#i got gold in like a horse back riding thing before

[vivwritesfics]

VIIIIIIIIV 👀 horsegirl x Lando HORSE GIRL X LANDO please, I beg! 🙏 ~nurse-buckley (I wish you could ask of side blogs)

GIRL I GOT YOU (tagging you so it comes up in your notifs) @nurse-buckley

At her last competition, she'd had a fall. Gismo had put in an extra stride before the jump that she wasn't ready for, and she was bumped out of the saddle. It hadn't been a nasty fall, and she was fine, just a little shaken. But her helmet had been the first thing to hit the floor. When she got up it was covered in sand, which she quickly brushed on and got riding again.

After the competition, she checked her hat. She squeezed it against her chest and it creaked. "Fuck," she said, looking up at Gismo. It was her only helmet, one she had owned since she was seventeen.

Lando saw the video of her falling off. She showed it to him as they cuddled on the couch. "We got disqualified and my hat broke," she muttered, letting out a sigh.

"Let me get you a new one," Lando immediately said.

But she shook her head. She hated it when Lando paid for things, especially when he helped to pay for the horses. When they started dating her instagram got flooded with comments, calling her a gold digger. She'd worked too hard for that.

"Lan, no," she said, slipping her phone back into her pocket. "Besides, I'll be able to afford one soon."

Still, though, Lando didn't like it. He let out a huff, tightening his arm around her. Until she got a new helmet she couldn't ride, and he hated that.

The Charles Owen collaboration came just days after that. Lando immediately knew what he dad to do.

It wasn't often that Lando came to the yard. The horses were out in the field and she was cleaning their tack when Lando showed up. She looked up at him as he walked across the yard, avoiding the mud. No matter how hard he tried, though, he'd still leave the yard with mud splashing up his sweats.

"Hey," she called, running up to him and wrapping her arms around him. Lando breathed in. The smell of horses was masked by the scent of leather soap. "What're you doing here?"

Lando held two bags towards her. "I got you presents," he said.

She gave him a suspicious look. Taking one of the bags from him, she opened it up. The shape of the hat, even in the Charles Owen bag, was incredibly recognisable. "Lando, you didn't," she said, pulling the hat from the bag.

It was gorgeous. The pattern was incredibly recognisable, since it was already in green all over his F1 helmet. But, instead of being green, it was black and grey. Lando had taken a gamble having the LN4 logo printed in small on the side, but she loved it. Thank god she loved it.

"I asked them to make a hat just for you when Flo had her helmet collab," he said as she tried it on. It was almost a perfect fit, just a little too wide, but that was easily fixed.

Lando held up the other bag, shaking it slightly. Still wearing her new hat, she took the bag and opened it... to see another hat. This one was a plain skull cap, black with no peak. She pulled it out to find a hat silk beneath.

"No way," she whispered, pulling out the hat silk. It had the same pattern as the hat currently on her head, but this one really was neon green.

Lando grinned as she threw her arms around him, still wearing the hat. "I love you, I love you, I love you," she said, carefully kissing all over his face.

She pulled the hat from her head and held it close to her chest. "You're the best boyfriend ever."

He didn't tell her about the matching saddle pad he was currently having made.

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader smut #lando norris x you #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader #f1 #formula one #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine

[howtofightwrite]

How physically active were actually "medieval" noble women? I know is a long period but I usually see people complaning about noble women in fantasy doing stuff such as hunting or riding horses. I have seen a couple of illustrations of fencing manuals with women in them too.

We, as a culture, especially in the US, have a very bad habit of using the British Regency/Victorian era as the gold standard for how women all over the world were treated throughout history. And the truth is, it ain’t that way. It never was, because women in this exact era used to duel each other in other parts of Europe and often did it topless.

Yes, this is real. We have records of it.

Was it all women, all the time? No. Was it often enough to mention? Yes.

There’s a really good article by Kameron Hurley, “Women Have Always Fought” that goes over the history of women warriors and the laziness of specular fiction in detail. This is a particularly great few paragraphs from the article that covers where our popular conception that women don’t fight comes from.

“Women have always fought,” he said. “Shaka Zulu had an all-female force of fighters. Women have been part of every resistance movement. Women dressed as men and went to war, went to sea, and participated actively in combat for as long as there have been people.”

I had no idea what to say to this. I had been nurtured in the U.S. school system on a steady diet of the Great Men theory of history. History was full of Great Men. I had to take separate Women’s History courses just to learn about what women were doing while all the men were killing each other. It turned out many of them were governing countries and figuring out rather effective methods of birth control that had sweeping ramifications on the makeup of particular states, especially Greece and Rome.

Half the world is full of women, but it’s rare to hear a narrative that doesn’t speak of women as the people who have things done to them instead of the people who do things. More often, women are talked about as a man’s daughter. A man’s wife.

Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?

Check out some of these real women below.

Empress Maude, the daughter of the English King, Henry I, was named her father’s heir after her brother died. While her cousin Stephen stole the throne after her father’s death, she raised an army and took the country into a civil war to take it back. They fought it out for the decade it took for her son to reach adulthood, and laid the groundwork for Henry II to become king. There’s a great novel by Sharon Kay Penman, When Christ and His Saints Slept which chronicles the civil war. If you’re interested in medieval history, I recommend reading it. Her daughter-in-law, Eleanor of Aquitaine, also led an interesting life. (It should be said, real history got to the denied female heir fights for her throne before George R.R. Martin.)

There’s great videos from Xiran Jay Zhao discussing the Chinese warrior queen Fu Hao of the Shang Dynasty and Wu Zetian, who became China’s first female emperor. (Yes, you read that right. Emperor.)

There is Khutulun, the Wrestler Princess and the great-great granddaughter of Gengis Khan, who is one source of our “defeat her in battle to marry her” tropes. She issued this challenge, “defeat her in wrestling, she’ll marry.” She scammed would be suitors out of 10,000 horses. Western male authors are so threatened by Khutulun, they’ve kept trying to rewrite her history by making her fall victim to the power of love. (No, seriously.)

There’s also Hojo Masako, the Buddhist nun who deposed her own son when he proved incompetent and ruled Japan as Shogun. Here’s her wiki entry too.

The Amazons of Greek Myth were real in that they were actual Scythian women who went to war. (As Scythian women did, just like their men.) They terrified and terrorized the Greeks so much, they became immortalized in their mythology. Don’t believe me? Here’s an article from National Geographic and this one from Live Science.

There’s stories like this all throughout history from big events to small ones. (You can find more over at Rejected Princesses if you’re interested.) There are female warriors, female generals, noblewomen who took command of their husbands’ forces, widows who took to the sea to get revenge on those who wronged them, women who rode with their husbands to battle, female assassins, female leaders of rebellions, etc. The women of the Japanese samurai class were trained to fight, and fight they did. Women warriors, queens, and politicians are all over mythology too. You’ll often see these women come out of the upper echelons of society because money creates options, but they are there. Many of those stories are lost to history, in some cases purposefully, and there was a long trend among archeologists that assumed because a person was buried with male grave goods, the body had to be male. We’re now finding out that isn’t true. There’s a significant portion of warrior corpses that have turned out to be female. Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla chose to post a notice about it in response to these exact criticisms you’re questioning.

Those people you see complaining online? They’re clinging to a version of history that doesn’t exist. More, we know it doesn’t, because popular culture is hungry to the point of desperate for aggressive, confident, and competent female characters. If they were truly a lie, they wouldn’t ring true for so many people.

The history we’re taught today largely downplays women’s achievements, contributions, and successes while uplifting those of men. It’s a fact. Go look at famous female figures anywhere, you’ll find the same story at play over and over. Historically, fantasy as a genre largely portrays a world that is, in fact, fantasy, but that fantasy has nothing to do with women doing things they’re not “supposed” to. There’s no clubhouse. There’s nothing unrealistic in imagining your female character is a kickass queen who defeats overconfident men in wrestling competitions and robs them of all their horses. It’s not unrealistic to come up with an ending that doesn’t conclude in tragedy, violent deaths, them “learning their place,” or even locked within the bonds of an unhappy marriage. (Shocker!) Some did, but the truth isn’t universal. It’s not even unrealistic to imagine they might have supportive male family members, love interests, and followers who happily (gasp) assist them in these endeavors. Maude, for reference, had bastard half-brothers who helped her instead of trying to take the throne for themselves.

History got here before fantasy authors. There’s nothing unrealistic about reality. Popular conceptions and common knowledge fed to us by the majority male dominated culture isn’t always the truth. Reality is, it’s the stories we see normalized across the media spectrum that are wrong. The ones that insist women are objects, who commodify their pain, and reframe their stories to ensure the focus remains on men. While this is changing, women are still often treated as the NPCs of male driven stories.

The people you hear complaining? They want storytelling traditions to stay that way, for the Great Man values countless narratives have reinforced to remain unchallenged. Funny as it sounds, they’re threatened by the very existence of narratives that countermand that centralized focus on men being superior, that there is a stratified gender hierarchy, and men taking their place as the sole, worshipful focus of a woman’s existence, much less these female characters being important in their own narratives. If these people weren’t threatened by female characters being people, they wouldn’t say anything. They’d just move on in apathy.

Reality is people are complicated. There’s room for all stripes in all colors and contexts. It’s no secret that history has suppressed and erased countless stories that don’t support the ruling narrative of the dominant culture. These same people forget there’s plenty of storytelling traditions that include women taking their place as warriors in cultures outside America. For all the sexism and misogyny, women fighting is not an alien concept, it’s not even foreign to other Western European traditions.

Believe what your own research is showing you, not what a bunch of idiots who can’t tell their ass from their elbow are whining about. They can’t handle someone who isn’t straight, male, and (most often) white being the central focus. Really, they can’t handle these characters as even a side focus. That’s their loss, it doesn’t have to be yours.

-Michi

This blog is supported through Patreon. Patrons get early access to new posts, and direct access to us through Discord. If you’d like to support us, please consider becoming a Patron.

#Michi answers #how to fight write #writing advice #writing reference #writing tips #history

[eludin]

THE CROWN'S WHORE | CHAPTER ONE

WARNINGS: Addiction themes, sexual content, manipulation, dark themes, incest (this is Westeros people), grooming, and possibly more in the future.

The Realm's Delight wasn't Rhaenyra Targaryen once Vyera Waters started walking and talking. She was unaffected by the sexual moments held within the brothel she called home and would often approach the clients without hesitation. The whores around her try to coral her away, but she had her father's stubbornness. She slipped out of their grasp and pestered the clients for their stories since most were knights, children of lords, or lords in general.

She grinned widely and listened with apt attention, easily washing away the agitation they may have had with a bastard brat bothering their fun times. She made cute and sometimes strange noises at certain parts of the story, dramatically reacting at the more messy bits. They laughed at her very open reactions.

The Gold Cloaks quickly turned into regulars, bearing toys, books, and whatever a little princess could wish for. One smile from Vyera and they melted. They proudly told her stories, not only of themselves but also of her father. They listened just as attentively when she shared stories from her dreams; of talking cats whose grins sent a chill down one's spine and who vanished and reappeared before your eyes, hot deserts with horses made from sand threatening to bury you deep within the dunes, or riding the back of a bird the size of a dragon with feathers made of steal.

Ariston Algood smiled as the girl flipped through her new book. Many prayed for the poor girl to be the occasional late bloomer. That was the only thing keeping her from being thrown into the beasts' den.

Just one more day, one more month, one more year without that light that shone from within her being snuffed out by scum who desired to torment and corrupt that light.

Yet, no Gods answered their prayers.

She had bled a day prior and was now dressed in provocative clothing. No longer the baggy rags she used to wore, but a dress made of thin, almost see through, fabric. It looked peculiar on a girl of nine name days. Only the worst of scum would find pleasure in the sight.

"Riz?"

He smiled and patted her head. "Thinking, squirrel."

Vyera rolled her and scowled at the words sprawled on the page. "Dragon, not squirrel." Her words didn't fit her cuteness as she pouted and patted the thick pages. "And you're supposed to be teaching me how to pronounce these words."

Ariston laughed and joined her on the bed. Books with varying thickness surrounded her and most he never cared to read until Vyera. They never seemed all that interesting. It was just words on the page. What good were words when actions could be seen centuries after the person had passed? Yet, she hugged them close as if they were a fine treasure worth more than the gold mines at Casterly Rock. She brightened up at the usual pleasures, like jewels and beautiful dresses and gifts, but books got a loud and vibrant reaction.

She bounced off the walls of the Whore's Blood Brothel with each book, eagerly snatching from any offering hand and pestering the person to read it with her.

Some of the married lords who visited bonded more with her than their own children. "I wish my children had such a hunger for knowledge as you," said the Heir of Blanetree, running his fingers through her locks. She had preened under his touch and giggled, like a dog eager for treats and praises.

Lord Broom sighed, "A whore's daughter knows duty and grace better than my own daughter."

"Such a pity."

None did anything to change her situation; not that the girl complained. She clung to her mother and the brothel as any child would cling to their home and their mother. A year or two more and that opinion would certainly change.

Ariston leaned closer to Vyera and looked over the page. "Where are you finding difficulty understanding?"

"What does this mean?" she taps at the word abomination.

Fuck.

He peaked at the book's name. Just as he thought, it spoke of the Faith. "Uh... Something going against the order of the Gods. Like, um... the... the Children of the Forest with their magic." Sweat gathered at the base of his neck. "Don't you want to read something else?"

Vyera frowned and stared at him. For a Dragonseed, she resembled her father incredibly close yet there were a few traits none knew where they came from. They knew without uncertainty that Narelle of the Whore's Blood was the girl's mother. Yet she carried traits neither side of her lineage granted. Her eyes were golden and flecked with silver. Her canine teeth were ever so slightly pointier and sharper than most. Even as a child, her features were already showing a sharpness no girl her age naturally possessed. Unlike either parent, she possessed an innate glow that simply compelled every man who entered her presence to shower her with gifts, praises, and affection. Some were less pure than others, but she paid little mind to those types.

Her expression softened once she saw whatever there was in his eyes. "No need. Tis' truly fascinating to read how certain sorts of individuals view the world." She paused, and added, "And don't worry about the stuff on bastards. It doesn't hurt me. I know who I am, and I am not everything that is written in this."

"You are none of what is written."

She smiled and pressed against his side. "Riz?"

"Hm?"

Vyera curled up and hugged herself. Instead of the girl he'd grown to care for, a child frightened off the future revealed herself to him. "The brothel master will want me to lose my maidenhead. Doesn't matter I am a child, he's gonna want evidence." She peaked at him through her dense locks. "I don't want it to be any of the others. I care for them, and I know they would never intend to hurt me. I... Please... Please be the first once my moonblood ends. I... I don't want it to be anyone else."

Oh, fuck… She… As much as he gagged at the thought of any of the Lords lusting over Vyera, it made painful sense.

Ariston was not that far in age from her. Only seven namedays apart. It was still strange yet… 

He looked down at the girl who skipped up to him, even when he was running his hands along her mother’s sides. Now that had been mortifying. She smiled widely and rushed him with a hundred different questions. Their second meeting didn’t go any better either. Neither did their third. Yet, she cared for him, eagerly listened to his stories of his home, of his older siblings, of his parents, and now… looked to him for protection from any who wished to destroy whatever innocence she protected with a tiny dagger.

He had no doubt she’d ask any of her other friends the same favor. After all, he couldn’t spend the entire day with her. His pockets did not boast such a fortune. And yet…

“If that is your wish.”

He couldn’t free her from the brothel’s clutches; he couldn’t shower her with luxurious gifts; he couldn’t protect her as he wished. But he could do this.

Vyera Waters smiled. A waning moon in comparison to the usual exuberance.

Want to be tagged? Comment down below "AYE"

@sanya-prose

@gpr2149

@prettylittlelady

@thirteenth-fangirl

@daughterofadream

#got #hotd #house targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #game of thrones #house of the dragon #pre asoiaf #aegon targaryen x reader #daeron targaryen x reader #dance of the dragons #various x reader #reverse harem

[coltermorning]

A Christmas to Remember (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: You and Arthur have agreed to meet on the night of Christmas Eve. The evening and the following day turn out to be more than either of you expected.

Author’s Notes: Just some good ole fluff for the holidays! Set a year or so down the road from the events of RDR2, and in this instance Arthur never got sick and rides alone now.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, implied sex, fluff

AO3 Link

~

A Christmas to Remember

Word count: 5994

The firelight flickered, throwing shadows across the wooden walls, shimmers of gold rising and collapsing in the night. The room was warm, comfortable for all the drafty air threatening to cut through it. It never quite managed to get in, like the flames stood guard in their grate, pushing against the inevitable winter.

The room had been decorated for the season with a tree and garland and ribbon and light. This place had likely never seen such decoration until the end of the year, the woody smell seeping into the very walls it was so thick. The source of it, a small pine, was standing crooked in the corner. It was a promise of what was to come. Inviting and, had the room not already held its heat, warm. Perfect for the occasion.

On the night before Christmas, you were perched by the window, ignoring the beauty of the room surrounding you in favor of the company you awaited. Mr. Morgan, a promise to meet you here not having left your thoughts since the moment it parted from his lips. You had your gift, your best clothes, expectation wrapped around you like a bow. And yet, all there was to do was wait. To feel the anticipation for his arrival and let all else fall away.

The minutes passed, and soon there was a horse coming up the path with its familiar white spots flashing in the night. That white would normally stand out more but for the snow, falling thick and slow in the December air. It made Valentine prettier. It made the mud seem less untidy somehow, more familiar.

You felt a smile curve your lips when you saw just the man you waited for approach, his hat slung low, his blue coat fastened tight around him. You watched him encourage his horse onward until he rounded the building out of sight. You wondered if he would stable the animal or not, caring as always or too taken by his haste at seeing you. How that eagerness of his for you made you giddy. To be known and to be wanted anyway.

You left your place by the window and took in the room with a sweeping glance. The lights, the smell, the warmth. It was homey in the same way he was. A welcome respite to come back to, a place to look forward to when things got hard.

You stood closer to the fire, knowing sitting was useless when all you wanted was to embrace him the moment he walked through the door. It had been too long. So you remained standing if a little impatient, feeling the nerves that quickened your heartbeat course through you. You would be parting with more than just a gift tonight, and the very thought made you restless. But you owed it to him. He deserved it.

You fiddled with a piece of ribbon tied on the garland that framed the fireplace when you heard bootsteps in the hall, heavy and determined. They made you smile. But for all his bravado, he knocked softly on the door when he reached it, as if you would whisk away into nothingness the moment he did. Like a dream and nothing more.

“Come in,” you answered, and your gentle words were all it took for him to regain that sense of pride. The door swung open, and nothing could have suited you better than the smile he wore, the light in his eyes when they landed on you.

“Y/N.” It was a happy sound. Not a greeting so much as a satisfied release of breath. Your feet were moving before you could respond.

You hugged the man you had been missing for weeks, wishing like always that the pair of you could make this permanent enough to keep you together for longer than an evening.

“I missed you,” you whispered, sinking into the feeling of him holding you. His coat was cold but his warmth outweighed it, swallowing you in the scent of tobacco smoke and outside air. You had missed that smell so much your chest ached with it.

“I missed you too, sweetheart,” he said. Always so intentional. Always saying just what he thought. You adored that about him.

You pulled back to look at him but remained in his arms. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Morgan.”

“Christmas Eve,” he corrected. “We still have a few hours yet.” Then his eyes were filling with meaning like they always did before he kissed you. The look that said nothing in the world mattered more than this. You tilted your chin up, happy to greet it with all the love you held for him. He leaned in with that enamored look, and his lips met yours with the soft release of anticipation for all the days spent waiting. All the days apart that would be dreadful if not for the knowledge that you would have this again. You kissed him back just as slow and soft, like this was what it took to remember.

The pair of you got a bit lost in each other until you could hear his breathing grow heavy. It always did that, and it never failed to make your heart race in kind.

You pulled away and looked into those ocean water eyes. “I got you something.”

He quirked an eyebrow, running his lips together subtilely like he could still taste your kiss. “Did you now?”

“Yes.” He had told you not to. This was your first Christmas spent with him, the first chance you had to give him a gift. But, just like his birthday that had come and gone without your knowledge, he didn’t want a gift. Just your company. You had already gotten onto him plenty for letting his birthday squeak by. You wouldn’t let it happen again.

You stepped to the side and motioned to the bed, to the small parcel laying atop it. You had done your best with wrapping it, a small bit of twine done up around the paper with a bow.

“It’s two, actually. I’ve been working on one for a while.” When you turned back to him, the small flash of concern on his face didn’t go unnoticed. “Don’t worry,” you assured him. “I didn’t expect anything in return.”

His eyes snapped to you then. “Well, that’s too bad,” he said lowly, and before you could ask why, he was reaching inside his coat and pulling something out. A present, a little battered from his travel, the paper wrinkled and the tie around it crushed. You only loved it more for it. It was endearing in the same way he was.

“Arthur,” you chided with a smile. “You were just going to let me show up without a present when you had one for me?”

“‘Course.” He smiled with his teeth, that toothy grin that reminded you of the boy he had once been.

You gave him an incredulous look, and he laughed, the sound spiraling upward and into your bones like liquid gold.

“Fine then. You open mine first,” you said, unable to shake the high that was being with him.

He raised his hands in mock surrender before repocketing his gift and making for the parcel. You felt nerves flash through you, hoping against hope he would like it. One you knew he would, but the other was…a bit different.

“You didn’t have to spend your money,” he said, picking up the package and pulling the string so the bow slipped apart.

“I wanted to,” you told him. “It didn’t cost much anyway. More time than anything.”

He eyed you, the remnants of that grin still on his face, then the paper crinkled as he undid it. It finally gave way to fabric—his favorite color. He smiled.

“Darlin’,” he said endearingly as he pulled out a new shirt. Nothing special, nothing fancy, just something for him to ride in, the softest blue you could find. You always teased him that everything he owned would be blue if he had his say in the matter. “I love it,” he said with a smile bright enough to make you return it. “Thank you.”

He made to hug you but you stopped him. “Unfold it.”

He hesitantly did so, dropping the wrapping to the floor. He held the shirt up, and the moment he did, a loud thunk sounded—his second gift hitting the floor.

“Shit, sorry,” he said, reaching for it.

You could only laugh. “It’s not breakable.”

He picked it up, and the low light in the room was enough for him to see the wood. To see what you had carved into it.

He flipped it over, examined it from every angle. “You did this?” He met your eyes with such an open admiration in his that you felt your face heat.

You nodded. “It’s for your shotgun. The stock. I made sure it was the right kind to fit your gun if you wanted to…swap them out.” You suddenly felt that was a little presumptuous of you.

He stared at it so long your nerves got the better of you.

“You don’t have to, of course-”

“No,” he said, meeting your eye with sincerity in his own. “I love it. I mean it. Thank you. I’ll get it put on there first thing tomorrow.”

You were beaming. “Really? It’s not too…I don’t know. Effeminate?”

He gave you a chiding look so you kept on. “You’re just…you, and I want you to like it, but you don’t have to use it if you-”

He stopped you with a kiss, sudden and sure enough to melt away your doubt. Then there was nothing but him. No worry about some gift that he ended up liking after all.

Arthur pulled away from you slowly, reluctantly. “Open yours.”

He pulled the parcel out of his coat and handed it to you as he sat on the bed, urging you to sit beside him. You joined him, admiring him as you took it. There was no nervousness about him like there had been in you. His mind didn’t even seem to be on the gift. He was thinking of you and little else. So you smiled when you opened it, knowing you would love it before you even knew what it was.

Sure enough, he knew you well. “A journal?”

He nodded as your smile stretched wider. You thumbed through the empty pages, yours to fill. The two of you had that in common—a need to record in drawing as well as words. He was heavier on the words, journal entries lining the pages of what little he had let you see of his leather-bound book. But you preferred drawing. Mimicking art. It was why you had carved the woodland scene into a gunstock for the better part of a month, knowing upon seeing its inspiration how special it was and that it needed to be remembered. So maybe now, that proud deer on the foreground of a valley would forever be cradled in his appreciative hand just as this journal would be cradled in yours.

“Thank you, Arthur.” You met his eye to show that you meant it then melted all over again at the way he was looking at you. You debated speaking the feeling that bloomed within you but didn’t, not when he picked up the stock again and brushed a thumb over your handiwork.

“This is fine work.”

The words made a blush tinge your face. You couldn’t help it. He always bragged on you in a way that would make any woman blush, much less the woman who somehow found herself on the doting end of this rugged, outlawed man. He was a blunt instrument, violent and determined, yet all he trained on you was softness. Kindness you didn’t know how you had come to deserve.

“I told you you was better than me.” This meaning your artwork.

You snorted a laugh. “Yeah, right. And I told you, maybe I’d be a better judge of that if you let me get my hands on that journal of yours.”

He chuckled, the sound soft and warm as the room surrounding you. But to your surprise, for the first time since you’d found out he carried a journal, he didn’t protest.

“Actually,” he said, reaching around to his satchel. “I got you two gifts too.” And, to your shock, he was turning back to you with said journal in hand, holding it out like a bough of hard-earned trust.

“What?” It came out as a whisper, all you could manage in your surprise.

“Take it,” he said, holding it out farther. “I used up all the pages anyway. It’s nigh time I offload it, and I’d feel better about it being in your hands than lord knows who else’s.”

“You mean…” You looked from it to him. “You’re letting me have it? Read it all?”

He nodded his head to the side, a self-conscious gesture. What it must take for him to trust you this much. What he must feel for you.

You took it from him and ran your hands over the worn leather face. All Arthur. Your heart leapt in fondness for him.

You set the journal down atop the new one he had gifted you and turned to face him fully. You felt so deeply for this man. You had for a while. And you wanted him to know it. The journal was just proof he felt the same.

Before you could utter a word, Arthur swept in close and kissed you on the cheek, then stood. He offered you his hand. You took it, and he pulled you up and against him in one fluid motion, his fingers tangling with yours, his other hand finding your back. Then he was moving back and forth. Dancing. Arthur Morgan, outlaw of the state, dancing.

You laughed aloud. “What’s this?”

He ignored whatever gruffness he would normally have over something so carefree and led you in a soundless dance around the room, the only music the warmth, the lights, the way you felt for each other.

“You know how to dance, don’t you?” he said.

“Vaguely,” you replied. “Do you?”

That really got him going. He gave you a roguish grin and spun you, making you twirl with his fingers alone before pulling you back in. And when he did, he crushed you to him. Then his lips were on yours, and there wasn’t anymore air in the room apart from the love he granted you, how it filled your lungs.

Now. Now, in this perfect moment. It was time. You pulled away.

“Arthur?”

His eyes were closed, his hands cradling your face as he rested his forehead against yours as best he could with his hat. And still he swayed, a subtle back and forth even though it couldn’t quite be considered dancing anymore.

“Hm?”

You didn’t care that his eyes were shut. Didn’t care that he didn’t know what you were about to say or how long you had mulled over saying it. Because you felt it. And it was never more real than it was when you were with him.

“I love you.”

He stopped swaying.

You watched his blue eyes open slowly, like he didn’t quite believe what he had heard. Then his gaze met yours, soft and searching under those eyelashes, complicated as he was.

He didn’t answer. Just held you, watched you. In disbelief, you realized. Or maybe wanting to hold onto this moment like you were, committing it to memory. Too bad he no longer had a journal to draw it in. The thought made you smile. Then words were spilling from you like a flood.

“I’ve loved you since the day I saw what kind of man you really were. I’ve loved you since I saw that page in your journal with the deer drawn on it. I’ve loved you for so long it’s like I was just waiting on you to get here. Like you were made for me.”

His eyebrows drew together in emotion. Still, he did not speak.

“I love you so much it hurts when you’re away,” you muttered, finding his coat in your hands and clutching it, pulling him closer. When you met his eyes again, he was so close you could see every fleck of color in the firelight, the blue and gold that crashed together into green. You kissed him, and this time he was reluctant. Unsure. So you moved back just enough to give him room to breathe, time to think enough to speak.

His eyes never left you as he said, “I don’t know what I did to deserve that.”

It was quiet and vulnerable. So true of him, that he didn’t think he deserved to be loved.

“You’re you,” you said. “And that’s enough for me. Enough and then some.”

He was pulling you to him in less than a heartbeat. Crashing his lips to yours with all the passion of a man born again.

He broke from it for a breath, whispering, “I love you too,” before kissing the words into your mouth.

Nothing would ever be better than this. Nothing. It didn’t matter that the feeling was temporary. That Christmas would be over, and he would be gone, and you would ache at the loss of him again. There was no losing this. This memory would hold on forever as the happiest you’d ever had.

Arthur pulled back, and you were both breathing heavy. Far beyond any arousal or want. This was deeper.

He held your face like he held his life in his hands as he said, “I love you too, sweetheart.” Just because he could. The privilege of getting to say it addictive.

You looked at him and couldn’t keep the smile on your face at bay. He met your gaze and kissed you softly, a press of his lips against yours. A guarantee.

Wordlessly, he led you back to the bed. Your heart started to pound with thoughts less innocent until he picked up his journal, flipped toward the back, and held it out to you again.

“I may not have admitted it until now but…well. See for yourself.”

