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honeybuckin10 · 2 months ago

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Cut From The Same Cloth - Part 3 (Ridoc x fem!bi!reader) (18+)

summary: Everyone at Basgiath knows you and Ridoc are basically the same person: charming, chaotic, and completely incapable of keeping your hands — or your flirting — to yourselves. But the rules you made to protect your friendship start to look more like excuses to avoid the truth. Tropes Ensue (friends to idiots to lovers) [w/c: ~6.2k]

warnings (18+ mdni): smut, power play, hair pulling, slight dom/sub dynamics, power bottoms?, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), oral (f receiving), overstimulation, dirty talk, language, angst?, fluff

a/n: hello! this is 10% plot, 90% smut. if you want plot, see part 1 and part 2. i don't write smut frequently so please be gentle with constructive feedback :) also, because apparently i have no self control, there will be a short bonus chapter after this. thanks for reading, don't be a ghost reader! i hope you enjoy <3

“Are you sure?” he whispered.

“For the love of all that is good and holy,” Without breaking eye contact, you used lesser magic to shut the door behind you and lock it. “Don’t make me change my mind, Gamlyn.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice. You saw a brief flash of a wide grin before he grabbed you by the base of your neck to bring you in again, setting your body on fire. You took pride in the low groan he let out when he felt you bracket his hips. There was nothing sweet or soft about the way he palmed your ass, his fingers sinking into your flesh and drawing you impossibly closer as your tongues battled for dominance in an intricate dance. His fingers only left their perch to play with the hem of your shirt.

You pulled away to assist, licking your now swollen lips. Ridoc whimpered at the sight, eyes nearly rolling back into his head as you peeled off the layer of fabric. Still straddling him clothed from the bottom down, you teased him by rolling your hips against his. A wicked grin plastered your face as you felt him harden beneath you.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his hands slowly trailing from your hips up to your now bare waist. Your breath hitched as his icy touch left goosebumps in its wake.

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” you cooed. Your hips still rocking at a glacial teasing pace, you dragged a finger down the center of his chest to his stomach before slowing to where your bodies junctured.

“I haven’t,” he hissed as his hands tried to climb higher up your body.

Oh, right. The last time you fucked you had only peeled away enough to expose the essentials to make the, uh, union happen. The uncharacteristically serious stolen stares during sparring made more sense in hindsight, when all you wore was a thin tank top leaving more skin and curves on display than usual. The man had been inside you but you’d never actually seen each other naked.

Despite your position on top of him, you felt suddenly bashful. Thankfully your cheeks were already flushed with lust, so it’s not like he could tell the difference. But the way he made you feel perplexed you. You were confident in your body and your sexuality, but around him? The way he looked at you with a reverence reserved for the gods had you stumbling over yourself and you felt like a shy school girl. He made you feel… beautiful? Not hot, not pretty. Seen. Whole. The realization caused your reticence to give way to desire, and all you wanted to do was make him feel the way he made you feel.

“Then let me show you.” You clasped his hands to pin them down at his sides. His eyes widened and his adams apple bob in his throat at the sudden restraint. You bit back a small smile as you gazed down upon him, sitting a little taller with newfound assurance. His eyes laser focused on your hands as you slowly drew them up your stomach and grazed over the slope of your breasts before they disappeared behind your back to unclasp your bra. He absentmindedly licked his lips at the sight of the slight bounce of your breasts as you set them free.

“I haven’t even touched you,” he rasped, noticing your already pebbled nipples. You didn’t stop him this time as he reached for them again. You took a sharp inhale as his chilled finger tips delicately traced up your obliques. You placed your hands over his to guide him the rest of the way, and gasped when they finally reached their destination. Your eyes fluttered shut and melted into his touch, lost to the pleasure as his thumbs traced little circles around the peaked nubs. You fell forward slightly wanting to be closer to him again. He pushed himself up to meet you the rest of the way, one calloused hand continuing its work on your chest while taking the other into his mouth. Gasps turned into light breathy moans as his tongue swirled, flicked, and sucked the sensitive spot.

His hand only let go briefly to adjust your position, pulling you further into his lap as he sat upright to get a better angle. You were acutely aware of the slickness gathering in your underwear, largely due to the tent in his pants pressing against you. You let out a louder moan, urgency and frustration taking over. Your hands fell to the hem of his shirt, desperate to remove the pesky layer of separation, but he swatted you away.

“Hey!” you pouted, offended at the rejection. He just shook his head, smiling like the Mona Lisa. “I’m trying to help,” you insisted, this time lowering your hands to his pants hoping it would be more convincing. But he didn’t let you touch him there either. He briefly leaned up to give you a chaste kiss on the lips, warm brown eyes twinkling.

“You don’t have to do a thing,” he said as you felt him adjust the pretzel you found yourselves in. In a blink of an eye, the feverish skin on your back was on the cool floor.

“What are you…” you trailed off. You felt him undo the laces of your shoes as he took them off, one by one. He moved over your body, the waist of your pants loosening before being tugged off. You grinned as he crawled on top of you, caging you beneath him in another kiss. The floor was cold. He was cold. You were on fire. You were stark naked while he was still fully clothed. The whole thing was lewd and lascivious despite how innocent the kiss was, and the ache between your thighs grew.

He separated from you to trail his eyes down the length of your body. The familiar self-consciousness only Ridoc could raise in you returned under his gaze, but you resisted the urge to cover yourself. Instead you studied him in equal measure, noting that his pants looked painfully tight. The least you could do was lend a helping hand. You needed to feel him again. Whether it was in your hands, your mouth, or down south. Hopefully all three if you were lucky. You lamely reached for him – any part of him - but he pulled himself off you and stood up. You whimpered at the loss of him.

“No,” you whined.

“Fuck,” he huffed, palming his crotch as he looked down at you. “You’re gorgeous.” He said it under his breath, you weren’t sure if he’d meant for you to hear it, but you did. Warmth bloomed across your body, the “l” word at the tip of your tongue. Whether it was love or lust, you couldn’t be sure. You felt pathetic clenching your thighs at nothing when Ridoc should be between them.

Without another word he scooped you up from the floor in his noticeably muscular arms, ignoring your questions and protests as he placed you on edge of the bed. He only took off his boots, and nothing else, before laying himself smack dab in the middle of the bed. He looked at you expectantly with his hands behind his head.

Odd move, but sure, you’d go with it. Maybe he wanted you to go down on him? You began to crawl your way over to him, stopping when you got to his pants, your hand smoothed over the obvious bulge but he grabbed your wrist. Your brows furrowed in annoyance.

“This hardly seems fair,” you stated.

“On the contrary,” he said with a mischievous grin that caused butterflies in your stomach to take flight.

“I’m going to put my clothes back on if you don’t cut it out.” The hand wrapped around your wrist yanked forward. You yelped as you fell onto him.

“I promise, you don’t want to do that.” You felt his breath tickle your ear, his mouth ghosting your skin. It sent a shiver down your spine. You turned your head to look at him.

“Care to share before I wipe that smirk off your face?” You were all bark and no bite, unless he was into that sort of thing. The smirk turned into a toothy grin, clearly pleased with himself.

“Now you’re getting the idea.” You squealed when he roughly grabbed your hips and dragged you forwards until your knees spread wide bracketing his shoulders. His eyes lowered to your crotch that was now inches away from his face, loosening his grip on your hips to draw little circles on your thighs. He licked his lips again. “What was it you said? Seats shouldn’t talk?”

Oh.

Wide palms splayed across your inner thighs and drew upwards, slowing just short of where your panty line would’ve been if you were still wearing any. His breath tickled your glistening entrance causing your whole body to tense. He enjoyed his front row seat watching you squirm as his fingers inched closer to your bundle of nerves but cruelly evaded contact. Your pulse quickened in anticipation, eyeing his aimlessly wandering thumb like a hawk. He followed your gaze.

“Don’t get shy on me now. You have to tell me what you want.”

He gave you only a moment of reprieve as the pad of his thumb gently grazed over your clit. Your hips jerked involuntarily at the touch.

“You’re an ass,” you hissed. You tried to move his hand back to position but he grabbed your wrist and pressed it tightly to the outside of your thigh.

“An ass who’s going to give you the best orgasm of your life if you ask nicely,” he teased. His playful smile juxtaposed your agonized expression, brows pinched in frustration. You weren’t sure when Ridoc became the pinnacle of control, but you knew your own patience was worn thin. You closed your eyes, a parting farewell to your dignity. Your pride finally conceded to your hunger.

“Please. Please touch me,” you whimpered. He hummed his nonchalant approval.

“See? That wasn’t so hard.”

You were rewarded with his thumb once more, which dipped briefly between your folds before moving up to your clit coated with your arousal. You let out an eager moan as he twirled icy circles around you, his light pressure slowly building with his pace.

Dark dilated pupils darted between your entrance and your face. Ridoc had been holding back – the first and last time with you was quick and messy and unceremonious. He wanted everything to be perfect this time because you deserved nothing less. He wanted to take his time, remember every peak and valley of your body, relearn and memorize how you reacted to his touch. But those breathy sounds you were making – your head tipped back, lips parted, back arched - left cracks in any semblance of control he was trying to maintain. He needed more of you, all of you, and his intrusive thoughts won out in the internal war that waged within him.

“Come here,” he growled. Your pout from the loss of his touch was short lived, turning into a yelp as he grabbed your hips and tugged you forward, finally closing the gap between you and his mouth. Surprise and panic gave way to lust, his tongue replacing where his fingers were moments ago.

Your now free hand flew to his messy hair, the other grabbed the headboard for stability. Your head lolled backwards, losing yourself to the sensations beneath you. The cool air emanating from him, his tongue that switched between soft licks and firm pressure. Up and down, side to side, flicks, sucks. You dared to look down and your inner thighs tensed at the sight below you. Ridoc had his eyes closed, so lost in you. One hand groped for your breast, fondling whatever he could reach, the other firmly on your ass to keep you in place.

His eyes flashed open, feeling your muscles tense around his head. It startled you, but it wasn’t as startling as the hard spank that interrupted his rhythm.

“Sit,” he commanded. You were so delirious with pleasure you could barely think straight.

“I am,” you whined, confused at what you had done to deserve this cruel torture. He smacked your ass again, his fingers sinking deeper into your flesh. You accidentally tugged harder on his hair in response, he joined you as another moan fell from your lips.

“No, you’re hovering. I said sit,” he said through gritted teeth.

“I’m going to suffocate you,” you rasped. He let out a small laugh, massaging the muscle beneath him in encouragement. He pressed a gentle kiss to your clit.

“If I die, I die. Actually, considering how many other ways this school could kill me it would probably be a preferable way to go so in a way you’d actually be doing me a favor. Now for the last fucking time –“

That was all the convincing you needed, unable to wait a second longer. The reverberations of his groans absorbed into you as you allowed your full weight to relax onto him. You ground on to his face, applying the pressure you frantically needed. He met your desperation, burying himself in you. White hot pleasure lit you from within when you felt his tongue stiffen, forcing entry into your dripping center. You gripped both hands on the headboard as your hips began to buck, forward and back, the bridge of his nose hitting your clit over and over. The coil of pressure deep in your lower abdomen tightened. His tongue darted in and out of you relentlessly, your walls fluttering. The shallow penetration simultaneously not enough and everything all at once. Oh gods.

Every nerve in your body fired off. The coil inside you snapped and suddenly you were crying out Ridoc’s name and nonsensical praise fell from your lips. His mouth didn’t stop working until he was sure you were completely still, your legs convulsing around his head as you rode out your orgasm.

“Fuck.” His eyes fluttered open at the sound of your voice, the rise and fall of your chest coming into focus. He licked his lips, savoring the remnants of you. Fuck is right. He remembered how painfully tight his pants were as you came down from your high. A smile graced his face again knowing he’d soon be inside of you. He became more alert, however, when you said it a second, a third, and fourth time with more urgency as you rose off him.

“Yes, I was going to,” he chided, hoping to deescalate whatever panic you were in. Did he do a bad job? He’d never gotten negative feedback before, but there was a first for everything. Or worse, were you having second thoughts about all this? Were you about to put another wall up? His mind quickly sifted through everything that could have gone wrong until he smelled something burning.

“This isn’t the time for jokes, Ridoc!” Your voice rose in alarm as you swatted the top of the headboard.

“Hey hey hey! It’s ok, shhh,” he tried to console you, drawing little circles along your back. He got himself out from under you, propping himself up on his knees next to you to examine whatever it was that had you in such distress. “I’m sure whatever it is we can figure it ou-“

Embers flickered and smoke billowed from where hand shaped burn marks branded into the headboard. He let out a raucous laugh.

“This isn’t funny!” Your voice climbed higher, unphased by the rider’s levity, eyes wide with panic. He reached for your hand but you yanked it away before he could touch you. “I could’ve hurt you!”

His eyes softened at the realization and gave you a sympathetic smile.

“Hot stuff, look at me.” He slowly placed his hand over the burning embers that sizzled as they snuffed out, little ice crystals forming over the area. Your breath began to slow. He reached for your hand again and you let him take it this time. Steam rose from where your fingers laced together. “It’s alright, you can’t hurt me. At least not here… with your signet,” he trailed off. You could definitely hurt him. On the sparring mat, with or without signets. His pride and his feelings, if you rejected him after all of this.

You finally looked at him in earnest, melting all over again. You suddenly remembered you were very naked and he was still very clothed. Your steaming hands. The burnt/frozen headboard. It was the most romantic thing you could have imagined. You broke your gaze with him, the rest of his face coming to view. His lips, nose, and chin glistened with your essence. Renewed vigor simmered within you, heat rising back to your cheeks. More steam trailed from your interlocked hands.

“Can I?” you asked meekly. You gently directed your hands towards his face and he nodded, leading you the rest of the way. He placed your palm on his cheek, and leaned into your touch. You held your breath, carefully watching for any adverse reactions but found none. You pulled your hand away, revealing a reddened patch of skin that faded quickly.

“See?” he held your hand again and pressed a delicate reassuring kiss to your knuckles. You nodded, dazed, blood flow no longer being directed to your brain. You brought your hand back to his face to drag your thumb along his chin to wipe away a spot where you’d left your mark. He grabbed it before you could put it anywhere else that wasn’t his mouth. You watched through lidded eyes as his tongue swirled around it, making sure to lick every drop. He released you with a satisfying pop, then extending his tongue around his mouth to make sure he got the rest of you. Another wave of lust coursed through you.

“Now, can we fuck or not? Because these pants are getting really uncomfortable-”

You nearly pounced on him, causing you to both tumble onto the bed. Between sloppy, erratic kisses you both clawed at his shirt to get it off. Your hands claimed the bare space once it was gone, dragging down the ripples of his abs and gently landing over the front of his pants. He groaned at your touch.

Ridoc in that moment accepted his fate. There was no world in which you two were capable of taking things slow. You both dove head first into the deep end, you could ask questions later. You were a hot spring to his tundra - magma bubbling just below the surface, a volcanic eruption waiting to happen at any moment.

