can be the headache you'll never forget.

Or your adoring daughter.

But like Diana I will turn men who scorn me into the stags their dogs devour.

I think I'm telling you this because I love you and your family.

But it hurts too much.

And I've been here too many times.

And part of me is dying.

And I have risen back from the dead far too many times to fear death.

My given name is Mckeag, our motto is to neither dread nor yearn for the final day.

That's not my name either.

I'm still looking for it.

I hate to use a story you trusted me with to... illustrate a negative thing.

That's my broken heart talking.

But you told me when you went deaf, you didn't learn how to read sign language. I can't begin to understand the grief that comes with losing your sense of hearing.

You value music so much.

You're rough, but you're a secret music box like me.

The mother in me, the gypsy in me, the woman who has been fucked by guys your age since I was three (literally and can recall each memory in cold detail, by the way.)

Shirley Temple syndrome.

But my hero was also Gilda.

Anyways, as a woman who has had to fight for every damn good thing in her life....

I heard the man that stands of law in the place of Father

"When I lost my hearing I chose to become blind."

"My wife and children learned a new language to keep me connected to the family, but I chose not to learn it for myself."

And it's a pattern I can't rise above in this relationship with your son.

I don't like bad boys.

And he will regret me forever.

Trust me, I already have one dude who did the same shit finally treating me with respect a decade after bearing his children.

They say Danae, my soul ancestor, was cast out to sea by her father who learned that her son would become more magnificent than he.

Fear of the gods.

But as humans, don't we wish that our legacy be more magnificent?

Maybe not. I don't know. I've always thought differently than everyone else.

And I've paid for it with a body broken by hands that never thought I had value.

So if this is our last convo bc I've been too disrespectful.

(which is valid. I've said nasty things and made even uglier metaphors.)

But I need to express to you everything I feel at this crossroads.

And I promise with all my heart and soul that I had to build myself...

that I will never speak against your family or the members of the name in a public way with this kind of reckless talk.

Even if I'm not under your banner, or your protective shade, I will respect you as Theo's grandfather.

I just think that's important to state things clearly before anything starts getting tense or emotional.

Again, sorry for the unpleasantness. I've been very angry for a few days now and managing it well... but my period is coming.

When I'm bleeding it's more difficult to channel my rage in a polite way and I wanted to express it before gasoline is poured on the fire. Maybe more than you want to know, but I like my sincerity to be detailed.