You took the book and turned it toward you, sitting back on the bed. The page you were met with had a drawing of you on it. Patiently drawn, thought out enough that it truly resembled you. You had wondered that—if he had ever drawn you. And now you had your answer. There were no words inscribed beside it like usual, like he just wanted the memory of you down on the page. Absentminded fondness. It burned you up inside.

“Keep turning.”

You looked to him. He wouldn’t meet your eye, embarrassment keeping his gaze glued to his journal, but it was endearing on him all the same.

You did as he asked and saw drawing after drawing after drawing, a few entries here and there. A few animals, a few towns, and nearly every other page, you.

It amazed you. You had thought you’d fallen first, and hard, but seeing this proved otherwise. Based on the entries, these drawings were done mere weeks after you met him.

“I could never seem to get your likeness just right,” he admitted quietly.

“Arthur, these are…” You wanted to reassure him. That this warmed your heart to him more than anything. You looked at him. “Thank you. I never thought…” You had stopped on a page that drew your gaze like none other. Because it captured a look in your eye you had only ever given to him. It was your admiration for him sketched out on the page, all subtle shades of black and gray. And the entry beside it nearly made you tear up.

I get to see her again.

He had drawn a heart beside it. You sobbed a laugh, a sound so happy it was all you could speak.

“I’ve been pretty damn fond of you from the beginning,” he admitted.

You set the journal aside and rose to meet him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I love you.” You said it on a smile. Because that’s all there was for it.

“Well if it ain’t obvious now…” he started. And he didn’t have to finish. Because you knew he loved you back.

You kissed him slowly then hugged him tight. He was yours.

You had a sudden idea and broke away from him, sitting back on the bed, reaching for the unused journal. “Here.”

“You don’t want it?”

Even the thought crushed you. “No, I want it. But I want you to christen the first page.”

“It’s yours,” he said. Like that would change your mind.

“I know it is. And every time I open it, I want to be reminded of the night I got it.”

He just stared, so you spoke. “Draw me.” Not from memory. Not without your knowledge this time.

“What, now?”

It was true, the pair of you didn’t have long together. But this was more intimate than anything somehow.

“Yes.” You smiled at him. And the look you gave him must have made up his mind, because he took the journal from your hand, the motion subtle and soft in the firelight. He went to the corner and pulled the lone chair over, setting it before you and sitting in it. He reached in his satchel and pulled out a drawing pencil. Then he sat back and looked at you. Really looked at you. He smiled. And he opened the journal, set pencil to paper, and began.

Every time he studied you, you admired him. The way his eyes focused, the way his pencil shaded gently. Such a light hand, easy in the same manner he was to you. A vast difference from when he was holding a gun, just as he treated everyone else so differently. This was the real Arthur. Only yours to see.

Minutes passed, and you shifted as you watched him, the big, tough man hyper-focused on the small journal in his hand.

“Hold still.”

When he met your eye, his were glinting with playfulness. You knew he was only kidding. You had seen him capture birds in flight, fish mid-leap out of the water, animals of all sorts on the run. He didn’t need you to be still. And just being here with him, letting him draw and joke and tease, filled you with such happiness as to make you want to plant this in your memory forever—a warm room and a man who loved you.

When he finished the drawing, he closed the journal and stowed his pencil, standing.

“Let me see.”

He shook his head with a lazy smile as he bound the journal back up. “Later.”

“Why later?”

Then he was stepping closer, the air in the room going thin as his eyes fixed on you.

“Open it when I ain’t here,” he said, eyes full with want. He tossed the journal on the bed and boxed you in with arms on either side of you, leaning in and kissing you slow and lazy. You soared. In this room full of merry light and special occasion, you soared. You hadn’t known what to expect when you first met this man, certainly not the gentle, easy love you had fallen into with him, but as he laid you back and began kissing you like you were the very air he breathed, you were more thankful than you ever had been. He was yours, and you were his, and nothing else in this inconsequential little life mattered. Maybe one day, it would even be enough to make him stay. Or better yet, for you to gain the courage to go with him. Whatever he asked of you, you would do it. For him, you would.

“I love you,” you whispered into his mouth again, eager to be able to say it. And then he was losing all semblance of patience and control, borne on the back of the desire that was having you all to himself for the night, those full words repeating and repeating.

“I love you,” he said, low and true. You smiled.

~

The following morning, Christmas morning, the two of you hesitantly stepped down the stairs of the hotel together, neither wanting to leave the other.

Sure enough, Arthur’s horse stood just beside yours, hitched to the post outside the hotel. He, like you, had been too full of anticipation over seeing you and had refrained from taking the time to stable his horse. No matter. The two animals had always seemed to get on well. Like they knew their owners had something special and got along like old friends, like siblings, because of it.

Arthur stepped up to his horse, giving it a treat and a loving pat. Not saying a word, not wanting the moment to end.

“Want to go get that stock put on your gun?” you suggested, knowing whatever else there was could wait.

He eyed you. Then turned, stepped closer, took your hand.

“Come with me.” He looked down at your hand as he spoke. Like the mere act of holding it was precious.

“Of course,” you said, a smile already forming.

The pair of you led your horses together down the main thoroughfare, the slight worry of someone recognizing Arthur lingering in the back of your mind. It had been a long time since that gang of his stirred up so much trouble here, but not long enough.

You got to the gunsmith without a fuss and offered to hitch Arthur’s horse while he went inside. He just rolled his eyes at you before taking your mount, leading them over himself. Ever the gentleman.

When he returned to your side with his shotgun strapped over his shoulder, he led you up the steps with a hand at your back. He used to be so nervous about touching you. It only made you fonder for him over time, and especially now that he had gotten over it.

He held the door open for you, and you stepped inside, looking over the racks of guns, the counter display, the gunsmith. He eyed Arthur a little when he came in behind you but didn’t say a word about it if he recognized him. He only gave a Christmas greeting and an offer to help.

“Need to change the stock out on my shotgun,” Arthur said, laying the weapon down on the countertop.

“Sure. We have a fine selection of-”

“No need,” Arthur said, holding a hand up and using the other to pull the gift you had carved him out of his coat.

“This is a fine piece,” the smith said upon seeing it laid down.

“She carved it,” Arthur said with pride as he turned to look at you, eyes alight.

“You?” the man said, drawing your attention away from Arthur’s loving gaze. “Well, if you’re looking for work, I could use someone with this kind of talent.”

“Thank you but no,” you said respectfully. “I don’t live around these parts.” Just a passerby, choosing this spot to spend one perfect evening because you knew how the hotel room would be decorated, how homey and worn the town was. Just like Arthur.

The smith nodded his head and got to work, taking Arthur’s gun. When he was halfway finished and Arthur said, “That piece goes on first,” realization hit you like a slap. Arthur never said he needed to go to the gunsmith to get the new stock affixed to the gun, just that he would get it put on. He would. He knew how, likely knew more about guns than most gunsmiths. Including how to take one apart and put it back together. So why had he agreed to come here, pay what little penance the labor would cost?

When Arthur’s gaze shifted from his gun to you, the answer dawned on you. He wanted to spend what little time he could with you. Your whole being melted at the very idea. He was such a sap.

You held his eyes then let the moment pass when the smith announced he was finished. Arthur checked over his gun and smiled when he brushed his hand over the carved wood. “Perfect,” he said. You felt your face heat again, just glad that he liked it. Even more glad he was willing to carry it around like a badge of honor.

He turned to the smith. “What do I owe you?”

“You let me keep this stock and we call it even,” he said, holding up the old one. It was worth more than that, but Arthur let it slide, seemingly favoring his new one too much to care.

“You got a deal,” Arthur said, tipping his hat. “I appreciate it. And uh, merry Christmas.” He shouldered his gun and placed his hand at your back once more, leading you out.

“To you as well,” the gunsmith replied. Then you were out the door and away from any remaining worry that Arthur would be recognized.

The two of you ambled back over to the horses, wordless. Not wanting this to end so soon. Arthur stowed his gun. You stood and watched him. Then he turned and sighed as his breath plumed in the cold air, like he had to remember how to breathe when leaving was inevitable. Maybe one day it wouldn’t be.

He pulled you in for a hug, resting his head atop yours. You nuzzled into his warmth.

“When will I see you again?” The words had more sorrow in them than you intended. He must have noticed, as he moved back enough to place a finger under your chin and lift your head to look at him. The smile under his eyes was sad too, but filled with hope.

“Soon. Real soon if I played my cards right.”

“What does that mean?”

He just shook his head and smiled, that boyish grin. “Just write me when you feel like putting up with me again.”

That was odd. Normally he gave you a time frame. “That’s always, Arthur,” you said. “You may as well stay if that’s the case.”

He laughed. You’d been over this before. He only refrained from asking you to join him in fear of his past catching up with him. You used to want to keep a healthy distance from that past, but now you weren’t so sure. Things were different when love was involved.

“Well, if you’ll have me, I’ll be back then. How’s that?”

That still raised more questions than it answered, but you didn’t ask them. His smile was distracting you. He was normally more solemn than this when he left.

“Why are you acting so funny?”

He leaned in and kissed you, a quick peck on the lips. Then he held your eye, the look on his face smug. For the life of you, you couldn’t decipher why.

Finally, he gave some. “Just take a look in that new journal of yours for me. When I’m gone.”

Your eyebrow raised high. Or even higher. “Why not now?”

“Just…” He let out another long breath. “Trust me. Can you do that?”

The dashing, bashful smile he leveled on you would have had you agreeing to murder.

“Yeah. Of course. You know I do.”

“All right then.” He pulled you in for another hug. This one tighter. This one more like a goodbye. It was a strange place to end things, almost unlike an ending at all. It had you wanting to rip open that journal right now and figure what on earth he was on about.

He pulled away and, with a calmness in his eyes, said, “I love you.” He held it like a breath. “And merry Christmas. I’ll see you…real soon. I hope.”

As suspicious as you were, you let him be. If he wasn’t telling you what was up now, he had to have a reason. So you held onto the hope that the promise of soon was a surety, that you would see the love he had for you made just as palpable as it was right now, stretching across his face in the morning light.

You loosed a breath and gave in to that love. “I love you too. More.” He grinned, color reaching his face. “Merry Christmas, Arthur.”

“Indeed,” he said. Then he was kissing you again and letting you go. Heading for his horse all too soon.

He mounted and turned to look at you. “Remember, don’t open that journal ‘til I’m gone. Long gone.”

“Why? What’d you put in there, a stick of dynamite?”

He let out a happy laugh. “Oh, it’ll blow something up, that’s for sure.” That left you stumped. “Just relax. You can read it as soon as I’m down the way, how’s that?”

You shook your head at him but couldn’t help the smile that turned your lips. “You’re something else.”

“You love me,” he taunted. And he was right.

“Go then,” you said, shooing him. “Go on. I have journals to read.”

“Good day to you too, miss.”

You laughed, and he kicked up his horse, rounding you. He got close enough to duck down and lift his hat, planting one last, brazen kiss on your lips. It had you blushing like a kid.

He straightened and donned his hat, his face the same red as yours likely was, though neither could be contributed to the cold.

“Bye. See you soon.”

“Goodbye, Arthur. It’d better be soon, or you owe me an explanation.”

“It will be. I hope.” There he went again. You just waved him off, and he passed you smiling wide, his horse stepping out into the muddy, snow-logged street. You watched him go with awe. That handsome, proud man. How you had ever won him over, you couldn’t be sure. But you had. And you were pulling out your new journal to find out why before he had even gotten halfway down the street.

You unwrapped its binding in haste, feeling the new pages crack and reluctantly give in your hands. You flipped and flipped and reached the first page and were…struck dumb. Utterly.

On the left was a drawing of you. Subtle and suggestive with its shading, perfect, the way all of Arthur’s drawings were. But on the right, in big, bolded letters: The future Mrs. Morgan. And underneath, May she forgive me for not having procured a ring yet. I’ll make it up to her in kind as soon as she’ll let me.

You could have cried. You couldn’t believe it. The decision to stay apart all this time had been both his and yours, and knowing now that he had changed his mind…

You looked up and found him to be nowhere in sight. You wished he still were. If he were, you would drag him back here and tell him a ring didn’t matter. Of course you would marry him. It didn’t require any thought. The decision was already made the minute he whispered that he loved you back.

The future Mrs. Morgan. Having that down in his writing, on the very first page no less…you could die happy.

You took one last look and shut the journal, stuffing it back inside your coat. And, riddled with giddiness, you faced the street and the daylight, soaking it into your bones. For all the chill the wind held, it couldn’t cut you. For all the months spent away from Arthur, you couldn’t feel sorry that you had needed to be so patient. Because this was real, and true, and unlike anything in the world.

On Christmas Day and for the first time in years, you faced your future with surety. And what a beautiful, merry sight it was.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #high honor arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #fanfic #writing

[spongeyspot]

can I please have some Arthur Morgan headcanons? here’s some ideas for it

His experience at a target

getting a little treat after a hard day of work

being a passenger princess

basically following his new “caretaker” around while he figures out the modern world.

1890s!Arthur being thrown into the modern world HC

A/N: I'm gonna go with the last two bc I find it so funny. ALSO: I should clarify, that this isn't a relationship hc. The reader (You/yours pronouns) is g/n, and Arthur becomes their roommate

(And they were roommates...)

Arthur Morgan was in the blast zone of Francis Sinclair's time machine and accidentally hitched a ride to the year 2023.

- Gets hit by (your) a car when he wandered into the street

- It took him quite a bit to come to terms that this place was not the one he once knew

- Wants to get home so badly, but it seems he's stuck. He can't find Vincent Sinclair anywhere.

- He seeks out your help and at first, when he explains his predicament, you think he's a crazy homeless guy

- He tries to go off on his own to figure things out but comes back immediately because things have changed so much from the place he once knew.

- He also almost got hit by another car

- You decide you want to show Arthur the finer things in life, first starting with getting vaccinated... God knows how many diseases Arthur would be exposed to, let alone the ones he already has.

- Also a toothbrush because his breath is probably rancid

- He sleeps on your couch for a while

- eventually moves into your spare bedroom and starts having to pay some of the rent

- He'd have to work under the table because his birth certificate says he was born in 1864...

- Probably gets a job with Construction or Bartending

- Also, clean slate? No Bounty! Hell yeah!

- tends to follow you everywhere because he likes how you explain modern life to him

- You got him a cell phone.

- He's never trying to be funny when he asks questions

- "What the hell is a "tik-tok"?"

- "Blue-tooth? Never heard of that, only gold ones... I used to sell em'."

- "And you can just.. talk to this? And it'll bring ya food?? Whenever ya want???"

- holds the phone pinched between two fingers on either side like he's holding a pair of dirty underwear and starts to yell at it that he wants some steak

- Absolutely blown away by pizza

- Astonished when he sees no horses, just giant metal boxes with wheels that seem to move on their own.

- When you explain how it worked and what it was, he called it a "magic stagecoach" for a while

- Passenger princess

- fascinated by modern music. It just comes out of your magic stagecoach with the press of a button?

- Huge Bon Jovi fan. his favorite song is "Wanted Dead or Alive".

- asks "What does this button do?" seconds before he presses it

- holds the "oh shit" handle in your car at all times.

-The first time he was in your car he probably actually screamed

- you got him an electric beard trimmer for Christmas and he acted like you handed him a gold ingot

- quite honestly starts to warm up to the domestic life. having to rob and steal to keep himself alive weighed on him way more than he liked to admit.

- adores movie nights. Movies in the 1900s-2023 are incredibly different than the motion pictures he was used to.

- after he gets used to this new world, he WANTS A MOTORCYCLE SO BAD but opts for a pickup truck instead because it's more convenient

- Insists on cooking dinner on the weekends

- didn't understand your gas stove the first time and he almost blew up your apartment

#Arthur morgan x reader #Arthur morgan x gn reader #arthur morgan x gender neutral reader #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption two #arthur morgan #arthur morgan headcannons #arthur morgan hc #arthur morgan x reader hc #arthur morgan x reader hcs #hc #rdr2 hc #rdr2 headcanons #headcanons

[discount-shades]

Dead or Alive: Family

Dead or Alive: Sugar and Jake 

A/N: Someone asked if I was going to write about when Sugar told Jake she couldn’t have kids so here it is. It got away from me a bit…

Pairing: Jake Seresin/Reader 

Warning: Trigger Warning: Abortion, Fertility problems, Western themed violence. 

Word Count: 1200 ish

Summary: Some updates on Sugar and Jake after they leave the Dagger Gang.

Previous     Masterlist     Next  

Frozen, you stare at the sheets before you. A smear of blood blemishes the otherwise snowy white bed linens. Another month and you were not pregnant. Blinking back tears, you pull out the sanitary belt from where you had tucked it in the back of the drawer before dressing for the day. Your time of the month was only a few days late and as much as you fought against it, as much as you tried to squash it down, you had hoped that this time it would be different. 

Angrily you began to strip the bottom sheet off the bed. You had just put fresh linens on yesterday. Now you had to spend an hour washing and ironing it all again. You dump the sheet in the wash bin on the porch and begin filling it up from the pump by the back door. 

Jake had been away last night. He had spent the evening on guard duty at the local jail cell. You shake your head ruefully at the change in circumstances. Move a few states east and Jake would be the prisoner that needed guarding and not the deputy holding the keys. 

You will never forget the day that the sheriff had arrived at your door. Jake had volunteered to ride in a posse a month earlier and had helped apprehend a man accused of murdering a gold miner a few towns over. You weren't sure of the details, you only know that Jake had saved the sheriff's life. 

When you answered the door the sheriff had held up wanted posters with Jake’s and your real names without saying anything. As you stared into eyes the uncommonly accurate likeness of your own poster you had felt your stomach drop to the floorboards. You tore your eyes away and gazed at the blue sky and the California mountains towering over the small farm you and Jake had built. The dirt road trampled into the dirt led to the idyllic little town you had settled beside. Everything you had ever wanted was right here and you had brushed aside a tear, sure that the jig was up.

You clutched at Jake’s hand as the sheriff spoke. “Before these came in I was planning on asking if you wanted one of these officially.” He had held up a shiny, sliver deputy’s badge to Jake. “I did some thinking and the offer still stands for Mr. Smith.” He used the fake name the two of you had been living under. “Or I’ll allow Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin and his wife one week to leave town, if that is your decision.”

He handed the badge to Jake. “If you want the job Mr Smith, I expect to see you tomorrow and I’ll read you in.” He passed you the posters. “If I do not see you tomorrow I will be back in a week to arrest the both of you.” With a final look that ensured that you and Jake understood his meaning, he tipped his hat and walked away.  

That was seven years ago now and the only thing that had changed was the sheriff was now talking about retiring and had been encouraging Jake to run for sheriff when he did. Your mind returns to the task at hand and you grab the soap and washboard and begin to scrub the stain on the corrugated washboard. Once the mark is as clean as you will get it you wring out the heavy sheet and hang it on the line. Maybe you won’t bother ironing it again. Jake won’t care and no one else would notice if your linens had wrinkles.

After milking the cow and collecting the eggs you head inside and start on breakfast. Jake should be home soon. You are just finishing breakfast when he canters up on the pinto horse he had taken to riding since retiring Jet. The old black gelding now spent his days teaching manners to weanling foals and napping in the shade. You turn to smile at Jake as he walks through the door but your lower lip begins to tremble when you see the look on his face.  He knows what the sheet hanging on the line means. 

Forcing an overly cheery greeting past your lips you turn back to the stove so you don’t have to see the disappointment in his eyes. “It’s scrambled eggs and bacon for breakfast today.” You begin to plate the food, hoping that the familiar routine will calm your emotions.

Jake’s arms wrapping around you finally slows your movements and you lean back into his chest. “It’s never going to happen.” It is easier to speak the thought that has been sitting in your mind for years if you do not have to look him in the eye.

“You don’t know that.” His lips are soft as gently kisses your temple. “It might still happen.”

“No,” You sigh, finally ready to confess the secret you have been keeping from your husband. “It won’t.”

Turning in his arms you look up into his green eyes. “I was pregnant before.” You watch his eyes widen in shock but he doesn’t let you go, in fact he tightens his grip on your waist. “It was before us, I was barely 18.” You continue waiting for him to push you away.

“It was before the quickening, but it had recently been made illegal so a doctor wouldn’t do it.” You can’t read his expression and don’t know if you should continue but find that you are unable to stop. The secret has been eating at you for years. “I tried tansy, pennyroyal, gin, hot baths… but nothing would work, eventually the madam where I was working made it happen.” You brush a tear away and drop your gaze, unable to meet his eye anymore.

“There was an infection. A doctor did treat me for that, and he said I might never be able to get pregnant.” You watch Jake’s chest as he takes a deep breath and sighs it out before pulling you in for a hug. He gently cradles the back of your head as silent tears slip down your face. 

“So it will just be you and me then.” His chest rumbles under your ear at his words and you pull back to meet his eyes sniffing. 

“Are you ok with that?” You search his face as he smiles sadly down at you.

Jake gives a little shrug. “I can imagine my life without children.” He gently kisses your lips. “What I can’t imagine is a life without you, Sugar.”

“You would have been a great father.” You say thinking about seeing him interact with the local school children. 

“And you would have been a great mother.” You brush a tear away at his words but your heart feels lighter at his easy acceptance of your past. You no longer have to pretend that you are expecting to get pregnant. You no longer have to fake anticipation and hope that you have long given up on. 

“I guess it’s just the way it goes sometimes.” You are finally able to bring a small, sad smile to your lips. “Some things are not meant to be.”

#jake seresin #hangman #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin/reader #hangman/reader #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #top gun hangman #topgun maverick #western!au

[redlittlefoxari]

To The Ends Of Faêrun: Chapter Nineteen: Distracted

This series is book two of a fanfic I have already written called Astarion Epilogue: An Adventure in Making Life

Master List Here for Books One, and Two

*List includes a prequel that is essentially one-shots of their adventures over the fifty years after the battle at the end of the game*

Warnings for this series: Blood, Sex, Violence, NSFW 18+, Smut

Summary: The Gang sets off to Evereska in search of Mielikki. Everything is going well until a fallen tree is in the road, and the nearest tree is far from being able to do so.

Author's note: Comments are always welcomed! I love hearing your feedback!

Tav spent a fair part of her morning trying to figure out what they would do about the two that were hungover, plus Apple. By the time the others had came to the stables, it was nearly eight in the morning. Astarion had ended up dragging Shadowheart and Gale out of the inn, the former putting up more of a fight than the latter. However, she quickly changed her tune once Shadowheart saw the new plan Tav had put into place. 

The cart had been switched out for a wagon, allowing two horses to be fitted with harnesses that connected them together so that they could pull the new weight required of them. The wagon much bigger than the cart, sitting at around seven by five feet, but there would be plenty of room for Gale, Shadowheart, Apple, and their food. Hells, even Halsin would be able to fit, and they wouldn’t need to worry about his added weight slowing down the horses. 

Tav was only concerned that it would make them more of a target to others on the road. The added roof, along with the size, made them look like they were transporting goods. She recalled the times she and her father would hide when bandits attacked them while they were making their way home. They abandoned their wares until the bandits found what they were looking for or just left when they realized there was no gold. They often had to abandon the wagon as her father often cut the ox free so that the bandits wouldn’t make off with all their wares. She shook the thought from her mind, not wanting to remember him at a time like this, or ever, really.

“Alright, get in the back!” Tav pointed to Gale and Shadowheart. “Apple, you too.” 

Apple gladly climbed into the back of the wagon. 

“Umm, who is going to be driving this thing?” Shadowheart knocked on the wood. 

“I am.” Tav crossed her arms. “I believe I am the only one who has driven one of these before, so I’ll be driving, and Astarion will be riding the third horse.” 

“I would much rather ride in the back with everyone else, darling.” Astarion grimaced at the horse that was saddled and bridled. 

“I know, but I need you to ride today, and when one of those two sobers up…” Tav pointed at Gale and Shadowheart, who were climbing in the back of the covered wagon. “Then you can ride in the back with Apple.” 

Astarion moaned in dissatisfaction. “Fine, but you owe me.” He smiled and kissed Tav lightly on the lips before moving to get on the horse.

“Halsin, you can get in the back or go in bear form. Up to you.” Tav moved her attention toward the druid. 

“I think I’ll start in bear form and see how I feel in a few hours.” Halsin’s body glowed as he got on all fours, his body starting to transform into a bear before their very eyes. 

“Sounds good to me.” Tav shrugged and took her seat in the driver's box. As she took the reins in her hands, anxiety filled her. It had been far too long since she had driven a wagon, and it filled her with memories of her father. Her hands started to shake as she closed her eyes to try and calm her nerves. 

“Are you alright, Mommy?” 

Apple appeared next to her, causing Tav to jump. “I’m fine, honey. I'm just trying to wake up.”

“Oh, okay!” Apple looked at the seat next to Tav. “Can I sit with you? Uncle Gale and Auntie Shadowheart smell weird.” 

Tav laughed. “Of course.” She patted the seat next to her. “They do smell rather bad, don’t they?” 

“We can hear you!” Gale shouted from his seat. 

“I know!” Tav shouted back. “Ready?” 

Apple gave her a nod, and with that confirmation, Tav lifted the reins and brought them down against her lap. The wagon jostled forward for a second before righting itself. Astarion and Halsin followed after the wagon as they made their way out of the Last Light settlement. They headed northeast towards Evereska, and hopefully towards some answers to where Mielikki was to get Apple out of the deal with Angharradh and back home safe. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Several hours had passed since they had left the settlement. Gale and Shadowheart were sleeping in the back of the wagon, while Apple and Tav sat in the driver's seat playing “I Spy.” Astarion followed behind the wagon, while Halsin trotted along the side, still in his bear form. Everything was going smoothly, and Tav was pleased with how everything was working out. The road they had taken went along a river to the right, and to the left was a large expanse of grass that led into a forest. Perfect for when they stopped, as water and wood would be available. 

“Mommy?” Apple looked up at Tav. 

“Yes, honey?” Tav took her eyes off the road to look down at Apple. “What is it?”

“When did you learn how to drive a wagon?” Apple tilted her head. 

Tav felt her heart skip a beat. “Umm, I guess when I was about your age.” She turned her attention back to what was ahead of her. 

“Who taught you?” 

It felt like her heart was going to explode. “My father.” 

“Why have I never met him before?” Apple asked as she fell into one of her questioning marathons. 

“He’s dead, and that’s all you need to know about him.” Tav felt a headache starting to form behind her eyes. 

“Was he a bad man?” Apple’s voice got softer as she asked. 

Tav exhaled slowly. “Yes.” She turned towards Apple. “He hurt Mommy a long time ago, and Mommy doesn’t like to talk about it.” 

“Oh…” Apple looked away. “Like how Daddy was hurt?” 

Apple's sudden question caused Tav to pull on the reins, stopping the cart dead in its tracks. Tav turned fully towards Apple in her seat and touched her gently. “How do you know about that?” 

The way Apple averted her eyes from Tav, she knew that Apple had seen his scars and that someone had told her where they had come from, or, at the very least, that someone bad had given them to him. 

Astarion came up beside them, the look on his face one of utter confusion. “Is there a reason why we are stopping?” 

Before Tav could answer, she turned to face him and saw movement in the tree line. “I’ll tell you when we stop next.” Tav turned back to Apple. “Get in the back now.” 

“But…” Apple looked up at Tav with tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

“You’re not in trouble.” Tav turned back to look behind her, seeing more movement. “Mommy is about to do something dangerous, and I need you to get in the wagon.” Apple did what she was told, and Tav looked at Astarion. “In the tree line, there are people. I don’t know how many, but we need to move before we find out what they want.” 

“On it.” Astarion drew his dagger in preparation. 

“Just keep going until I stop.” Tav lifted the reins and came down hard. “Yea!” 

With a lurch, the whole wagon burst forward, picking up speed as they moved along the path. Halsin and Astarion followed, falling slightly behind as the power of the two horses combined pulled the four in the wagon. The two sleeping figures of Gale and Shadowheart stirred as they woke to see what was going on, moaning as the sudden movement made them fight to keep down their breakfast. 

Before they had time to address their concerns over the speed at which they were going, they flew over a hill to find that someone had placed a large tree over the path. Tav pulled up on the reins, causing the two beasts to skid to a stop. A curse left Tav’s lips as she stood from her seat and entered the main part of the wagon, grabbing her bow and a quiver of arrows before exiting the back of the wagon. 

“What’s going on?” Gale pulled himself up from the floor. 

“Yes, please tell us why you needed to throw us to the wagon's floor.” Shadowheart glared at Tav. 

“Bandits blocked the road.” Tav looked towards the tree line. 

“How do you know?” Gale asked, a bit annoyed. 

“The closest tree is about fifty yards away.” Tav shot him a glare. “And I don’t think it just fell on the road from that distance.”

Astarion jumped down from his horse and tied it to the wagon. “Are we moving the tree or fighting?” He shot Tav a smile. 

“Fighting if we have to, but let's hope that I’m wrong.” Tav looked at Apple, who was wide-eyed, standing behind Gale and Shadowheart. “Apple, you stay down. I don’t want them seeing you.” She looked back to the tree line to find several figures emerging with weapons drawn. “Gale, I need you out here with Halsin and Astarion. I’ll watch Apple .” 

“Of course.” Gale gave her a curt nod as he left the back of the wagon to stand just before it, hands ready to cast. 

“Where do you want me?” Shadowheart moved to stand beside Tav. 