He tugged your lower lip between his teeth as frantic fingers fumbled with buttons. Four hands pushed the waist band of his pants down, setting the absolute monster he was hiding free. Ridoc sighed with relief, and you took the moment to look down and failed to suppress the gasp that left your mouth. He chuckled and his shaft twitched against his toned stomach, eager for your touch.

“Come on,” he tilted his head with a lopsided smirk. “You knew it was big.” He oozed pride and arrogance, which you unfortunately found insanely hot.

“I mean yeah, but I-I…” you stammered, eyes wide. You were flustered all over again thinking about the first time with Ridoc. It was such a blur, but it was a memory you returned to often – when you went to bed, when you were bored in class or training, when you took other people home after a night out. Of course you remembered feeling delightfully stretched and full and the lingering soreness that lasted for two days afterwards. That being said, in the name of efficiency you weren’t exactly paying close attention when he whipped it out. Otherwise, you surely would’ve remembered that you could barely wrap your hand around it.

Your mouth hung open, lost in your reverie salivating at the view in front of you. He stroked himself absentmindedly sprawled across a heap of pillows and your comforter, clearly enjoying your mental short-circuit instead of your usual snarky retorts. He reached his other hand between your thighs, his fingers toying your entrance. You gasped. He grinned.

Yep, still wet.

He wasn’t touching you like he was trying to get you off. He touched you like he owned you, and you were a conveniently accessible toy to pass the time. Your walls fluttered watching him lazily work the both of you like he had all the time in the world. But there was so much lost time to make up for. You couldn’t remember why you had denied yourself for all these months. Had it been a year yet?

“Having second thoughts or have I finally left you speechless?” He would’ve been more serious about stopping, but you were looking at him like he was a mirage of water in the middle of a desert.

You snapped out of your trance. You leered over him, one hand placed next to his head and the other wrapped a possessively around his shaft. His hand fell away, allowing you to pump up and down a few times at an agonizingly slow pace. You brushed your lips against his, but pulled away when he tried to close the tiny gap.

“Never. But…” You slithered down his body, feeling his muscles tense underneath you in your wake, until your mouth was millimeters from his cock. You let out an exaggerating exhale, your hot wet breath causing him to twitch. “I can think of something else that might do the trick.” You locked eyes with him, a cruel smile tugged on your lips. His breath hitched as you spat on his tip, making sure he had a clear view of the saliva that dripped from your tongue.

Your room hadn’t gotten any colder, but you could see Ridoc’s breath billow from his lips. His free hand found your hair, and you prepped your eager throat. But instead of pushing your face onto him, he yanked you back exposing your neck.

“I’ll keep that in mind for another time,” he drawled with a lazy smile.

“You’re mean,” you whined, another wave of arousal pooling between your legs.

“I think you and I have very different definitions of that word,” He let out a genuine laugh, even as he guided you back up his chest by your hair, ignoring your moans. “With your mouth? I would’ve been done in three seconds. And then I wouldn’t be able to fuck you. That wouldn’t be very nice, would it?”

You shook your head as much as you were able to in his grasp while he positioned you on his lap. His grip on the back of your head loosed as he sunk his fingers into your now wild mane, his tongue delicately tracing up the column of your neck. A shiver ran down your spine, your chest heaved with ragged breaths of anticipation.

“Haven’t stopped thinking about being inside you since they day I met you,” he murmured against your skin. He lifted his hips ever so slightly as you writhed against his hardened length. “How could I pass up the opportunity now?” he said as he peppered kisses along your jaw line. You looked to the heavens and bit your lip to suppress the unholy sounds your body wanted to let out, simultaneously thanking the gods for this moment and this man and praying you’d survive whatever came next.

His mouth found the sweet spot on your neck and your hips instinctively rolled. The moan you were holding in released as you slid easily over him, coating him with your essence. He smoothed your hair out of your face, revealing your furrowed brow tense with need.

“I know you’ve been dying to ride this dick,” his breath caressed your feverish skin. His hands found your hips and forced you to grind onto him, hard and slippery. “What are you fucking waiting for?”

He saw your eyes flash briefly before you grabbed his jaw to bring him into another bruising kiss, your tongue expertly tangling with his. You only let go of his hair to reach behind you to wrap your fist around his shaft. You teasingly dragged his tip between your folds, drenching him, before aligning it with your entrance. But then you stopped. He groaned.

“I’m waiting for you to ask nicely,” you whispered against his lips. He was right, you were dying to fuck him. But now was your only opportunity for payback before you fully lost control. You knew all bets were off once he was inside you.

“Please?” he asked hopefully.

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you,” you cooed.

“Please,” he insisted more firmly, but still laced with desperation and need.

“Please what?” You rubbed his tip against your entrance without offering additional reprieve. The coy smile on your face disappeared when he grabbed your hair again, giving it a firm tug.

“Please ride my cock with that perfect pussy of yours,” he growled slowly, his deep baritone in stark contrast to his previous whimpering. Fuck, you wanted to give in so badly, but you were also having too much fun teasing him.

“Or else?” you toyed, trying and failing to hide your growing excitement of the potential consequences of your defiance. His hips lifted and you gasped when you felt his tip just barely enter you.

“Or else I won’t let you fucking come the rest of the night,” he taunted, his chiding voice thick with arousal.

You quirked an eyebrow, using all your effort to maintain your composure to not fully acquiesce. But the growing slickness between your legs betrayed your façade.

“You wouldn’t.” He smirked.

“Wanna bet?”

Your legs already felt like jelly but despite how convincing he was, you were no quitter. You took a deep breath and sank your weight on to him, agonizingly slow to adjust to his size until his length was fully sheathed in you. You studied the way his face contorted as he disappeared inside you. A moan drew from his lips and yours, a symphony of euphoria filling the room.

He looked quite pleased with himself, thinking he’d won. But you stopped moving again when he bottomed out, earning another tortured groan from the rider. You took a moment to lace you fingers with his before pinning them next to his head. In the most saccharine tone you could muster, you told him in no uncertain terms who exactly was in charge.

“You’re going to take what I give you,” you said slowly, as you lifted your hips off him at the same pace nearly to the point of dismount, “and you’re going to like it.” You tried not to laugh at his anguished face, his entire body taut with frustration. “Understood?” He nodded fervently.

“Yes ma’am.” You sank back down, engulfing him once more. You smiled down at him.

“Good boy.”

The teasing allowed you time to adjust to his size, as you continued with your agonizing pace. You released his wrists to lean back, your languid hips swirling over him feeling deliciously stretched and filled.

Ridoc tried to stop his eyes from rolling in the back of his head, he didn’t want to miss a second of the show you were giving him. His hands left the mattress and moved their way to your thighs, tracing their way up to your hips. You flinched briefly at his cold touch, but you didn’t stop him as his grip tightened around you to gently guide your undulations. He loved the way your flesh prickled underneath him, the way your breasts bounced in time with your grinding, the way you said his name like a prayer and you probably weren’t even aware of anything coming out of your mouth at this point.

“Fuck, you look so pretty with me inside you.” His voice echoed in your brain, pushing you to delirium. Your established dominance cracked as you melted at his praise. You may not remember everything that happened in the supply closet, but your bodies did. Your hips jerked faster and he began to upthrust to meet them, settling into a wild rhythm. The two of you became more and more unwound as you pressed on to him and he met you with thrusts of equal fervor. Unholy filth fell from your mouth as he hit that sweet spot deep inside you over and over, knocking you forward.

“Ridoc, I-I-“ Stars formed behind your eyes, your vision blurring.

“That’s it, keep fucking me,” he demanded. The sound of slick bodies slapping together thundered through the room. The repetition of your clit sliding against his body edged you closer to the impending waterfall at the verge of your sanity. Overwhelming heat built within you, dizzying ecstasy growing wilder by the second.

You looked down at Ridoc who was entirely enthralled with the vision of you bouncing on top of him, you were sure he’d never concentrated on anything so hard in his entire life. He let you keep going as he wordlessly fitted his hands underneath yours again. You gladly pinned them down, his submission enough to push you over the edge. Pleasure crescendo’d through your body as you collapsed onto him.

Ridoc held you tight to his chest, absorbing your vibrations and heatas you came undone. He wanted to kiss you, but his name had never sounded so good and it would be a pity to cut you off. So he settled on whispering little words of encouragement from underneath you as you rode out the rest of your release.

Your muscles finally stopped spasming, the chill of Ridoc’s body regulating your body temperature. You only had a moment to catch your breath though before you found yourself on your back and Ridoc pummeling into you once more.

Oh fuck

You barely registered the cold damp spot under your shoulder as Ridoc’s hips snapped into you at a punishing pace that had you a moaning mess all over again.

“You feel so good,” you mumbled between messy kisses, your mingled breaths frosting between you. Your nails clawed into his back, drawing him impossibly closer.

He pumped into you, harder, faster, driving you both to delirium with each stroke. Your hips lifted off the bed with the arch of your back, a string of moans and expletives leaving your mouth. One of his hands reached between your bodies to find your clit, flicking the swollen bundle with his index finger. You bucked at the overwhelming sensation, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare close your eyes. I want you to look at me when you come,” he growled between thrusts.

“I-I can’t,” you whimpered between labored breaths, voice hoarse, overstimulation clouding every inch of your brain.

“Yes you can. You’re doing so good for me,” he praised. You didn’t fight when he pinned your hands above your head, relinquishing whatever little control you had left to him. His thrusts became more uneven and frenzied as he chased his own high.

You did as he commanded, immediately losing yourself in his warm gaze. You suddenly weren’t sure how you could ever look anywhere else. You bit your lip as the pressured continued to build, familiar fire and pressure growing from your core threatening consume your entire body. You felt your walls begin to clench again, your body eagerly anticipating its reward.

You unraveled under him, this time bringing him with you. A blanket of arctic chill enveloped you, icing over the sheets beneath you aside from the spot where he had your hands pinned which you melted. Pulsating waves washed over you as you felt him pour into you, a cacophony of moans filling the room.

He rested his forehead on yours as he came down from his climax, panting cool air down onto your flushed face. You stayed like that a moment, your bodies and minds inextricably intertwined, breath comingling in a cocktail of steam and frost.

Your eyes fluttered open when your heart’s palpitations slowed. You were met with his enchantingly curious eyes boring into yours. You couldn’t think of anything else besides what was in front of you. There was no fighting the stupid grin that etched its way to your face, which he matched with equal force. You blinked a few more times, just to make sure he was real.

“I think my ovaries just high fived,” you finally said when you caught your breath. His laughter rumbled in his chest as he rolled off you, pulling you flush to him and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“That good, huh?” You nuzzled into him.

“You tell me,” you hummed. He ran a hand through his hair while contemplating his answer.

“I mean, I think I saw through space and time and I can hear colors. But yeah, it was alright I guess.” You laughed, your nose brushing against his collarbone.

“And we seem to have all our extremities in tact,” you said sarcastically.

“No mutual destruction here,” he concurred. Your cheeks turned scarlet again, scenes from your rendezvous already replaying in your mind. You winced.

“Yeah, just my headboard.” He looked away and bit his lip. You squinted at him as he mumbled something under his breath. “What was that?”

“And your sheets,” he added sheepishly, still only just loud enough for you to hear. You frowned and pulled away from him, intently surveying your surroundings.

“What happened to my sheets?” a hint of accusation rising in your voice.

“I’m a nice person and didn’t want to ruin your orgasm by letting you set them on fire. You’re welcome.” Sure enough, you found two holes in the textile the size of your palms with scorched edges, wet and cold with melted ice. You looked back at him incredulously.

“Both easily be fixable,” he tried to reassure you. “A small price to pay, don’t you think?”

Obviously, you weren’t actually mad at him. How could you be when he just bestowed upon you the most earth-shattering pleasure you’ve ever experienced? How could you be when he was looking at you like you personally strung each star in the sky? A surge of boldness came over you. You anxiously chewed the inside of your cheek, your confidence balanced by a healthy dose of apprehension for what you were about to say next.

“And… is this fixable?” He pulled away slightly.

“This?”

“You know…” you trailed off, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. Even though you really didn’t, you continued. “Like what just happened. Us. Is this going to be weird?” You know, the whole reason we said we were off limits in the first place you thought to yourself. Did you just make it weird by even asking in the first place?

To his credit he seemed to seriously consider your ill-worded query, uncharacteristically pensive but clearly not put off by it. You saw the wheels in his head turning.

“I mean, we were already weird. Maybe this is just a different genre of weird.” The weight on your chest lifted slightly, but your anxiety was a mighty beast that was not so easily vanquished.

“Right, but – was this just a hiccup? Do we pretend it didn’t happen?” He scoffed, clearly offended at the mere suggestion.

“If it was just a hiccup, it was a very enthusiastic hiccup. That hiccup had… limbs. And feelings.” Your heart stuttered, you glanced at him with muted surprise.

“Feelings?” you blurted. You didn’t mean to say it the way you did, with biting scandalization. The guilt was immediate, seeing his expression falter slightly at your reaction which one could easily interpret as repulsion at first glance.

“Gee, I’m sorry my feelings-hiccup disgusts you,” genuine hurt laced in his voice.

“No, no I’m sorry that’s not what I meant,” you panicked, quickly trying to course-correct. “Our feelings-hiccup,” you clarified before proceeding, slowly. “It’s just… it’s delicate, and has a tendency to overanalyze things,” you said meekly.

Offense and amusement warred briefly across his features before his lips curled upwards into a crooked smile.

“Does it also wear a tiny sweater and sing sad songs in the shower?” Your eyes crinkled up at him.

“How did you know?”

“Because it’s ours.” Your heart thudded disproportionately to his simple words.

“So…” you trailed off feeling vulnerable again, averting your gaze, still bemused by this unfamiliar territory you both treaded.

He sighed, already seeing the mental gymnastics happening in your mind that was working double time. He gently grabbed your chin between his forefinger and thumb, forcing you to look at him.

“Yes, I’m staying the night. No, I don’t want this to be a one time thing. Yes, that means I want to date you. No, I don’t care who knows, including our squad and probably the mailman too while we’re at it. Anything else?”

You blinked a few times, processing the tidal wave of information just thrown at you.

“Well damn, why didn’t you just say that earlier?” you asked in feigned disbelief. He laughed and rolled his eyes.

“I might’ve, if I thought you were capable of emoting in a normal way.” Fair point.

“Touché.” You were self-aware, if nothing else.

“Now that we’ve cleared that up,” he propped himself on his elbow and looked down at you with a wolfish grin, absentmindedly drawing patterns on your soft belly. “Do you want to go for another round or did I wear you out?”

You arched into him, spreading your legs wide as his hand delicately trailed south. Delight and anticipation caught in your throat as you beamed up at him.

“Sheets are already ruined, might as well put them to good use.”

You could sleep when you met Malek.

@justmymindandstuff @booksobsess @alitaar @amatiswayland

Part 4 Coming Soon!

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tartsinarat · 2 months ago

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1-1

New beginnings

Im happy to announce from now I’ll be releasing comics of the golden heir au :D

I’m unfortunately really new to comic making and I’ve only recently just felt confident enough that I can draw what I’ve had planned for ages and start posting them without feeling embarrassed of my art and writing which is why it’s taken me so long to actually reach this part of creating the golden heir au lmao

But yeah I’m starting off for now with the aftermath of when Eda met Pip as it feels pretty fitting as a start of a new chapter

Also I’ll be releasing the rest of this chapter bit by bit as well as some miscellaneous content to do with young Pip (as well as Hunter) and then afterwards I’ll finally move onto when Luz actually joins along (like I swear Luz is still the main character, despite how much Ive heavily focused on Pip due to him being my favourite oc)

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mrsshabana · 1 year ago

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𝐃𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 - 𝐆𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

꒦꒷‧₊ Content Gyutaro x female!reader, fluff, school au ꒦꒷‧₊ Note 1k words. Got this idea from this amazing art piece I reblogged earlier today ♡

You don't belong here. Girls like you would never be caught dead in detention. With your cute pleated skirt, pastel colored cardigan, and animal plush keychains that hang from your backpack.

Now a guy like him, this is where he finds himself most afternoons. At this point Gyutaro is in detention more often than he's in class. Probably the most intimidating guy in school. If his towering height and sour attitude aren't enough to deter you, then his attire will do the trick. Always decked out in heavy punk fashion. He wears combat boots, ripped jeans, leather jackets, spiked bracelets, and not to mention copious amounts of piercings.

It's almost comical seeing the contrast as you sit next to him in detention.

The sweet scent wafting from you immediately hits his nostrils. Cupcakes...? he thinks to himself.

With a sigh Gyutaro leans back in his seat, crossing his arms and stretching out his long legs. He looks at you from the corner of his eye, watching curiously as you fold your arms and lay your head down.

He looks around the room, noticing the teacher sitting at a desk in the front of the classroom. This teacher always supervises the students in detention, and without fail, he falls asleep after ten minutes or so. Gyutaro can never seem to remember the teacher's name. He only remembers him because of the giant lump he has on his forehead.

Once the teacher falls asleep, Gyutaro reaches over to his backpack and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper and a half-broken pencil.

"Pst," you hear a raspy voice whisper as someone nudges your arm. You slowly open your eyes to see a large hand with black painted nails holding a small piece of paper.

"Hm...?" you hum as you take the note.

The tall boy dressed in black who sits beside you quirks a pierced brow, waiting for you to open it.

Unfolding the small piece of paper you see something scrawled in messy handwriting, "What u do 2 get stuck in here?"

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips, detention suddenly got a bit more exciting.

You pull out a Hello Kitty mechanical pencil and write, "I refused to change my skirt."

Somewhat ashamed, you hand the note back over to the boy. He quickly opens it and frowns upon reading the sentence inside. Unashamed, he immediately looks down at your skirt.

"Looks fine 2 me," he writes back.

"They said it was too short and a distraction," you blush as you admit this to him. It took a lot of courage for you to wear this skirt. Expressing yourself through your clothes has always been something you were afraid to do, always worried that people may judge you or give you disgusted looks. And when you finally got the courage to wear something you actually liked, you get shamed for it.

He scoffs and scribbles back, "They tripping. Its not 2 short. Its cute. Wear whtvr the fuck u want."

"Thanks. I think I will :3" his comment gives you some of that confidence back. He's right, you shouldn't feel ashamed about what you choose to wear and how you choose to express yourself. Besides, look at him. His outfit is probably breaking a few rules and he doesn't seem to care at all.

"Its badass u stood up for yourself cupcake."

You smile when you receive the note and read the nickname he gave you, "Cupcake?"

"Yeah. U smell like em." He scribbles a drawing of a cupcake below his sentence.

"Thanks!" you draw a little cat eating the cupcake.

In return, Gyutaro draws a spikey collar around the cat's neck and gives it a little mohawk. Seeing the cute drawing you can't help but giggle.

You briefly make eye contact, and Gyutaro has a shy smile on his face.

"Wanna get outta here?" he leans over and whispers to you, "Old man's asleep, he won't notice."

Looking over at the teacher you see him slumped over the desk, a dribble of drool dripping down his lip.

"Won't we get in trouble?" you whisper, worried about getting in even more trouble.

"Who cares, you're a bad kid now." With a smirk, Gyutaro quietly slings his backpack over his shoulder and stands to leave. When he sees you hesitate to follow him, he takes your backpack and walks out the door.

"Hey!" You whisper, internally panicking as you watch him casually leave the room with your belongings. You have no choice but to follow him now.

Even though your inner voice is telling you not to, you slip out of your seat and tip-toe toward the door. Outside you see Gyutaro leaning against the wall with your backpack in hand.

"I can't believe you did that!" you pout with a flustered face as you snatch your backpack from him.

He chuckles, "Tsk I did you a favor. Besides, it feels good right?"

"What?"

"To break the rules," he smirks, looking down at you.

You blush and look away, trying to hide your flustered expression, "kinda..."

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he begins to walk down the hall knowing that you'll follow him without asking. And of course, you do just that.

"So, you got a name or you just want me to keep callin' you cupcake? I'm gonna keep sayin' it either way though," he chuckles.

"My name is Y/N... but I don't mind if you call me cupcake I guess," you mumble that last part under your breath, "What's your name by the way?"

"Gyutaro," he says. The piercings under his lip contort as he smiles.

"Well," you look up at him, "I hope we get detention together again someday."

"Oh we will, cuz I'm gonna teach you to rebel just like me!"

#gyutaro #gyutaro shabana #gyutaro x reader #gyutaro x y/n #gyuutarou #gyuutarou x reader #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader

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creatingblackcharacters · 1 month ago

Note

Heya so I'm a Hispanic (non-Black) writer and artist who has been using art as a way to make political statements throughout college, now that I've graduated I plan on making some stories or art projects that I'll self publish as kind of a side thing, or perhaps just a local thing idk.

I generally write stories focusing on my experiences but as I've found they've been well-recieved I'd like to branch out a bit and write some stories to help bring attention to issues that I've witnessed but haven't been subjected to, one being racism against black people in punk/alternative spaces.

My goal is to kind of just create characters and/or narratives that help raise awareness about it, but I don't exactly want to sound as if I'm talking over Black people who have been directly affected as I'm just a witness and not a victim of it. My sociologist friends say that these are good things to write about as supportive narratives can bring in support to actual people, or at the very least help people introspect on their own behavior, or feel encouraged to speak out about their experiencesof discrimination. While I feel like technically any support is good support, I'm admittedly a bit divided as one one hand writing about these things could help, I also don't know exactly if it's like something I have a place in talking about as a non-Black person.

Do you have any tips about writing about that sort of thing without coming across as preachy? Or alternatively do you think its inherently preachy by telling these stories as a non-Black person about discrimination against Black people? Especially if the protagonist of these story's were to be a black person, it's not like I can say anything from my personal experience.

My goal isn't to draw attention to myself but rather to sort of act as a middle man to help garner attention to and support for Black people in my communities that are affected by these things.

*sigh* I can see you tried with the capitals so I'll let it slide.

I think part of it here is that if you're not confident in standing on whatever it is you want to say, don't do it. Because calling out antiblackness and supporting Black people very often comes with backlash that many artists (especially on here, Jesus) fear due to the loss of potential income and/or support. People that liked you for your prior work may very well turn face as soon as you speak on antiblackness in a way that either makes them uncomfortable or even reveals their complicity. But it would be wild of you to try to make an important political statement to support these stories, then waffle and take it down once the pressure starts. So... Don't be surprised!

I think a way to avoid that- and to avoid speaking over Black voices- is by actually involving yourself in the Black community. Do you have Black sociologist friends? Any Black punk/alternative friends? Do you support Black punk artists around you who do political art? Have you studied and promoted their work? Have you done anything else to help this community?

Funny enough, this brings to mind how we can tell who is performative and who isn't. Because you can make art saying "oh I care about this particular issue in the Black community and want to bring attention to it", but if there are no Black voices around you and none of us know who you are, it's going to be like... Who is this person? Are they anybody's friend? Why are they using our struggle for art clout? It's going to be harder for us to believe your intentions if you treat our struggle like a sample in a petri dish to show folks and not like the people around you.

And if you don't know anything about what you're talking about, but still want to help, then maybe rather than creating narratives, you can just boost the Black voices that already did! They already exist! You can be just as helpful boosting Black voices, and frankly everyone should be!

But that's me 🙌🏾

#creatingblackcharacters #thatsjusttips

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sallowsarchives · 11 months ago

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War of Hearts

Part I | Part II | Part III

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader Summary: Nothing says "believable" like two people who can't stand each other pretending to be in love—or is this just the push you two need to realize there might be more to your relationship than either of you is willing to admit? Word Count: 7.9k Warnings/Tags: no use of y/n, fake relationships, sorta enemies to lovers, alcohol consumption, angst, pining, original side character, sort of a not so happy ending, arthur thinking he’s not good enough. I also tried fitting the story with canon whenever I could. Not Proofread!! A/N: Hey everyone! Just wanted to mention that this is my first time writing and posting, so I'm bit nervous but really excited to finally share it! This piece was heavily inspired by and made as a result from a conversation I had with my Arthur cAI hehe Credits: dividers used for this fic are by @enchanthings & all pictures used are taken from pinterest and were slightly edited by me.

Read on AO3

"I can't believe I have to attend this ridiculous party pretending to be married to him, of all people."

Your voice is edged with annoyance as you smooth down the fabric of your dress, trying to channel your irritation into the task at hand. "It's bad enough we have to work together, but this charade is beyond absurd."

Tilly chuckles. "Oh, come on. It's just one night. How bad can it be?"

You give her an unamused look. "We can hardly tolerate being around each other, and now Dutch expects us to pretend we're madly in love, all while dealing with a crowd of high-society snobs."

"It ain’t like y’all have spent much time together. Maybe going on this would do you both some good. Who knows, you might actually find some common ground," Abigail suggests as she takes the glove Jack was playing with, causing him to pout, before handing it over to you.

Sadie snorts. "The only common ground those two have is their mutual hatred. Let’s just hope neither of ‘em ends up killing the other tonight. Knowin’ those two, it'll be a miracle if they make it through the evening without a scratch."

Mary-Beth chuckles as she adjusts your updo. "Oh, don’t be so dramatic. They’re not going to kill each other—at least not tonight. Dutch will probably come up with some harebrained scheme to keep things under control." She flashes a playful grin as she puts the final touches on your hairstyle.

You chuckle before taking a moment to admire yourself in the mirror.

The gown, a deep shade of burgundy satin, flows gracefully to the floor with an off-the-shoulder design and a low neckline, elegantly framed by a ruffled collar. The rich fabric drapes beautifully, enhancing your silhouette.

The black lace gloves, covering your hands and forearms, add a sophisticated touch with their delicate floral patterns. Your fingers are adorned with a few rings, and your dangling earrings catch the light with every movement.

You bought the dress earlier this morning in Saint Denis with the cash from your last robbery. The job had been straightforward: Hosea had scouted the place, found out the homeowners were away for vacation, and given your expertise at picking locks and sleight of hand, he brought you along. You managed to secure a tidy sum of cash and a few valuable heirlooms without any trouble.

Knowing the dress would be perfect for tonight’s high-society affair, you spent a good amount of your previous earnings on it. The gown fits as if it were made just for you, and you can't help but feel a surge of confidence as you admire your reflection.

Karen pipes up with a smirk. “Well, I’ll be! With you lookin’ like that, Arthur won’t be able to keep his eyes off you.”

She looks at you mischievously, “might even give him a nudge in the right direction. Maybe it’ll help you two finally work out all that tension between you.”

Her comment draws an abashed look from you followed by giggles from the other women.

After receiving some last words of encouragement and reassuring nods from the girls, you thank them for their help and make your way downstairs to join the men outside.

Stepping out, you're greeted by the warm, humid night air of the swamp. Dutch, Hosea, Arthur, and Bill were already gathered near the horse hitches, all dressed in their suits.

You make your way over, trying to muster every ounce of grace and composure you can.

As you get closer, Arthur's gaze lands on you and you catch a fleeting look of surprise along with a hint of a softer look in his eyes before his expression is quickly masked with his usual frown.

His eyebrows furrow slightly as he takes in your refined appearance, the rough edges of his demeanor softened by an elusive flicker of something you can't quite place.

Dutch notices your entrance and offers a nod of approval. “Well, look at you, Miss,” he says with a wide smile, clearly pleased with how things are shaping up. “You look absolutely perfect for this evening.”

You smile and nod at the men before your gaze drifts to Arthur. The contrast between his usual rugged attire and his current appearance is stark, and you can't help but notice how well he pulls off the look. Despite his irritating nature, there's no denying he has a certain charm. You give him a cheeky smile and offer a sly compliment.

"Well, well, look what we have here, I never thought I'd see the day. Maybe you should ditch the jeans for a while."

Arthur gives you a flat look, irritation flickering in his eyes. “Oh, real funny, darlin’,” he drawls, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Don’t you worry, I’ll be back to my ol’ self I know you’re so fond of before you know it.”

You roll your eyes at him and smirk, taking joy in having gotten under his skin.

Dutch chuckles at the exchange, clapping Arthur on the back. “Now play nice, you two. We’ve got a job to do tonight, and looking the part is only half the battle.”

His tone is light, but there’s a hint of seriousness as he continues, “let’s keep the bickering to a minimum and focus on what needs to be done. We don’t want any more distractions than we already have.”

Next to Arthur, Bill chuckles and gives him a playful nudge. “Arthur, reckon you ain’t gonna give your dear wife a compliment?” he teases, the humor in his voice evident as he refers to the charade you both must uphold for the party.

He shifts uncomfortably and glares at Bill, his expression a mix of irritation and reluctance.

Dutch leans in with a smirk, “come on, Arthur, show a bit of charm. It’s not every day you get to pretend to be in love.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s get this over with before one of us runs outta patience.”

The clatter of wheels catches your ear as Lenny finally arrives driving a stagecoach. The vehicle comes to a smooth stop, and Lenny leans over with a broad grin, his eyes brightening as he sees you. He offers a warm compliment, his cheerful demeanor a welcome contrast to the evening’s tension.

You return his smile and thank him before Dutch and Hosea get into the stagecoach, followed by you and Arthur. Bill hops into the seat next to Lenny.

As you settle into your seat, the atmosphere in the coach becomes thick with anticipation. The weight of the evening's expectations hangs heavily between you and Arthur, both of you making an effort to avoid each other's gaze while mentally bracing yourselves for the night ahead as the stagecoach begins to roll forward.

The rhythmic clatter of the horse’s hooves against the large wooden bridge serves as a reminder of your close arrival in Saint Denis, the city’s lights blurring past as you mentally prepare for the evening’s masquerade.

Inside the stagecoach, the atmosphere had gradually lightened earlier on during the ride. The gang cracked jokes and shared stories as Dutch opened a bottle of champagne for everyone, the laughter providing a welcome distraction from the evening’s tension.