“I need you at the front, just in case they slip past.” Tav pointed, and Shadowheart moved.

Tav drew back her bowstring until it was as far as it would go. A war cry came from the trees, and twenty- five men and women charged with all manner of weapons raised. Astarion drew both his daggers, waiting for the group to get closer before he could strike. When they cleared half the distance, Tav let one of her arrows fly, signaling it was time to strike. 

Astarion ran, slicing into the barely bandits and causing a spray of blood to rain down upon him. Tav watched as he sank his teeth into the barley-breathing man and drank from him until the light left his eyes. The man dropped like a sack of potatoes the second Astarion stopped supporting him. In a matter of seconds, Astarion was moving again, meeting several more bandits as they tried and failed to hit him. 

Tav released another arrow and got ready to let another one loose when she saw that the first hit its mark. It sank into one of the bandits Astarion was fighting, giving him the opportunity to finish them off before moving to another. As Tav looked to her left, Halsin had joined the fray, attacking savagely with his claws and teeth as more came from the wood. Looking to her right, Tav saw Gale and Shadowheart casting spells, both moving inwards toward the fight to give better aid to the two that were already fighting. 

“Daddy…” 

Tav turned to see Apple staring at Astarion as he ripped through bandit after bandit using blades and fang to kill as many as he could, a wicked grin plastered on his face. The look on Apple’s face was a mix of fear and confusion. She had never seen a fight, and certainly never one in which her father was bathed in blood. Tav lowered her bow, slightly distracted by her child's emotions. 

“Apple, I told you to get down.” Tav tried to sound calm. 

“Why is Daddy killing them?” Apple continued to stare, horrified at what she was seeing.

“He’s protecting you. Now get down before a stray arrow hits you.” 

“When did he learn how to do that?” Apple grabbed her throat. “He’s killing them with his teeth…”

She looked at him like he was a monster, and Tav’s heart broke. “Yes, he is, but he’s only doing it to ensure you are safe, so please get down now!” 

Apple looked back at Tav with tears in her eyes. “I wanna go home.” 

It felt as if she was going to be sick hearing the pleading in Apple’s voice. The utter fear at seeing her father ripping people apart bathed in their blood. A vastly different person from who she had known her whole life. More than anything, Tav wished that she could give her child what she wanted. To just go home and pretend that everything had just been a nightmare. That the deal with Angharradh had been all a cruel trick that Tav’s mind had cooked up. But it wasn’t a dream, and not finishing the quest had consequences that were just too great. 

“I know, and I’m sorry, but that’s not possible.” Tav took a small step forward. “Please, just get down, and we will talk about this later.” 

Apple rubbed the tears out of her eyes before sparing one last look at Astarion. Her eyes widened as she raised her arm and pointed before screaming, “Mommy, behind you!” 

Tav dropped her bow as she pulled her dagger from her belt and turned to meet the blade of a large man who had broken through and gotten to them. He was almost the size of Halsin, a big barrel-chested man with greasy hair and a missing front tooth. The daggers didn’t make a sound as they collided. With the blade so close, Tav noticed an oily sheen and a smell of something foul on the blade, likely poison. 

“What do we have here?” His words came out hot and slimy. “A mother and her pup?” He looked between Tav and Apple. “Pretty pair. I bet the two of you would fetch a fair price at auction.” 

“How about if you even lay so much as a finger on my child, I’ll cut your balls off and use them as bait to catch our dinner tonight.” Tav hissed as she put more pressure against their blades.

“Fiesty.” He smiled. “I like it when my women fight back.” 

“Sorry, I’m spoken for,” Tav spat as she used her left hand to cast Ray of Frost. 

He screamed in pain before quickly regaining his composure and using his own fist to connect with Tav’s face. The world went black as his knuckles hit hard against her nose, and an audible crunch came from within. The dagger fell from her grasp as pain radiated through her skull. Tav had no choice but to push away from him as she left him rearing back for another blow.

“Apple, I need you to cast something!” Tav yelled, a desperate plea in her voice. 

“I can’t!” Apple was sobbing. “Mommy, he’s coming. I’m scared!” 

Tav felt the wagon's wood at her back as she backed up. “Cast a spell, Apple! I can’t see!” She could hear footsteps as he approached, a deep laugh accompanying them. 

Raising her hand, Tav cast Ray of Frost in the direction where she heard him firing randomly, hoping she would hit him by chance. Tav felt fingers grip her hair and pull back, jerking her head up toward the sun. After a few more blinks, her vision returned to find that his face was only inches from hers. This time, he wasn’t smiling as he looked at her with venom in his eyes. 

“You know, I don’t think I want someone who can freeze me to death.” 

Tav screamed, “Astar-”

Her words were cut short; she felt cold steel penetrate her body. Apple screamed as the blade sank into Tav’s body to the hilt right below the left side of the ribs. He twisted the blade in a sudden wrenching movement, and Tav felt her whole body lurch with the act. Choking sobs were coming from Apple as Tav slumped against the back of the wagon. 

The blade was buried in her guts as the large bandit stood back to admire his work. “Shouldn’t take long for you to die.” A smile touched his lips. “That oil of Taggit is some nasty stuff mixed with a little bit of drow poison. People usually can only stay awake for maybe a minute or two before it’s nighttime.” He paused. “Though you are an elf, so I’m not sure if that applies to you.” A cruel laugh came from his lips. “With that wound, however, it won’t matter one way or the other. You’ll be dead from blood loss in a couple of minutes.” 

She could feel the poison seeping into her and the blood leaking out. If he had just stuck the dagger in, Tav would have just needed to worry about the poison, but he had twisted the blade, making it so the dagger didn’t stop the blood. Tav touched where the dagger was embedded in her body and felt a wet, sticky mess on top of her leather. Her head felt light as the loss of blood was becoming significant, the blow to the head not helping matters. 

“Mommy! Wake up! “ Apple screamed as the bandit approached her. 

“We’ll sell you to a new mommy, little girl.” The wagon dipped as he stepped up to grab Apple. “This one is broken anyway.”

Tav groaned, pain rippling through her insides as she pushed herself off the back of the wagon, stumbling to stand up straight behind him. She took hold of the dagger, sticky with her blood, and pulled it free. Pain rippled through her, and she fought to keep standing. Once she knew she could keep herself upright, Tav slashed at the back of his legs as hard as she could, tearing through muscle and tendons. 

This time, he screamed as he hit the ground, blood seeping from his legs as he writhed in pain. Above him, Tav stood, blade in hand, limp at her side. She had very little strength left, and was using most of what she had left to keep herself upright. Holding out her palm, Tav cast one more Ray of Rrost, freezing him to death. 

Turning, she looked at Apple, who was crying hysterically. Tav placed her hand over the wound in her stomach and tried casting Cure Wounds, finding that she did not have the strength to close it. Looking toward where the others downed the last foe, Tav saw the bloody field and Astarion standing in the middle of it, all covered head to toe in crimson. A laugh escaped her lips as she took in the sight. He turned towards her and smiled. She returned the gesture before dropping the dagger and falling to the ground to land face-first in the dirt.

Tag list:

@ofmyth-andmagicart @lunaredgrave @littlekidsteve @omnia--mea-mecum-porto porto @ayselluna @myreadingmanga123 @kismet-of-the-divine @nicalysm @justlilpeaches21 @five-salty-bitters @lenarosic88 @caydevakarian @supervrgnsokay-blog @ravenswritingroom @kalypsoox @foxiecelery @wisteriaofthegraves

#astarion fluff #astarion dad #astarion x you #astarion smut #astarion #astarion x female reader #astarion x female tav #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 #fic writing #fluff #fanfiction #fanfic #fiction #third person #pregnant tav #bg3 tav #tav #daddy astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion ancunin #astarion angst #angst with a happy ending #smut #angst #blood #violance

[flwersgarden]

gold rush. ♩﹐𓂅 𖥔 ࣪

pairings : elvis presley x female reader.

summary : fall season has arrived in Graceland and elvis knows how to spend it with you.

includes : FLUFF BRO THE FUCK- and horses. 🐴

author's note : heavily inspired in @ash-omalley's post about it and pics of elvis giving evermore by taylor swift

you woke up with the smell of crisp air, your nose moving almost bunny-like, laying on your side with warm sheets covering your body. the sound of some trees leaves falling. as you were about to open your eyes, you felt some light small kisses being placed in the bridge of your nose, a soft hum emanating from him.

you immediately smiled. elvis was home.

at first you didn't knew if the colonel would allow him some free time but elvis reassured you he would be at home more often in these cold fall days.

you cuddled closer to him making him chuckle.

“ good morning. ” his morning voice always made your body tremble.

“ g'morning. ” you answered, still buried in the sheets elvis bought in one of his 'autumn shopping moments' — as you once called it.

“ did you bought this in one of your autumn shopping moments? ” you asked while watching the gloves elvis gave you for you both to travel warm.

elvis froze before turning around with a smile, about to burst out laughing for what you just said. “ my what? ”

you giggled. “ your autumn shopping moments. i noticed you go shopping everytime we need warm clothes. ” you put the gloves on. “ like a grandpa. ”

“ oh, you cheeky-. ”

the memory was forgotten as elvis started to kiss your forehead, feather light kisses being placed in the crown of your head.

“ i want to invite you... ” he whispered, still enjoying the quiet day.

you hummed in a sign for him to continue, closing your eyes as the kisses made you feel at peace, smiling a bit at the sound of his voice.

“ let's go horse riding. ”

you opened your eyes again, catching his excited face. you know how much he loved that activity and the fact that he wanted you to share it with him. oh, you could cry of how adorable he is.

“ i'd love to. ” your smile grew wider, kissing his lips shortly before the both of you got distracted.

️️ ️️️️️️️️️

after choosing the horse each one of you was going to ride, you fixed your gloves; smiling at the same memory as before.

“ i'll ask you to race but i already know i'm gonna win. ” you said in a moment to break the, comfortable, silence.

elvis just laughed, clearly knowing how even you didn't believe that. “ sure, baby. keep saying that. ”

you smiled, getting on your horse, blowing some hot air to your nose feeling it quite cold.

elvis followed behind, now leaving the stable.

as the both of you rode, you could feel that feeling.

you didn't knew how ti describe it but it was a feeling that told you the moment you were living is going to be a beautiful memory.

you felt it when you met elvis.

you felt it when you had your first date with him.

you felt it when you and elvis shared a kiss.

you felt it when you married him.

you feel it now.

yes, this was going to be one of those memories.

️️ ️️️️️️️️️

one thing elvis loved about you was that you never doubted his love for you.

you loved him when he didn't have a penny on his name. and for that, you deserved all the good in the world.

he always reassured after shows though.

“ you're my best girl, you know that? ” you nodded, his hands cupping your cheeks as his sweat was falling to the white towel surrounding his neck. “ my best girl. ” he whispered before kissing you.

but the thing that he loved the most about being with you is how comforting your presence is.

right now is a good example.

you're laughing while riding your horse quite fast, throwing your head back as your horse huffs.

“ sorry, 'm sorry. ” you say between laughs, caressing their soft long hair, the horse calming at the sound of your voice. “ it's okay. ” you kissed their head before galloping to the opposite side.

elvis was just calmly watching you, following you quietly with his horse, a dumb smile in his face.

his life was a bit insane, people around the world knew who he was, he could have anything he wanted as some people told him.

but all he wanted was you. and he already has you.

he slightly moved his foot, giving a sign to his horse to move, now galloping next to you.

you were giggling like a high-school girl, the air blowing in your face made you feel some kind of freedom. “ how was i? ” you asked him, looking with an eye closed as the sun shined in your direction.

“ awful. ” he answered making you laugh which, in return, made him laugh too. “ i'm kidding. you did good. ��� he hit your thigh when the both of you were close, you hitting his arm in return.

“ well, i had a good teacher. ” you sighed, looking ahead of you.

“ bless his heart. ” elvis muttered, loud enough for you to hear.

“ hey! ” you, once again, hit his arm making him laugh again.

elvis looked at you at the same moment you turned to see some clouds far from where you were, trees slightly moving with leaves falling.

“ isn't it beautiful? ” you softly asked.

“ yes. ” elvis replied. “ it is. ”

you turned, narrowing your eyes. “ smooth bastard. ”

elvis laughed again, this time one of those heartfelt laughs.

“ damn, sorry for trying to be romantic! ” he defended himself, looking at how you held your laugh, caressing your horse's hair again.

another comfortable silence engulfed the both of you as you returned, slowly, to the center of the place where the both of you were riding. elvis following behind with the excuse of not letting your horse bumping into his. (that gained him another hit in his arm).

the day was beautiful but elvis thought you made it prettier.

it was one of those things only a person that is in love would understand.

sometimes his father would tell him that the way he looked at you was the way he looked at elvis' mother.

in his wedding speech as elvis best man, he said:

“ y'know, the only thing gladys and i agreed on, ” some laughs were heard with vernon's chuckles. “ was that we both wanted for you to find a love as pure as the one we had and keep it forever... and son-. ” vernon choked a sob, raising his glass towards the table you and elvis were sitting. ️️ ️️️️️️️️️“ she would've been so proud to see it come true. ”

elvis still sobs at those words. because he also knew his mother would've loved to see the both of you right now.

he was lucky enough to had her and you at the same time, at least for a while. enough for him to know she approved you.

“ that's one good girl, elvis. ” she said while cleaning the table. you left a few minutes ago. “ i knew you could choose well. ” she laughed.

elvis chuckled. “ yeah, mama. 'm gonna marry that girl. ”

gladys stopped cleaning, looking at his son with a pure face of adoration.

“ you better. ”

️️ ️️️️️️️️️

“ elvis! ” you screamed at him, making him return to reality.

“ 'm watching, doll! ” he screamed back.

with that you showed him how your horse could pass the exercises elvis would sometimes practice with his horses.

“ yeah! ” he clapped before whistling, laughing when you tipped your head in a type of reverence.

the day wasn't over and elvis knew it so he let you do some stuff before leaving the horses in the stable.

“ your turn! ” you said, your horse now next to his. elvis nodded, galloping to the start.

you tried to memorize how he looked right now. how carefree he seemed to be. how calm he is.

you loved him so much the simple sight of his smile could make you faint.

what must it be like to grow up that beautiful?

you actually asked him once.

he laughed. “ now what insect bit you? ”

you punched his chest, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. “ answer! ” you whined.

“ okay, okay, you violent girl. ” you chuckled at that, shrugging your shoulders. “ it was great, actually... i don't know. yeah. ” he shrugged, kissing your head.

“ you? ” he asked back.

“ amazing, i stole a bunch of stuff. ”

he laughed again.

️️ ️️️️️️️️️

you were leaving the horses at the stable, your horse enjoying the head rubs you gave them as a goodbye.

elvis took your hand, leading you out after the both of you said your goodbyes (at your request).

walking back to your home, you hugged his arm, looking at the slight cloudy sky you had.

you walked in silence, the sounds of both of your boots crushing some leaves and birds singing brought a smile to your face.

“ i love you. ”

you said as you looked at him, your cheek pressed in his shoulder.

he looked at you, stopping his walk.

“ i love you more. ”

the both of you smiled. a gold rush wrapping itself in your heart.

you are, so, in love with elvis presley.

and elvis was, so, in love with you.

#elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis fic #elvis presley imagine #elvis presley fic #elvis presley x you

[raspberryfingers]

A Lion in the Garden -Tywin Lannister x Reader- (Part 14)

WARNING: Gore and death

—————

With Winterfell retaken and back in shape, Loras and Sansa had said their goodbyes and returned to King's Landing. For a time, at least, because they were expecting to travel to Highgarden in a few weeks. 

They’d arrived at the perfect time, though, because a several day tourney was happening and Loras had decided to enter for jousting. This of course was despite Sansa’s protests, given that the last time she’d watched him joust the Mountain had nearly murdered him. But Loras was smarter now, and it made me glad, as I’d be spending the day with the Lannisters while watching rounds. 

Currently, my father was seated a row behind me with Margaery and Sansa. The girls were catching up and telling stories, and I was casually joining in every now and then when I wasn’t watching rounds. I had desired to sit in the front row, however, as I did not want to miss a thing. 

“Lady (Y/N), may I join you?” 

I looked up, seeing Lord Varys with his hands in his sleeves.

“Certainly, Lord Varys,” I said, moving over a bit so he might sit next to me. 

“Thank you, my Lady.”

“I did not expect to see you here, Lord Varys, you are not usually prone to events like these,” I remarked, watching him scoff and smile.

“After witnessing Oberyn Martell’s death, I find myself needing my spirits lifted as well.”

Ah, yes. The tourney had not explicitly been hosted because of Oberyn’s death, but it certainly seemed with so much death in Kings Landing lately, we could all use it. That was the reason the tourney had been deemed an acceptable expense. Plus, it’s not as if the Lannisters couldn’t afford it. (Keeping it like the book where there’s still gold in their mines).

“I can certainly agree with that, Lord Varys. It’s ironic, isn’t it? We distract ourselves from death and violence with more death and violence,” I said, watching as one of the knights currently riding got knocked off his horse. 

“Yes, we certainly do that, don’t we?”

The next round started, and I was surprised when one of the knights came up to me and offered a rose. It seemed others were following in my brother's footsteps.

“Thank you, ser,” I remarked as I accepted, smiling when he winked at me. Varys raised both of his eyebrows when the knight rode off. 

“I don’t think Lord Tywin’s going to like that.”

I began to laugh, nodding and looking over my shoulder subtly. Sure enough, Tywin looked enraged. 

“Oh he’s furious. I’ll be sure to cheer extra loud if my knight wins,” I said, both of us grinning. 

I watched intently as the joust began, and neither was knocked off on the first go. On the second run, however, ‘my’ knight prevailed, successfully knocking the other man off of his horse. I instantly rose from my seat, clapping loudly and smiling. 

He rode before us, bowing before King Tommen. That had also happened recently, and I expected it wasn’t long before he and Margaery were married. They were already set to, it was just a matter of time now. 

“You didn’t make him any happier,” Varys said when I sat back down. I merely turned around and smiled at Tywin who took a deep breath. He definitely knew what game I was playing. 

“Good.”

I had no clue then, but when I returned to my room that night, I would find red roses all over my room. It was most assuredly Tywin making a point, but it would make me laugh nonetheless.

“Lord Varys, Lady (Y/N). Might I sit?”

I looked up and found Tywin standing before us expectantly.

“May I ask why, Lord Tywin?” I asked, battling my eyelashes. 

“Your brother is going next, and I’ve heard he’s as good at jousting as you are at dancing,” he replied. I motioned to the space next to me, and Tywin sat down with a sigh. 

“You love to test me, don’t you, woman?” He whispered in my ear, making me smile. I did not reply, instead focusing on Loras who came out handsome as ever in his flowery armor. Of course, it was not as beautiful as mine. I hoped to actually wear it soon. 

I heard Margaery and Sansa quiet down behind me, clearly both interested in watching Loras. From what Sansa was saying, her and Loras had become quite good friends, and I was happy to hear it. 

The other knight Loras was going against didn’t look particularly formidable, and I could tell it eased Sansa. Though, I knew better. Even if Loras had been going against Gregor Clegane again, I had no doubt he would win. 

As my grandmother had put it, he was quite good at knocking men off of horses with sticks. 

The entire Tyrell family, plus Sansa, Varys, and Tywin, watched Loras intently. 

He was waving to the crowd, armed with his lance and securing his helmet properly. When the horn blew, him and his opponent charged. It was unfortunate that he was on the other side of the rail and I couldn’t see him better, but I figured it wouldn’t matter very much, he’d win on the first go anyways. 

And just as I’d predicted, he did. Though, as I watched his horse start and his lance successfully knock into his opponent, it seemed the man’s foot had gotten caught in the stirrup. 

If not that, something else had happened, because his horse jolted and turned slightly. Before I even realized what was about to happen, I felt Tywin grab both of my arms and lift me out of my seat, quickly dragging me to the middle of the stand. 

A mere second after that, I watched the man and his horse crash into the stand, knocking over the small fence and destroying a decent chunk of the first row. Lord Varys had also had the sense to rise and move, and thankfully so did everyone else. Nobody had been injured at all, but I realized then if Tywin had waited another second to grab me, I might’ve been seriously injured or even killed. 

Tywin was holding me close to his chest with his arms tight around me, one hand protecting my head. We were safe now, but I knew he was in a protective mode and needed to be sure there was absolutely no risk present. 

“Tywin,” I said softly, making him realize and loosen his grip on me a bit. His hands came to the sides of my arms, and he gently felt up and down them. 

“Are you alright? Hurt at all?” He questioned, scanning my face for anything at all.

“I’m perfectly fine, Tywin. A little bit shocked but fine,” I said, placing a reassuring hand on his chest. He nodded, looking around. 

“Have someone come and clean this mess up. Ser Elias, see Lady (Y/N) back to her room, please,” Tywin said. I raised my eyebrows in shock.

“Pardon? Lord Tywin there’s no need for me to go back to my chambers, all is well now,” I said, slightly shocked and feeling somewhat patronized. My father and sister both looked a bit surprised too. 

“I need to make sure you are safe. I am requesting that you go back,” he whispered, looking down at me quite seriously. I scoffed and shook my head, going toward Ser Elias. 

Fine, so be it. I’d go back to my damned chambers if it truly made him feel better. I was in no mood to argue, and I’d already seen Loras joust so I felt it was pointless to fight back. 

It was a several day tourney as well, and tomorrow there would be the fighting portion of it. I suspected the final round would be in the afternoon, which all of the nobles would be watching. I imagined the lower rounds would be too boring for them to consider. Nonetheless, I would certainly enjoy them.

“Are you alright?” Ser Elias asked as we made our way back to the main part of the castle.

“I’m alright, Ser Elias. A bit annoyed, but otherwise fine.”

“He’s only doing it because he cares, (Y/N). Had he acted any later you might’ve been seriously injured or killed,” He said, walking a step behind me.

“But he didn’t need to send me all the way back here like a child. He could’ve merely asked me to sit in a higher row.”

“This eliminates all chances of danger for him. Tywin Lannister is a cold, sharp man, but anyone with half a brain can see that he values you more than anything else. Your safety is of vital importance to him, he’s not going to let it be risked so long as he has a say in it,” Ser Elias said softly, watching my face. I was not surprised that he’d also picked up on our affections. By now, I was quite certain everyone in all seven kingdoms knew, they simply just didn’t discuss it publicly out of fear. 

“He’s not going to have a say tomorrow.”

“I’m aware, and that is why I am urging you once again to not do it.”

“Don’t worry yourself, Elias. I’ll be careful.”

—————

The next day was the last day of the tourney, and it was the day set up for fighting. The lower levels had begun early in the morning so that eventually the champions—or five best fighters—would be presented to the nobility of Kings Landing before a fight to the death. 

The earlier rounds had consisted mostly of merely knocking out, but there was inevitably death. For those stupid and talentless enough to let themselves get killed, anyways. 

In any case, everyone was gathered in the main arena to watch the final round of the fighting. King Tommen sat under the royal tent beside his grandfather and mother, excited to watch the fight. Others present under that tent were Jaime, Tyrion, and the entire Tyrell family plus Sansa. Of course, Olenna Tyrell had gone back to Highgarden, but she naturally would not have cared to watch. Margaery was truthfully only there to sneak glances at Tommen and speak with him beforehand and afterwards.

There was also a seat for you next to your father, but you and Ser Elias were currently not present. You were running a bit late, unfortunately, and Tywin had quickly taken notice.

“Lord Tyrell, where is your eldest? She expressed quite a bit of excitement about this yesterday, I would not expect her to miss it,” Tywin inquired casually. Mace Tyrell looked over and scoffed.

“Her and Ser Elias went to watch the lower rounds quite early this morning. I expect they are on their way over here with the champions,” Mace reasoned, sipping his wine. Tywin gripped his seat. He knew you were simply friends with Ser Elias, but it was always a touchy subject for him. The thought of you spending an entire day alone with another man made him furious deep down. 

“I saw Ser Elias watching the lower rounds this morning, (Y/N) was not with him. I suppose that’s why he was cheering so loudly, he certainly wouldn’t have done that in her presence,” Loras said, smiling as Margaery began to laugh. The Tyrell children were quite close to Ser Elias, but he’d always had a certain decorum with all of you despite that. 

“Well, in any matter, I’m certain she’ll be here soon. She wouldn’t want to miss this,” Mace reasoned, looking around and shaking his head. What a burdensome child you were in comparison to your siblings. Had the gods not given you such a gift with combat, he would’ve given the army to Loras. It certainly would’ve been easier to manage that way. 

Just then, the horns sounded out and people began to cheer as the five ‘best fighters’ emerged and made their way into the arenas. They were already armored and armed, and some looked miserably tired while others looked excited. 

“Sister’s going to miss the start,” Margaery noted with a sigh. Just then Ser Elias walked up and stood behind them. 

“Ser Elias? Where is our sister?” Loras asked, surprised to see one of you without the other. Ser Elias sighed, and Tywin was curious. What was happening?

“I’m here to watch her, my lord.”

Just then, the horn sounded again and people began to cheer as loudly as they could, it seemed. That was when it clicked in Tywin’s head.

He looked down at the arena and scanned the champions. He’d noted that one champion had quite a nice set of armor, and when he looked again, he realized he’d seen it before. He felt his heart drop. 

He’d given that set of armor to you. 

His hands immediately clasped onto the arms of his chair as the champions took their helmets off. Sure enough, there you were. He was not surprised you’d managed to reach the final round, but he was terrified. 

The four men beside you had also made it to the final round, and several of them were quite tall. One in particular was nearly as tall as the Hound, and he recalled what had happened at the Battle of Blackwater.

“Do not let the fight continue!” He shouted, looking around and finding a squire. When they made eye contact, the young man instantly began to run, trying to find someone who was running the tourney. 

It was not fast enough, though, because the horn blew once more and the fighting began. Everyone had put their helmets back on and drawn their swords, and it did not take long for them to start clashing against each other. 

The entire royal tent had a variation of looks. Your father and sister looked terrified, and so did Sansa, Jaime, and Tyrion. Tommen also looked worried, he was unsure of what to do, and he’d never seen his grandfather in such a state before.

Tywin, to anyone who did not know him well, would appear to be perfectly fine. However, his family knew quite well that he was practically in ruins. There was a visible tremor in his hand as he watched you fighting. 

Oddly enough, the only two people not nervous were Cersei and Loras. Though, for two completely different reasons. Cersei hoped to see you struck down, and Loras knew you certainly wouldn’t be. 

“Get her out of there. Go!” Tywin scowled at one of his soldiers, who swallowed and nodded, running to the edge of the royal’s platform and jumping down twice as to actually be in the arena.

When he approached you, however, the attempt was pointless. Realizing quickly enough that Tywin was sending soldiers to come and get you, you did not let it stand. Once he was within three feet of you, the man was knocked out cold even despite his helmet. People cheered when you did so, not wanting to see the fight interrupted.

Tywin, realizing it was hopeless, began to attempt deep breaths. There was a deep panic setting inside of him. What if you got hurt? 

What if you died?

What if you died and he had to watch?

—————

I swung at the man before me, who must’ve made it here due to others failing, for he certainly lacked true talent. 

I was grateful the armor was relatively light, for it was easy to move around in and proved to be quite the advantage on the men around me. They certainly had armor, but nothing like this. Not to mention, the sight of my sword paralyzed many of them.

Though, some didn’t even know what Valyrian steel looked like, and I was not surprised. 

I left these thoughts alone, though, for I was finally getting an opportunity to kill the man. I’d knocked the sword out of his hand, and I finally grabbed his shoulder, pulling him closer by his armor and plunging my sword deep through his breastplate.

There were cheers from the crowd when I did, but I ignored it. There were still three men left, and I couldn’t let myself get distracted by it. 

The tallest men were fighting each other, so I let myself target the currently free man. I spun my sword, gripping it with both hands and smiling. I hadn’t gotten to kill a man since the Battle of Blackwater. 

Gods, I’d missed this. 

When the man saw me approaching, he lifted his sword like he was preparing to block. 

“I don’t want to kill a woman,” he said when I first struck, managing to block the hit. 

“A nice sentiment. A mistake, though, as this woman intends to kill you,” I shot back, still grinning as I spun and took another swing at him. He blocked me once more, so I attempted a technique I’d been practicing lately. 

I lifted the sword and brought it forward as if about to swing, watching him raise to block, just as I tightened my grip and let the sword swing back. My wrist loosened as the weapon spun backwards, and I managed to plunge straight into the man’s stomach as it was coming back up. 

I watched his eyes widen as he dropped his sword and pressed on his stomach. 

“W-Well done, my lady.”

“Thank you,” I said with a smile, stepping back and watching the life drain from his body. When I turned, I found the two men from before were still fighting. Had I been less cocky, I would’ve attempted to kill the larger man while he was distracted, but the other was already wounded, and I wanted a chance to prove myself after what had happened at the Battle of Blackwater.

No, I would not let my height or size define me.

I was quiet in my approach, and before the smaller man realized I was there, I had already slit both of his ankles. 

He fell to his knees, and I grabbed his head, pulling it back toward me and slitting his throat to the bone. More cheers—and admittedly boos—came from the crowd. It was just the large man and I now, and I smiled at the anger in his eyes.

I’d just taken his kill, after all. 