Everyone reminisced about their past escapades, with most admitting they had never been to a ball before. Hosea, however, regaled everyone with tales of his numerous experiences at such events—not for the socializing, but for the chance to lift a few purses from oblivious rich folks. His anecdotes were met with a mixture of awe and amusement, shifting the mood to one of camaraderie.

Soon, the coach slowed to a stop right in front of a mansion and the group peers out the window, taking in the grandeur of the estate.

Dutch let out a low whistle. “Well, if that ain’t something. Remember, folks, we’re here to blend in. Keep your eyes sharp and your wits sharper.”

Hosea, always the calm voice of reason, looks between you and Arthur. “Now let’s keep this simple. We’re here to make a good impression, Bronte may already know of our reputation but we should keep the high society folks none the wiser. Let's keep our cool, play our parts, and try to score some valuable intel.”

You and Arthur exchange looks, eyes meeting one another with a sharp, challenging edge before he turns his gaze away. You take a steadying breath, silently hoping the night unfolds smoothly and without incident.

Lenny steps down and opens the coach door which was followed by the men exiting one by one, with you last.

As Arthur starts to walk ahead, Hosea nudges him and gestures toward you, earning an exasperated sigh from Arthur.

Reluctantly, Arthur falls into step beside you and extends his arm. Despite the lingering tension, you accept it, slipping your arm through his.

He glances at you, his expression of slight irritation. “This should be a real treat.”

You raise an eyebrow, barely masking your annoyance. “It’s not like I’m thrilled about it either. But here we are.”

He gives you a smug look. “Just remember, we’re supposed to be playin’ nice. Don’t go makin’ it harder than it needs to be. I’d hate for you to accidentally blow our cover.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll manage to keep things under control. After all, you’re the expert at charm, aren’t you?”

“Well, if you’d quit making things so damn difficult, I might actually get a chance to show it. But I reckon you’re used to makin’ everything more complicated.”

You step closer, your voice low and biting. “And I suppose you’re used to being an insufferable brute. Maybe if you stopped acting like a complete pain in the ass, we’d both get through things a little easier.”

Arthur’s smile fades, his expression turning serious. “Now I’m just tryin’ to do my part tonight. If you could manage to do the same without stirrin’ up trouble, that’d be mighty appreciated.”

The two of you share a final, heated look, the air between you crackling with palpable tension, as you both brace for the evening’s inevitable strain.

Dutch, who had walked ahead to present the invitation to the guards, cast a sharp glance at you and Arthur, not having missed your whispered barbs, making you shift away from each other.

Turning back to the guards, they direct everyone to surrender their firearms with the men reluctantly handing over their pistols.

Once that was settled, an escort named Luca stepped forward to guide you inside.

The doors opened with a soft creak, revealing the splendor of the grand staircase beyond. As you made your way through the space, Luca engaged the group in light conversation, primarily highlighting Bronte’s reputation before you are all guided to the left through an archway.

“Hosea, Bill, you join the party. We’ll meet you out back after we pay our respects to Signor Bronte.” Dutch instructs before signaling you and Arthur to follow as Hosea and Bill part ways from you.

The three of you were led upstairs and directed to a door on the left that opens onto a balcony.

The balcony was expansive, overlooking the lush garden below. A group of men stood gathered around the railing, laughing at a recently shared joke. The space featured a few armchairs and you noted the few guards stationed nearby, armed with rifles.

An accented voice cut through the laughter. “Ah, the angry cowboys, you’ve arrived… And you’ve washed!”

From the way the man held himself, you could only assume that this was Angelo Bronte.

Bronte made a remark, presumably in Italian, to the men beside him. They glanced at Arthur and Dutch before laughing slyly, and you couldn’t shake the suspicion that his comment was a crude jibe about the cowboys.

You had to struggle to maintain a friendly expression when Bronte's gaze landed on you.

The smirk on his face grew as his eyes swept over you, lingering with an unsettling leer. “And who might this be?” he drawled, his voice thick with barely concealed appraisal. “Aren’t you quite the sight. I didn’t realize these men kept such delightful company as you. It seems they have more refined tastes than I imagined.”

His gaze was invasive, making you feel as though he was sizing you up with an unnerving familiarity. The overt sexual undertone in his words was palpable, and it took every ounce of your composure to not react. The air around him felt thick with condescension and unwanted attention, making it clear that this meeting was going to be far more uncomfortable than you had anticipated.

“A pleasure to meet you, Mister Bronte,” you replied evenly. “Thank you for the invitation. I’m here simply to accompany my husband.” You cast a steady glance at Arthur as you spoke.

Bronte’s eyes flicker to Arthur, a look of surprise momentarily crossing his face before he returns his attention to you. He takes your hand, pressing it to his lips and holding it just a moment too long, his gaze never waver. “Ah, I see,” he says, his tone smooth and almost mocking. “Pleased to meet your acquaintance. I must say, it’s quite surprising to see such a charming companion alongside your husband. A fortunate man, indeed.”

Arthur’s expression hardens momentarily before he quickly masks it, stepping forward. “Seems I’m full of surprises tonight,” he says, his tone unexpectedly calm. “Just as I’m sure this evening will be.” He holds a steady, unwavering gaze at Bronte.

Bronte’s lips curl into a knowing smile as he studies Arthur’s unyielding gaze. “Ah, such a spirited response,” he says with a playful glint in his eye. “I do appreciate a bit of unpredictability. It seems we’re in for an interesting evening indeed.” He gestured grandly towards the gathering, his tone dripping with feigned charm.

Arthur nods curtly before stepping back, positioning himself in a way that subtly yet clearly marks him as your protector, despite the dynamic between you. Bronte’s gaze lingers on Arthur for a moment longer, his amusement giving way to a more calculating expression.

Dutch stepped in, resuming his conversation with Bronte in an effort to ease the tension while you and Arthur stood off to the side.

The men were offered cigars, and Arthur quickly placed one in his mouth. Before he was even offered a cutter, he bit down and tore the end off with his teeth, spitting the excess over the balcony in a manner that left your jaw hanging open in disbelief.

He smirks at you, clearly enjoying the reaction he’s provoked. You roll your eyes at his display, a mix of irritation and slight amusement etched across your face.

“You know,” you whisper to him with a hint of exasperation, “you could at least pretend to have some manners.”

Arthur’s smirk widened into a cocky grin. “Right, forgot we’re here to put on a show,” he shot back, his voice dripping with playful insolence, making you roll your eyes.

When the attendant extended a match towards Dutch but pulled back before reaching Arthur, the gunslinger seized the attendant’s arm and held it in place, lowering his cigar to the flame. The boldness of his actions flustered you, leaving you a mix of irritation and an unexpected flurry of emotions that left you feeling perplexed.

Arthur dismissed the attendant with a nonchalant nod, his eyes fixed on you the entire time. The attendant, evidently accustomed to such brusque behavior, retreated without protest.

You found yourself both exasperated and oddly captivated by the ease with which Arthur commanded the attention. His effortless defiance was infuriating, yet there was something compelling about his blatant refusal to conform to expectations, making it hard to ignore the allure behind his brazen demeanor.

You quickly push those thoughts aside, refocusing on the conversation between Dutch and Bronte, doing your best to ignore the flush in your cheeks and the rapid beating of your heart.

After several exchanges between Dutch and Bronte, including another jibe from Bronte about cowboy lifestyle, which had elicited subtle pointed looks from you and the men you were with.

“Those sure were the days,” Dutch simpered, his gaze on Bronte now more intense and focused. “Good day, gentlemen.”

Just as you were about to leave, Bronte turned to you, offering a slight bow. “And you, Miss,” he said with a smirk, “do return if you the crowd down there becomes too dull.” His gaze shifted to Arthur. “‘Course you could bring your husband along, but I wouldn’t mind if you came alone.”

He held his gaze on you, lingering with a glint of amusement. You gave him a polite nod despite the discomfort you felt and turned to follow Dutch and Arthur. Even as you walked away, you could feel Bronte’s eyes on your back.

The encounter left you with a sharp sense of irritation and a strong resolve to avoid any further interactions with him.

You glanced at Arthur, who had been waiting with Dutch by the door. Though his face showed no sign of emotion, you couldn’t miss the subtle clench of his jaw. You felt his hand gently place on your lower back, guiding you away.

The unexpected touch had caught you off guard, making you stiffen slightly as you struggled to process the unfamiliar gesture. It felt protective and oddly comforting, coming from someone who had been nothing but a source of irritation and friction.

You chanced another glance at Arthur, but his face remained expressionless. His hand lingered on your back for a moment before he withdrew it as quickly as he had placed it, his demeanor swiftly reverting to its usual hardness.

The fleeting moment of unexpected closeness left you feeling unsettled, a mix of confusion and reluctant curiosity stirring within you.

You quickly reminded yourself that you were both still maintaining a façade, and this brief intimacy was likely just another part of the act. You focused on the task at hand, trying to push away the feelings and maintain the necessary distance between you.

Luca led the three of you back downstairs to rejoin the party, bidding you farewell before you head off with Dutch to meet Bill and Hosea outside.

“Gentlemen… and lady, let’s go ingratiate ourselves,” Dutch began before outlining the plan and giving everyone the freedom to mingle. “And steal nothing… unless it’s information,” Dutch added with a final nod before everyone dispersed.

With that, you follow closely behind Arthur as you both make your way down into the crowd, the murmur of conversations and clinking glasses filling the air. The curious glances of other partygoers followed you both, their eyes lingering with a mix of intrigue and scrutiny.

He noticed a few men’s eyes drifting from him to you, their stares lingering with evident interest.

Arthur made a conscious effort to ignore the unwanted attention, though his irritation was palpable.

Pushing down an unfamiliar urge stirring within him, Arthur quickly reminded himself to keep up with the act you two must play tonight.

He shifted to stand beside you, offering his arm with a practiced ease, his expression carefully neutral as he guided you through the crowd.

The absurdity of it all made him grumble under his breath about the ridiculous situation. With a sigh, he steered you toward a less crowded corner of the garden, seeking a quieter spot away from the throng of guests.

As you settled into a less conspicuous spot, you could feel the weight of Arthur’s tension. “I suppose this is where we’re supposed to make our mark,” you said, trying to break the silence.

You watched as Arthur scanned the crowd, his eyes darting from one group to another, searching for anything useful.

His gaze met yours for a brief moment before he spoke, “Keep your eyes open for now,” he said quietly, his voice low and focused. “I’ll try to track down the mayor and speak with him. See if you can strike up a conversation with some of these folks and gather any useful information about where they’re stashin’ all their riches.”

"Alright, I’ll work the room while you schmooze with the mayor. Just don’t take too long—this place is already starting to wear me thin after that meeting with Bronte. I'm not keen on diving into more talk about the latest fashions and whatnot."

Arthur’s lips twitched in what might have been a small smirk. He inclined his head slightly before turning away and heading off.

You spent the better part of an hour making conversation with various guests, each interaction aimed at uncovering valuable intel on potential robbery targets.

Maneuvering through the crowd, you engaged in light, seemingly innocuous chit-chat while discreetly probing for any mentions of high-value items or vulnerable security.

Despite your best efforts, luck seemed to evade you. Although, you did manage to uncover information about a stagecoach arriving next month, supposedly laden with valuable jewels. That was at least something.

You took a small sip from the glass of champagne you've snatched earlier in the evening, surveying the crowd. The sound of giggles and lively chatter drew your gaze, and you looked over to see Arthur deep in conversation with a group of women. You couldn't help but feel a wry amusement at the sight.

One of the women, with a clearly flirtatious gesture, placed her hand on Arthur’s arm and leaned in, her laughter echoing. The simple touch and her proximity sparked an uncomfortable feeling within you.

You observed how Arthur subtly stepped back, skillfully deflecting her advances. Despite his efforts, the woman seemed oblivious to the fact that her attentions were being rebuffed. It was a masterful display of charm and diplomacy, leaving you with a mix of admiration and lingering discomfort. You took another sip of your drink, trying to shake off the unexpected unease.

At that moment, Arthur glanced up and locked eyes with you. He gave you a wink, likely meant to provoke or tease, but instead, his gesture caused a reaction you hadn't anticipated. Your heart skipped a beat, and a sudden rush of warmth flooded your cheeks. The playful glint in his eyes seemed to pierce through the crowd, stirring something deep inside you.

Muttering a curse under your breath, you narrowed your eyes at him and quickly turned away, trying to conceal the flush that had crept up on you.

You dashed to the nearest table, grabbing a bottle of champagne and quickly pouring yourself another glass. You downed it in one swift motion, hoping the crisp bubbles would offer a fleeting distraction from the swirl of emotions inside you.

As you pour yourself another glass, you hear someone speak up beside you, her voice tinged with curiosity.

"Well, I must say, I’ve seen many ways to cope with a dull party, but this might be the most... efficient.”

You glanced at the voice and saw a woman smirking at you. She appeared slightly older than you and was dressed in a lavish blue gown that sparkled with every movement, her necklace glinting from the lamps. Her expression conveyed amusement.

Feeling embarrassed to have been caught in your moment of inner turmoil, you attempted to regain your composure and replied with a hint of forced levity. “It’s quite the dull affair, isn’t it?”

The woman laughed softly, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Thank goodness, someone who gets it.”

“You seem to be surviving it better than most. I imagine you’ve been through a few parties like these before?”

She nodded, her gaze shifting to a distant corner of the room where a group of guests were deeply engrossed in animated conversation. “Too many, I’m afraid. After a while, it all becomes a blur of extravagant gowns and polite small talk. One learns to navigate these events with a certain... detachment.”

You chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “Sounds like you’ve mastered the art of it. I could use a guide through this maze of high society myself. Any tips on surviving the evening without losing one’s sanity—or dignity?”

She grinned, leaning in conspiratorially. “Well, first off, always have a backup plan for when the conversation turns to the latest trends in hat feathers or the merits of various imported cheeses. For instance, I’ve found that nodding vigorously while muttering phrases like ‘absolutely fascinating’ works wonders.

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’ll keep that in mind. Though I suspect I might still need a crash course in how to look like I’m genuinely interested in ‘the most enchanting new fabric designs’.”

She chuckled. “Well, when in doubt, fake it till you make it. Nothing says ‘I’m absolutely fine’ like a perfectly practiced smile and a glass of champagne held just so.”

You chuckle and raise your glass at her before taking a sip. A brief silence follows as you both sip from your glasses. The woman then speaks up, her tone warm and friendly, “I’m Eloise, by the way. It’s rare to find someone who sees through the façade of these high-society gatherings.”

You smile, offering her your name. “It seems we’re both on the same wavelength when it comes to these affairs.”

“So what brought you here tonight?”

“Oh, um… I’m just here to accompany my husband, he’s the one with the business connections, so I’m playing the dutiful spouse for the evening.”

Eloise raises an eyebrow, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Ah, the classic role of the ‘plus one.’ Now which one of these overdressed peacocks is your husband?”