I removed my helmet, as he was not wearing one either. A stupid move, yes, but I was not afraid. I wanted every single person in the stadium to see the face of the woman who would kill this giant man. 

“They let some cunt in here, huh?” He scowled, beginning to raise his sword.

“They did. Turns out nobody is good enough to beat a cunt,” I spat, spinning my sword and holding it up. His anger seemed to intensify as he advanced on me, and I began to smile when I dodged all his attempted strikes. There were people cheering faintly, and I could hear Loras among them. It made me even more proud. 

I swung then, listening to him cuss me out while he blocked me. I wasn’t worried, as the other man had tired him out a bit already. I could certainly be swift and smart enough to disarm him. From there, it would be easy. 

I managed to land a hit on his arm, and he groaned out due to how deep I’d gone, but it was clearly not deep enough, for he simply continued to swing.

And of course, I continued to retreat, dodging and blocking all of his swings with ease. He was only getting more frustrated, and I began to move like I was going to dodge, but I didn’t. Instead, I blocked him and let my sword push his own down as I moved away. I let out a small laugh as I smacked him across the face with the back of my armor, which must’ve hurt due to all the intricate patterns and thorns.

He was surprised by the move, and faltered for a moment, allowing me to knock his sword clean out of his hands. I swiftly filled the space between him and the weapon, pointing my sword at him. 

I watched him get nervous, and people began to cheer even louder. 

“Finish him!”

I had no clue who’d said it, but in my confidence I decided they were right. I lunged forward, meaning to strike, but this time he dodged me. And when he did, he knocked me to the ground. My sword fell from my hands, and my stomach dropped when I felt his hand grab the back of my armor. 

Oh fuck.

—————

Though Tywin had been extremely nervous the entire time, practically flinching whenever the man had swung at you, this was horrible. 

His entire body began to shake when you’d been thrown down, and his eyes had gone wide. All the Tyrells were too busy watching you, concern also consuming them, but at least their nerves felt normal. 

Tywin’s children couldn’t take their eyes off of their father. He was shaking. Never in their entire lives had they seen the man display even a moment of fear, and this made them all extremely concerned.

Though, if Jaime and Cersei thought hard enough, they’d remembered the way their father had paced and shaken when Joanna was birthing Tyrion. 

When Tywin saw the man grab your armor and begin to lift you into the air, a single tear slid down his cheek as he shot up from his chair. 

“Stop the match!” 

He had yelled it so deeply, in such a commanding tone, and yet neither you nor your competition had bothered to even look over at him.

“Stop the match!” 

His voice was even louder with that one, and there was a terrified desperation in his tone. He looked around, head swimming when he saw Ser Elias rushing down and jumping into the arena, followed by several Lannister soldiers. 

The man had begun to choke you, and Tywin’s heart was racing. 

Was he about to watch you die?

He thought he might break down and sob, feeling so helpless to do anything as he stood there and watched. Ser Elias and the guards were running toward you, but it didn’t seem fast enough to Tywin. 

However, Ser Elias’ attempts were in vain. The entire stadium gasped out, and for a moment afterwards there was silence. 

Until there were screams. 

In your disadvantaged position, you’d managed to draw the two daggers you’d had and bring them up, swiftly stabbing them into both of the man’s eyes. Instantly, you’d been dropped, and he’d begun to scream, writhing as he fell to the floor. You hadn’t stabbed deep enough to kill, only enough to blind, but it was clear to everyone now that you would win this fight. 

Ser Elias and all the guards instantly stopped, slowly backing away when they realized you were alright. You gave a small cough, and then you smiled again. Slowly, you got up and made your way over to your dropped sword. When you picked it up, you let the metal drag on the floor. 

The man you’d just blinded must’ve been terrified, only able to hear the distinct sound of the blade against the stone ground. He tried to move back, but the second he thought you were in one place, you were clearly in another. 

He sat up, still clutching at his eyes and shaking. There was utter silence, and everyone in the stadium watched as you inhaled and then ran toward the man, slicing his head off in one fluid movement. The Valyrian steel had not failed you, and you were smiling brighter than any sane person would be after almost dying. 

But, that didn’t matter to you. You’d won, clearly evident by the man’s head detached from his body. The stadium erupted into cheers, claps, and whistles, and you watched your entire family stand and join in. The Lannisters also stood for you, and even Cersei spared a few claps. 

In fact, the only person not cheering was Tywin. He’d fallen back into his chair after you’d stabbed the man’s eyes out, still shaking and breathing heavily. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been so afraid. 

But, despite his trembling, he couldn’t deny that you looked magnificent. The sun was shining down on you as if the Gods had chosen you themselves, and you looked so happy, so proud, that he felt it too, even if it wasn’t showing. Tywin let out one shaky exhale and smiled at you, feeling his love so deeply at that moment. 

You smiled back at him, raising your sword before everyone as they cheered. People had said many things about you throughout your life, but there was great comfort to you in knowing that after today, nobody could deny your talent with a sword. In fact, some would even go on to tell stories. The blind, headless man indeed.

—————

“And when you pulled out the daggers and blinded him! Gods, it was beautiful, (Y/N). You scared me for a moment, I won’t lie, but it was the most awesome display of talent I’ve ever seen. You were wonderful, (Y/N). Wonderful,” Loras said, walking me back to my room. I was—of course—wearing a dress now, as my armor was being cleaned and polished, just like all of my equipment. It was nice to be out of it, even though it had been relatively light. 

“Thank you, Loras. In all honesty, I was scared too. I realized, though, that he was holding me far enough out for me to do it, and I almost found myself excited when I realized. Gods, It’s been a long time since I’ve felt so… so proud,” I noted, smiling over at my brother.

“Good, you should feel proud. I’ll bet you you’re the only woman in all seven kingdoms who can command a sword like that, (Y/N).”

“Usually I’m modest, Loras, but Gods it felt so good to hear them all cheering. To know I’d won. Especially against that insufferable cunt of a man,” I scoffed, shaking my head and looking at the small garden near my room. It was my favorite courtyard in the entire Red Keep. 

“Well, given that you’re now in love with the last man you called an insufferable cunt, I think it’s lost its meaning,” Loras teased. I smacked his arm, laughing when I heard a cough from nearby.

“Lady (Y/N), Ser Loras.”

We turned around and found Tywin there, hands behind his back.

“Lord Tywin, how may we help you?” Loras asked, though I had to look down to keep myself from laughing. Loras truly did turn me into a child again. 

“I was hoping to speak with your sister, if you don’t mind,” Tywin said, watching Loras nod.

“Of course. Sister, Lord Tywin.”

Loras walked off, leaving the two of us alone. We were in front of my door now, and Tywin motioned for us to enter. I swallowed, doing so nervously. I knew he was not going to be thrilled about what I’d done. 

Once the door was closed behind us, it was exactly what I’d expected. Tywin looked furious. 

“How could you be so stupid?” He asked, scowling at me and going to serve himself a glass of wine. I sat on one of the small ottomans, eyebrows raised. 

“Stupid? Nothing about what I did today was stupid. For gods’ sake, Tywin, you saw the way I blinded that man,” I told him, not appreciating the criticism.

“And before that? That man was about to kill you!” He shouted, gripping his cup so tightly his knuckles were going white. 

“And he didn’t! I wasn’t going to succumb so meekly.”

“Like you did at the battle of Blackwater?”

“Oh leave that out of this!”

“I’m not going to leave it out because I know it’s what possessed you to target the larger man! Why, (Y/N), why! Why put yourself at risk to make up for something so pointless?” He questioned, clearly still furious. 

“It’s not pointless, Tywin! I knew I could kill him, so why wouldn’t I? Nobody wants to watch me kill some man that’s already practically dead!” I reasoned, looking away from him. I knew he was right, deep down, but I was truthfully too proud to admit it.

“You removed your helmet, (Y/N)! You removed your damn helmet and I’m supposed to believe this has nothing to do with your pride?” He scowled, eyes narrowing and jaw clenching. I’d really done it this time.

“Even if it does, who cares? I’m alive! I’m alive and fine, it’s already done with!” I shouted, sighing afterwards. I watched Tywin put his cup down and clench his hands behind his back. He approached me slowly, and I thought he might snap. 

“I care! I care very much, (Y/N)! Do you have any idea how scared I was? You’d been putting your life at risk all day, and I didn’t have a damn clue!” 

“I’m not a slave, Tywin! If I’d told you, you never would’ve let me and gods forbid I do anything besides spend all my time in the tower of the hand with you! I love fighting, Tywin, and I’m damn good at it! I haven’t had the chance to even practice with anyone since the Battle of Blackwater. Is it such a sin to want to engage in something like that?” I asked, explaining my side with pleading eyes. I didn’t know what was so hard for him to understand. 

“I never would’ve let you, (Y/N), because I value your life! If you wanted to fight someone so badly I could’ve arranged for it safely. If you really wanted to, I’d take the time to fight with you. I know you’re talented, (Y/N), I know you enjoy it, but did it ever cross through your mind what would’ve happened if you’d died?” 

There was silence in the room for a moment. I didn’t know how to respond, for once in my life. The fear was coming out more than the anger now, and I was beginning to feel absolutely horrible. 

“Your entire family would’ve watched you die, (Y/N). Loras, Margaery, your father. They all would’ve watched it. I would’ve watched it. Do you- do you have any idea just how terrified I was?” He asked, and I could hear him getting choked up. 

“My entire body was shaking, (Y/N). I was so scared- so scared that I would lose you. That I would have to watch some man stab through your body. I was terrified of seeing the confused, afraid look on your face that everyone gets when they’ve been stabbed. I was terrified of seeing that and watching you fall to the ground, coughing up blood and going cold. I truly- truly thought I was going to lose you,” he said, going quiet at the end and turning away. I saw his body begin to shake, and I realized he was genuinely crying. 

I instantly rose from my seat, rushing over to him and taking him into my arms.

“Oh Tywin, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, my love,” I whispered, feeling him cling to me as he sobbed. 

“I was so scared of losing you, (Y/N). So scared I’d lose you… I can’t- I can’t lose you. I can’t do it again,” he wept, burying his face in my neck. I realized he was talking about Joanna, and my heart broke. In all honesty, I truly hadn’t considered that he’d be so afraid. I thought he trusted my skill, though it was more than that. 

I knew Tywin trusted my skill, he was simply scared anyways. And how could I blame him? He’d saved my life once, why wouldn’t it need saving again? 

I rubbed his back as he cried, and it was almost strange to see him so emotional, but it felt correct. 

“Don’t leave me, (Y/N). Please don’t. Promise me, promise me you’ll never endanger yourself again… I can’t… can’t live without you,” he sobbed, pulling back a bit to look me in the eyes. I cupped his face and nodded, a few tears of my own falling now.

“I promise, Tywin. I promise. I’m so sorry,” I whispered, pulling him back in. 

A hand came to my head, and he pressed me against him as tight as he could. I felt safe in his arms, which was an odd statement to make. I never felt unsafe, per say, but there was a certain emptiness without his touch. Especially without his kisses.

I moved back from him, wiping the tears from his cheeks and pressing my lips to his. He responded sweetly, holding my face. 

“I love you, Tywin,” I whispered, letting my hand smooth over his hair. 

“I love you so much, (Y/N). So much. If I ever lost you I’d- I’d be… gods…” he muttered, shaking his head. It was clear as day that whatever he envisioned was not good, and I took him back into my arms.

Truthfully, I knew I’d be just as lost without him as he would without me, and I prayed to the gods that they’d given him many more years with me. It was odd to think about sometimes, that the man I’d vowed to hate for the rest of my life was the one I desired to vow to spend the rest of my life with. 

I realized it then, the depth of my love for him. And, on top of that, I realized the depth of my lust too. 

TAGLIST:

@cheyxfu @lemonscoffee @groovy-lady

@ladysindar @vesta-ro @exo-nova @paola-carter

@prettykinkysoul @nothing2113 

@fullmoonshadowwrites @kishie8 

@the-desilittle-bird @dianilaws @girlonfireice @muscari-fae @abigfanofgameofthrones

#tywin lannister #tywin lannister x reader #house lannister #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #Charles dance #a lion in the garden

[cha-melodius]

Aaaaaaah congrats on 100 fics! I’m so excited that you’re doing this! Can I request Lokius in a western/cowboy setting?

(You were a prophet when you sent this back in August, Old West Lokius is quite the in vogue thing now lol. I hope you enjoy!)

Ain't No Place for a Better Man

(3k, M; read it below or on AO3)

They’ve had easier jobs, that’s for damned sure.

Protecting an entire train of stagecoaches was always going to be a strain on his crew, especially through this territory. They’re good, but they’re not that good. Mobius should have insisted that the client cough up the money to bring on another couple of folks, but they’d been reluctant and Mobius hadn’t wanted to risk the job going to someone else. And really, against most bandits, they’d probably have been fine.

They weren’t up against most bandits, though.

Mobius flips a blood-streaked silver dollar at the barkeep and collects a bottle of whiskey and four glasses in return without a single word exchanged. His crew is damn-near legendary in these parts; people vacate ‘their’ table when they enter the saloon, tip their hats when they pass on the road, and generally treat them with the kind of wary respect they’ve worked hard to cultivate. Mobius’ crew may be nominally ‘good’ guys, but a hard world makes hard people, especially ones who are hired to protect what passes for civilization out west.

Verity grunts in appreciation when he deposits the glasses on the table and sloshes a generous helping of whiskey in each one. Wincing a little as he leans forward, Mobius pushes two across to the others then settles back into the rickety chair. He tosses his hat on the table and kicks his feet up next to it, crossing them at the ankles and ignoring the dirty looks from the barkeep. The burn of cheap whiskey flows down his throat and spreads out in his chest, dulling the ache of what’s probably a bruised rib. 

“How do you think he found out they were moving the gold?” Casey asks, fidgeting with his glass. Twitchy guy, but surprisingly good with a rifle. He’d been riding with the trailing coach on the job and had caught the butt end of a pistol to the face when they’d been boarded, which is now darkening to a mottled purple across his cheekbone. Hadn’t gotten shot, though, which was a small blessing.

“How does he always? He’s got his ways,” Mobius returns with a shrug. “Weren’t one of us.”

“Obviously,” Verity snorts. “Slippery bastard has his fingers in plenty of pies, and people are easily bought. What I don’t get is how no one has managed to shoot him off his horse yet.”

Mobius snorts. “You’re the marksman, Ver. You tell me.”

“Swear he’s goddamn magic. One of them spirits. No one should be able to dodge all those bullets.”

“I assure you, he’s just a man.”

“And how exactly do you know, Mobius?” Verity counters, a too-shrewd look on her face.

Mobius blinks at her slowly and takes another sip of his drink. “Didya forget how I got this?” he asks, tugging aside the collar of his shirt to reveal an ugly scar twisting just under his collarbone. “He was flesh and blood when he drove that dagger into me.”

She looks chastened, but not completely convinced. “Could be he takes human form sometimes,” she mutters into her drink. 

“I heard of spirits like that,” Casey puts in. “One of the girls at the Mariposa was tellin’ me about this guy who comes in—”

“Enough,” Mobius says. His voice isn’t particularly loud or sharp, but everyone falls silent nonetheless. “You tell these stories, you let him get in your head. He ain’t a spirit, or a witch, or whatever else has been said about ‘im. Bleeds as red as the rest of us. Now,” he says, swinging his legs off the table and throwing back the rest of his whiskey, “I’m beat. And I’m takin’ this with me.” He grabs the bottle of whiskey off the table, ignoring their protests, and tugs his hat back on before he turns and walks away.

His steps are onerous as he climbs the stairs leading to the rooms over the saloon, heavy with a deep weariness he can’t seem to shake off these days. He’s getting too old for this shit, that’s for certain, but there’s something else weighing him down that he’d rather forget about in the bottom of this whiskey bottle tonight. He takes another swig as he kicks open the door to his usual room, only to find it already occupied.

The black-clad figure is little more than a lump, sitting hunched over in a chair next to the a small table with his hat pulled down low so that the broad brim of it hides his face from view. He doesn’t react when Mobius enters—unconscious or dead or just uninterested in the newcomer is difficult to say. Mobius’ hand is on his pistol before he knows he’s moving, even as something familiar twinges in his mind at the shape of the man’s shoulders.

“Think you’re in the wrong room, buddy,” he says evenly. “This one’s spoken for.”

The man looks up, a curtain of dark hair falling back from his face, and his lips twist into a wry smile. “I’m exactly where I intend to be, in fact.”

“Shit,” Mobius swears, his hand falling away from his gun as he takes another long swig from the bottle. Kicking the door shut behind him, he pulls his hat off and tosses it onto one of the bed posts. “You know they’re all downstairs, right? This is the last goddamn place you should be.”

“Didn’t have much choice in the matter.”

“What are you doing here, Loki?” Mobius sighs.

“I can’t want to see you?” Loki asks, trying for flippant and falling short by a mile.

As Mobius draws closer, he can see that Loki’s even paler than usual—which is really saying something—and he’s still hunched over, clutching his shoulder. Mobius reaches out and gently takes hold of Loki’s slender wrist, tugging his hand away and sucking in a breath when it comes away covered in red.

“You took a bullet today.”

“Astute observation,” Loki returns dryly. “I fear that Verity of yours is going to shoot me dead one day.”

Mobius squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath, forcing his hand not to tremble. “She’d like that.”

“And you, Mobius?”

“Don’t you dare ask me that, Loki.”

Loki bows his head again, and Mobius turns away before he accidentally says something powerfully stupid. He steps out into the hallway and flags down a maid for a basin, a rag, and some clean water—well, clean as it gets, anyway—then returns to dig through the saddlebag slung over the foot rail of the bed for the sewing kit within, the one that’s mended more flesh than fabric. He leaves it on the table next to Loki along with the whiskey and goes to fetch the basin and water at the sound of a light knock on the door. The legs of the other chair grate loudly against the rough wooden floor as he pulls it around in front of Loki and settles into it, close enough that their knees are knocking together where they’re interleaved.

The silence stretches out between them, somehow heavy with unspoken words and comfortable all at once, even as Loki flinches when Mobius pushes his jacket off his shoulders, even as Mobius’ fingers find a familiar path in the buttons of his shirt, even as Mobius takes another swig of the whiskey before passing it to Loki. A subtle shine to the fabric of his black shirt is the only visible trace of blood on it, but when Mobius carefully peels it away from the wound, the bright red staining his pale skin tells another story. The disturbance brings a fresh surge of blood oozing to the surface, and Mobius pretends that he doesn’t notice Loki trembling under his hands.

He works with movements far gentler than most people would think him capable of, and the water in the basin steadily darkens as he cleans around the wound. Even though Mobius’ attention is focused on his work, he can tell Loki is watching him raptly the entire time, his eyes fixed on Mobius’ face, until Mobius pulls out the long forceps he keeps in the kit just for this purpose. Only then does his trepidation show on his face, the knowledge of what’s coming only too familiar at this point. Mobius shoves the whiskey bottle at him again, and Loki dutifully drinks before handing it back. The muscle of his jaw jumps when Mobius pours a glug of the alcohol over the wound, but his stoicism is put to the test under the assault of the forceps. Loki inhales sharply and turns his face to the ceiling when Mobius goes digging for the bullet, as if that might hide the tears welling in his eyes.

Fortunately, the bullet comes out easily along with the bit of shirt that it pulled in with it. The unassuming hunk of lead clinks dully when Mobius drops it into the basin, the sound of it a bleak reminder of how close he’d come to losing Loki entirely. Another few inches…

Mobius shoves the thought out of his head. He can’t let his mind travel down those roads, not when he needs his hands steady to finish this hellish task. One thing at a time, one stitch at a time, until the hole in Loki’s shoulder is finally closed and Mobius lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. He rinses his own hands, then dampens the rag again and carefully takes Loki’s, gently wiping the now-dried blood from his skin as best as he can manage.

Loki’s head is bowed when he finishes, and Mobius reaches out with both hands to cup the sides of his face. His expression is impassive, but dried tears streak his cheeks, leaving pale tracks through the dirt and grime, and Mobius can’t help but rub his thumb through them in an ineffectual attempt at wiping them away.

“You’re all right, sweetheart,” he says, barely more than a murmur. He lets one corner of his mouth tug upward. “Gonna take more than that to take out the legendary Loki Odinson.”

Something fractures in Loki’s expression. “Mobius—”

“Shhh,” Mobius hushes, pressing a thumb to his lips.

Then he pulls his thumb away, leans closer, and presses their lips together instead.

It’s chaste at first, the barest brush of contact, but a moment later Loki is gasping into it, almost a sob, and his hands come up to curl desperately in Mobius’ shirt. He deepens the kiss hungrily, his teeth tugging at Mobius’ lips and tongue licking into his mouth, until the angle becomes untenable and he’s climbing into Mobius’ lap instead.

“Loki, you can’t—” Mobius protests, but can’t is not a concept that Loki is well-versed in, and he’s swallowing down the rest before Mobius can put voice to it.

He kisses Mobius like a drowning man in the desert slaking his thirst with Mobius’ lips, sinking his good hand into grey locks to pull them ever closer together. Mobius’ hands find the narrow dip of his waist without really meaning to, only that he could never resist that spot, the way Loki’s wiry muscles flex under his grip, the soft smoothness of his skin under hard calloused palms. His own shirt long discarded, Loki sets to work on Mobius’ instead, and despite the way his cock is definitely taking an interest, Mobius stills Loki’s hands with one of his own.

“I just sewed you up,” he scolds, a frown settling into his features.

Loki has the audacity to look annoyed. “And now I’m fine, can we move along—”

“You gotta take care of yourself.”

“Mm, not in my nature,” Loki says bluntly, leaning for another kiss before Mobius can reply. “That’s why I’m here,” he murmurs against Mobius’ lips, “because I know you’ll take care of me.”

“Loki,” Mobius exhales on a shuddery breath, squeezing his eyes closed against the emotions threatening to choke him.

A moment later, Loki’s forehead contacts his, and he brushes their noses together. “Please, Mobius,” he whispers into the narrow space between them. “I could have died today—”

“I know,” Mobius grinds out.

“—so I need you to fuck me until both you and I forget about it.”

Mobius can’t deny it’s an appealing prospect. “But your shoulder—”

“You’ll be careful,” Loki cuts him off. His lips twist wryly. “You’re always careful with me, even when you shouldn’t be.”

For two people who are constantly at odds, Mobius has always been terrible at saying no to him. He doesn’t manage it now, either. “Alright,” he surrenders, his hands already sliding over Loki’s back, lingering in the dip of his spine. “Alright.”

It’s not easy, between Loki’s shoulder and Mobius’ own injuries, but Mobius takes his time. He presses endless kisses to Loki’s skin, perfect in its imperfection, marred by countless scars inflicted over the years. Some by Mobius’ own hand; more by his crew, including the starburst that will form at his shoulder, no matter how neatly Mobius stitches it closed. If Mobius had his way, he’d never gain another one.

In this, Mobius knows he’s destined to be disappointed. Instead, he focuses making sure the pleasure overwhelms the pain, in treasuring every moment like it might be the last. He works Loki open with endless care—well, Loki wasn’t wrong—sinks into the impossible heat of him, rolls their bodies together as Loki urges him on, chasing the moments where they are just this. Not opponents, not adversaries, but two men seeking comfort in each other’s arms, finding what solace they can in a hard world.

In the aftermath, Loki tucks himself against Mobius’ side, pillowing his head on his shoulder, leaving no trace of space between their bodies. He’s unusually quiet, and Mobius doesn’t know if it’s just the trials of the day or something else weighing on him.

Loki’s hand moves idly over his chest, eventually finding the very scar under the collarbone Mobius had showed off earlier that evening. “Do you remember this day?” he asks, trailing a finger over the gnarled flesh.

“Are you asking if I remember the day you stabbed me in the chest?” Mobius returns incredulously.

Loki shrugs. “You’ve had closer calls.”

“Not from someone I love.”

Loki’s hand stills, not unexpectedly. It’s not the first time Mobius has said it, but he doesn’t deploy it often. It tends to make Loki… skittish.

“You didn’t know me back then,” Loki says eventually as he spreads his palm out over Mobius’ heart.

“I know you coulda killed me, but you didn’t.”

“I fear you’ve always made me soft, Mobius,” Loki murmurs, like a confession pressed against his skin.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It is in this life.”

“Don’t have to be,” Mobius says. “Not all the time, anyway.”

That, apparently, was a step too far. Or maybe this was always going to be the end of their limited time tonight. Loki doesn’t reply for a long moment, letting the statement hang in the air, then his hand curls into a loose fist.

“I should go before anyone finds out I’m here,” he says. He sits up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, and grips the edge of the mattress tightly. “I’ve already lingered too long.”

“You don’t have to run,” Mobius tries.

Loki laughs, without a single goddamn trace of humor in it, as he stands and grabs his trousers off the floor, tugging them on and doing up the buttons. “It’s not that simple.”

“It could be,” Mobius insists. He sits up, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “I have contacts. People in the marshal’s office, they could get you a deal—”

“And what makes you think I want a deal?” Loki snaps, though a second later his shoulders sag. “I appreciate that you’re willing to stick your neck out for me. I do. But just because you’re on the side of law and order doesn’t mean you’re in the right.” He bends down snag his shirt off the floor, wincing as he tugs the bloodstained garment on. “How do you think your employer got all that gold, hm? It certainly wasn’t by asking nicely.”

This is not the first time they’ve had a similar argument. 

“Don’t know. Don’t care. The law says it’s his,” Mobius answers with a shrug. “You expect me to believe you’re stealin’ out of some kind of highfalutin moral righteousness?”

Loki flashes him a wicked smile as his long fingers fasten his shirt. “Of course not. I’m stealing it because I want it. Which I’m fairly certain is also true of the man who’s paying you.” Once he’s finished with the buttons, he crosses back over to the bed and stands between Mobius’ legs, lifting a hand to the corner of Mobius’ jaw as he stares down at him. “You and I, we’re not all that different, in the end.”

Mobius slides his hands under the loose tails of his shirt until his palms find warm skin again. “In that case, if I asked you, again, to come join me…”

“I’m sorry, darling,” Loki murmurs, bending down to press a lingering kiss to his lips. “I can’t. Not— not yet.”

“I’m never gonna stop asking, you know,” Mobius tells him.

A melancholy smile tips onto Loki’s lips. “You’d break my heart if you did.”

That, right there, is why Mobius will never be strong enough to end this. It’s the hope that kills you, so they say.

“When will I see you again?” he asks instead.

“When’s your next job?” Loki jokes. Or not. It might not be a joke.

“Not funny,” Mobius huffs. 

“I’ll find you,” Loki tells him, then quickly adds, “not during a job, all right? I’ll always find you.”

It shouldn’t be so comforting. Nothing is certain in this life—especially not for men like them—and yet this, he’s come to rely on. “Take care of yourself, sweetheart.”

“All right,” Loki promises. “just for you.”

#lokius #loki x mobius #loki laufeyson #mobius m. mobius #cowboy loki #cowboy mobius #western au #lokius fanfic #lokius fic #my fic #chamel's fandom fest

[probably-impossible]

Meetings

"Tuco had wives all over, it followed that he had kids all over, too. But he'd never met one before."

Day 1 entry for the @dollarstrilogyevent

Tuco woke up at sunrise in a muddy ditch behind the saloon. He groaned and held his head for a while before getting up. He couldn't remember if someone had stolen his wallet or if he'd simply lost it playing poker. Oh well. Luckily one of the places he'd buried his gold was just outside of town. 

He stood up and slapped as much of the mud off himself as he could. Then he made his way back to the main street and started trying to find where he'd hitched his horse.

As he passed by a hotel, he heard a high voice call out. “Hey! Wait!” It was a kid, maybe about ten years old, jogging towards him. The urchin's gender was impossible to determine underneath all of the grime, but Tuco decided to assume it was a boy because it had short hair and was wearing trousers. 

“Get lost,” Tuco said, giving the kid a glare. He tugged on the leather strap holding his pistol to emphasize the point. 

The kid didn't seem fazed. He switched to speaking in Spanish. “You're Tuco Ramirez, aren't you? You look just like the posters.”

Tuco froze for a moment, on reflex. “...And what is it to you if I am?” He groaned and held a hand to his forehead. “You're real lucky I'm so hungover, kid. I'm just gonna let you forget all about those posters, you understand? Now beat it, before I change my mind.”

“No, wait, that's not—” The kid held up his hands. “I'm not going to tell anybody about you, I promise! I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Why?”

The kid hesitated. “Well… because you're my father.”

…

…

Tuco was surprised. He shouldn't have been. He had wives all over, it followed that he had kids all over, too. But he'd never met one before. He'd never stayed around longer than nine months. His mouth felt suddenly dry. “...Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Who's your mother?”

“Mariana Castillo.” After a short pause the kid added, “from Abilene.”

“Oh, yes, now I remember,” Tuco lied. “Very pretty lady.” He looked the kid up and down. Evidently she hadn't been pretty enough to save the poor tiny bastard from inheriting his features. Curly dark hair, big ears, big nose. The kid also had big brown eyes and a small gap between his front teeth. Tuco rubbed the back of his neck and let out a long breath. “Shit. Alright, well, what do you want? Money? Divorce papers for your mama?”

The kid blinked up at him. “I … I guess I sort of thought I could … stay with you.” 

Tuco winced. “Ah. No. Look, this is going to sound harsh, but there’s a reason I left in the first place. It’s not personal, it’s just that I can't let myself be tied down anywhere or to anybody, you understand? And besides, you don’t want to get mixed up with an outlaw like me. I'm a bad man, and I do bad things. It’s no life for a kid. So just go on back to your mother, okay?”

The kid gripped the hem of his dirty shirt and stared at the ground. He mumbled. “- - - - -.”

“What?”

“Mama’s dead,” the kid said, with only a small quiver in his voice. “Three months ago. She got sick.”

“Oh.” 

Tuco glanced around briefly. The town was slowly starting to wake up. He spotted the chestnut horse he’d rode in on hitched in front of a barbershop. “Here,” he said, “why don’t we find a quieter place to talk?”

The kid just nodded.

Tuco hopped into the saddle and swung the kid up to sit in front of him, where he could hold onto the pommel. “I’ve got to make a stop somewhere,” he explained, coaxing the horse into a trot. “It’s just a short ride out of town. But once that’s done I’m gonna bring you back here and we’re gonna part ways, understand?”

The kid nodded again. “I understand.”

“Good.” 

They rode in silence for a bit. The sky was slowly lightening, the deep oranges and pinks of the sunrise fading into a light blue. The kid's small body pressed against Tuco’s chest and Tuco’s arms encircled him as he held the reins, almost but not really an embrace. Eventually Tuco broke the silence. “What about your mama's family?”

“There's my grandpa,” the kid said, “and Aunt Josefina. They live in Abilene. But they don't like me. They say I'm nothing but trouble. And they were always telling Mama she should have never had me. I didn’t want to stay with them. That's why I ran away.” 

“And you've been, what, wandering around on your own for three months?”

“Yes. I'm working for the landlady at that hotel right now. I've been doing odd jobs, but I can't stick with them for more than a few days. I get distracted too easy.” 

“You know, I always had that problem, too. But you better find something to stick with. You don’t want to end up a bandit like me.”

The kid tipped his head back to look up at him. “Why not? You seem to be doing alright.”

Tuco chuckled and rubbed his neck. He still had a few scars there from all the rope burn. “Sure, it's alright most of the time, but when it gets bad it gets real bad, and quick. I'm only alive because God likes me. And because a certain blonde bastard is a really good shot.”

“Well,” the kid said, puffing his chest a little. “Maybe God likes me, too.”

“No, I don't think so.”

“Why not?”

“If He did, you wouldn't have a bandit for a father.”

Eventually they came upon a small grouping of cacti amongst a pile of rocks. Tuco dismounted and helped the kid hop down from the saddle. The kid stared up at the tallest cactus. “That one's shaped like a—”

“A prick,” Tuco said. “Yeah. That's how I remember this place. If that thing ever gets cut down I'm fu— err, in trouble.” 

He unhooked a small shovel from among his saddlebags. He'd started carrying it with him for convenience's sake. “Right,” he said, tossing it to the kid. “You can help me dig. That's what Tuco does, he digs.”

Between the two of them, it only took a few minutes before they hit the sack of gold. The kid's eyes were enormous as he watched Tuco open it. “Is that real?”

“Of course it's real,” Tuco said. He counted out about a thousand dollars’ worth and scooped it into his satchel. “You think I'd have it buried out here if it wasn't?”

“Just like Captain Flint's treasure,” the kid murmured.

“Who?”

“Oh, um…” The kid looked a bit sheepish. “It's from a story about pirates. I read it in a boys’ magazine.”

Tuco raised his eyebrows. “You like to read?” 

The kid smiled and nodded. “I like adventure stories, mostly. But Aunt Josefina told me I'm not supposed to read them.” He began to look sheepish again. “I want to write one of my own, someday. I don’t know what to write about, though. I've never been to the jungles of Africa and I don't really know that much about pirates, either.”

“A writer, huh?” Tuco whistled as he put back the rest of the gold and filled in the hole. He'd never been very good at reading; the letters always seemed to get jumbled up whenever he looked at them. “My kid, a writer! Who'd have thought it…” 

When the gold was good and re-buried, he straightened up. “Well. Time to be heading back.”

The kid looked away. “...Yes.”

Soon enough they were in the saddle again and riding back the way they came. The kid was quiet. Tuco had to admit to himself that he was starting to feel bad about turning him loose. 

He was starting to imagine buying a farm or something up north and watching the kid run around feeding the chickens or playing with the goats or whatever. That was the kind of life his parents had given him growing up, even though they were poor. It had been a very long time since he'd had a real family like that. He wanted it, he realized. He wanted it bad.

But the tragedy of it was that he knew himself too well. He'd never be able to settle down and stay in one place. He'd been running for so long that he felt like if he stopped, he'd die. And it was true that an outlaw's company was no place for a kid. Tuco knew that one day his luck would run out and he'd hang, really hang. If nothing else the kid shouldn't have to see that.

Some impulse made him pat the kid on the head and ruffle his hair. The kid looked up at him with his big brown eyes. Tuco swallowed. “...Hey. You know, the story of how I got this gold is a pretty good one. Might not be as good as pirates, but maybe good enough for you to write about. Do you want me to tell it to you?”

The kid's eyes lit up. “Yes! Please!” 

“Alright, alright, if you insist.”

The kid leaned back against him and nestled his head into the crook of his arm. Tuco felt a surge of something he rarely felt for anything anymore—affection. He patted the kid's soft curls again. 

“You see, a while ago, I met this man named Blondie. Well, that's what I call him, anyway, he doesn't really have a name. Me and him, we started running this scheme together…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The story was over and the sun was high in the sky by the time they rode back into town. Tuco put about half of the gold he'd brought into a small bag and gave it to the kid. “Here,” he said. “I think you should use this to go back to Abilene. At least until you're a little more grown. But if you really can't stay there, you have an uncle in San Antonio, Pablo Ramirez. He's a priest and a good man, he'd take care of you. And you know where the rest of the gold is; you can take it anytime if you need it. Just be sure to leave a little behind for old Tuco, okay?” He hadn't told the kid about the other stashes, but he didn't need to know everything. 

The kid took the bag in both hands. “I'd still rather go with you, even if I have to become a bandit. I bet I could pick pockets or something, I have small hands!”

Tuco, admittedly, had considered that. “Sorry, kid, the answer's still no.”

The kid nodded. His big brown eyes were suspiciously shiny. “Will I ever see you again?” 

Tuco looked down the street, so he wouldn't have to look at him. “I… I don't know. Maybe. But it's a big world, you know? And I’m still wanted in Abilene.”

Tuco felt arms wrap around his waist, and the kid pressed his face into his chest. It was the first time anyone had hugged him like that in years. It made him feel … warm. 

He patted the kid's back. “Say,” he said. “What's your name, anyway?” 

The kid looked up at him. “Elena.” 

“Huh?”

“Is something wrong?”

“Ah, no,” Tuco said, mentally reconsidering some things. “It's a nice name. For a girl. It's a girl's name.”

“...Yes.” Elena pulled back. “You know, even if you are a bad man,” she said, “I'm happy I met you.”

Tuco gave her a half-smile and one last pat on the head. “Me too, kid. Me too.”

#i can write sappy fluffy tuco fic. as a treat. #the good the bad and the ugly #tuco ramirez #dollarsfandomevent #my fanfiction #fanfic

[nehswritesstuffs]

HEART PIRATES WEEK 2024 - Part 9 of 9

I told myself last year that I was going to participate in Heart Pirates Week this year, and by thunder I'm going to participate in Heart Pirates Week!

Day Nine: Law - Tattoos and/or Fantasy AU

794 words; this also might become something else later; I wonder how many of us Same Brained this prompt bc it’s, like, perfect (I did not look at what others did to spoil myself); warnings for this one is basically just mild language

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Room.”

Law closed his eyes as he felt magic course through him, making his hair stand on-end. Once opened, he saw that his opponents were pissing their breeches, knowing that they messed up. So much for what looked like an easy target—a lone man on a deserted forest road—if only they noticed the magic sigils inked onto his body earlier…

“This is your last chance,” he smirked. “Now what’s it gonna be?”

“Tch; I can’t have some prissy pretty-boy get the better of me,” the bandit leader growled. He was trying to keep a brave face, even though none of his men were even close to bothering. From the looks of their own bags, whomever were their first targets of the day were too soft and useless and rich for him to be no less than the month’s biggest regret. “Any last words before we kill you?”

Ha; wasn’t even convincing.

“Shambles.”

Law’s tattoos glowed blue and chaos broke free. A twitch of his fingers and his opponents were tossed about in wee bits, screaming obscenities as they realized they were all still alive.

“Now!” Penguin shouted, just out of sight. The Heart Bandits all popped into view, grabbing the others’ things and running off before anyone could realize what was going on. Law stuck the leader’s arms on either side of his head and let the abomination drop to the ground.

“Good luck getting back together,” he chuckled. The bandit only was able to open his mouth before he vanished, having used his ability to pop himself down the road.

“It looks like a good haul today!” Shachi grinned. “They go down okay?”

“Like always,” Law replied. The Hearts all ran back to where the rest of their half of the crew was waiting with the horses, Law putting everyone in the saddles instantly and the ten-strong group all galloped off.

It was a couple hours’ ride, but eventually they made it to their current hideout. The group was greeted by the rest of the Hearts, with everyone but Bepo grabbing the haul and beginning to go through it.

“You didn’t go in by yourself again, did you?” Bepo asked as he led Penguin and Shachi’s horses into the paddock. Law disengaged from his mount and tied the horse up next to its trough, not answering. “You did! Law! You shouldn’t do that so often! You’re going to overdo it one day!”

“You worry too much,” Law insisted. Bepo simply frowned, the pair in uncomfortable silence until Ikkaku came over and took charge of the paddock.

“Hey, there’s something interesting you need to see in the loot,” she said, jabbing her thumb over her shoulder. Law took that as an opportunity to escape, but Bepo did not let him off easy, following him back into the main of the encampment.

“I keep on warning you!” the bear pouted. “You keep going into these raids by yourself and you’re going to bite off more than you can chew!”

“Relax,” Law shrugged. “The rest of the crew wasn’t far behind. Besides, if it was that much, then we’d be screwed no matter what.”

“Captain…!”

“Come with us next time if you’re so scared.”

“Then who will guard camp?”

“They’re not useless.”

“Yeah, I know that…” Bepo trailed off as they approached Uni and Clione as they were going through the loot they’d gotten from the other bandits. There was something about it that felt… off. “What’cha got there?”

“Solid gold from the looks of it,” Clione claimed. He held out what looked like a weight measurement—a shiny golden bell. “I can’t make some of it out; must be from a place outside of the North.”

“I can see exactly where the rest came from,” Law said gravely. He took a coin Uni was holding out and looked at it in the late afternoon sunlight. “Dressrosa.”

“The one and the same,” Uni confirmed. He then presented what looked like a gem-encrusted bracelet. “This has a mark from a smith in Spider Miles; definitely all related somehow.”

“Maybe it means we beat up some of his lackeys?” Bepo wondered. “Joker’s network is spread far as well as deep.”

“It’s possible,” Law agreed. “Where’s Jean Bart? Does he have the new spellbook deciphered?”

“He’s working on it,” Clione shrugged. “We only got that thing two days ago—you want him to translate it, not work a miracle.”

“If Joker’s men are here, then that means that we need something a lot more spectacular than a miracle,” Law stated. He felt as though he would jump out of his skin; Doflamingo was close and he had the means. This could be it…

…only for a familiar cackle to cut through the air.

Oh, shit.

Straw Hat.

#One Piece #One Piece fan fiction #Heart Pirates Week #HeartPiratesWeek #HeartPiratesWeek2024 #Heart Pirates Week 2024 #Trafalgar Law #ugh this one got delayed bc I legit started a new job. which is great! i love the job so far! but it delayed this certainly #Trafalgar D. Water Law

[virgo-mess]

Silver Thread- Epilogue

We've finally made it!

I won't hold you up dive headfirst into this fluffy smut piece and story conclusion my friends.

TW: Fuffffff, Smut, Fluffffyy smut, Loss of Virginity that falls in the realm of genuine love making, Oral (female receiving), Fingering

PSA: Please take a moment to enjoy the artfully crafted mood board I spent weeks creating for no reason at all....please and thank you 😊❤️

Six Weeks Later

Seattle, Washington

        The sky was pretty haze of gold, pink, and orange as Terry and Veda sat quietly, cuddled up in the Canlis restaurant’s private dining room, the Cache room. Veda let out a content sigh as she rested her head against Terry’s shoulder, watching the sun start to dip behind the Cascade Mountain range with a dreamy smile on her face. Terry looked down at her with an equally dreamy smile, his blue eyes glittered in the warm candlelight as he reached down to brush a lock of wavy black hair out her face so he could admire her doe like brown eyes.

       “Today was so much fun, Romeo, thank you” Veda said softly, craning her neck slightly to look at him with adoring eyes and a beaming smile. Today had been the first date they’d been on since Veda got out of the hospital and Terry had purchased a private estate in Seattle to focus on her recovery. He did most of his Dynatox board meetings over the phone and made taking care of Veda in his new lakeside wooded retreat his top priority while Margaret handled things at the office back in LA. Veda had begun to feel like herself again about two weeks ago and most of her injuries had healed up nicely save for her still very broken arm, a few thin scars, and a sore, but healed shoulder. Though she wasn’t sure how she would’ve been able to make it through the past six weeks without Terry by her side, he kept her together in mind, body, and spirit and she knew without him she’d be lost. Terry felt the same way, seeing how much pain his sweet girl had been in that first week after the gala was agonizing of course put out all the stops he could to make today unforgettable for her. He surprised her with a beautiful breakfast in bed, a giant bouquet of pink flowers, and a relaxing bath before taking her to see all the art museums Seattle had to offer and the aquarium. Terry gently caressed Veda’s bare shoulder with the back of his fingers as he smiled back at her with adoring eyes of his own.

       “The days not over yet, I’ve got one more surprise for you my sweet girl” Terry crooned giving her a gentle kiss on her forehead and excitement now swirling in his eyes. He’d been planning this date out for about two weeks now and he couldn’t wait to see how happy this next surprise was going to make her. It still amazed him how the simplest things made her so unbelievably happy and while tonight’s surprise was more on the regular date night agenda, it would still be intimate and meaningful to his angel and that’s all that matter to him. Veda let out a sting of adorable, excited giggles with a bashful blush spreading across her as she peered up at Terry with big eyes. She really couldn’t imagine what else he possibly had in store for her.

        “Oh, are we flying back to Victoria tonight?” Veda asked excitedly, though it still baffled her how Terry managed to fit a private, scenic seaplane flight over to Canada into their busy schedule. Veda couldn’t complain though she loved the romantic horse drawn carriage ride they took, strolling through the gorgeous Butchart Gardens, seeing some of Hatley Castle, and holding hands as they walked along the Inner Harbour. Terry’s smile wavered a bit as he shook his head.

           “No, I’m sorry they only fly the planes out until dusk. We can take another one up there this week, I promise” Terry said looking genuinely apologetic like he somehow had control over seaplanes or their rules. Veda shushed Terry gently, flashing him a sweet smile before pulling him in for a sweet but very passionate kiss that made their waitress quietly slip back out the door with the bill even though she had just walked in. Veda parted for air to see Terry’s beaming smile reclaim its proper place upon his face.

            “Terry that’s okay, you know I’m happy with any surprise you have in store for me regardless, my love. Today has been wonderful and you’re the greatest, prettiest, sweetest most perfect boyfriend in the entire world and you are worth way more than a seaplane flight, baby boy” Veda cooed wholeheartedly, with a sweet smile and a playful wink before she leaned in to give him a kiss on the tip of his nose. Terry raised his eyebrows at her in awe before letting out a deep, hearty chuckle just as their waitress walked back into the room with a small smile on her face.

            “I think you’ve had a bit too much to drink, sweetheart maybe I should carry you to the car, hmm. They don’t have an elevator and you insisted on wearing heels with your dress even though they give you trouble. You don’t have to wear them you know, you’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, and I can assure you no one is looking at your shoes, baby girl.” Terry said wholeheartedly, giving Veda a playful wink of his own and a tender kiss on the cheek while she giggled softly under her breath. The waitress awkwardly cleared her throat as she flashed them both a genuine, apologetic smile.

            “I’m sorry, I hate having to interrupt you guys you’re really so cute together, but I need a signature and I have to watch you do it. Company policy with large bills and what not. So, how long have you guys been married? I’m assuming you’re celebrating an anniversary or a birthday, my fiancé refused to take me here until he proposed…” The waitress said, trying her best not to look annoyed as she thought about her fiancé. Terry silently jotted his name down on the receipt. Veda glanced at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes as she recalled their very first date a little over three months ago at a roof top restaurant in LA when a waiter asked them the same question.

            “We’ve been married for three years now, together for five we met at one of our college football games…” Veda said watching Terry’s ears flare a bright shade of red out of the corner of her eye with an impish grin on her face. Terry shook his to himself as he handed the waitress the bill with a polite smile and flushed cheeks. “He gets a little embarrassed when I bring it up because I met him after he knocked a cooler full of Gatorade all over my cheer uniform while he was dressed as our school mascot, the BC Renegade Knight.” Veda said, trying so hard not laugh as Terry looked at her in disbelief more so that she could come up with absurd stories on a whim.

            “Aw that’s such a cute way to meet” the waitress cooed with a soft smile on her face. “I won’t hold you two love birds up with all my nosey ramblings, your Renegade Knight looks like he’s about to have a heart attack. I hope you both have a wonderful evening and thank you for dining with us. You two can hang in here for a bit longer if you want the next reservation isn’t until 8:30” the waitress said giving them a small wave and another soft smile before she left the room, but both Terry and Veda caught the suggestive tone in her voice.

            “Veda Noelle, I’m never giving you cocktails and wine at the same time again no matter how big these pretty browns eyes of yours get.” Terry said in a mock stern voice that made Veda giggle cutely as she leaned further against his side. Terry chuckled softly under his breath and leaned down to place a gentle kiss on Veda’s temple with amusement and adoration swirling in his eyes.

            “Whatever do you mean, I was just telling our nice waitress how I met my knight in silver armor” Veda said sweetly, batting her long eyelashes at him in the innocent way that always made his heart skip a beat.

            “You know I love being your knight in silver armor but that was a completely fabricated account of how we met, baby girl. Are you going to come up with a new story every time someone asks how long we’ve been married?” Terry asked her with a raised eyebrow, Veda placed her finger under her chin in an adorable ploy of playful contemplation as she stared up at Terry with an impish glint still nestled in her eyes.

            “I didn’t plan on it but if you’re going to get this adorably bashful every time I do it, I think I might. Your ears get so red, my love” Veda cooed, tugging on his ear playfully before nuzzling her nose against his cheek and placing a playful yet adoring kiss on it. Terry chuckled softly at the endearing action before peppering her cheek with adoring kisses of his own.

            “We’ve only been together a few months baby girl but if you keep telling people we’re married, I’m going to have no choice but to propose. You can’t come up with a new story every time if I give you a real one that outshines all the ones you think up in this gorgeous little head of yours.” Terry said teasingly and took in the way Veda immediately became adorably bashful herself with loving blue eyes.

            “Everything you already do is better than any story I could think up and anything I could dreamed, Terry. I know I said I wasn’t ready to get married yet but I guess I just feel special when other people think I’m good enough to be your wife” Veda said sheepishly, Terry’s eyes softened as Veda wrapped her arms around him and buried her face into the crook of his neck. Veda inhaled Terry’s warm comforting scent and felt Terry wrap his arms around her in the form of a tight embrace.

            “Veda baby, you’re more than good enough my sweet girl. You’re perfect, everything I ever dreamed of, and I couldn’t imagine spending my life with anyone other than you. Now how about we go see that surprise now, hmm” Terry cooed in her ear in a low soothing voice as he placed comforting kisses in her hair and against her temple. Veda nodded her head in acknowledgment, throwing her legs over his lap and craning her neck to look at him with a dreamy smile on her face. Terry smiled back at her, tucking an arm under her knees, he carefully rose to his feet and walked towards the door. Sharing one of their silent conversations as Terry neared the top of the stairs that would take them down to the main dining room and then the car with content smiles and loving eyes.

“I know we’ve only been together a few months, my love but I kind of feel like we’ve been together forever, is that weird” Veda said just above a whisper, running her small fingers through the ends of his dark curls with a coy smile on her face. Terry’s eyes lit up as he remembered the first time, she spoke those words to him so much had changed since then but what hadn’t changed was the way he felt about Veda.

            “Not at all my sweet girl, I feel the same way.”

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

            Dusk fell on Seattle in pretty hues of pink and blue just as Terry pulled the car down the long-wooded drive of the Seattle estate with a giddy smile on his face. He could the excitement brewing in Veda’s pretty eyes as he shifted the car into park and couldn’t help the soft chuckle he let out as he gazed over at her wandering brown eyes. Veda met his gaze with a coy smile and innocent eyes and Terry knew she was gearing up to interrogate him much like she was going to do the eve of her birthday when he surprised her with a birthday ball. What he planned for them tonight wasn’t nearly as extravagant, but it would be intimate and sometimes it seemed that the small gestures made his sweet girl ten times happier than the grands and that was something Terry hoped would never change.

        “I saw Milos and Larry carrying large boxes into the estate before we left, is my surprise a big party? Don’t think I didn’t notice you distracting me with a relaxing bath while you went up to the top floor terrace, Romeo” Veda said in a sing song voice with a fit of cute giggles and an impish glint in her eyes. Terry raised his eyebrow with an amused glint in his eyes and another soft chuckle because Veda really never missed a thing.

“No Veda, your surprise is not a party, I was only on the terrace for ten minutes and you already know I won’t tell you what the surprise is. Sometimes I swear you don’t know what the word surprise means, baby girl.” Terry said teasingly giving her a kiss on the tip of her nose Veda looked up at him innocently as she reached forward to toy with some of his black curls softly.

“It was more than ten minutes I know you were up there before you brought me that beautiful breakfast in bed. Oh, woe is me, why do you torment me so, baby boy” Veda said in mock despair as she threw her head onto Terry’s lap and jutted out her lower lip as she gazed up at him with big brown puppy eyes. Terry smiled down at her adoringly before wrapping his arms around her small form and pulling her upright against his chest so he could capture her in a long passionate kiss that left both of them lightheaded. Veda broke the amorous kiss for air and rested her forehead against Terry’s, the pair fell into one of their intimate silences gazing lovingly into the other’s eyes between gasps for air. A soft smile graced Terry’s lips as he trailed a gentle thumb down the length of one of Veda’s rosy cheeks.

“You’re being exceptionally silly this evening sweetheart, part of your surprise is just over there by the lake. Take these off for me, I want your eyes covered and I don’t need my beautiful girlfriend breaking her other arm” Terry said breathlessly placing a tender kiss on her forehead before reaching over the seat to help her with her shoes. Veda giggled watching Terry help her out of her heels, adoring the giddy smile he flashed her before hopping out of the car and rushing to open her door. Terry scooped Veda off the car seat with ease, gently setting her on the ground he wrapped a strong arm around her waist and flashed her another giddy smile.

“I’ve got you sweetheart, are you ready?” Terry cooed, giving her a tender kiss in the cheek Veda nodded feeling her cheeks tint a bashful shade of pink and flashed Terry a beaming smile as she laced her fingers with the hand he had placed on her waist.

“Yes, my love” Veda cooed with a giddy smile of her own as she stood on her tip toes to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. Terry beamed at her pulling her one more kiss before laying his large free hand over her eyes and gently guiding her down the path that led towards their private pier. Terry whispered sweet nothings in her ear and occasionally lifted her feet off the ground with ease if he thought something on the stone pathway would cause her even an ounce of pain. Veda felt like she was positively floating the entire walk down and wondered what surprise her Romeo could possibly have in store for her this time though she knew she’s love whatever it was based solely on the fact that Terry gave it to her.

“Alright, stand here for me beautiful but keep your eyes closed just a bit longer for me” Terry cooed as he slowed her to a stop. Veda giggled softly and nodded her head in acknowledgement and kept her eyes closed as promised when she felt Terry’s warm hand fall from her face. She was practically bouncing in excitement as she listened to the sound of the lake’s rippling water, the faint sound of singing songbirds in the trees, and Terry shuffling about wherever it was they were.

“Okay, sweetheart you can open your eyes now” Terry said, Veda bit her lip and fluttered her eyes open to see Terry drop the needle on her record player with an almost sheepish smile on his face as he gazed at her with sparking blue eyes to gage her reaction. Veda let out an audible gasp as she let her eyes take in the rest of their surroundings. The pier was lit up with shimmering gold lanterns and covered in a layer of pink and red rose petals. The soft sound of running water, chirping songbirds, and the delicate notes of Fleetwood Mac’s Songbird filled the air with the sun’s pretty, orange pink farewell washing over the lake’s rippling surface. It had to be one of the most romantic things Terry and done for her to date and Veda couldn’t help the way her heart swelled with joy as her brown doe eyes finally landed on him once more. Terry chuckled softly, admiring yet another one of Veda’s childlike wonder awed expressions with a charming smile and sparkling blue eyes as he extended his hand towards her in a gentlemanly fashion.

           “What’s all this for, Romeo?” Veda asked with rosy cheeks and a coy yet dreamy sort of smile as she placed her small hand in Terry’s larger one.

            “We never got our dance at the gala, baby girl and for that I’m sorry.” Terry said softly, pulling Veda’s small body as close to him as possible. Veda’s brown eyes became watery as they gazed up at him filled with boundless amounts of love and adoration in the warm glow of the gleaming lanterns and the setting sun. Veda felt more connected to Terry than ever before, more in love with him even and she didn’t think that was possible all she knew is she wanted to be with him in every way possible.

            “That wasn’t your fault my love, but this is a very beautiful surprise, thank you” Veda said standing on her tip toes to capture him in another passionate kiss that left both of their hearts fluttering.  They stayed like this for what felt like forever completely intertwined, so in tune with each other, neither of them was sure where they ended and where the other began. Gazing deeply into each other’s eyes with soft smiles as they in the form of a gentle sway to the rhythm of the music until the sun finally dipped beyond the horizon and nightfall overtook them.

            “Shall we go see the second part of your surprise?” Terry asked softly, breaking the intimate silence that had fell between them with a playful kiss on the tip of Veda’s nose. Veda looked at him in disbelief as she let out a cute string of giggles.

            “What do you mean second part of the surprise, Terry, this was more than enough. We’ve done so many amazing things today you don’t need to give me anything else” Veda said in a firm but playful tone as she wrapped her arms around Terry’s neck.

            “You already know you can’t talk me out of spoiling you, my sweet girl and it’s more along the lines of another romantic gesture versus a tangible gift but I hope you’ll like it all the same” Terry chuckled scooping her into his arms and making his way up the cobblestone steps towards the estate with a grin spread across his face.

            “I love everything you do for me Terry, you know that. I love you” Veda cooed nuzzling her face into his neck with a content smile on her face as a Terry placed a few soft kisses into her hair. She already knew how they’d be ending the night whether Terry was prepared for her to throw herself at him or not. They had only talked about sex a handful of times since the events of July 6th, Veda was sure she was more than ready, but Terry wanted her to be fully recovered before they finally took this step together. Technically her arm was still broken but all the other more important injuries both mental and physical had healed up just fine the swelling went down a few weeks ago so her promise ring fit on her left ring finger normally again, and it was all because of Terry. Veda couldn’t fathom giving her virginity to anyone that loved her any less than he did and that was why she was going to do whatever it took tonight to get Terry to let up on his adorable overprotective nature just a bit.

            “Here we go, pretty girl” Terry crooned, setting Veda down in front of him so he could push the large front door to the estate open to reveal the front entrance and staircase railings littered with hordes of pink flowers. Much like he had filled Kennedy Cottage for her the better half of that intimate fourth of July weekend they shared at the San Ysidro Ranch. Veda felt her eyes grow watery again as Terry wrapped his arms around her waist and peppered the side of her face with kisses.

            “Don’t cry baby girl, I still have to show you the terrace” Terry cooed reassuringly, Veda flashed him a reassuring smile as she turned around in his arms to pepper his face with kisses of her own while she ran her fingers through the ends of his dark curls. Terry let out a content sigh as Veda pulled back to gaze into his eyes with a coy smile on her face.

            “I’m just so happy, please show me the terrace my love” Veda said batting her eyes at him coyly already falling into her ploy of the innocent temptress. Terry looked at her with amusement swirling in his sparkling eyes though he already had a general idea of what thoughts were running through his sweet girl’s head. Terry found it adorable Veda still thought he couldn’t pick up on when she was trying to seduce him coyly or when she was so obviously getting horny for him. Terry stifled a chuckle as he lifted Veda off the ground ever so slightly and whisked her toward the staircase at a quick, playful pace.

            “Yes, my princess right away, my princess” Terry said teasingly, Veda giggled tightening her hold around Terry’s neck as he bounded up the stairs giving her playful kisses on her cheek and nose with every step he took. By the time he reached the top floor terrace Veda had tears streaming down her face from laughing so hard and Terry couldn’t help but laugh with her.