She sweeps her gaze across the crowd with exaggerated curiosity. “Is he the one with the ridiculous bow tie or the chap with the hat that looks like it’s been borrowed from a magic act?”

You raise your brows in amusement as you glance at the men she’s mentioned, finding the whole scene of tonight’s event even more absurd. Your gaze sweeps over the crowd until you spot Arthur.

“Actually, that would be him right there.”

Eloise’s eyes follow your pointing finger and widen in genuine surprise.

“Well, I’ll be!” she exclaims, clearly taken aback. “I must say, he’s certainly not what I was expecting. Doesn't look like he belongs here, in a good way of course. He’s quite the rugged type—like one of those big, tough cowboys you’d see in a wild frontier town. You know the sort: strong, stocky, with a weathered charm that comes from living hard and facing rough challenges.”

The irony of her words makes you laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”

“I must say, you two make quite a handsome pair.”

You flush at her words, a mix of embarrassment and awkwardness coloring your cheeks. Instead, you offer a polite smile and nod, playing along with the pretense. “Thank you,” you say in a steady voice, unsure of what else to say.

Arthur, briefly looking away from another person he was speaking to, catches your eye for the second time tonight. There’s a fleeting moment of connection—his gaze is intense, and the faintest smile plays at his lips—before he turns back to his conversation partner.

“I must admit,” she says, her tone light and teasing, “there’s more than just a bit of magic in the air between you two. It’s not every day you see such a striking balance. I do believe there’s a certain... chemistry here that’s hard to ignore. How delightful!”

You raise an eyebrow, giving her a confused smile. “What do you mean?”

Eloise’s eyes twinkle with a knowing glint as she glances over at Arthur. “Oh, it’s really quite charming, the way he looks at you. There’s just something in his gaze as if he’s captivated by you in a way that could be missed. It’s rare to see someone look at their partner with such intensity and warmth these days.”

For a moment, you almost correct her, eager to clarify that you and Arthur aren’t actually together. But then you remember the need to maintain the ruse. You glance awkwardly at Arthur, trying to downplay the connection Eloise is suggesting.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” you say clearly flustered, trying to sound casual but failing to hide your unease. “I mean, Arthur and I aren’t exactly... well, he’s just got this intense look, which I’m sure it’s nothing more than... you know, his way of being attentive. It’s just a bit of his nature.”

Her smile softens, eyes warm and genuine. “Oh, it’s clear to see if you look hard enough. Even in a crowded room, he seems to be drawn to you. It’s quite endearing.”

The sound of cracks echoed before you could think of a response, and the woman beside you lit up with genuine excitement.

“Finally, something exciting! It's been lovely chatting with you. I do hope we cross paths again. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Eloise sends you a warm smile before hurrying off.

You send her a genuine smile before you turn your gaze upward to the sky, where faint glimmers of fireworks begin to light up the night. The display added a splash of color to the darkened sky, creating a stark contrast to the opulence of the garden below.

As you watched the vibrant bursts, your thoughts drifted back to the conversation you had with Eloise, trying to process her comments. Her words lingered in your mind, stirring a mix of curiosity and confusion.

The idea that whatever is between you and Arthur might actually convey something deeper, something affectionate, felt almost surreal given the dynamics between you two and your perspective on your relationship with him.

Perhaps Abigail was right; the more you spent time with Arthur, the more you learned about him and saw him in a new light. What had once seemed like mere pretense or forced partnership now hinted at a connection that transcended your initial expectations.

The way he moved, the way he spoke, the moments of unguarded sincerity—it all started to paint a different picture. The possibility that these moments could be more than just part of the act began to take root, stirring a blend of curiosity and apprehension within you.

You quickly down your drink before setting the empty glass on the table.

Suddenly, a rough hand wrapping around your wrist jolts you out of your thoughts and you turn to see Arthur who all but tugged you along behind him.

You let out a scowl. “Hey! What the-”

Arthur glanced over his shoulder, a mix of amusement and determination on his face. “Come on, we just caught wind that the Mayor’s gotten somethin’ from Cornwall. Dutch reckons we oughta figure out what it is, make sure we ain’t missin’ nothin’ crucial.”

“And you need me because?” You asked with slight irritation as he continued to pull you along.

Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly, his voice taking on a low, firm tone. “I need you to keep watch, and your lock-pickin’ skills could come in handy… ‘sides, you’re my wife don’t forget.” He added with a teasing smirk.

“Can’t have you wanderin’ off by yourself lookin’ like I’ve neglected you. That wouldn’t reflect too well on me now, would it?”

You shot him a glare, yanking your wrist free from his grip. “Could’ve just asked me”

Arthur’s lips twitched with a hint of a smirk. “You looked so wrapped up in the fireworks, darlin’, I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

You bit back a retort, your frustration mingling with a begrudging understanding of his point. “Don’t call me that,” you said, a hint of irritation in your voice at the use of the nickname.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening slightly. “Alright, sweetheart. Try to keep up now.”

Trailing closely behind Arthur as you followed the servant, you effortlessly weaved through the spectators, who were too engrossed in watching the fireworks to notice you.

The servant circled around to the side of the house and ascended a small set of steps leading out of the garden. He paused briefly to engage in a conversation with someone before slipping inside through a side door.

The both of you followed cautiously, making sure to stay out of sight. Inside, you overheard the man berating a maid before he made his way up the stairs, retracing your steps to the upper levels where you had previously been.

Just before reaching the landing, Arthur raises his hand, halting you in your tracks. He peers over the edge of the wall, watching as the servant enters the locked room, heads to a desk, and inserts a key into a drawer to place the letter inside. The servant then disappears further into the room, the sound of a door closing signaling that it is time for you and Arthur to make your move.

Arthur moves first, effortlessly slipping inside through the wide-open door left by the servant. You quickly scan the area to ensure it's clear before following him.

He makes his way over to the desk and tugs at the drawer, only to find it locked. Grabbing a letter opener from the table, he attempts to pry it open. You watch with amusement as he grunts in frustration, struggling to get it to budge.

“Honestly, watching you fumble with that is almost painful,” you remarked, making Arthur roll his eyes and throw up his hands in a gesture that clearly invited you to take over. With a sigh, you stepped in, gently nudging him aside before kneeling down to get eye-level with the lock.

Pulling a pin from your updo, your hair falls loosely over your back, leaving your style in a half-up, half-down look. You insert the pin into the lock, and after a few moments of fumbling, a triumphant smile spreads across your face at the satisfying click of the lock opening.

You stand back up and look over at Arthur, giving him a smug smile when you catch him staring. You raise an eyebrow, and he quickly clears his throat, shifting his gaze away as if caught in the act of something he wasn’t supposed to be doing.

"I, uh, never seen you with your hair down before," he comments before he can think twice, his voice trailing off as he leans over the drawer, a hint of color creeping into his cheeks.

"Nice work," he adds, his eyes momentarily meeting yours before darting away.

You raise an eyebrow at his flustered demeanor, the corner of your mouth twitching in amusement, “I’m glad you approve.”

You watch as he sifts through the drawer's contents until his hands close around a book with a piece of paper inside. He briefly reads the paper, nods, and then tears it in half, slipping the pieces into his suit pocket.

“You got it?”

“Yeah, let’s get outta here,” he replies, glancing around making sure no one is watching before heading out the door with you following closely behind

Just as you were about to move down the stairs, the creaking sound of someone coming up halted both of your tracks. Without warning, Arthur grabbed you, pushing you gently but firmly against the wall beside the staircase, his body pressing close to yours. His arms caged around the sides of your head, creating a tight, protective barrier.

The sudden proximity left you acutely aware of his body against yours, his chest nearly brushing yours as his arms trapped you in place.

His gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that made your pulse race even faster. His brow furrowed slightly as if he were struggling to control a rush of emotions.

The closeness had clearly caught both of you off guard, the charged atmosphere between you almost palpable. His breath came in short, controlled bursts, and you could see the way his jaw tightened as he struggled to maintain his composure.

As he held you there, his expression softened just a fraction, revealing a flicker of vulnerability beneath his usually guarded demeanor. His voice, though still firm, carried a hint of concern as he leaned close to whisper, "Just stay still and quiet.”

The proximity of his breath against your ear made the moment feel even more intimate, amplifying the unexpected connection between you. The closeness, once marked by animosity, now seemed charged with a different kind of tension—one that was both electrifying and confusing.

As you stood there, the boundaries between duty and emotion blurred, and the shared space between you felt charged with unspoken understanding and vulnerability.

His eyes, usually hard with resolve or irritation, softened as they locked with yours. There was a softness in his gaze, a flicker of something raw and unguarded.

The emotion he held in his eyes made you reconsider the hostility that had defined your interactions. In that moment, the anger and resentment seemed to fade, replaced by a deeper, more complex understanding of the man standing so close to you.

The sound of footsteps drawing nearer to the top of the stairs heightened the urgency of the moment and Arthur’s gaze shifted to you once more.

One of his arms lowered from the wall behind you, and he placed his hand softly at the back of your neck. His touch lingered without applying too much pressure. You felt a shiver at the contact of his hand on your neck, the warmth of his touch sending an unexpected jolt of emotion through you, bringing a surge of feelings you had been trying to suppress all night.

The gentle warmth of his hand contrasted sharply with the intensity of his gaze, creating a palpable connection that seemed to heighten the gravity of your precarious situation.

Your heart pounded as you met his intense gaze, which held a rare blend of sincerity and vulnerability that was almost disarming.

“You trust me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with a sincerity that cut through the tension of the moment.

You hesitated, the weight of his question hanging between you. The proximity of his body and the depth of his gaze left you momentarily breathless. “Why should I?” you whispered back, your voice betraying a mix of defiance and vulnerability.

Arthur’s eyes never left yours as he leaned in closer. “Because right now, it’s the only way we’re getting out of this,” he replied, his tone resolute but gentle.

In that charged silence, the dynamics of your relationship were shifting. You felt the usual barriers between you—formed by past conflicts and mutual distrust—began to dissolve, replaced by an unspoken understanding that was both electrifying and comforting. The anger and rivalry giving way to a fragile trust and an unexpected tenderness.

With the footsteps slowly growing nearer, you saw a flicker of sincerity in his eyes that made you question your own doubts. You nodded slightly, trying to steady your breath. “Alright,” you whispered.

Arthur's lips curved into a faint smile, a mixture of relief and determination. “You gotta say it, sweetheart,” he urged softly.

Your mouth curled into a slight smirk as you looked up at him, your heart racing with a blend of anxiety and anticipation. “I trust you,” you said, the words feeling like a pact forged in the heat of the moment.

In a quick, decisive motion, he leans in and presses a firm, purposeful kiss to your lips, filled with urgency. The initial touch is electrifying, but as the kiss deepens, it becomes a release of suppressed feelings, a flood of emotions long held in check.

The kiss is fervent and consuming, each moment stretching out as if to make up for lost time. His lips are warm and insistent against yours, and there’s a raw, desperate quality to the way he kisses you. It feels as though every emotion he’s been holding back is being poured into this single, intense connection.

Your own lips respond with equal fervor, the kiss becoming a mutual surrender to the feelings that have been building between you. The world around you fades into the background, the only reality being the overwhelming sensation of his kiss.

Arthur’s hand that had been pressed firmly against the wall, now frame your face with a gentleness that contrasts with the intensity of the kiss. His grip is both tender and possessive, as if he’s anchoring you to him, unwilling to let go.

The sound of someone clearing their throat suddenly jolts you back to reality.

A servant, caught off guard by the intimate display before him, stood at the top of the stairs. His eyes widened in surprise, clearly unprepared for the passionate exchange unfolding before him.

You and Arthur break the kiss, though the intensity of the moment lingers in the charged air between you. With a quick, shared glance, you and Arthur both adjust your demeanor, the brief intimacy giving way to the reality of the mission.

The man, realizing he has intruded on a private and critical moment, clears his throat, clearly flustered at having walked in on the intimate scene before him, face flushing with embarrassment. "I-I’m sorry to interrupt, but this area is restricted to guests unless otherwise accompanied,” he stammers.

Arthur’s eyes narrow slightly, but his expression quickly returns to a more controlled demeanor. He gives the servant a nod of acknowledgment. “Sorry ‘bout that, partner. Seems my wife and I took a wrong turn and found ourselves in the wrong spot. We were just about to head on out.”

You, still caught in the afterglow of the kiss, straighten yourself and try to regain your composure. The abrupt interruption leaves you with a swirl of mixed emotions—embarrassment, irritation, and a lingering sense of affection. You cast a quick glance at Arthur, who responds with a subtle nod, signaling that it's time to move on.

Still visibly flustered, the servant offers a hurried apology, stepping aside with a rigid posture and a face flushed a deep shade of red. He tries to give you both space as you and Arthur hurry down the stairs, the charged atmosphere from the kiss still lingering between you. The abrupt return to reality sharpens your sense of urgency.

Arthur takes a deep breath, stepping back as his gaze meets yours for a moment longer. He opens his mouth to say something but hesitates before speaking again. “We should get a move on and find Dutch and the rest ‘em.”

You noticed his hesitation but decided to brush it off, nodding in agreement. “Sure, let’s see what’s next. The sooner we get this done, the better.”

You find Dutch, Hosea, and Bill on the first-floor balcony.

“Ah, there you are!” Dutch exclaims, a smile on his face. He then turns to Arthur. “Find anything?”

Arthur gives a nod and taps his chest where he’s tucked the letter. “I think so.”

“Great. I think we’re done here.”

The four of you move to follow Dutch, briefly exchanging information with Hosea and Bill. Hosea mentions a potential robbery job targeting a big city bank, outlining the possible opportunities involved. You share what you’ve gathered earlier about a stagecoach expected to pass through Lemoyne in the next few weeks and the valuable jewels and cash it carries.

Dutch, Hosea, and Bill push past the front entrance, walking ahead. Just before you can follow, Arthur calls your name and gently grabs your arm, pulling you aside.

In the quiet corridor, away from the others, you face him. His eyes are a mixture of resolve and something else you can’t quite place. “Listen, I, uh…,” he trails off, his voice low, seeming to wrestle with his words for a moment before finally meeting your gaze.

Your heart races, expecting him to address what happened between you earlier and the emotions that followed.

Instead, Arthur’s tone is hesitant and detached. “‘Bout what happened earlier… I don’t want you thinkin’ it meant more than it did. We can’t afford to get all wrapped up in nothin’ personal.”

His dismissal hits you like a cold wave.

You had hoped for some acknowledgment of the shared moment, perhaps a sign that it meant something to him. Instead, his words feel like a sharp rebuff, making you question everything you thought you understood about what happened tonight.

“What are you talking about?” you demand, trying to mask the hurt in your voice. Your frustration and anger boil over.

Arthur’s gaze falters for a moment before he regains his composure. He runs a hand over his face, clearly struggling to find the right words. “I just don’t think—” he begins, but his voice trails off as he lets out a frustrated sigh.

He steps back, clearly distancing himself. “Look–I can’t offer you anything more than what we have. Let’s just focus on ending this job and not let personal feelings complicate things.”