            “What do you think about cuddling under the stars tonight, hmm. I’ll light a fire and you slip into something more comfortable” Terry said wiping away a few of her stray tears with a thumb and a big grin on his face. Veda grinned at him nodding her head eagerly in response and placing a soft peck on his lips.

            “That sounds wonderful, Terry. Do you want me to get some blankets and pillows from the closet for us?” Veda asked sweetly, still playing with the ends of his hair in the same comforting manner she always did. Terry shook his head and finally took a step out onto the terrace so Veda could see what he had spent the morning setting up for them to enjoy this evening. Terry watched her pretty brown eyes sweep over the bundles of brightly colored pillows, blankets, pink flowers, and lanterns with such a pure form of joy it made his heart flutter and swell with pride knowing that he had been the one to put it there.

            “Oh, Terry” Veda said softly, seeming to be at a loss for words as she finally met his gaze though she really didn’t have to say anything because Terry already knew. Terry’s eyes softened as he set Veda back on her feet gently.

            “I know baby girl, why don’t you put on those comfy clothes while I start the fire, hmm” Terry said giving her a tender kiss on the forehead, Veda nodded giving him a sheepish smile before retreating into the house though the impish glint in her brown eyes wasn’t lost on Terry. He watched her pink dress disappear through the doorway and just knew he was in for a long night that would surely result in Veda getting exactly what she wanted because she really did have him wrapped around her little finger. Terry chuckled to himself as he lit a match and got to work on lighting the fire and turning on some more of his sweet girl’s favorite band on the boombox.

Meanwhile, Veda was down the hall tearing through her still half-packed suitcase in the master closet. An impish grin spread across her face as her fingers grasped the delicate fabric of what she’d been searching for. Veda giggled triumphantly to herself as she somehow managed to slip the delicate silky fabric under the beautiful but snug pink flower gown Terry had gifted her just this morning without having to unzip it. Which was perfect for the coy little seductive ploy she had in store for him. Veda couldn’t tell if it was simply her desire to have Terry and be with him completely at this very moment that was fueling her or if it was more the fact that Terry Silver had found the heart to tell her no for the first-time mere weeks ago…either way it just wouldn’t do. Even if it was coming from a genuine place of love and concern Veda had every intention of remedying what she deemed a rather silly hill to die on.

            Veda bit her lip as she tipped toed down the hall and back onto the terrace to find Terry leaning against the balcony rail with his head gazing up at the stars. Veda couldn’t help but smile at how peaceful he looked for once and found herself thinking of the night they shared at the Beverly Willshire on her birthday. When she found him in much of the same position staring out the window at the starry LA skyline in deep thought, she never did find out what he was thinking about that night. Veda crept further out onto the terrace and found herself wrapping her arms around his torso from behind the same way she had done back then taking a deep inhale of his comforting scent as she rested her cheek against his spine. She felt Terry place his large hand on top of her cast arm, gingerly drawing patterns on the back of her hand with his thumb.

            “What are you thinking about?” Veda asked softly, Terry made a soft ‘hmm’ as he turned around to face her with a soft smile and blue eyes that glittered in the warm glow of the crackling fire and glowing lanterns. Terry gently held her cast arm hand against his chest and reached out to draw more gently patterns on the side of her cheek.

            “Just about you, my beautiful angel” he cooed placing a tender kiss on her forehead before taking in her appearance with a hint of amusement in his eyes. “I thought you were changing into a comfy pajama set for me” Terry said in a slightly teasing tone as he let his hand fall to her bare shoulder. Veda smiled up at him innocently gazing up at him with the big eyes.

            “I was trying to, but my zipper is stuck could you help me, please?” Veda asked coyly batting her lashes at him, Terry nodded his head in acknowledgment with a deep chuckle as he caught the impish glint nestled in her big doe eyes once more. Terry watched Veda pointedly nibble on her lip while her small fingers started toying with the ends of his.

            “Hmm, it’s stuck huh. Let’s see what I can do sweetheart” Terry said, purposely dragging his long fingers over her bare shoulder in a teasing manner until small goosebumps formed on her tanned skin. Veda inhaled sharply and took a quick step forward leaving only enough space not to pinch her rough cast between them and rest her cheek against his chest to gaze up at him the way she always did. Terry let out another soft, breathy chuckle at how she somehow managed to be enticing and adorable all at the same time.

            “Are you sure it’s stuck baby, it looks okay from up here” Terry said in a soft teasing tone as he finally let his fingers settle on the small zipper of her dress. He could see some delicate white fabric just peeking out over one of her small shoulder blades and knew his sweet girl was finally gearing up to talk him out of his “no sex until you’re fully healed” rule. Terry was honestly surprised she hadn’t thought of playing innocent temptress sooner, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t really enjoying seeing her this way for him. Veda bit her lip and nodded at him with big eyes.

            “Yes, please help me Terry” Veda said in a soft, sultry tone that had Terry biting back a moan as he felt his cock twitch against his thigh. Terry let out a pleased sounding hum and leaned down to place gentle kisses on her shoulder before unzipping her dress at a slow pace, finding that he wanted to cherish every bit of this moment if she’d allow it. Terry watched the back of the dress fall open seemingly in slow motion but didn’t allow himself to look for too long.

            “I don’t know baby that opened up pretty easily for me” Terry said nonchalantly meeting her gaze with amused blue eyes watching as an endearing pink blush spread across her pretty cheeks. Veda bit her lip taking a teasing step away from him so the pink dress and all it’s cascading roses would fall to the ground, pooling at her feet to reveal a delicate white babydoll with pink and green floral detailing on the bodice. Terry swore he felt his heart melt as he registered that the babydoll in question was the first one he picked off the rack on their shopping trip for her birthday. Terry stared at her for a long moment, admiring her and all her beauty in the warm glow of the fire and couldn’t fathom how something that beautiful was real or what he had done to deserve someone like Veda.

            “You said to wear it when I was ready” Veda said softly with a coy smile on her face as she reached down to throw the gown over one of the terrace chairs. “It’s too pretty to be on the ground like that” she muttered more to herself than him, but Terry couldn’t help but chuckle as he watched her fold the gown neatly before approaching him with a sultry glint in her eyes that Terry still found incredibly endearing for some reason.

            “I thought we agreed to wait until your arm wasn’t broken, sweetheart.” Terry said with an amused grin watching as Veda immediately started trying to undo the buttons on his black dress shirt with her small hands.

            “What broken arm, I don’t see one.” Veda said batting her eyes at him coquettishly as she shifted her broken arm under his blazer with an innocent smile on her face. Terry chuckled rolling his eyes at her playfully.

            “Oh, you know the one you’re trying to hide under my blazer right now. The one you took pain killers for two times today, baby. I think you can take some more now if you need it,” Terry cooed, gently pulling her arm from under his blazer with concern nestled in his eyes at the fact that most of her skin around the cast was still bruised but at least her promise ring fit on her finger again.

            “Well, then distract me from the pain, my love. I just want to be yours and I want you to be mine” Veda said softy, Terry’s eyes softened as he reached out to stroke soft, reassuring patterns on her cheek and maintained her gaze with devotion nestled in his orbs.

            “Veda baby, I am, you are. You’re my sweet girl. I’m yours…” Terry said wholeheartedly, as he reached forward to cradle her face in his hands and draw soothing circles on her cheeks. Veda gazed back at him with a slight pout on her plump lips, cutely furrowed brows, and the biggest pair of puppy dog eyes she could muster.

            “Then show me Terry” Veda whispered in a low seductive tone her small hands fisted the lapels of his blazer sharply and with one swift tug, she captured Terry in a passionate kiss that left him breathless. Terry moaned into the kiss and moved to pull her flush against his chest once more, but Veda broke the kiss before he had the chance. Veda bit back a smug smirk as she stared back at a now very flustered Terry with a triumphant glint in her eyes. Terry bit back a smile of his own as he stared back at her in awed admiration.

            “That was a little mean don’t you think, baby girl” Terry said with a playful pout on his face and a faint glint of hunger in his blue eyes. Veda innocently batted her eyes at him still biting down on her lip as she back walked to take a seat on the mound of brightly colored pillows, blankets, and pink flowers. Terry found she looked even more ethereal than usual surrounded by flowers all dressed up in a white, very innocent looking babydoll with the crackling fire casting a romantic golden glow on her tanned skin and lit up her big brown eyes.

“Come here baby boy” Veda cooed, beckoning him to her with a small finger in a way that reminded him of their morning rituals in the Dynatox elevators a time when he only dreamt of her being like this for him. Terry couldn’t help but want to savor every second of it if tonight was the night Veda was going to be his completely, he wanted to engrain every expression on her face, every sound she made, and every touch they shared in his mind forever. Terry shrugged off his blazer and tossed it next to her neatly folded gown on the chair before stalking over to take a seat next to her on the makeshift bed he had crafted just this morning with a soft smile on his face. He reached up to stroke her cheek as he gazed deeply into her eyes once more and trailed his free hand over the rough exterior of the cast on her left arm gingerly watching the way her promise ring glittered in the fire light.

“Is it bothering you right now?” Terry asked in a soft but serious tone because he still had an overwhelming urge for her to be as relaxed and comfortable as possible. He still had every intention of being as gentle with his sweet girl as he could. Of course, he had promised to make her first time special and while Seattle was a far cry from Paris, he couldn’t deny every second of today had been just as blissfully perfect for him as it had been for her.

“It doesn’t hurt too bad right now and my arm doesn’t affect my legs anyway, Terrence” Veda said in a distant but familiar saucy tone that had Terry’s heart fluttering and a blush spreading across his cheeks. Veda stared up at him with a small coy smile and one of the most impish glints, Terry had ever seen in those pretty brown doe eyes.

“Terrence” Terry said with a soft chuckle Terry stared back at her in disbelief, finding it hard to believe there was a time when he found her bratty proclivities any less bewitching and sensual than they actually were. “I just want you to be sure, sweetheart” Terry crooned in a sincere tone, Veda’s coy smile softened into one of her reassuring ones and she leaned forward to give him a soft kiss on the lips.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything, Terry” Veda crooned with sincere brown eyes, Terry didn’t hesitate and pulled her into a kiss that managed to be loving, intimate, and deeply passionate all at the same time. Veda moaned into the kiss and tangled her fingers into the ends of Terry’s soft black curls and found herself trying to free them from their confines instinctively. She felt Terry chuckle softly against her before letting her up for air with a teasing smile on his face.

“Okay baby girl” Terry cooed breathlessly turning his head for her a bit so she could undo his ponytail with more ease before returning the sentiment. Terry bowed down, placing kisses on Veda’s shoulder as his hands gingerly took out all the pins holding her thick black waves in place at the top of her head. Terry leaned back to watch her dark waves cascade down her back and around her face in a way that made her appear even more heavenly than she already did to him. Veda let out a content sigh feeling Terry’s long fingers tangle in her hair gently and found herself running her hands through Terry’s soft hair a few times in reply each pass they made only made their desire for the other intensify. Terry resumed trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses and teasing nibbles along Veda’s neck and shoulder in a way that had her letting out a moan and pressing her chest against his. Terry smiled against the fresh love bite forming on her neck and soothed the tender spot with his tongue with one hand still tangled in her hair and his other trailing up her soft, bare thigh.

“Stop teasing me, Terry” Veda whined with a slight saucy edge in her tone as her small hand tugged on his hair playfully. Terry withdrew his face from her neck, looking up at her with an amused glint in his eyes and a small smirk as he stopped his hand just under her delicate white skirt and gave her thigh a soft, playful pinch that made her clamp her thighs together. Veda pouted at him narrowing her eyes at him in playful warning with a dusty blush spreading across her cheeks as she toyed with the buttons on his shirt with her promise ring still glittering.

“I’m not teasing you sweetheart; I just really need you warmed me tonight okay. I want you to feel good” Terry crooned, helping her unbutton his shirt with a very happy looking smile on his face before gently urging her to lay upon the mound of pillows as he shrugged off the black fabric and let it pool somewhere in the cozy heap. Veda felt her heartrate pick up a bit in anticipation as she laid back on the heap of pillows and gazed up at Terry. She could feel him run his fingers from her face to her shoulder and down the length of her arms in feather light touches. That made her clit throb for some attention but in that moment, Veda found that she couldn’t take her eyes off Terry’s even as breathless and downright horny as she was for him right now. Terry looked down at her with soft blue eyes before lying by her side the same way he’d done all those nights ago at the Beverly Wilshire with one of his hands stroking her dark hair.

“Are you comfortable, baby?” Terry asked giving her a tender kiss on the forehead, Veda nodded flashing him a breathless, reassuring smile and reached out to play with his loose curls softly.

“Yes, I’m always comfortable with you Terry don’t worry. I love you now, please touch me” Veda said giving Terry a kiss on the temple that made his heart flutter, and his blue eyes soften even more than either of them thought was possible. Terry let out a pleased hum and captured her in a kiss filled with so much love and devotion Veda felt like she was flying. They parted for air and stared at each other with soft, content smiles and loving eyes.

“I love you so much Veda, you’re so cute when you’re demanding, sweetheart. Don’t worry I’m going to take good care of you and your pretty little pussy.” Terry purred, gently popping one of her ample breasts out of the innocent looking babydoll with a teasing smile that had Veda flushing a bright shade of red and her clit throbbing eagerly. Veda moaned maintaining Terry’s intense gaze as he closed his mouth around her nipple, sucking and teasing it in the way they both enjoyed. Terry gave her other ample breast the same treatment and listened to the soft symphony of cries and moans that fell from her plump lips while he stared deeply into her brown eyes. Veda stared back at him with dazed loving eyes.

“You know I love this, my love but I’d really love it if we could move a bit faster” Veda breathed out loosening her grasp on his curls to run her fingers through them instead with a coy smile. Terry unlatched his mouth from her nipple and leaned up to give her a soft peek on the lips with a coy smile of his own and a breathy chuckle as he finally moved his hands under the skirt of the delicate white babydoll.

“It’s not my fault you’re so gorgeous, Veda.  I can’t help but want to savor you, I’ve wanted this for such a long time, I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you my sweet girl.” Terry cooed, running his fingers over the soft flushed skin of her toned waist gingerly but his blue eyes stayed trained on hers as she gifted him with a pretty moan and needy brown eyes filled with lust. Terry had dreamt of this moment since the day she walked into his office nearly seven months ago and now that it was finally unfolding in front of him, he couldn’t help but want to take his time. Veda pulled him into another sweet kiss before resting her forehead against his and running her left hand down the length of his cheek softly.

“I want you too Terry, so please” Veda whispered gazing at him with big doe eyes that made Terry’s heart feel like it might burst. Terry let out one of his pleased rumbles and nodded his head pushing up the delicate white fabric of her babydoll. Terry took a moment to pepper Veda’s face with hundreds of feather-like kisses that made both of their hearts swell with the purest form of love and devotion either of them had ever felt. Terry cooed her with praise and reassuring words as he trailed hot opened mouthed kisses down her throat, across her breasts, and down her stomach holding her gaze as he stopped his path just above her panties. Veda nodded giving him a breathless noise of approval in reply to the silent question his blue eyes were asking her in the warm glow of the fire. She watched Terry place a few gentle kisses on her hips before hooking his fingers in the waistband of her matching white floral panties and tugging them down the length of her tanned legs. Veda pulled her knees up to her chest so he wouldn’t stray too far away from her, Terry chuckled as Veda flashed him a bashful looking smile.

“You’re so cute, sweetheart” Terry said leaning down to place a few tender kisses on the thin red and white scars the broken window had left on her knees those weeks ago. Veda reached down to run her fingers through his dark curls and sat up to give him a soft peek on the temple once more.

“I just want you close to me” she crooned; Terry’s eyes softened as they looked at her adoringly and he let his hand trail back up her thigh nestling it just against her slick folds. Veda let out a breathy moan opening up her legs for him instantaneously.

“I know baby, I just have to make sure you’re wet and relaxed enough for me okay. You want to cum for me” Terry cooed, Veda nodded laying back down on the cozy pile of pillows and blankets with a sultry moan, an act of submission that made Terry’s cock twitch against his thigh eagerly.

“You’re such a good girl, so perfect for me” Terry praised her adoringly, as he slid a finger along her folds. “Your pretty pussy is so wet for me already baby” Terry groaned taking in just how wet her tight, pretty heat was for him already with borderline lecherous blue eyes. Veda let out another sultry moan at his tastefully raunchy praise, she always wondered how Terry had the power to put her right on the edge of an orgasm without even really touching her. Terry knew she was close already and wondered how many times she’d come undone for him before he finally made her his.

“Terry” Veda moaned gazing down at him with lust filled eyes as she absent-mindedly toyed with one of her nipples. Terry moaned placing a few soft kisses on her inner thigh as he watched her small fingers roll the hard tip in a way that came off so innocent to him.

“Oh Veda, you’re driving me crazy right now. You’re so beautiful keep doing that for me hmm” Terry crooned, still toying with her wet folds with one hand, his other reached up to give her other nipple the same attention before he let his tongue taste her sweet heat with a loud moan of his own. Veda let out a soft cry as Terry lapped over her swollen bud and thrust his tongue inside of her heat getting her as wet for him as humanly. Before he allowed himself to slide a finger inside of her tight entrance, gingerly stretching her out with one finger and then two, pumping and angling them inside of her until her moans were echoing out into the starry Seattle night sky. Terry made a pleased hum against her sweet folds as his blue eyes took in every expression that washed over her pretty face. She could be as loud as she wanted for as long as she wished here their nearest neighbor was a good couple of miles up the road.

“Can you take one more finger for me, sweetheart” Terry asked softly, pausing his laps to give her a few more kisses on her now trembling thighs and trailed them back up her stomach. Veda made a breathless noise of approval and nodded her head at him frantically gazing at him with big eyes. Normally Terry would urge her to use her words but the way her brown eyes were pleading for him to keep going was more than enough for him right now. Terry carefully slid a third finger inside of her for the first time ever and paused for a second to search for any hint of discomfort before using his thumb making quick circles over her clit.

Veda moaned feeling the familiar bubbly warm sensation of pressure building up deep inside of her before it bubbled over, and she let out loud shriek of ecstasy, she swore her walls were clenching more vigorously around Terry’s fingers than they ever had before. Terry moaned, savoring the feel of her tight heat clenching around his fingers rapidly and kept them inside of her. Even as he snaked an arm under her back and pulled Veda’s trembling dazed body into his chest. Terry whispered sweet nothings in her ear and placed tender kisses on her shoulder as he worked her through her orgasm. Veda took a while to come back to her senses but when she did, she found it in her to lean up and pepper Terry’s face with kisses of her own before gazing up at him with a dreamy smile on her face. Terry smiled back at her softly, still circling her clit with his thumb lightly as his eyes looked deeply into hers searching for a tell.

“Do you want to stop?” Terry asked softly, Veda shook her head flashing him a reassuring smile and looking at him with sincere brown eyes.

“No, I want to keep going, I want to feel you inside” Veda whispered running her hand down the length of Terry’s face. Terry leaned into her touch gazing deeply into her eyes and gently removed his fingers from her tight, wet heat to undo his dress slacks and slide them and his boxers down the length of his legs in one quick movement. Terry reached out and grasped the delicate white fabric of the babydoll with a soft smile on his face. Veda mirrored his expression as put her arms up and let Terry gently tug the silky dress over her head and lay it gently on the ground in a way that managed to be sensual and romantic at the same time. Terry sat for a long while gently caressing her soft skin with the pads of his fingers, admiring the way the moonlight and the crackling warm firelight seemed to illuminate her in a blanket of silver and gold just for him. Veda ran her fingers along the back of Terry’s shoulders and down the length of his toned chest delicately and gazed at him with rosy cheek feeling equal amounts loved and dizzy as he finally kissed her with a tender passion, she didn’t know was possible.

“Can I lay you down my gorgeous girl” Terry breathed out, breaking the kiss so they both could breathe he busied himself with running his hands through her soft hair as he placed soft kisses on her cheek and lips. Veda nodded mirroring his kisses and running her hands through his dark curls she let Terry softly lay her back on top of the mound of plush pillows another gentle act of submission that made his heart and cock flutter. Terry settled himself between her legs, looking down at her with unadulterated love and devotion as he slid a long finger between her pretty folds, making sure she was still as prepped for him as she could be. Veda stared up at him as a soft moan escaped her lips at the feel of his thumb making quick circles over her clit and the warm sensation of another climax on the horizon.

“Are you still okay” Terry asked, giving her more tender kisses on her forehead then she could count. Veda nodded she still wanted it and him more than anything, but she couldn’t help the way she tensed when his thick head brushed against her entrance. Sometimes she forgot how big he actually was even with their devoted hours of worshipping each other, she still struggled to get most of him in her mouth.

“I’ll be gentle, I’ve got you sweetheart, always…remember” Terry whispered, untangling her left hand from his hair he laced his fingers with hers and let his long fingers play with her promise ring as a gentle reminder that he was in this whether she decided she was ready for this or not. Terry heard a couple shaky breaths escape Veda’s lips and leaned down to rest his forehead against hers waiting for her to give him some semblance of consent though he was keen to let her take all night if she had to. Veda let out a content sigh as she felt her nerves slowly dissipate and her breathing return back to normal.

“I’m ready my love, keep going” Veda whispered tangling her right hand in his hair she looked up at Terry with loving brown eyes. Terry let out a content sigh of his own, he gingerly kissed her injured arm before he carefully placed it beside her head with their fingers still delicately intertwined and their foreheads still pressed together. Terry positioned himself at her entrance once more and slowly pushed forward still gazing deeply into her eyes. Veda gasped feeling his thick head and shaft make its way inside of her for the first time slowly, with a more intense burning sensation and a dull pain than she was expecting. Terry kept his eyes trained on Veda’s face, watching as she shut her eyes sharply and tensed beneath him with a soft cry, squeezing his hand as tight as she could with a cast in the way. Terry paid very little mind to the way the cast’s rough exterior dug into the palm of his hand, he halted his surge forward and rushed to soothe her when caught a glimpse of a few tears escaping the corners of her eyes.

“You hold on as long as need, baby, it’s okay. I know this is a lot to take but you’re doing so well, my sweet girl” Terry cooed her reassuringly, taking a moment to gingerly wipe and kiss the stray tears from her cheeks. Veda relaxed at the tender action, fluttering her eyes open to look at him as a silent signal to keep going. “Take a deep breath for me, sweetheart” Terry coaxed softly, watching Veda do her best to breath as he pushed the rest of his length inside of her tight heat for the first time. A soft whimper escaped Veda’s lips as Terry entered her fully, stretching her out in way that made her feel so full, so breathless, and somehow so complete all at the same time. Terry let out a soft moan as he felt her walls flutter around his cock so perfectly, he felt a bit dazed as he reached down rub her clit in tender circles with his thumb and peppered her face with adoring kisses.

“You did such a good job, you’re such a good girl” Terry praised her accenting every word with an adoring kiss on her face and another pass over her clit. Veda let out a breathy moan as her walls relaxed around Terry’s cock and the dull pain of taking his big shaft for the first time died down enough for her to test out moving her hips. Terry couldn’t help the content smile that spread across his face as he watched the discomfort on Veda’s face fade away. Finding that he’d be keen to let her just experiment forever if it meant her looking up at him this serene.

“Do you want more sweetheart?” Terry asked giving her a few gentle kisses on the cheek, Veda nodded still clutching his hand in hers and she ran her fingers through his hair with a small smile on her lips. “Use your words for me baby, tell me what you want” Terry said in a soft teasing tone watching as an adorable blush spread across her cheeks.

“Please Terry, I want to feel you” Veda sighed, Terry let out a please hum that turned into a deep moan as he pulled himself out of her tight heat halfway before thrusting back into her slowly. Not wanting to overwhelm her with too much too fast he sets a slow, deep pace only increasing the lengths of his pumps when Veda gifts him with a string of unrestrained moans and cries. Veda dug her nails into the back of Terry’s neck as he rutted in and out of her heat at a slow but pleasurable rate still rubbing her clit with his thumb and giving her sweet kisses along her collarbone. Somehow managing to hold her gaze all the while, he watched her every move with adoring blue eyes and maintained his controlled thrusts even as a string of cooed praises and uninhibited moans and groans of his own filled the air.

“You feel so good, Veda” Terry purred, capturing her in another tender passionate kiss that had Veda letting out a muffled, sultry moan into his mouth. She could feel the warm bubbly sensation of her second orgasm building inside of her far too quickly for her liking. Terry felt it too, he quickened the pace of the circles he was making on her clit and broke their kiss to gaze deeply into her eyes again.

  “Don’t hold it in baby girl, I want to feel your pretty little pussy cum for me” Terry crooned thrusting into her tight heat again as he placed a reassuring kiss on her check. Veda moaned holding his gaze as she started matching his slow thrusts with her hips and running her fingers along the length of his cheek lightly.

“Oh, Terry I want to feel you cum for me too” Veda whispered staring up at him with big, needy brown eyes that were filled with adoration in its purest form. Terry leaned into the palm of her hand for a moment, his blue eyes asking her a silent question in the warm golden glow of the fire. Veda flashed him a reassuring smile as if she read his mind, sometimes they both swore they really could.

“Go ahead, my love you’re not hurting me. I love you so much” Veda cooed leaning forward to pepper his face with kisses that made Terry’s heart feel like it might burst. Terry let out a pleased sounding murmur, pulling Veda in for a sweet kiss before gradually increasing the pace of his thrusts and resumed his quick circles on her swollen bud while he stared deeply into her eyes. Veda let out another sultry moan as she felt her climax rebuilding itself in her core at the new speed of Terry’s deep thrusts and wondered how Terry was still managing to be so gentle with her. Terry laid a few sweet kisses on Veda’s cheek watching her intently as he felt his own climax brewing.

"I love you too, my sweet girl" Terry cooed as his thrusts inside of her became more erratic as he felt Veda dig her nails into the back of his neck and gift him with a pretty moan of his name as she gazed up at him through dazed eyes. Terry groaned at the sound and frantically rubbed her swollen sensitive bud with adoration swirling in his eyes.

"You make me so happy, let me feel you my good girl" Terry coxed gently. Veda cried out Terry's name loud enough for it to echo into the starry night sky as the pressure building within her core finally bubbled over and her second orgasm crashed in on her even more intensely than first one.

"That's my good girl, that's my Veda" Terry grunted, coming undone at the feel Veda's tight walls clenching and fluttering around his cock even more vigorously than they had around his fingers. Their shared moans of ecstasy melded together as Terry's warm load nestled deep inside Veda's tight, fluttering heat. Both of them felt strangely whole as they gazed at each other still completely intertwined on a pile of cascading blankets and plush pillows. Terry took a moment to catch his breath before rushing to tend to a trembling Veda. Still a bit dazed as aftershocks racked through her small body. Veda still managed to give Terry a shy smile and reached out towards him big brown doe eyes. Terry beamed down at her reassuringly as he snaked his arms under her shaky form carefully.

"I've got you Veda, sweetheart does anything hurt? How's your arm" Terry cooed pulling her into his chest and placing tender kisses in her hair. He trailed his hands down her back and arms in the form of soothing circles.

"Nothing hurts, Romeo my arm still feels just fine, and it still doesn't affect my legs" Veda said giving him a teasing kiss on the tip of his nose. Terry raised an eyebrow at her and let out a soft chuckle as he gazed at her with amused loving blue eyes.

"I just like taking care of you" Terry said, pouting at her playfully Veda's eyes softened a bit as she gazed back at him with a reassuring smile on her lips.

"I know that my love that's why I think you’re the greatest, prettiest, sweetest most perfect boyfriend in the entire world. You always take care of me, and I love you" Veda said whole heartedly before leaning up to pepper his cheek with adoring kisses. Terry let out a content sigh, placing his left hand on top of hers so both of their rings were gleaming in the warm glow of the fire and the silver rays of the moonlight.

"I love you too and I'll always take care of you, Veda regardless of..." Terry coaxed gazing at Veda with sincere, loving eyes and a soft smile that always made her heart flutter.

"Time or circumstance" Veda said just above a whisper.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

#terry silver #terry silver x oc #terry silver smut #smut #fluff #feeling sappy #lovey dovey #sorry for that open ended closing line but we will have Silver bells #enjoy this moodboard

[coltermorning]

When Lightning Strikes Twice (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: You and Arthur pursue a treasure only to wind up switching bodies thanks to an unexplainable lightning storm.

Author’s Notes: This is probably pure chaos to read because of the pronouns but enjoy I tried my best :,)

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, smut, high honor Arthur Morgan, bodyswap

AO3 Link

~

When Lightning Strikes Twice

Word count: 10876

The sun was baking the ground, the trees, everything it could reach. You included. It was a wonder the heat hadn’t caused an endless scape of brown to stretch into the horizon. It certainly felt like it should, like being an egg on a skillet. Your predicament wasn’t making things any easier either.

“Where’d you say this tree was?”

“Just down this way.”

You followed Arthur on horseback toward some kind of treasure. Hopefully. You normally wouldn’t give a moment’s thought to a map, especially one as ragged and torn as the one you had found, but Arthur mentioned he had found two that turned into treasure—gold. It was at least worth a look. Shit at tracking, you had asked Arthur to come along. You knew it would mean splitting the take, but if said take was as large as Arthur’s previous finds, it would be worth it and then some.

“Think the tree’ll have some kind of clue?” you asked, wiping the sweat from your brow. Your patience was running pitifully thin.