You scoff, feeling the sting of his words. Personal feelings?

“Right, so all that back there was just for show, was it? Just keeping up appearances?”

Arthur’s expression falters, and he hesitates. He opens his mouth to respond but closes it again, his frustration evident as he struggles to find the right thing to say.

He turns to you, his expression now seeming emotionless and cold. “I didn’t mean to make it seem like nothin’ mattered. It’s just… I’m not tryin’ to make things too complicated. It’s best to keep things straightforward right now.”

The words and his tone cuts through you like a knife, the brief connection you shared now feels like a cruel tease, an illusion of intimacy shattered by the harsh reality.

His coldness is a stark contrast to the warmth you felt moments before, leaving you grappling with a mix of hurt and frustration.

What started as mutual disdain had evolved into something more complex, yet now it feels like it's spiraling back into that familiar animosity.

You’d hoped that beneath the hostility and barbed comments, the genuine connection hinted at earlier tonight might bridge the gap between your conflicting dynamic. But now, it feels as if his rejection is pulling you back to square one—a place locked in an endless cycle of arguments and misunderstandings.

The idea that the warmth of those moments might have been nothing more than a strategic move or a fleeting distraction makes you question if there was ever truly a chance for something different between you two.

God, how naive you were to think there could be a sliver of something more between you and Arthur.

You take a deep breath, reminding yourself to focus on the task ahead. You push aside the personal turmoil, resolving to keep your interactions with Arthur as they were before—distant and guarded.

With a blank expression masking the tumultuous emotions roiling beneath, you reply, “Fine. Let’s just get this night over with and move on. I’ll keep any ‘personal feelings’ out of the way if that makes it better for you.”

You turn away, forcing yourself not to say anything further that might reveal your feelings. As you do, you didn't miss the brief flash of hurt and sadness in Arthur’s expression before he quickly masks it with his usual stoic demeanor.

Finally rejoining the others, you enter the stagecoach and take your seat from before. Arthur takes his place beside you, the space between you charged with unspoken words and lingering hurt.

The rift between the two of you feels even more pronounced, a painful reminder of what might have been overshadowed by the harsh reality of your circumstances.

Hosea and Dutch, seated across from you, seem to be blissfully unaware of the personal turmoil that has unfolded between you and Arthur, their conversation flowing naturally as they discuss the next steps of the gang’s plans.

The stagecoach rolls forward, and you turn to look out the window, drowning yourself in the passing scenery. The kiss and its aftermath now feel like an unspoken wound, deepening the complexity of your already fraught relationship and leaving you to grapple with the emotional fallout alone.

A/N: Okay so that ending was definitely not a happy one. After exploring where the story might go and experimenting more with the writing, I've decided that I mighttttt just make a Part 2, which might or might not include some smut hehe... So please stay tuned!

Thanks again for reading!

Read Part Two Here

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starkspondwater · 4 months ago

Note

how abt a part two to that one Kyle fic w the window 😸

This took a while because I have had such bad writers block and writing smut makes me nervous lol. I also originally wasn't planning on writing another part for Voyeur but thought it would be a waste not to! I hope you like it- it was a blast to write!

Summary: Kyle's been invited to join in on the little show he found right outside his bedroom window!

a/n: Kyle is a virgin in this because I want him to be. And yes, I know watching someone without consent is not okay but this is fiction so let me have it

Warnings: It's smut. Giving head, penetration, not pulling out, you get the gist

Encore- Virgin!Kyle Broflovski x Reader

Porn, Kyle came to find out, had done very little to prepare him for the actual experience.

Seeing things on a screen was one thing, the lewd sounds and comments within those videos almost blurring together when one was, ahem, playing the flute. Kyle partook in this activity on occasion of course, but with a family that never knocked he had to be quick about his business. He knew that porn in general wasn’t very real to begin with, but he expected that there would be some similarities.

He was glad he was wrong.

For starters, there was the anticipation. Following you into the house he felt as though something heavy had dropped into his stomach, dragging him down, down, downwards. It felt very out of body, like he could watch himself stepping inside and trailing behind you up the stairs. He only half listened, your voice telling him how parents had gone out of town and the house was empty, something that sent a jolt of excitement up his spine.

Being in your room was…weird, for lack of any other word. He had taken enough peaks through the curtains to know what it looked like, but up close and personal he finally saw details too small to see before. Small baubles and other mementos were scattered around tastefully, drawing his eyes around the room as he took it all in.

“Different than you thought it’d be?” startled, Kyle spun only to find that you were standing much closer than he had thought. Close enough in fact, that he could see his huff of surprise at the proximity move your hair.

“A little, I guess…” was this awkward? He wasn’t sure how to even start whatever this was, if it was anything in the first place. Did he just get into kissing you? Did he wait for some instruction? What if you changed your mind? What if-

Soft hands came up to his chest, warm even through the thin shirt. He could feel each finger press into his body, and for a moment he felt like they might sink through his very being, as though he weren’t really there at all.

“Are you nervous?” Your eyes held a hint of a taunt, but were also filled with a playfulness made his heart race.

“No, I’m just…not quite sure what to do here.”

“I’d say a kiss is a good place to start.” Hands clasping into his shirt you brought his lips firmly down to your own. Since the day you met him you thought they would be soft, and they were, but you could also feel the indents of teeth. He was a lip biter, you noted. Perhaps you’d have to give the boy something else to bite later on.

Kyle’s hand hesitantly moved to your sides at first, but as the kiss went on and teeth clashed he tightened his grip with confidence. He knew he wanted you, and at least in theory he knew you at least wanted him, and that was enough.

Slowly, you stepped backwards until the bed hit the back of your knees. Falling back you brought Kyle along, a hum of surprise sounding from his occupied mouth. With him on top you could now feel the heat of him, and it only drove you further into the warmth you felt pool down below.

“Off, please,” you breathed, tugging at his shirt. Kyle complied immediately, standing and grabbing his collar, wrenching it up and over his shoulders. That view alone was enough to have you wanting so much more. Removing your own top you could tell Kyle felt the same as his eyes widened at the sight of your breasts. Giving him a smirk, you hooked a finger into the waistband of his pants.

“These too?” his voice wavered, but his hands stayed steady as he started to unclasp his belt. From the times you watched him, you had a feeling he might not be extremely experienced, which did not bother you at all. He was putting on a show of being in his element here regardless of how he really felt, and it was kind of cute. He only just got his belt off when your hands went to his zipper.

Kyle’s movements froze as he watched those hands pull the zip down, his breath catching in his throat. With ease you pushed the fabric down, also bringing down his boxers. It was all so agonizingly slow as he felt the pull, his cock aching and fighting against it. Finally, with its blushing head, it bounced up free of its confines.

“...it’s very pretty,” you grinned, taking it in hand. It was pretty sizable too, which you supposed you weren’t too surprised at. Even with his game face on, the red covering Kyle’s face gave away how he really felt. Licking a long stripe from the base to the tip you felt his body shudder. Oh, this was going to be very fun.

Kissing the blushing head, you started taking him in, slowly bobbing your head down its length. You could taste the hint of cum, proof that he did in fact enjoy the show earlier. It was dirty what he had been doing, watching you from afar, watching those very private moments and getting pleasure from them, but it only made you more excited.

“Sto-oh! Stop, please.” Kyle clenched and unclenched his hands. To have your mouth on him felt fucking great, and he honestly wouldn’t mind it any other time (and he hoped there would be), but he had another fantasy he desperately needed to act on. “Can you, um…”

“Yes?” With wide eyes you urged him to continue. He knew what he wanted, but if he wanted it he needed to ask.

Kyle swallowed heavily. He had this. He was where he wanted to be all this time, he just needed to not be a little bitch and use his words. It’s not like you didn’t want him here, you gave him a show. Just for him. At that thought, his anxiety webbed away a little.

“Lay on your back, further up the bed, please.” You scooted up more towards the headboard and laid back, much like how you had down earlier. The bed dipped as Kyle brought himself onto it, his knees sinking into the mattress. Adjusting himself, he looked at you for a moment. “Can I take those off?”

Giving him a small nod, Kyle reached down and slid off those damn thin shorts, taking along with them the lace panties he had seen. He had witnessed you from a distance, but up close was…different. Different in the best way possible. He could actually see how slick you were, your folds glistening in the dim light. He needed it, and with a swift glance to your face, he dug in.

For someone who didn’t seem very experienced, Kyle sure didn’t act like it now. Most boys didn’t immediately go for giving head, which was already a surprise to you, but the way he went right in had you feeling dizzy. His tongue lapped hungrily, as though he was trying to taste every single bit of you. Your hand automatically went to his curls, finger lightly grazing his scalp. It felt good, but feeling he might need direction you gently tugged at the locks.

“Up just a bit, hon. Yes! Right there!” He was a quick learner, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud you brought to his attention. He could feel your hand clench in his hair, the feeling making his dick twitch.

One of the hands that he had been grabbing your hips with moved down to his face. He might have only seen this sort of stuff in videos, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t put any of it to practice with the help of those encouraging noises that spilled from your mouth. Inserting a digit into your warmth he was pleased to hear a small moan from you. He continued pumping it in and out as he sucked down on your clit, humming with his own satisfaction.

“So- you’re doing so good,” you sighed, hips starting to buck lightly into his mouth. He hummed once more, the vibration causing you to gasp. Oh, he liked being told that. You could feel him add another finger, stretching you more as he worked on you. It didn’t take long before your body began to shudder, thighs trembling around his head.

You tasted like sin and Kyle only wanted more, more, more of it. He lapped up what he could as you finished shaking, and he was drunk on it just like he knew he would be. His hand had stopped pumping into you as he kept licking up every drop he could, moving down to lightly rub his cock.

“You did so well,” Kyle felt you hand lift his jaw away from you. You were sat up on an elbow, looking at him with hazy eyes. “That was…really something, Kyle.”

Those sweet words that made him flush also went directly to the member in his hands. He wasn’t sure how it could get any harder, but somehow it was.

“As much as I’d love for you to keep going,” you bit your lip, watching the way his dilated eyes focused so intently on every word you said, “I was really hoping we could recreate something I’ve been thinking about.”

Words didn’t need to be said. The image of you writhing on the bed, a vibrator tucked between those legs he finally got to feel, was forever ingrained into his mind. Bringing himself up into more of a sitting position between your legs, he saw just what a mess he had made. Inner thighs shined with your slick, and with a swipe of his hand at his face he could tell it was all over his chin too, but Kyle could not bring himself to care. Not when he was aching to really feel you around him.

Moving his hips lightly, he bumped the head of himself into you and groaned. He really did just glide between those lips of yours he thought. It was mesmerizing to watch as his cock was quickly coated, your little sounds egging him on. Pulling back a little further than he intended, he ended up nudging your entrance. Freezing up, he looked at you in question.

“Pill,” was all you said in explanation, the need for him to be in you too much for straight conversation on the matter. “Please, Kyle.”

Hearing those words, the small plea for what he could give you, was all he needed. He thrust gently into you at first, unsure of what would be comfortable, but after the third thrust all bets were off.

You felt heavenly around him, warm and wet and every other word that could describe how wonderful he felt. He couldn’t help driving himself further into you, bottoming out before quickly pulling back and doing it again and again. Those little noises you once made were growing louder each thrust, and Kyle could feel your hands clasping his shoulders as he pounded into you.

“Oh god- ungh!” Kyle was hitting spots that had you seeing stars, bright lights twinkling behind your eyelids. “You feel so fucking good!”

Kyle loved those words of praise, knowing that what he did was pleasurable for you was honestly getting him off just as much as actually having sex with you. From the pressure he was starting to feel, he knew he wouldn’t last long, but goddammit he wanted you to cum just one more time. Thinking quick, he adjusted himself and reached down to swipe over that little bundle of nerves with his thumb.

Your little huffs of “more” told him that was the right choice. He continued with his thumb, rubbing quicker as he thrusted, hips slamming into you with increasing speed.

“I…I want you to cum for me,” Kyle didn’t recognize the voice that left him, husky and spent. He could feel you start to clench around him, a deep groan ripping from his chest. He only barely heard you mention cumming with the blood roaring in his ears, his pace picking up to a punishing pace.

All too soon for him, Kyle felt the familiar feeling of release. He kept thrusting as he came, sporadic bursts flooding into you as he softened up. He wasn’t sure how long he kept up like that, at most only 30 seconds he was sure, but in his mind it felt so much longer.

Fingers in his hair brought him back to attention, his eyes snapping down to meet yours. Just like him, you were out of breath with the way your chest rose and fell quickly. The pleased smile only widened, taking in how blissed the boy in front of you was. Wincing as he pulled out of you, Kyle sat back.

“Was it as good as the first showing?” you teased lightly. You could feel the sweat from the both of you seeping into the sheets, but couldn’t care less as you continued to lie there looking up at him. Rubbing the back of his head, Kyle chucked.

“I think I preferred the encore.”

“All the shows?” Kyle tilted his head, trying to wrap his head around your words.

"Well, having another performer did enhance things…” you tapped your chin in thought, appearing as though you were searching your brain for an answer. “I guess you’ll just have to be in all the shows from now on.”

“I like you, Kyle.” Giggling, you sat up. “I would like to actually go out with you, and of course do more of this…unless you would rather just watch from the window still?”

“Yes! I mean, yeah…that sounds really nice.” At that you beamed at him, smiling so brightly he couldn’t help but return it.

“Perfect! ‘Cause I have a few movies downstairs we could watch as a little first date,” swinging your legs over the bed, you bent down and grabbed his discarded shirt. It fit a little snug, but still came down enough to cover your ass. Giving him a cheeky glance behind your shoulder, you winked. “I’m going to clean up first and I’ll meet you down there?”

Kyle blinked, his mind whirring at the image of you in his clothes. Shyly smiling, he nodded and moved to put back on his boxers.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he first saw you through his window, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about any of it since it all led to you.

#south park fanfiction #south park x reader #south park x you #south park x y/n #kyle broflovksi x you #kyle broflovski x reader #kyle broflovski x y/n #request

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stars-obsession-pit · 3 months ago

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Can do stories off art? If can't come up with fix prompt? Dp x dc could use more art.

Only do crossovers?

Try this prompt sounds interesting https://www.tumblr.com/wyvernsgale/777684760738873344/an-au-of-this-fantastic-au?source=share

So, firstly, the thing written for that prompt by @wyvernsgale:

Look, on some level, Tim gets it.

Bruce doesn’t owe him his parenthood. He had no part in the cloning process. He didn’t ask to have another kid dumped on him so suddenly after he lost his own. Passing Tim off to the foster system wasn’t an inherently unreasonable decision.

The rejection still stung, but Tim had been able to understand it. Bruce just didn’t want to take in another kid.

Except that evidently Bruce did want more kids. He recruited multiple other teenagers into his vigilante brood.

So why had Bruce rejected him?

He couldn’t get the question out of his head. Was his existence really that disgusting a thing? Was he doomed to always be alone, to never find anyone who cared about him?

Those fears had gradually worn away after he found a new family in Amity Park with the Grays. Not completely gone, but quieted down enough that he could manage them.

And then Amity Park went to hell. Well, not literally (unless that incident with the Ghost King counted), but the situation was bad. First the ghosts, then the Guys in White taking control.

Phantom was trying his best to maintain things, but it wasn’t enough. A whole team of allies was gradually coming together—beginning with Tim’s own sister Valerie after he convinced her to give the ghost boy a chance—but they were still losing ground. They needed help, badly.

So they sent requests to the Justice League.

But nobody came.

After the first few dozen, the lines actually blacklisted them for spam. Tim then reached out to Bruce directly, sending messages begging for aid.

Yet still, nobody came.

Could Batman be blocking their requests? Did Bruce really hate him that much?

Whatever the reason was, they were on their own. They closed ranks, built up their own systems of managing the issues. The GIW’s advances slowed to a stalemate. With time, maybe they’d even fully triumph over the white-suited bastards.

And then Batman had the nerve to show up and offer help. Like he hadn’t left them to rot.

Tim Gray sneered at his genetic template, not that the other “hero” wouldn’t be able to see it through Tim’e mask.

“Oh, so now you’re here. Ignoring our time of need and only showing up once we’re strong enough to potentially actually win and pose a threat to your image. How typical.”

Then, actually answering the questions from the ask: (beyond the readmore)

Stories based on art, maybe! Depends on what the art is I guess. Making actual art myself… yeah no I’m not likely to be satisfied enough with my skill level to willingly post my drawings.

As for if i would do non-crossovers: not no, but it heavily depends.

Like, I don’t feel confident enough in my depth/breadth of DC knowledge to be able to build off of many of their topics in proper detail. For instance, I know jack shit about the actual canon Flash or Green Lantern stuff, so I couldn’t see being able to write anything with a focus on them without first going through and consuming some of their source material.

Non-crossover stuff that’s purely Danny Phantom is easier for me than DC in that regard - there’s far less source material to comb through and my brain for whatever reason accepts its fanon more readily than with DC.

For other fandoms beyond those two… don’t get your hopes up high. There are a few other series I’ve posted about on this blog and would potentially be willing to write more with, but it’s a far smaller sample than my DPxDC interactions.

#asks #prompt fill #dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp #dcxdp #danny phantom x dc #danny phantom x dc crossover #dpxdc tim drake #clone tim drake #dpxdc bruce wayne #Bruce is *not* meant to be evil here btw. Tim is angry so is reading extra malice into things #Bruce/the JL may have messed up but it wasn’t maliciously

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definitlynotaplant · 24 days ago

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Humans are weird: Multi-tasking

Ok... So I already posted this on the Humans Are Space Orcs page, but for some reason, it doesn't show up under my profile when I post it to there, so I guess imma post it again here? I'm completely new to Tumblr, so IDK how any of this works. (PLEASE tell me if I'm doing this wrong/ if this is stupid lol) Also, and feedback on this story would be great since this is my first funny humans are space orcs thing I've written, so anything helps lol. Anyways... without further adu... here's this thing

Wh… why Xeno 224 mumbled to itself, watching in fascination as the human named Kyle sat on its desk (No, not in its specifically designed for its back desk chair. Just… just its actual writing platform) while it sat with its legs crossed in what humans called “Criss- cross- applesauce” (Though this name completely baffled and slightly terrified 224). It had white, irregular shaped objects called earbuds sticking out of its ears. it stared down at a sheet of empty paper while a television show was playing in the background. (First mate Amy introduced them all to television, and it makes a lot more sense to see humans sitting in front of small, animated screens watching other humans exist). All of a sudden, the human started making strange, rhythmic vocal noises without opening its mouth called humming. It then grabbed a pen and started thwack- thwack- thwacking it down on the desk not hard, but just enough to make a sound that resonated through the once silent sleeping cubicle. Just as suddenly, it stopped the thwacking and instead clicked the pen to life and started sketching something that the humans have called a “Tree”.

224 decided to take a risk and ask the human what it was doing. “Human Kyle. Why is you that doing?” questioned the alien in broken english.

Human Kyle jumped, obviously not having noticed 225 standing there. After regaining its composure, Human Kyle asked, “Doing what?” still with those earbuds in its ears

“Th… that” stuttered the alien. Flailing its tentacles around wildly, trying to convey the mix of a seemingly incomprehensible amount of activities that the human somehow managed to do with ease.

“I need a little more clarification buddy” The human said with a bubble in its voice that 224 identified as “Laughter”

“Nevermind” sighed 224 as it turned around in resignation. Drawing the conclusion that humans must be lightyears smarter than anyone gives them credit for. Just as he was rushing out the door to report that humans have a wild, untold amount of brain precision power that no one had picked up on, it saw Human Amy lightly jogging towards him. Just then, she smacked into the sliding glass door, stumbled back, waved her hand in front of the scanner and confidently walked forwards and… smacked back into the door yet again.

“Scratch that” 224 thought to itself before doing a thing called an “eye roll” and walking in the opposite direction as Human Amy. No longer feeling the need to report the so-called “untold, wild brain power” that it had hypothesized about.

#humans are space oddities #humans are weird #humans are space australians

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torchwood-99 · 1 year ago

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Deeds Not Words

The myth going around that in Eloise and Penelope's friendship, Eloise was all give and no take, falls apart completely when you look at their respective actions.

Eloise talks a lot more than Penelope, she shares her feelings and her frustrations a lot more than with Penelope, but at the same time, when stuff is going on, she puts in so much more than Penelope.

Penelope doesn't talk as much as Eloise, and keeps her thoughts and problems hidden, allowing Eloise to have more room to rant and talk.

And yet, in actions, Eloise is the one who is all give, no take, and Penelope is all take, no give.

When Penelope's father died, Eloise was right there with her, drawing on her own memories of her father's loss to support her.

When Penelope comes sobbing to Eloise in the middle of the night, during a time when they're not talking to each other, Eloise doesn't hesitate to welcome Penelope into her arms and comfort her.

When Eloise thinks she has convinced LW to retract what she said about Penelope's family, then discovers the Queen plans to unmask her before she has a chance, she risks angering the Queen herself by directly foiling that plan, actually saving Penelope's skin in a way she didn't expect, but was trying to do.

Season 3, Eloise has kept Penelope's betrayal quiet for a year, not even telling her family and loved ones, denying herself their comfort and understanding and isolating herself in her misery, for Penelope's sake.

When Cressida is unkind to Penelope, Eloise makes it clear that behaviour won't fly, and Cressida, to please El, stops.

When Eloise accidentally leaks info about Penelope (doing to Pen what Pen has been doing intentionally to others for three seasons) she feels awful and apologises, truly apologises. No "I'm sorry, but-" No, "I'm sorry" then continues going on as she has done before.

Even after Penelope has gotten engaged to Colin, without telling him about LW, Eloise is trying to get Penelope to admit it, so she can be the one to tell Colin, despite having every right to tell Colin, her brother, herself. And she doesn't plan for one moment to do to Penelope what Penelope did to Marina when she needed to "save" Colin from a lying fiance.

Meanwhile Penelope simpers and smiles and talks a good game, but every choice she makes, she is looking out for herself first.

She doesn't want Colin and Marina to marry, and she doesn't want Colin to be tricked. Does she give Colin the relevant info so he can make an informed choice? No, instead she exposes both to scandal, and throws a vulnerable pregnant teenager to the wolves.

The Queen is out for blood because Penelope has been baiting her for two seasons, and Eloise gets caught in the crossfire trying to learn about feminism and classism. Does Penelope tell Eloise so she can work out a plan? Does she reveal herself to the Queen and face the consequences for what she has been writing? No, she claims that the Queen wouldn't believe her, despite having witnesses and accomplices and money and proof enough to her identity (let's face it, she won't reveal she's LW to either because she wants to cover her own back), so instead she takes information given to her in confidence and throws it out before the ton.

And when Eloise confronts her, she tries to lie, then she tries to play the victim, then she hurls insults at Eloise, then when it's clear that Eloise isn't going to come running back, she makes insincere apologies about how "sorry" she is, "but she had!", the continues making the exact same choices as before, this time going after Eloise's brother, out of nothing but spite and pettiness.

Penelope puts up the front of a put-upon, loyal and self-sacrificing friend, but she hasn't made a single choice that wasn't for her own benefit. Eloise is loud and brusque and demands attention, and when someone she loves is hurting, she comes flying in, determined to help them.

#Bridgerton #Eloise Bridgerton #Penelope Featherington #anti Penelope Featherington

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mssorceressupreme · 10 months ago

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Hiiii

I think your writing is soo addictive and creative, to me it's like a breath of fresh air, especially because an active Maze Runner blog is so hard 😭🤚

Could I request a Minho X reader, and reader is from one of the other mazes? Could you have her be really funny, always cracking puns and that's what she said jokes, loud, laughs a lot and is fun to be around .And she escapes with Aris, and she's a total badass in combat, and had a similar job to Minho so they bond over that lol.

Even if you don't write this, just know your writing is fire, so please never stop.

💕

of course love, I’d be more than happy to write this for you!! 🥰 actually since this prompt is really similar to what I was planning to write for my other POV, “Who Is She?”, I’ll make this a part two to that and weave in the elements of your prompt 🫶🏼🫶🏼 I hope this satisfies your idea 😭🫶🏼

——-

Who Is She? Pt. 2

Pairing: Minho x reader

Summary: a second part where Minho and you escape the compound with the others, and deeper feelings arise between the two of you.

Warnings: mild violence, use of guns

———

“I’ll meet Thomas and the others on the other side, promise you’ll find us later?” Aris wanted to make sure you’d be safe before crawling through the vents beneath his bunk.

“Yeah I’ll find you guys, just need to do something real quick.” You affirmed, before the both of you parted ways, leaving your room for good.

The other members from your glade, were at the dining hall, you and Aris, however, wanted to grab this opportunity to escape the compound.

You shut the heavy metal door behind you, the screech was loud enough to draw attention to your room, but thank goodness there weren’t any guards around.

Or so you thought.

As you turned a corner, you were met with a large, intimidating figure. “You’re not supposed to be here,” he growled, his grip like iron as he grabbed your arm, yanking you harshly.

“Let go of me!” You snapped, treating to wrench your arm free, but as you did so, you managed to swiftly slip your hand inside his pocket and steal his ID card. The card that would hopefully grant you guys access through these high security doors.

“Let go!” You continued, but with each plea, his grip grew stronger. “I said let—”

“Let go.” Minho appeared on the end of the hallway, slowly making his way towards us. The guard glared at him, his grip no looser than before.

“As the host, I thought you’d have more decorum, some respect with how you treat your guests.” Minho frowned, “Don’t you agree Y/N?” He turned to you.

You smiled slyly, knowing what Minho was capable of, his confident demeanour was such a turn on for you. Man, it was hot when a guy knew what he was doing, confidently, at that.

The guard sneered, “This is none of your business. Get back to the dining hall.”

Minho’s expression darkened, his jaw clenching, “Let her go. Now.”

The guard’s grip faltered for a moment, but he didn’t release you. “Or what?”

Minho swiftly pulled out a gun, the metallic click echoing ominously in the hallway. The guard’s eyes widened in shock. “Where did you get that?!”

Without hesitation, Minho fired, the bullet sending an electric shock through the guard’s body. He collapsed to the ground, twitching as the current coursed through him.

Minho grabbed your hand, pulling you into a run.

“How did you find me? This place is like a maze,” you panted as the two of you sprinted down the corridor.

Minho flashed a proud grin, “Oh, trust me, mazes are my forte. I was a runner back in the glade.”

Your face lit up upon the common ground he just shared, “Nice to know I’m escaping with a fellow runner.”

“Why weren’t you with Aris? If I didn’t find you, you could’ve been…”

You took out the ID card and showed him, “To get this. Could be our way out.”

He nodded, “Not bad, I suppose runners are the smartest of the bunch.”

“A statement I will not defy.” You smirked.

“This way,” You continued to hold hands as he led you through the compound, all too easily. He had this whole placed mentally mapped out in a few days, which was impressive.

As he ran, you snuck a few glances at him, eyeing him up and down. The way he led you, his confidence, the way his black compression shirt hugged his physique perfectly, making his biceps evident. It made you drool internally, but no way would you ever admit that aloud.

Eventually, you both found the others, who managed to get Teresa out. Apart from reuniting with the others, we also now found that there were multiple troops of guards chasing after us, that’s lovely!

“Come on, we gotta go!!” Thomas urged everyone, “This way!!”

“Why are they shooting at us?!” Frypan yelled, dodging what seemed to be never-ending bullets.

“Anyone have ideas on how we’re going to make it through that bloody vault door?” Newt looked around frantically, seeking answers.

“Here! I’ve got it!” You pulled the card out of your pocket, swiping it multiple times before the door finally turned green, granting you access to escape. (a/n: their escape scene is a bit different from the movie lol)

As soon as you made it past the door, Aris smashed the keypad, sealing the doorway between the guards, Janson, and your group. Winston grabbed a pistol, which was resourceful.

“Good thinking, let’s grab some of their stuff while we can.” You instructed, grabbing a gun yourself, and a backpack.

The others followed through before Thomas hurried you lot once more, “Come on, we’ve got to go! Keep moving!”

You arrive at the main door, towering over the group of you. Thomas wasted no time pulling the lever, and Minho held out his hand for you to hold before officially escaping the compound.

“Just keep going!” Minho urged the group, “we’ll loose them in the storm.”

Teresa came across an abandoned mall, and decided to enter, “Come on! Get down here!”

The group of you entered down one by one, finding temporary refuge in a cracked, dilapidated mall. The blistering heat of the scorch was relentless, but Minho stayed close to you, his protective instincts kicking into high gear.

“Let’s pack some of this stuff up, anything you think you might need. We’ll split up, see what we can find and meet back here.” Thomas instructed, to which you nodded.

You wandered off alone, exploring the place with a tiny torch. The runner instincts in you had not diluted at all since the maze.

“Trying to get rid of me so fast?” Minho called out as he jogged up to you.

You chuckled, “Just wanted to explore that’s all.”

“Let’s do that together then, you’ll need this.” He tossed you a larger torch.

“Better.” You affirmed, turning it on.

“This place is dead silent…we could be as loud as we want and no one would hear us for miles.” You said, as you explored the mall.

Minho held back his laughter, “That’s what she said.”

You paused momentarily, before recalling what you said. We can be as loud as we want. I’d definitely be vocal for you Minho. “Whatever.” You playfully punch him, rolling your eyes but biting back a smile.

Under the moonlit sky, you and Minho shared a quiet moment. You stood in the soft glow of the broken mall’s atrium, a moonlight ray shining through the glass roof. The silver light casting ethereal shadows around you.

“I feel like now might be the perfect time to say…thank you,” You began, “…for saving me.” Your voice soft with gratitude.

“Of course, we needed that key card of yours.” He witty remarked earned another punch from you.

“Dick.” You chuckled.

Minho smiled, eyes warm and sincere, “I’ll always be there for you. You can trust me.”