“Map says to go past it. I think I know where.”

Cryptic. Really, you didn’t know why you put up with him. That was a lie, you did—Arthur had become one of your closest friends. It was a bit of an odd pairing, him being so serious and literal and you being so easy-going. But the more you got to know him, the more you brought out that side of him, no matter how deep he tried to bury it.

“Oh, he knows where!” you said to your horse, patting its neck.

“Hush,” he grumbled, earning himself a cackle from you.

Sure enough, you soon reached the tree the map depicted, managing not to melt off your horse in the meantime. It really was unbearably hot.

Arthur stopped his horse next to the tree, studying it. It was definitely the right one—a low limb stuck straight out of its side as if someone had shaped it into an arrow, pointing the way. The bridge behind it was the same one depicted on the map.

“How’d you know where to find this?”

Arthur got down off his horse to get a closer look. “Told you. I get around, note my surroundings. Unlike you.”

“Hey, if I didn’t note my surroundings, we wouldn’t have this map in the first place.”

He chuckled. “Sure.” Circling the whole tree, he studied it closely before getting back on his horse. “This way.”

“Where to?”

He didn’t answer, and you had half a mind to throw something at him. But when he slowed again, pointing out another tree with a funny limb, you pursed your lips.

“Ah. One with the land, he is.”

“Would you stop talking to your horse about me? It’s unseemly.”

“Like you don’t talk to your horse.”

“I talk to my horse plenty. I don’t gossip.”

You laughed. “Sure you don’t.”

Arthur shot you a look before moving on, finding another tree, then another. The map showed the first tree in the foreground, a river beside it, and finally a group of trees that had been burned. So far, the latter two weren’t revealing themselves. That is, until you followed where the last tree had been pointing and found a river snaking by the hillside, sparkling in the hot sunshine.

“Think that’s the one we’re looking for?”

Arthur considered. “Has to be. See that rock in the stream there?” He nodded toward said rock, the same one depicted on the map, and your excitement took hold at the sight of it—maybe all this sweating and waiting would pay off.

You trotted past him before he could start, taking the lead.

“Where you going?”

“I don’t need you anymore,” you teased. “Go right on home, leave the real work to them as can handle it.”

“Like hell I am,” he said with a snort, catching up to ride alongside you.

After crossing the small river, your horses climbed the hill on the other side, coming out onto a worn path.

“That cluster of dead trees seemed to be on a hilltop,” Arthur offered. You looked ahead of you, across the path, to the steep hill that ran upward and nearly out of sight behind the trees.

“Up it is,” you said, leading again. This was a harder hill for your horse to take, but you were soon very high, overlooking the rocky landscape. There was a small settlement just south, one you had never come across before. The people milling about were wild for doing anything other than resting with this heat bearing down on them.

“Butcher Creek,” Arthur said, inclining his head toward it.

“Hm.” You turned, needing for this to be over. Needing to be back in camp with your head dunked in a barrel of water.

Climbing higher still, going north on a small path that snaked through the grass, the pair of you finally came out on the very trees the map depicted. They were all burnt and gnarled, without many limbs to speak of. As if something powerful had snapped them all off.

“Did a fire do this?” you asked, slowing your approach.

“Looks more like lightning to me.”

“Lightning?” As soon as you said it, you felt a shift in the air, a slight breeze where the air had been stiff as hot death a moment before. You looked toward the sky but saw no foul weather to speak of. Your horse still shifted uncomfortably beneath you, something it only ever did during said weather. “Strange,” you muttered, getting off your horse to follow Arthur.

He had approached the trees, looking between their deadened trunks for any sign of something left behind on the ground. There wasn’t much to look for—it was a tiny spot of land, very few trunks left standing in the small patch of rock and infertile ground.

“What are we looking for?” you asked him, knocking against the first tree you came to, checking for hollowness.

“I ain’t too sure. That bit on the back didn’t make much sense to me.” This meaning the back of the map which had a tiny scrawling of words on it. You tried to recall them from memory.

See the sight Utter the word With blinding light It will be heard

Arthur figured this was more nonsense than anything, but you hadn’t brushed it off entirely. “Utter the word,” you mumbled under your breath. Maybe there was a word carved into a tree. You began your search for such a thing when you felt that breeze again, the whispering touch of it making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. You looked up when the wind began moving the tree leaves like a promise of an oncoming storm. But there was still a cloudless sky, the sun bearing down its relentless beat. If it weren’t for the trees moving, you would think you were going mad.

“You feel that?��� You looked to Arthur.

“Feel what?”

“That wind.”

“Yeah.” Abandoning his crouching search of the ground, he stood tall, taking in his surroundings. “We’re up pretty high.”

“Still strange.” You looked over at your horse, the way it stepped around unsettled. “This may sound stupid but…lightning can’t strike unless it’s cloudy, right?”

Arthur shot you an unamused look.

“I’m serious. My horse never acts that way.” You pointed to it, drawing his attention. The animal was beginning to get beyond the point of wanting to listen despite Arthur’s horse standing firm beside it. It wouldn’t be long until your mount lost its tether to the ground and ran from whatever was giving it such a fright.

You made for it with hands held up and voice low. “Easy,” you hummed, trying to calm it. The closer you got, the more the horse tip toed away, the whites of its eyes beginning to show. And still, that strange wind picked up. “Easy there,” you repeated. It was useless. The horse finally got scared enough to move, stepping away from you.

“What’re you doing to it?” Arthur said as he approached. “You best grab the reins before it-”

The horse bolted before he could finish the sentence. “Shit. Hey!” you yelled after it. It had never acted so spooky before, especially not toward you. But there it was, galloping into the trees so fast you knew it would take Arthur’s horse to catch it. You set your hands on your hips and let out a sigh. “This treasure better be goddamn worth it.” You looked to Arthur, but when you did, something else caught your eye. Your horse had led you over to a new vantage from which to view the dead trees. And the gnarled trunks all fit together, almost like…

“Look at that,” you told Arthur, pointing to them. He turned, and the wind gave a bellowing howl. It was so strange, such a loud noise for such cloudless weather. Normally wind like that, a cold wind through all this heat no less, signaled rain. But you couldn’t focus on that, not when your heart began to race from the sight before you. “The trees. They look like- well…” Maybe you were reaching. You didn’t want Arthur to think you’d gone as crazy as your horse. But still, that poem on the back of the map talked about a word.

“I see it,” he said. “They spell…”

“Why.” You said it together. And the second you did, the wind drew back in a breath, as if in retreat. Then the sky exploded.

You cowered and fell, knowing nothing but deafening noise and blinding light, entirely disoriented. You held onto the ground beneath your fingers as the howl of wind was swallowed by a crack so loud it tore against your ears. Then there was heat, unfathomable heat. Scorching your skin and any remaining senses you had. Before you could even think to run for your life, all went black.

~

You moved your eyes around, not opening them. You hurt all over. So much that your entire body felt heavy. You tried to move but groaned in pain. Only, the sound that met your ears was entirely wrong. Your eyes shot open. And before you was…you. On the ground, feet away. Unconscious.

“What the-” You stopped dead at the sound of your voice. At how deep it was. “No…” You looked down to find Arthur’s shirt on your body. No. Arthur’s body. “What the hell?” Arthur’s voice came rumbling out with your every word. “I-” You couldn’t think of what to do. Couldn’t think. You fought through your pain and started crawling, heading for your body sprawled out on the ground. You were dead. You had died. From the looks of the burnt up ground, you’d gotten struck by lightning. But the sky remained relentlessly blue, so at odds with the horror of what you saw before you.

You finally reached yourself, unable to process how strange that was as you reached out with Arthur’s hand and touched your body. Immediately, you jolted awake.

“What’s- what the hell?” You could only stare at yourself, unbelieving, as your own eyes went wide at the sight of Arthur. Of you in Arthur’s body.

“I’m…” You were completely at a loss. How could you be alive in two different bodies? How could you be alive at all?

“You’re me.” The words coming out of your mouth…you had to think hard to come up with who was who, with what that meant.

“Arthur?” you asked lowly.

“How did this happen?” You looked unnaturally still when you said it. When Arthur said it. His mannerisms on your body were absurdly strange.

“I…” You could hardly fight the words out. You could hardly believe what you were seeing. Maybe you had died. “The lightning. The trees.”

At the mention, you looked to the dead trees out from under the brim of Arthur’s hat. They stood there as unassuming as ever, the cloudless sky as still as it had been on the ride up here, the scorching heat returned.

You heard Arthur turn to look at them too but didn’t watch, unsettled by the sight of yourself.

“How the hell did lightning strike us? It’s clear as a bell out here.” You had the sudden urge to laugh, hearing Arthur’s anger pour out in your voice. It sounded ridiculous.

“Beats me,” you answered. “How am I you? Why am I you?” You met your own eyes once more. And the feeling was still so wrong that you tried to stand just to have something to do with yourself. You were weak, like you had taken one hell of a beating. But moving was different. Arthur’s body was considerably stronger than yours. Finally reaching your feet, you looked down from a taller height, noticing every inch of how different you felt for the first time. For one thing, you were a man now. So that was how it felt, standing around with something between your legs. You shifted back and forth on your feet, getting used to it.

“Whatever you’re doing, stop it.” You looked to yourself, to Arthur, and smiled.

“What?”

“Don’t move your hips around like that. It looks ridiculous.”

“What, like this?” you said, shaking your hips back and forth. The sheer weight of his body was an adjustment, your balance catching.

“For the love of-” He grimaced like he normally did, only it looked laughable on you.

“Don’t scowl like that,” you said, still smiling. “I never scowl.”

“Yeah, well, I do,” he said, standing. When he managed it, you did laugh, the sound of Arthur’s rare mirthful laughter piercing the air. You were so short. How had you never noticed how small you were compared to Arthur? “What?” he spat.

“You’re just- you’re so little.”

“And you’re an ugly bastard.”

“Hey! I am not. In fact, I’d say I look pretty good like this.” You posed with chin held high, knowing how much it would irk him.

You immediately felt his—no, your—hands on you as he shoved you. “Cut that out.”

Your grin widened. “Make me.”

You could tell it was taking all his will not to pounce on you. But even he knew it was useless, as tiny as he was probably feeling right now.

“Forget it,” he said with a dismissal wave. “How do we fix this?” He looked to the trees and made for them, trudging up the hill.

You followed, noting how large your stride was. How weird it felt to walk with something between your legs. “Who says we have to fix it?”

“I do,” he snapped. “I ain’t getting stuck like this.”

“Oh, come on,” you said, your words in Arthur’s voice sounding just as laughable. He would never say something so eagerly. “It ain’t so bad.”

“For you maybe.”

You stopped, crossing your arms. It drew his attention.

“What?” he said on a sigh. “And stop standing like that. You’re standing like a woman.”

“You don’t have to be so hateful towards me. I know being me isn’t all that grand, but you don’t have to throw it in my face.”

His expression faltered. Just barely. But you knew your own face well enough to spot it.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he mumbled, turning back to the trees.

You rolled your eyes. Then cracked a grin when you had a sudden idea.

“Prove it.”

“What?”

“Prove it. Let’s go a day like this, see how well you can handle being a woman in a man’s world.”

“No,” he said flatly, looking to the trees again. “Where’d that damn wind go?”

“Seems to have left,” you said with a shrug. “May be stuck like this.”

“This all just a joke to you, is it?”

“It’s certainly amusing enough. Remind me not to get too angry by the way. It’s more cute than it is intimidating.”

When he didn’t respond, you just smiled and turned, making for his horse. It had run a short ways away, likely when lightning had rained down from the cloudless heavens. If it had even been lightning at all. If it weren’t for you walking in Arthur’s boots, you would think none of it had happened in the first place.

You reached Arthur’s horse, the animal nuzzling your hand fondly, not recognizing you weren’t its owner. “There,” you said lowly, liking the sound of your deep voice.

“Hey! What the hell you think you’re doing?” Arthur shouted.

“I think I’ll go for a ride, see what a day in the life of Arthur Morgan’s like.”

“Are you crazy? You’re staying here until we figure this out.

“No, I ain’t crazy. And I’d like to see you stop me.”

Arthur’s hand twitched beside the gun on your hip, like it always did when he was agitated. You barked a laugh. “You gonna shoot me? Shoot yourself?”

“I’m fighting the urge.”

“Really,” you said, beginning to get annoyed. “It’s not that bad. Just give it one damn day, then we can figure this out, go back to being ourselves.”

“I don’t want to. And I don’t want you to. You’ll get me killed, parading around like that.”

“Like what?”

“Swinging your- my hips around. I’ll get shot on sight. Hell, your mouth’ll probably get me shot up if that don’t.”

“Your mouth’s about to get you shot up just fine,” you said flatly, mounting his horse. He was still far enough away that you didn’t have to worry about him catching up. “Enjoy finding my horse after all that lightning.” You smiled through his protests and kicked his horse into a run, riding swiftly away, no longer hampered down by the sweltering heat thanks to your newfound optimism and purpose.

Riding a horse was strange now, having to adjust to Arthur’s heavy-set body. When the town of Van Horn came into view, you were relieved for two reasons, the first being that you’d managed to stay in the saddle. The second rendered you unable to contain your smile. How different it would be to waltz up to the bar, to know other men eyed you with intimidation instead of perversion. Well, maybe waltz was a bad word. Arthur was right about that much—you had to do a better job of playing the part or risk getting him killed. Getting yourself killed. But you had known Arthur long enough to know how to imitate him well enough. All it took was a grimace and averted eyes, walking like you were a bow-legged cowboy. How hard could it really be?

A half hour later, you got your answer. Being a man was the easy part. Being a man like Arthur was where things muddied. Apparently, he drew attention to himself just by being. He was a big guy, and no doubt unfamiliar in these parts. A few nasty looks in your direction was all it took for you to keep his hat slung low over your eyes. No wonder he did that so often.

“What say you and me go have a little fun?”

Never having heard a question like that directed at you, it took you a beat to realize the woman by the bar who said it was asking you. Or Arthur.

You looked to her, trying to hide your surprise. “Maybe another time.” You were almost sure you’d heard Arthur say that before. But it didn’t stop the color from rising to your face.

“No need to be embarrassed, sweetheart. I’ll treat you real gentle.”

Sure she would. Oblivious to who hid under Arthur’s skin all the while. “No, but thank you.”

“Uh huh,” she said tauntingly. “You just let me know if you change your mind.” She walked away, and her words suddenly had your mind turning furiously. What would it feel like to have sex in a man’s body? Just as the thought reached you, the saloon doors slammed open. And in walked you. The sight still made you uneasy.

“You,” Arthur said, his tone in your voice drawing the attention of a few of the other patrons.

One whistled. “You better run, partner. I wouldn’t want to be on the other end of that gaze.”

Arthur heard this and shot him daggers too. It was much less intimidating on your face than his, but it shut the man up all the same. He walked straight to you and took your arm. “We’re leaving.”

You yanked it away. “Hold on, now. I just got here.”

He stepped in close, still so much shorter than you that you almost had to duck to hear. “Don’t go making a scene,” he hissed.

“I ain’t,” you said quietly. Then, leaning back on the bar, “Besides, I got a new friend over there.” You held the woman’s eyes who had called out to you, smiling in that charming way Arthur could.

“Quit it,” he said, drawing your attention back to him. “Those women’ll eat you alive.”

“Maybe I’d like that,” you mumbled, just loud enough that he heard.

“Are you insane?”

“No,” you said, turning around to face the bar, speaking lowly so no one would hear. “And like you ain’t thought about it.”

“About what?”

“About sex. About how it would feel in my body.”

You swore you saw a tinge of redness on your own face. But Arthur charged through his embarrassment like a bull. “No, I ain’t thought about it. This ain’t my body to do what I please with.”

You scoffed. “Now isn’t the time for chivalry, my friend. This is a once in a lifetime gig. You really want to waste it?”

He sighed, tugging on your arm, pulling you toward the door. “Come on.”

You gave in, knowing it was better than letting Arthur cause a scene. As much as he liked to claim you would be the one to do it, you knew damn well it would be him attracting all the attention. And now that he was sporting around a woman’s body, he could slap you as hard as he liked without consequence. You weren’t about to give him the chance.

“Where we going, then?” you asked when you passed through the swinging doors. Your horse was hitched beside Arthur’s, calm once more. You went up to love on it only to see the animal cut you a sideways glance, pinning its ears. You had momentarily forgotten. “Give my horse a little love, would you? Doesn’t like other people.”

“Pipe down with all that,” Arthur spat. You rolled your eyes. Like anyone in this town would ever have the brain power to realize you and Arthur had switched bodies. “Here,” Arthur said, feeding your horse a treat and giving it a few pats on the neck. “Now then, I say we head back to figure out where that wind came from. We don’t know how long we could be stuck like this if we leave it be.”

You groaned aloud then stopped yourself, knowing how wrong it sounded coming from Arthur. “Why you gotta be so uptight about this? Let’s let loose, have a little fun.”

“I don’t think you’re getting how serious this is.”

“I am. It happened. And it could just as easily un-happen. Relax, would you?”

He sighed in frustration before lowering his voice. “You want to be me so bad? Fine. But I’m getting a room and locking you in it so you don’t get us both killed.”

“I won’t get us killed, Arthur. Since when don’t you trust me?”

“Since you decided to parade me around like that,” he snapped. “Since you started making eyes at other women. You don’t know what the hell you’re doing.”

Like hell you didn’t. “Fine,” you said, storming away from him. Your longer stride had him struggling to keep up with you as you made for the mail courier.

“Where you going now?” he asked, your voice taking on a desperate edge.

You didn’t answer, treating him like he always treated you. It was enormously satisfying.

You stepped up to the window and asked for a room, throwing your money down on the counter. It took one look of your pointed anger for the man before you to cower. Damn, did you wish you could make people shrink like that on a regular basis. You rounded, pushing through Arthur like he wasn’t even there. This body had its advantages. You were beginning to understand why Arthur wanted it back so badly.

You stole upstairs and pushed in the door. You were halfway to slamming it in Arthur’s face when he caught it, your own fragile little hand catching on the edge.

“Excuse me?” he said, pushing through it and shutting it behind him. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“You,” you said, sitting down on the bed and turning away from him to shake off some of your anger. “Treating me like a damn child. You never do that.”

“I’m not- I don’t mean to be that way. There’s just…a lot at stake.”

“Yeah, your precious body. I get it.”

“No, it ain’t that.” He sighed, an exaggerated sound. He didn’t talk for so long you looked at him. He had your hands resting on your gun belt like he always did to his. He finally met your eye and said slowly, “I just don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.”

You scoffed. “What, with that woman back in the saloon? Arthur, you know I’m not that stupid.”

He hesitated. “So you didn’t…”

You narrowed your eyes. His eyes. “Seriously?”

“What?”

You shook your head, turning away again, getting one of Arthur’s guns out to admire it. To take your mind off the idiot at your back. “I’d just turned the woman down before you got there. If that’s what’s bothering you.”

“That’s not…” Arthur said, trailing off. Obviously not wanting to breach the subject of you using his body for your own pleasure.

You relieved him of the burden. “Just drop it. I’ll stay here locked up like a good girl, and we’ll go figure this out in the morning.”

He had the audacity to laugh, and you shot him a sideways glance. He was smirking, your mouth angled upward sharply. “For the love of god, don’t call yourself a good girl in my body. It sounds ridiculous.”

You couldn’t help the corner of your mouth turning upward in response. It was comical how different you were, the glaring differences coming out in speech and mannerism and thought.

“I am a good girl,” you grumbled, and he told you to quit it while laughing outright this time. The sound of your own laughter was strange, like something you had only ever heard muffled before. Now that it was clear and unobstructed, it was smooth. Pretty. It made you smile.

Arthur pointed to the weapon still in your hands. “Put that away, would you? Don’t want you getting any ideas.”

The small weight in your hands was so strange—you had held one of Arthur’s guns before. His were much improved from a regular Cattleman and heavier as a result. But his hands swamped the weapon now, and it felt as light as your own as you cradled it, the power in your hands alone remarkable.

You tucked the gun back in its holster, laying back on the bed. Well, attempting to. “Shit.” You looked to your feet hanging over the edge.

Arthur chuckled. “Move up some. You’ll get used to it.”

You did as he said before eyeing him. He had nowhere to sit.

“You, uh…can sit, or…”

He waved you off. “I’m fine. Thinking about going for a beer. You want one?”

You lit up at that. “You ain’t locking me up then?”

“Oh no, I definitely am. I meant I’ll bring one back for you if you want.”

You scoffed, turning away. Even that slight motion had the bed groaning beneath you from the weight of his body. “Forget it.”

He just laughed, like it was the funniest thing in the world.

“You know, you’re damn lucky I listen to you. Otherwise I’d be down at that saloon with my tongue down some poor girl’s throat by now.”

You met his eye just quick enough to see the blush on your face he tried to hide. “No you wouldn’t.” He was right. You weren’t that kind of woman, really. But such a dramatic change had rendered you enlivened, if a little reckless.

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, turning away again. “Bring me a beer then.”

You heard the door snap shut and closed your eyes, noting every inch of unfamiliar body lying flat on the bed. You felt a sudden surge of jealousy so harsh, wishing for a heartbeat you had been born a man. Then again, that might have been because you were attracted to men. Enamored by their muscled bodies, their strength. Arthur was certainly those things. You had never quite thought of him as someone you were attracted to. Partially because he was such an annoying fool, but mainly because you had never allowed yourself to think it. Your friendship was a good thing in a hard life, and you didn’t want to wreck it. That didn’t stop you from wanting to explore every inch of his body.

You let that thought swirl away before it could do any damage, thinking instead of how exactly this had all come about in the first place. A lightning storm in broad daylight. You had no doubt it was what the little poem on the map alluded to.

See the sight Utter the word With blinding light It will be heard

The lightning had struck the moment you and Arthur said ‘why.’ The only thing you couldn’t understand was how on earth that rendered your consciousnesses switched. Maybe that was the joke—the why of it all. Whoever had penned that map was a cruel person indeed.

How you hadn’t died upon contact was another thing entirely. Almost as if the lightning had never really existed in the first place. Maybe you were imagining it all, still knocked out cold on the ground. Or dead. That soured your mood enough that you went back to thinking about Arthur’s body. At least it was a more pleasant thing to consider.

Your curiosity got the better of you, and you reached downward, skimming against coarse muscle all the way down. Christ, did he have to be built so powerfully? Years of work and being on the run tended to instill strength in a man, but this was ridiculous.

You brushed those thick fingers of his against the top edge of his pants, hesitating, debating touching what you really wanted to touch on him. It would be overstepping, you knew. The man had a right to some privacy. But god, did you want to know what every aspect of being a man felt like. Desperately. So you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching down, touching the still clothed part of him that immediately reacted to the contact of his heavy hand. Reacted in a way that made you loose a breath the very second you heard the door handle turn. You panicked, scrambling to throw your too-long legs over the side of the bed and sit up. You watched your body step back into the room, Arthur’s suspicion edging onto your face when he saw how quickly you had moved.

“Forgot to…get my money from you,” he said with narrowed eyes, nodding toward the satchel wrapped around you.

“Oh,” you said, entirely too eager to use the excuse to move and cover your blunder. You reached in his satchel and fingered through countless things you couldn’t put a name to. The bills were stuck in the bottom and you dragged them out, handing them over in a too-clenched first. Arthur eyed the money, then you.

“What?” you asked. You knew better. Really should have stayed quiet.

“Why you acting so funny?”

“I’m not.” You prayed it came off as relaxed, though you couldn’t be sure how it would look on Arthur’s face.

“Really?” he said, entirely unconvinced. “Why’d you jump a mile when I came in then?”

You felt your face heat. You looked away, tipping his hat down to hide your blush.

“I know that move,” he said accusatorially. “Tell me.”

You took a long breath, not knowing what the hell to say. What could you? I was in the middle of touching you, Arthur? In the middle of doing something you just told me you wouldn’t dare do to my body without permission? It was wrong, and you knew it. You couldn’t tell him.

He broke the silence, stepping toward you. “Tell me.” It was every bit Arthur, that commanding presence he held coming through your own voice somehow. It made you cower further, if that was even possible. It was…ungodly attractive, him wielding your body like his very own weapon. Demanding.

The thought had your blood rushing downward, much like it did in your own body. But this was different. This was all-consuming, blocking all thought. And when his manhood began to strain against his pants—your pants—you panicked and spoke.

“Forget it,” you said, still hiding your face, trying to calm yourself down. It was impossible. All you could think about was the need building within you, worse than you’d ever felt as a woman as it couldn’t seem to be reversed. You didn’t know how obvious it would be to adjust yourself in front of him but felt the need to. Or else he would notice exactly what was plaguing you before you could say another word.

He stepped toward you suddenly, and you moved to wave him off. “I’m fine, I-” Too much movement. Entirely too much. Your pants brushed against you, and you grew harder still. Goddamn did it feel so strange, so different, but the desire to make it go away was getting hard to fight off. You knew why too, and you didn’t want to admit it to yourself, though the thought flashed through your mind anyway—Arthur’s body. This was Arthur’s body, and the fact that he was so aroused somehow turned you on. Which in turn resulted in your predicament worsening every second. You let out a shaky breath.

He laughed, the sound out of place enough for you to finally meet his eye. He was staring at your pants, at his own crotch. He knew.

“Dead to rights, I’m afraid,” he said. “I weren’t gone a minute. You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

Shame filled every inch of you. “I didn’t- it’s worse now than it-”

He held up a hand, making your words fall away. “Save it. I ain’t mad. Should have figured, really, how you were talking at the bar.”

“I’m sorry,” you said desperately. “It’s your body, like you said. Ain’t up to me to do as I please with it.”

He chuckled, that charming smile of his somehow working its way onto your face. “It’s fine. You’re just…” He shook his head. “As I said, I should have figured. You being you.”

You normally would have jumped at him over saying that but couldn’t, not when your words were suddenly lodged in your throat. Because he was fine with this. He was okay with you touching him. And the thought had more arousal than before consuming you, enough that your focus was blurring between him in your body and you in his.

He started. “I’ll, uh, leave you be if-”

“No, don’t do that,” you said in a panic.

You watched a smile curve up the side of your face. “What, can’t keep your hands to yourself when I’m away?”

“God, don’t talk like that,” you breathed.

“Why? Turn you on?”

To keep your jaw from dropping, you grabbed his hat and rammed it down farther, hiding your beet red face behind it. Christ alive.

He laughed and moved to the door. “I’m gonna step out. Do whatever you need to, I don’t mind.”

“No.” You were firm on that. You had already overstepped once. You wouldn’t do it again. No matter how much you wanted to.

You looked over at him. He stood at the door, your body so calm and still like only he could make it. He looked at you expectantly, and you realized he was waiting on you to say something, to explain.

“Can you…” You couldn’t finish that question.

“Can I what?” His smile was wicked, your face carved up with it.

“Jesus, Arthur, why do you have to make this so hard?”

“Make what hard? You?”

There was nothing within arms reach to throw, but if there had been, he would already be ducking. He sensed this and kept talking through a laugh. “All right, all right. Relax. I’m just needling you.” He stepped closer. “What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know. Make it go away.”

He smiled, smugness mixed with a bit of shyness. “I can make it go away all right. But…you sure you want that?”

You panicked slightly. You meant go away as in help calm yourself, not help find your release. But now that he was offering…

“Yes,” you said, so quietly his low voice almost didn’t speak it. You couldn’t believe you admitted it, uttered it aloud.

He gave you a long, unreadable look. Then, after long enough that you were holding your breath, “Okay then.” He stepped forward slowly, his sheepishness finally seeming to catch up to him. “You want…me to show you or…”

Your heart thrummed. “No.” It was in that very moment you knew what you wanted. That it became glaringly real between you—finding your pleasure not only as Arthur, but with Arthur.

You reached for him and were pulling your own body down on top of you before you could form another thought. He made a noise of surprise, but you didn’t hesitate. Not when the weight of him landed atop you and you had to resist the urge to buck your hips into the newfound pressure.

He couldn’t say a word before you crashed your lips to his, keeping your eyes shut tight all the while. You didn’t want to think about kissing your own mouth, only that this was Arthur you were kissing, that maybe you had been wanting to do this all along. Under more normal circumstances.

He broke away. “You…”

“Just shut up,” you said, the low timbre of Arthur’s voice rumbling through your chest as you pulled him to you, kissing him so forcefully his hat fell off your head.

He pulled back again, unable to resist running his mouth. “This is…so strange.” And it was. It was odd to feel yourself against you, but you couldn’t care. Not when this was Arthur’s body reacting so sensitively to it. You wanted to touch yourself, to feel how to wring each ounce of pleasure from him. But you didn’t—couldn’t—because you had pulled him down on top of you, and Arthur started moving back and forth against your thigh. It drove you wild.

You looked down and watched as he propped himself up, making your mouth fall open in his pleasure. Maybe it was because you knew exactly what that would feel like rocking against him, but you felt your—his—cock twitch in response, straining. You couldn’t take it anymore.

You used your newfound strength and flipped him underneath you, surprised to feel how weightless you were under his touch. You laid against him and moved. And god, was it your undoing.

Your mouth found his as you kissed him unforgivingly, grinding against him. The immediate arousal was unshakable. Lightning to the touch. Winding you up so tight you groaned, the sound coming out ragged and deep.