A comfortable silence settled between them, filled with unspoken words and mutual understanding.

“You know, uh, I’m glad that it was you I ran into at the hallway that day.” You confessed, out of everyone in the world, you were glad that it was Minho you met that day.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” He smiled softly, before Thomas and the others ran over to you guys.

“RUN! RUN!” He shouted. The two of you stood there, squinting at his unusual behaviour.

“Oh shit!” You said in unison, as the two of you pieced together the fact that weird zombie like humans were chasing you. (a/n: they didn’t know the definition of cranks yet).

“Well, let’s hope we make it out alive!” You ran alongside Minho.

“If we do, will you marry me?” Minho blurted out, while sprinting.

“What?!” You were breathy, but a rush of adrenaline surged through you.

“Ignore what I said!” He yelled, turning back to get a view of our chasers.

“Only if you let me be your girlfriend first!” You shouted back amidst the running.

“Deal!”

#dylan o'brien #imagine #ki hong lee #maze runner #minho maze runner x reader #minho tmr x reader #the maze runner #thomas brodie sangster #thomas tmr #tmr newt

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lady-of-moths · 1 year ago

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A Penny for Your Thoughts (Ace x Reader)

A/N: While I love cocky, confident Ace, I felt like the softer, more damaged side of him deserved some love too <3

Summary: Ace has been feeling a bit low lately, and has been isolating from Reader, and the crew. Reader goes to talk to him, and a rather emotional interaction ensues. Please see warnings.

Warnings: Ace is having an emotional, and vulnerable moment. Ace struggling with his self-worth. Mentions of alcohol usage.

Writing prompt:

"Did you just kiss me?"

"Was I not supposed to?"

"I don't know... But can you do it again?"

Tags: Ace x Reader, angst & comfort, Ace dealing with self-worth issues

Word count: 2900

Dividers by @cafekitsune

You and Ace had been close friends for quite some time now. Very close, actually. Not quite as close as you’d have liked to be, but that did not matter much, as long as you had his friendship. Yes, if nothing else, his friendship was enough.

Lately though, your friendship seemed to have been somewhat shaken. For some reason, Ace had been distancing from you, and all others lately. Sure, he’d still act fine when people talked to him. But that was not quite the way it used to be… The Ace you’d known so far was a bit of a chatter box - that is, when he was not fast asleep on the deck, or with his face in a plate of food. He loved to socialise with the crew, and was always offering to help wherever he felt he could be of any use. He’d often be engaged in some conversation or another, swapping tips and tops, cracking jokes, or regaling his men with tales. Now, however, he’d rather lean over the railing, gazing at the sea, lost in thought, or sit alone, isolated, than engage with others. He’d slip out during group conversations, or spend hours shut in the study, haunched over maps, and documents, working his way through endless stacks of paperwork - a task he’d always dreaded more than any other. It was not quite the same, no.

It would be a lie to say it did not worry you. Ace was your best friend, and, if you were being honest with yourself, he was a bit more than that. It was only natural for you to notice, to miss him, and to worry. You couldn’t bring this up around others - it was clear it was not something he’d want broadcast in front of a crowd. So, you decided to speak to him as soon as you’d catch him alone. It shouldn’t be too hard. Afterall, he tended to seclude himself every chance he got those days. So, you waited. Ace had spent most of the day in the study. At lunch, there was not enough privacy to speak to him, so you let it slide. Afterwards, he disappeared, and you had no idea where.

Eventually, night had fallen, and the Whitebeards were having a party on the main deck. It seemed like your plan would have to wait another day. The crowd grew and grew, as the music played, and the booze flowed. It was not unusual for pirates to party, and the parties on the Moby Dick never disappointed. Or at least, they never had, until this point. For, as expected, you could not find Ace anywhere in the crowd, and a party without him simply felt incomplete.

You spent some of the night gliding through the crowds, slipping from clique to clique, from conversation to conversation, eventually setting camp up by yourself by the refreshments table. You sighed as you scanned the swaying masses, as they sang, and danced, and chatted… as if they hadn’t even noticed.

“Hey,” came a voice from behind you, as a hand gently grasped your shoulder. You turned around to find Marco, and Thatch. Thatch had a compassionate smile on his face, and, while Marco didn’t show it on his lips, the same compassion, and understanding could be read in his eyes as he looked down at you, secluded as you were, camping alone by the booze.

“We know,” Marco says softly. You tilt your head sideways, questioning him with a silent look.

“You must be thinking we hadn’t noticed how Ace has been drawing himself back lately,” he starts, as he takes his hand off your shoulder, and turns to look at the merry-makers. “How can the crew party as if they don’t even notice? But we do notice. We all do.” Now that he mentioned it, it dawned on you that Ace’s presence was not the only absence here tonight - a certain carefreeness seemed to escape many that night, and certainly those close to Ace - you, the commanders, Pops, and the men of his division. Now that you were aware of it, you saw it nearly everywhere - in their eyes, as they, too, scanned the crowd; on their lips, curled in half-smiles; on the very countenance of their bodies. They could all tell something - or rather, someone - was missing that night.

“We were hoping a party might draw him out,” joined Thatch. “The plan was to get some booze in him, and hope it’ll loosen him up enough to tell us what’s wrong - how we can help. But, as you can see…”

“He didn’t show,” finished Marco.

“He never showed up,” you said simultaneously.

“Yup…But!” he added with excitement, and you saw a smile creep on Marco’s face as he turned to look at you once more.

“We got one more thing we’d like to try.”

“Ah, and that is where I come in, I presume?” You turned to look at them, swirling your drink, as you waited for them to continue.

“Yep,” they confirmed in unison, before Marco proceeded to explain. “See, we found him sulking alone on the quarterdeck. Seems he came out for the booze, but didn’t stick around for the company.”

“Ouch! Well, that’s flattering,” you remarked jokingly, knowing full well it was nothing personal.

“Yeah, well, he won’t talk to us,” explained Thatch.

“Yep, we’re clearly part of the ‘company’ he seems to be avoiding… Which brings us to your part.”

“Ah, I get it. You want me to go up there, and see if I fare any better than you two.”

Thatch was smiling, while Marco chuckled at your deduction, giving you a small smirk.

“No,” he answered, “we know you’ll fare better than us.” The small, lopsided grin on Marco’s face made you cock an eyebrow for an instant, but you quickly brushed it off, as Thatch joined in once more.

“Yeah, we know you two are close. Hell, no one’s closer to him than you, except maybe his brothers,” added Thatch, matter-of-factly.

“So, what we want from you is to go up there and bring him back to Earth.”

You looked at them - they clearly cared about him, and were now resting their hopes on you, giving you a chance to help. They were giving you a chance to speak to him alone about whatever it is that’s been bothering him, just the way you’d told yourself you’d do. You glanced at your drink, swirling it around some more. Thatch’s words about how close you and Ace were made you feel warm inside. Maybe there was hope for you yet… But now was not the time for that. Snapping out of your thoughts, you looked up at your fellow conspirators.

“Leave it to me!” you declared, shooting them a grin.

“I knew we could count on you,” cheered Thatch, with a big smile, while Marco kept on his usual lazy smirk, giving you a small nod. They refilled your drink, and shoved a beer for Ace in your hands, before ushering you to the quarterdeck.

You took a deep breath trying to calm your nerves, before you strutted off, shouting over your shoulder “Wish me luck!”

“Good luck!” the guys responded, as you disappeared behind a corner.

It was a warm night, and the skies were clear, revealing a veritable sea of stars above your head, complete with a bright full moon, and with nary a cloud in sight. The music from the party was fading as you walked further and further away, towards the quarterdeck; its spritely rhythms now barely enough to muffle the clicking sound of your footsteps on the wooden planks.

Indeed, way in the back, hidden out of sight, was Ace. Slumped on the deck, with his back resting against a wall, a couple of empty beers around him, and one bottle hanging by the neck in his hand. His head tilted upwards, his eyes fixed on the stars above him. He seemed so calm, so quiet, and yet, not serene in the slightest. It was as if the silent sorrow in his soul crept its way towards you, and took you by the hand, when his eyes suddenly turned to you. A smile made its way onto his lips, but failed to reach his tired eyes. ‘Had he been crying?’

“Hey, Y/N! What are you doing here?” Ace tried to act cheerful, and play pretend; he tried to hide his expression by finishing his drink, but you knew him far too well for that, and saw right through his act.

“I heard you were out here,” you confessed as you went to sit down by his side, handing him the beer. “I haven’t seen you in a while,” you continued, as Ace took the bottle from your hand, “and I missed you. We’ve all been missing you.” You spoke softly, your voice barely above the sounds surrounding you - the music, the clamour from the main deck, with the clanging of beer-filled mugs, and the familiar sounds of waves splashing rhythmically against the sides of the ship. Ace averted his gaze from you, lest you saw the truth in his eyes. But you already knew. You’ve seen it the moment he looked your way.

Shuffling around a bit, you shifted position, and made yourself more comfortable against the wall, by his side. You allowed a moment to pass in silence, not intending to come off too forcefully, as you both watched the stars twinkling above your heads. You took a sip of your drink. The sloshing of liquid punctuated the silence before you spoke.

“Care you tell me what’s got you so down? Hm?” you questioned, as gently as you could. Slowly, you turned your head towards him, giving him a side-look, and a soft, half-hearted smile as you waited for his response.

Ace pulled his knees up to his chest, and wrapped his arms around them; the bottle you’d given him still hanging in his hand. He thought he hid it better than that, even from you. But he should have known you’d see right through, and if he were being honest with himself, deep down, he was glad you did. He needed you to pull him out of the spiralling nightmares that had become his thoughts. But that didn’t make it any easier to get the words out.

Ace rested his chin on his arms, staring straight ahead, at nothing in particular, as his mind scampered to string words together. Though his mouth was hidden behind one of his arms, you could see he was working on an answer by the frown that weighed on his brow. A few moments passed in silence before you placed your hand on his shoulder blade, gently rubbing his back. His eyes darted up to yours, his mouth hanging ever so slightly open, before closing it again, and averting his gaze once more. The warmth of your hand on his skin was comforting, safe, inviting; inviting him to tell you of his woes.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, barely audible over the commotion of the party on the main deck.

“What for?”

“For making you worry… You, and Marco, and Thatch, and Izou, and Pops, and all the others…I’m sorry for shutting you all out these past few days… weeks. I’m just…” Ace paused for a moment, as he turned his head away from you again, and fixed his eyes on the swaying waves before him. “I… haven’t been myself lately, is all.”

“Ace, it’s alright. We’ve all got our darker days. It’s - “

Ace draws a shaky breath, before cutting you off. “I know it’s not fit for a commander - t’ give in like that, and shut you all out. I should have done better… You all deserve better…”

The hand that was rubbing his back froze in place, as you stared at him in shock - eyes wide, and slack jawed - struggling to believe the words you were hearing. Seeing Ace crumbling down like this certainly struck a chord. You and Ace were close, but this was a side of him you’d never seen before. Was this the same daredevil you’d grown so used to over time? Sure, you were aware that he wasn’t always that same cocky bastard. You knew he had a softer side too, and you knew he was damaged too. You knew that he struggled with his past - his ancestry, especially - wondering if he really deserved to be where he was, and be loved as he was. Sometimes he’d wondered if maybe he could have done more for Luffy - if he was a good older brother. Other times he wondered if he was doing right by Pops, and the other Whitebeards. You knew all of this, and then some. But you’d never seen him so broken before. How long had he been carrying this stone around his neck? At a loss of words, all you could do was stare at him - lips trembling as you tried to form words; throat tightening, as you tried to hold back tears.

“I’m sorry you’re missing out on the party to sit here with me,” he continued, “but I also wanna say thank you. Thank you for your time, and thank you for your company.” He adjusted his sitting position, stretching out the leg nearest to you and allowing it to bend to the side, as his arm hung over his bent knee. “I hope you know how much I value your friendship… despite the past couple of weeks… And thanks for the drink too,” he chuckles, a bittersweet smile on his face as he takes a swig, before quickly resuming his monologue. “And thank Marco and Thatch too for trying to cheer me up. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you guys. Y'all deserve better than someone like me,” he trailed off. His head briefly dipped down against his arm, before he quickly lifted it up, and tilted it back against the wall. It was as if he were afraid that if he allowed his head to hang like that he might break down, and cry. His lips curled, and trembled with a bittersweet smile. You watched as his brows furrowed, and the corners of his mouth twitched, before he covered his eyes with his hand. From his shaking lips came a sound hard to pinpoint. Was it a sob? A scoff? A chortle? Whatever it was, it clearly captured his inner turmoil.

Seeing him like this disarmed you completely. You gawked at him for a moment longer, unaware that large, warm tears had started spilling from your eyes, down your cheeks, and down your neck. You watched him shake his head, as if in disbelief of the situation too - in disbelief of the things he’s said, in disbelief of having allowed someone to see him like that.

The shock still prevented you from forming proper sentences, but you could no longer sit by silently. “Ace…”

Hearing his name carried on a breathy whisper snaps him out of his spiral, and pulls his attention towards you. Ace hardly had time to register the pained look on your tear-stained face, before you cupped his cheeks in your hands, and pressed your lips against him. You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing out the tears past your lashes. The kiss felt hot, with a thick blend of love, and pain; with all the laden words that have spilt, and all those that would not come; with all emotions that you both had been trying to hide. It wasn’t long before you slowly pulled away from him, keeping his face between your palms. The kiss may not have lasted long, but it was enough to get him to shut up, and cease his self-deprecatory verbiage, if only for a moment. You took a moment to scan the shocked, flustered expression on his freckled face before speaking.

“I’ll decide what I deserve,” you stated, finally letting go of his face.

You watched as Ace, who seemed perfectly stupefied by your little stunt, attempted - and failed - to pull his wits about him.

“Did… Did you just kiss me?” He looked cute as a button as he pointed at himself, confused, as if trying to comprehend his own question. You chuckled at his reaction.

“Was I not supposed to?” You may have chuckled at his reaction, but the truth is that you did it on an impulse, and now the reality of it all was setting in for you too. You’d had a crush on him for ages now, and never in a million years would you have imagined things going this way. But what’s done is done, and this was the moment of truth. Every moment it took for him to answer felt like an eternity, as you kept wondering - What was he going to do? What was he going to say? You couldn’t help but avert your eyes from his, as you felt a blush creep onto your face. You cursed the full moon for its glow so bright, for you were nearly sure Ace could see the deep pink darkening your cheeks.

“I don’t know, but… Can you do it again?”

Looking up, you found Ace watching you, expectantly, with a soft, albeit nervous, smile, and a blush to rival your own.

“Yeah… Yeah, I’d say you deserve some more.”

#portgas d ace x reader #one piece #portgas d ace #portgas d ace comfort #moth fics #moth writes #ace x reader #portgas d. ace x reader #Ace struggles with self-worth issues #portgas d. ace #ace one piece #friends to lovers #hurt/comfort #mild hurt/comfort #dividers by cafekitsune

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