“Easy,” he said, your own breathy voice sounding right into your mouth. “If you want to last, that is.”

That made you hesitate. “You want…me to-”

“Do what you want, I’m just saying,” he interrupted. That was a terrible answer. Because it left it up to you. And as it stood, you wanted to feel each and every way a man could pleasure a woman.

“You sure?” you asked softly. And Arthur’s voice saying those words…

“Yes, I’m sure. And faster than this. Your body has needs too, you know.”

You kissed him, biting his lip for the cheek. He let out a low moan in return.

You continued to grind against him but held yourself up with one strong hand, trailing your fingers down his skin. “I can teach you something about those needs,” you said lowly. Every caress of Arthur’s aroused voice on your ears sent grating pleasure shooting downward.

You moved down and tore your own gun belt away, then your pants, knowing these were the pair that were baggy enough to do it. You made to pleasure your own body beneath your underthings, to make Arthur squirm beneath you, when he spoke.

“I know how to pleasure a woman just fine-” You had brought your thumb down on your clit. And Arthur let his head fall back, his eyes shutting tight. Your thumb was now noticeably bigger, but that didn’t stop you from knowing what to do with it. You dragged it around torturously slow, making his—your—chest heave and fall. You brought your mouth down to your clothed nipple. Normally, this would feel like an odd thing to do, but for some reason it seemed like any other thing. You didn’t care that it was your body. You cared that it was Arthur you were showing all this pleasure to. Arthur taking it all, Arthur helping you find an edge you were dangerously near.

You sat up and tore the rest of your clothes away, leaving him completely bare. You watched as Arthur looked down, admiring you. His head fell against the bed once more as he groaned softly, his hand moving toward your entrance. You wanted that so badly his cock strained again. You wanted to watch him touch you, watch what he would do to you.

You bent down and pressed a kiss to his arm in encouragement. Then he brought his hand low, finally running his fingers along right where you wanted him to. The image of you touching yourself was doing something to Arthur’s body you couldn’t contain. Wild, unbridled need. But that was Arthur’s mouth going slack when he felt your wetness on his fingers, Arthur reveling in how you felt because of him.

You let him do as he wanted and kissed him again, wanting to feel him against you. You knew better than to move your hips against him now—you were wound tight as a coil, and doing so would end this quickly.

He broke away from your kiss, having to take a breath when he began pumping his fingers in and out of you. You went for his neck instead, kissing and licking and mouthing. You wanted him to find his pleasure, wanted him to feel what an orgasm was like in a woman’s body for the sole reason that you could bring him to that precipice over and over and over again—something he couldn’t do quite as fast being a man.

You took his mouth again, demanding. Wanting to work him up into an irreversible need. You knew just what your body craved and knew how to get him there. So you refused to let him away from your mouth, especially when you brought your hand down to drag his own away, using Arthur’s fingers instead. They were bigger, and he let out a moan right into your mouth when you sunk two in at once, right down to the knuckle.

He was trying to breathe, trying to keep his head, but you kept kissing him, pushing his head down into the bed in your fervor. You pumped your fingers in and out slowly, dragging them against your walls just like you liked it. You wished you could feel this yourself, his thick fingers inside of you.

He mumbled something incomprehensible, so you let him take a breath, pulling away just so.

He was a flustered mess. His breathing was heavy, his eyes were blown wide with desire, and damn it all if you couldn’t see Arthur below the surface. Because you could, his mannerisms making you want to take him then and there when they sprawled across your face in deep need.

“What was that?” you said, curling your fingers just right, dragging them slowly still.

“You’re gonna…make me…”

“Come all you want,” you told him. He groaned. You kissed him once more, your tongue tangling with his.

You knew yourself well enough to know you were close, but this wouldn’t get you there. So you quickened your pace, pressing deeper, his beautiful fingers doing more than yours could.

He was panting then, something you didn’t normally do. All Arthur, his pleasure on the brink. So you let his mouth be and ducked your head, latching your mouth around your own nipple in a way that had his back arching. You ran your tongue against him, a slight scrape of your teeth. All the while, you fucked your fingers in deep and fast. Then faster. Then harder. Until you noticed his hands had clasped around your veined forearm, holding on for some kind of tether to keep him from losing himself entirely.

You worked your breast with his tongue, scraping a demanding pull against it, and he snapped.

He let out an exasperated noise somewhere between a feminine moan and and all-out groan. Definitely Arthur. You had never made that noise in your life. The lines between you were blurring.

You released your hold on your breast and watched him, watched your face screw up in pleasure in a way that only he could make it look. You kept pace, using your hand to work him over thoroughly. And you suddenly understood how good this was, making a woman reach her pleasure first. Waiting, basking in this, it was the perfect thing for you right now in the needy state you were in.

He moaned and panted and moved against you but took it all, wanting it all. How strange it must feel, after years of a man’s pleasure. How much more delicate and precise it was.

You finally brought your hand away, smirking at him. “How was that?”

“This was supposed to be about helping you,” he said breathlessly.

“And?”

“And that was goddamn perfect.”

“Good. I do know my own body well. Which is why this,” you said, setting the pad of his thick thumb back to your clit. He squirmed, still coming down from his high. “Is going to make you see stars.”

You moved your thumb, and he let out another groan too deep for your voice. You swirled fast shapes, criss-crossing against that sensitive nub. He was panting and writhing and trying to get away from your touch, and you boxed him in and held his lower body down. It was harsh pleasure, enough that you could almost feel it yourself. You certainly wanted to, if you ever got your body back. Now he knew the ropes. Or you would happily show them to him a second time.

In half a minute, he was so close that you got your balance right and plunged the fingers of your other hand inside, pumping fast as you worked him with your thumb. He yelled this time—actually yelled out his pleasure. And it was your own high-pitched moan that filled the room, something rougher about it. Baser. You continued your abuse of him until he was writhing to get away, whining each breath.

“There,” you said low, his own voice making you ache with desire. You slowed down your pace before finally withdrawing your hands.

You knew what came next, and you were…well, nervous. You knew what your body liked, but this next bit would be your own pleasure swallowing you whole. In an entirely unfamiliar sense.

He heaved in each breath, eyes heavy-lidded. “You’re telling me…you can feel that…as many times as you want.”

“Back to back,” you assured him. “I can make you do it again if you-”

“No,” he said, grabbing your hands to be sure you wouldn’t. “No,” he said more calmly. Then, “Your turn.”

He turned, forcing you to lie on your back. Your nerves flared when you watched him reach for your clothes. But just as you had, he knew what he was doing with his own body. You just got to sit back and watch.

He didn’t bother undressing you entirely, just stripped his satchel and gun belt, unbuttoned his pants and pulled them back along with his undergarments. And you watched with bated breath as he prepared to touch you for the first time, or touch himself, and god, you couldn’t think which was hotter. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was when your tiny hand finally wrapped around his cock. The touch alone was enough to send pleasure through your veins so severe you knew you would have to pace yourself. Then he grabbed your hand, pulling it down slowly. He wrapped it around that impressive length of his, now so achingly hard you had to clench your jaw, and wrapped his own hand around yours. Guiding you.

“Move slow,” he said quietly. His words drew your eyes, and you noted him straddling you before your gaze landed on your small hand around his big one, beginning to stroke his cock together. The sight alone would be your undoing. But the feel of it…

Your head fell back with that image branded into your memory as you stroked yourself. He guided you in pressure more than pace. And you understood better how to keep from hurting a man, being too harsh or too rough against his skin. It was hedonism. Where a woman’s pleasure was finicky but explosive when found, a man’s pleasure was immediate. Constant. Unbearable.

You groaned aloud. Arthur was quieter, less forceful than you had been with him. You couldn’t tell if it was because his body preferred it that way or if he was nervous to bring you to that edge. Either way, it was…torturously good.

He guided you along a little faster, making deep, long strokes all the way down to his base. That was where it felt the best. You tucked that piece of information away. He went faster still, and you pulled your hand away to keep your climax at bay, making him stop and look at you.

“I…want to do this proper.”

His eyes glittered with arousal. You didn’t know how he would feel about it, being on the receiving end. But you wanted to bury his cock so deep inside you he would cry out from it. That much you knew.

He took a moment to answer. Then, “If that’s what you want.”

“What do you want?” you asked. “You’ve been quiet about that.”

He thought on it. Then climbed over you, lining your body up with his. “You really wanna know?”

You nodded, the anticipation eating you alive. For his touch and his words.

“I want my body back. So I can show you all this pleasure myself.”

You clenched your jaw again, your breath quickening. Lord above, did you want that. So much.

“Me too,” you said quietly.

“Really?” he asked, his hand finding you and lining you up with him.

You tried hard to keep focus and watch him as you nodded. “Maybe I…have for a while.” And you had been too damn stubborn to admit it to yourself. Too worried about friendship and lines crossed.

He hesitated. “Me too.” He said it quieter than you had.

Without leaving you any room to answer, he sat, the feeling of pressing into him unlike anything. Your mind went numb. Blank. You looked down and watched where your bodies met, watched him hesitate for a breath before sitting fully, throwing his head back in pleasure when you were joined completely.

Again, it was different. Whereas you would have only wanted him as deep as possible in your body, every inch of you was overcome with feeling now. It was grating.

Arthur started a pace that was much too fast for all you were feeling, so you brought your hands to his hips and slowed him down.

“Move like this,” you whispered, helping him grind slowly back to front, so that his cock never left that sweet spot deep within you.

He fell forward, chasing his pleasure. Then slowed to look at you, almost apologetically.

“It’s okay,” you told him. “Find your pleasure first. I won’t stand this for long.”

It was true. You wanted to bury his cock deep, spill in your body. The thought alone made him twitch.

Arthur continued his brutal grind, making you groan so deep you worried you would come. But you held yourself back, barely. And he was making smaller movements, slowing, taking all of you in a way you knew meant his release was nearing.

You wanted to touch him again, kiss him, but you let him be. You knew how good it felt just the way he was circling his hips and nothing more. So you resisted, and you watched as your own mouth fell open in deep pleasure. Arthur came a third time. It wasn’t like the others. He came around you this time, the smallest tightening and fluttering of those delicate muscles of yours making you hold your breath so as not to find your own pleasure. He was soon panting, moaning, beautiful little sounds. Sounds you wanted to make for him.

He finally stopped, leaning back. “My god.”

“What?” Your hands moved from his hips to his ass. That was an odd thing—almost like Arthur’s body had wanted that, not you.

“Just…different. Perfect.”

You smiled at him, keeping your patience held by a thread. Still buried deep in him, that was quite the task. He seemed to realize this and looked down at you, and before you knew you wanted to say them, words came tumbling out of you. “I want to know what it feels like to…find my pleasure inside of you.”

He scrunched your eyebrows together in an expression only he ever made.

“Just this once,” you whispered.

He was silent a moment. Then, “You sure about that?”

“I’m willing to risk it. If you are.”

He thought again, eyes studying his own mouth. Finally, he met your gaze. “All right then.”

You felt the smile creep over your face, your giddiness returning. Faster than he could react, you had lifted his hips, pulling him off of you. He made a small noise at the movement—one you knew well, the feeling of loss of touch a bitter thing—but you were too busy moving him underneath you to care. You laid him softly on the bed, taking a moment to see those eyes of yours on you, before getting up. You started stripping his clothes away, needing to finish this completely bare. You brought his shirt away first, the broad chest beneath such a handsome sight. Then his boots and socks, then pants. You couldn’t get his layers away fast enough, and when you were standing there staring down at yourself completely bare, you hesitated. His body was beautiful. His strong legs, his lean muscle, his cock pressed up against his belly. You couldn’t resist—you took his length in hand and began stroking him. It was so good you held back a groan. You looked up to crawl back onto the bed but found him watching, an expression of such greedy want on your own face that you couldn’t resist saying something. “Like watching me do this to you?” you said lowly, making your strokes longer, more noticeable.

He nodded, his eyes never leaving your hand around his manhood.

“Don’t worry,” you whispered, crawling back over him. Needing him now. “When we get our bodies back, it’ll be my own hand wrapped around you.”

He moaned. You laughed, the sound low and sensual. Finally, you were lining yourself up with him, the head of his cock pushing against your entrance.

He brought a hand to your shoulder. “Slow.”

“You keep saying that,” you teased, pushing into him. You wanted to be quick about it, to fuck him senseless, but you would do as he asked. You sank into him to the hilt, buried deep. Even though you’d just felt it, it was so good you stopped a moment, taking it in. You brought your head up and gave him a soft kiss, holding his eye for a breath. Then you moved. God above, was the pleasure insurmountable when you moved. Your walls wrapped around his cock so tight you kept letting out involuntary groans.

“Goddamn,” you breathed, bringing one hand to his hip, one to the back of his thigh. It took everything in you to keep the pace slow. Tortuously slow.

Arthur was not without his own pleasure too. His breathing was labored, the sounds he was letting out not unlike the ones you usually made. It made you want to slam into him, make him come around you again.

“Arthur,” you groaned. In warning. He didn’t answer. “Please let me fuck you.”

“Think you can handle that?” he said. Always a damn tease.

“Yes, you bastard.”

He laughed, the sound so like his own for it being in your voice. “Do it then.”

The second he said it, you pounded in deep, making him cry out. Making you grit your teeth. It was so good you couldn’t stand it. You quickened your pace and thrust into him hard, finally allowing your orgasm to build. And build. And consume you whole. You knew nothing but pleasure, like it was a part of you, as you fucked him harshly. You felt his balls go taught, his cock so hard and so sensitive inside your slick that you were letting your own noises work their way into Arthur’s voice.

“Fuck,” Arthur breathed. Then he cried out, and you only knew he reached his pleasure for the familiar way your body went rigid, arching into his. You pounded into him, riding him through it, finally flying over the edge. Your orgasm overcame you in a rush of burning pleasure as you felt his spend spill deep inside. You slammed into him, unmoving. It was the best feeling you’d ever known. All of it drawn out right where you needed it most.

You held there breathlessly, pressed against him so intimately that the moment seemed frozen in time. But there he was, a mess beneath his own body. Because of his own body. Your cunt greedily taking his spend like it was meant to be there.

You groaned at the thought and pulled out, collapsing on your front beside him. So overwhelmed you just breathed, in and out. To remember what fucking planet you were on.

You closed your eyes, listening to his heavy breathing beside you. And after a moment, you were staring at the ceiling. No, you hadn’t moved. You opened your eyes and turned over, and Arthur was staring at the ceiling. That was off-putting. Like you had been yourself again for a heartbeat. You closed your eyes again to see if it would have the same effect, but nothing came to you. Only darkness and the after effects of one demanding high. That was strange too, different. How differently the male body worked, even the come down settling within you deep and constant. Maybe that was why women could bounce back so fast, men needing time to do it. In fact, you even felt tired, like nothing would suit your more than a good night’s rest. Arthur was likely the same. You had made him find his pleasure four times. Four times. You allowed yourself to wonder, just for a moment, if he could do that to you himself. You knew your own body well enough to get you to that place, but now he did too. You were willing to bet if this ever happened again, each of you in your respective bodies, that it would be just as mind-blowing as this had been. Maybe better.

“You okay?”

Your own voice was soft, careful in the dim room. From timidness or from tiredness, you couldn’t be sure.

You opened your eyes to find your face staring back at you, gaze heavy with satisfaction.

“More than okay.” You closed your eyes again. You wanted to be saying those words to Arthur. To his face, not yours. “You?”

“Hell, okay doesn’t cover it. That was…”

“Yeah,” you breathed, the word deep and drawn out. You adjusted yourself, facing him. “I’m sorry I sort of…forced this on you.”

He met your eye again, his own careful expression shining through. “You didn’t force anything.”

“I really did. But, you did too, cornering me like that. You just had to know what was wrong, didn’t you?” you said, grinning at him.

“I’m always that way,” he countered. “What’s your excuse?” He was the one grinning now.

You didn’t have a retort to that, knowing full well there wasn’t one. You had wanted him. Plain and simple.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, and you gave him a small shove for it. It was a little too forceful coming from his strong hand, but he didn’t seem to mind, laughing at you instead. “You like being me, huh? Get to show me who’s boss, shove me around. Pin me down and such.”

The and such part was definitely a plus. But he was wrong about the first part. You met his eye, emboldened by his confidence. “I’ll get my body back, and we’ll see who’s boss.”

“Will we now?” he said, meeting your eye with a mischievous gleam in his own. As a woman, you would have wanted to wipe that gleam away, to climb right back on top of him. But you were tired and satisfied now, and some small part of you still ached from that lightning strike. All you wanted was to curl him against you and sleep.

“We will,” you said, turning and closing your eyes again. For the briefest of seconds, you were looking at Arthur’s relaxed face. Then you came to, still facing the ceiling. If you couldn’t get settled in one body or the other, you would go mad soon.

“What are we gonna do about this?” he asked.

You hummed, not quite in a mood to talk about it now. “Leave it for the morning.”

He chuckled beside you, his laugh through your voice. It was soothing in a way that had you drifting, somewhere between restfulness and sleep. You stayed like this a long time. He eventually said something else, something about lightning, but you gave in to his body’s want and flung over the edge of unconsciousness, unraveling into thought and darkness alone.

~

You awoke to a warm body beside you. The memories of the day prior came flooding back like a tidal wave, slapping you into alertness. You jerked up to find yourself looking at Arthur. He was looking back, those blue eyes studying you, a smile below them.

“Welcome back.”

You were in your own body. You looked down—still naked, and wrapped up in Arthur’s arms. “I…” You didn’t know what to say.

“I woke up like this too. Myself, I mean. Seems the little lightning strike had a shelf life.”

You couldn’t believe…it couldn’t have been that easy. It couldn’t have all been real. More than that, this couldn’t be your closest friend holding you in his arms.

“You…that did happen, right? I’m not insane?”

He chuckled, the sound a perfect one coming from him this time. “No, you ain’t. Or else we both are.”

“Shit,” you said, turning onto your back. The strangeness of it all…it overwhelmed you. But that didn’t stop you from noticing where Arthur’s hand had landed after your movement. On your bare belly. You looked down at it, and he must have noticed, because his fingers started running circles against your skin, low enough that a familiar heat began building within you.

He leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “What was that you were saying about when we got our bodies back?”

The male smugness in those words…

You pulled him down atop you, kissing him hard. It was everything you wanted, everything you had been lacking the night before. The desire had been there, the mutual need, but this was different. Perfect. It was him atop you, him running his hand down your body, him wanting you as normal as ever. Nothing standing in the way. And you nearly smiled against his mouth at your next thought, when those strange trees crossed your mind—you would get struck by lightning ten times over just to be in his arms. To be you. To be exactly what he wanted.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #high honor arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #fanfic #writing #nsft #lemon fanfic

[katyspersonal]

What Bloody Crow and Maria USED TO wear before?

Honestly, @heraldofcrow made a very good point ( x ) that Cainhurst Knights are not "real" hunters - they dispose of their nobles that got too blood-drunk! We do, however, know what their warriors used to wear thanks to a link between portrait and Chalice Dungeons:

(The 'display' one is unused, I saw it first in Lance's video about some unused items here ( x ), at 5:40)

And now I am thinking about the fact that Cainhurst Guardians (what Bloody Crow and Leo are) hunt specifically for Blood Dregs, that are said to be discovered within hunters first and foremost, and that lore bit that Vilebloods clan, was (re)born after Byrgenwerth discovered (more like brought back) the holy blood! It is possible that THE reason why Cainhurst warriors were hunting in Chalice Dungeons to begin with WAS to restore their 'legacy'.

So, basically, the Guardian type might have been a later invention, as they're 1) associated with the 'clan' (consanguineous contract with the blood queen) 2) NEED hunters' bodies for their quest and 3) found as hostile NPCs in dungeons but there are no corpses of THIS type of hunter scattered like this, so they simply could have dived in later

^^^ There is an armour of warriors on horses in Annalise's throne room specifically that is very similar, though! If anything, looks like the same armour but a silver variant instead of golden one! Within the lore, both silver and gold are believed to repel beasthood!

It is hard to say for sure which is which! Cainhurst seems to be more particular on silver in the end, though, whereas Healing Church picked gold as THEIR trademark, especially manifesting in Gold Ardeo of Executioners. But.... yeah, you know, THAT theory:

I would think that initially, Cainhurst had the golden heavy armor, but soon enough they started to prefer silver instead! Maybe to further distance from the Church as the tension between was growing, or maybe to connect with their ancestry more (Pthumerian ancestors DO seem to wear mostly silver things, Mergo's servants and Labyrinth Warrior off the top of my head). Maybe both! Or maybe 'golden' warriors were the army - diving into dungeons, travelling lands, etc, but 'silver' warriors were bodyguards specifically, with attached presence to the castle and the queen! I think I like this one!

My point is? If Bloody Crow and Leo were guardians of the queen from the start, this might have been their armour before adopting the new style as hunters of Blood Dregs.

And maybe Maria also used to wear a set like this? Beasts (and undead Pthumerians in the dungeons, for that matter) are very agile, and heavy armour would not be effective. You need to jump and roll and run with these fuckers, you'd need a lighter armour! We can see confirmation of it with just how many warriors are dead in the dungeons. So, Gehrman and other Old Hunters appeared and helped Cainhurst to adopt different tactics with clothing and maybe weapons?

Alternatively, just like heraldofcrow said, maybe Maria WAS a Knight and not the warrior; but, again, Knights are basically internal staff with their clothes and unnecessarily elegant fancy weapons x) Their forte is killing their peers that went cringe and fail, not so much the beasts! So, again, a training to become stronger and go out there to protect the city from "plague of beasts" was needed.

Male Knights specifically have shoes of horse riders (with sharp metal plates to them, you know) and the name of the weapon Reiterpallasch means 'horse rider's sword' in German. So yeah, like I said before, it is expected that male Knights would prefer riding horses and using Reiterpallasch and rely more on their physical capacity; meanwhile, female Knights would likely rely more on bloody sword Chikage, that is also then used by Guardians! Interestingly, transformation of Chikage doesn't include stabbing oneself like in Maria's battle, but instead, you slide it in the sheath and it comes out bloodied.

Maria's weapon is also interesting, as it is not simply Chikage but without blood, of course! I feel like typically male Knights would use Reiterpallasch that is a sword, but also a gun, meanwhile female Knights (and later, Guardians) would use Chikage and Evelyn, and Evelyn Maria is pretty familiar with too!

Basically, she could have already been a unique Knight on her own, maybe already had her unusual weapon, or maybe she used Chikage + Evelyn combo but never used Chikage's bloody state. But Cainhurst seems to be the most gender-roles place, and if Cainhurst Knights had certain "norms" within them (with men being more dex and women being more blood), I can imagine Maria being 'your angle or yuor devil' with her style and clothes x)

Yet I just..... keep thinking about the possibility that guns using silver bullets were Old Hunters' invention entirely, that Cainhurst OWES Evelyn to Gehrman, and that Knights became a thing after holy blood was brought back. Because now the vampires could drink it like that! In that case? Maria and Crow could wear that cool metal armour, then Maria would adopt new style from Gehrman and Cainhurst would be the one to steal the drip for themselves! @fantomette22 made a good point that Knights on the portraits are depicted WITHOUT the ribbon; meanwhile, Knight's Wig is not only the ribbon itself but a... well, wig. It has a piece of silver hair attached to it! So maybe not Maria imitated the look of the Knights as a hunter, but THEY imitated her look in honor of her being the most important warrior amongst themselves?

Yeah it largerly depends on how long one wants to make the timeline, but what do you guys think? Was Maria wearing that cool silver armour before becoming Gehrman's student, as a guardian of the queen before they became something else? Or maybe what Crow's armour is actually DID exist for a while, and Maria was wearing that one before departing as a hunter? Or was she wearing just male Knight outfit but with fighting style more common for female Knights? Or she had unique look entirely? (But yeah also please consider..... Bloody Crow in alternative armour...)

#bloodborne #lady maria of the astral clocktower #bloody crow of cainhurst #cainhurst #sorry it just got me to think.... #bloodborne headcanons #bloodborne observation #CROW IN ALTERNATIVE ARMOUR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #this puts the biggest the dumbest smile on my face #but yeah maria is unusual!

[evilwriter37]

30!!

Finally started writing this fic! It's called "Tyrant" and it's literally based off of a Casey Frey video. I just wrote about 1k words of it in one sitting. Enjoy what I have so far! It's an AU in which Viggo is a tyrant king and Hiccup is a stablehand that the king has taken interest in.

There was a slight tremble in Hiccup’s knees as he made his way to the king’s quarters. He’d never been summoned to see the king before, had never actually been within speaking distance of the king. He hadn’t known that the king even knew that he existed. 

And yet he’d gotten a note from another one of the stablehands, a note written in the king’s own hand, supposedly. It hadn’t said much. It had merely summoned Hiccup to his chambers and given directions as to where to find them.

What if the king knew about the horse he was favoring? There was a black stallion that others wanted to put down for a birth defect in the shoulder, but Hiccup kept arguing that the horse should live. He was beautiful. Hiccup had nicknamed him Toothless for the gentle way that he nibbled at treats when offered them. Hiccup was the sole person taking care of Toothless and making sure he didn’t face abuse from any of the other stablehands or an errant knight. 

But he was a waste of resources, according to everyone else. 

And King Viggo Grimborn was known for his cruelty. He was called the Tyrant King in secret, and not so much in secret. He knew of this. He reveled in it, seemingly.

Guards stopped Hiccup at a large set of double doors engraved in gold. They crossed their spears over the entrance, peering at him through their visors with hostility. 

“Who goes to see the king?” one of the large men demanded.

“Uh, H-Hiccup. Hiccup Haddock? He summoned me.” He felt all flushed and awkward and a little frightened. 

“Show us proof.”

Hiccup dug the carefully folded letter out from his pouch and handed it to one of them. They unfolded it with gauntleted fingers, both looking it over, leaning their spears against their shoulders.

“Looks official to me.”

“But why a stablehand?” The one who asked this looked him over in clear disgust. Hiccup was so far underneath these people in position that they could do that. 

They both looked at Hiccup, who shrugged. “I wasn’t told anymore than what the note said.” 

“We should let him in,” one of the guards said. “Wouldn’t want to upset His Majesty.” 

The other guard nodded, and together they pushed open the great double doors to the Tyrant King’s chambers.

Hiccup felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end as he passed between the guards. They weren’t much taller than him, but they had much more muscle. Hiccup was lithe, his muscle more in his core from horseback riding. He often got compared to a twig.

He entered into a large sitting room. Windows on one side opened up to a spectacular view of the river, sunlight pouring in between red drapes. There was too much furniture in this room, in Hiccup’s opinion. Who needed this many sofas?

He didn’t take in the entire room though, because in the center of it stood a tall man with his hands folded behind his back. He wore a rich tunic of red, embroidered with gold at the hem and the sleeves. His pants were of supple black leather, and it looked like he had gold embroidery on his black boots as well. Hiccup felt very much underdressed for what he felt was going to be punishment for something.

The king (that was who this man had to be—Hiccup had only ever seen him from a distance), didn’t turn even when the doors closed loudly behind Hiccup. For a moment, there was just a silence that felt awkward.

Hiccup put a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat, then realized he could be flayed for such a thing.

The king turned to him with an expression Hiccup hadn’t expected: a smile. It was one that showed his teeth. Hiccup couldn’t tell if it was genuine, or if he was threatening him with it. 

“Ah, Haddock, is it?” The king asked. 

“Y-yes, Your Majesty.” His voice had become very small. He did a deep bow. “I apologize for being late to your summons. I had some duties to attend to.” (Really, said duties had been bathing so he didn’t smell so much of horse and hay and manure. He hoped the smell was gone.)

“It is of no consequence,” the king said with a wave of his hand. He stepped closer, his stride strong and sure. 

“May I… ask why  you summoned me, Your Majesty?” Hiccup knew it was a bold thing to do, especially to the Tyrant King, but he was so curious that he couldn’t help it. 

The king laughed, and it was a deep, rich sound. “A bold one, aren’t you?”

“I suppose?” Hiccup was realizing that he didn’t know how to speak to royalty. All he knew how to do around them was grovel and scrape and bow. The king had daughters that were around his own age from a wife long dead, and all three were rather rude to him in particular when they came to take their horses from the royal stables. So, groveling was the right word. 

“You want to know why I brought you here,” the king said. He began circling Hiccup as if he were some sort of prey. Hiccup certainly felt like he was. Those dark brown eyes boring into him spoke of intrigue. “Can you not guess?”

“No, Your Majesty,” Hiccup responded meekly, lowering his head.

“Ah, I see.” The king came back around to Hiccup’s front and tapped him on one shoulder. “Down. On your knees.”

“Wh-what?”

The king’s demeanor suddenly changed from friendly curiosity to seething rage. Hiccup realized he’d messed up. He shouldn’t have questioned one of his king’s orders.

“Down on your knees!” His face contorted with the sudden anger, from a curious attraction to grotesque monster in the mere blink of an eye. 

Hiccup hurriedly did as he was told, so quickly that he knew he’d have bruises forming before he even left these chambers.

If he ever was to leave. This was a punishment. It had to be.

#asks #writing list ask game #wip #vigcup #httyd #how to train your dragon #httyd au #viggo grimborn #hiccup haddock #fanfiction #writing