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greatestexpectationss · 3 months

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Poison Ivy

Luke Castellan x Fem!Daughter of Persephone Reader

Description: You've been best friends with Luke Castellan since you were 14 years old. Now you teeter on the edge of something more, but your jealousy causes you to question everything.

You’re a child of Persephone, one of the far and few in between. Your mother had claimed you an entire year after you’d arrived at camp. Chiron had claimed it was to protect you from Hades' wrath, but you’d had a sickly feeling it was more than that. Children of Persephone are all springtime and warmth, and perhaps you are in the light of day but in the cover of the night, there is something else that claws at you. You are more winter than spring.

Your dad says its normal to feel disconnected from your mother at this age, but you don’t just feel disconnected you feel abandonded.

You’d never met your mother but you're so so angry with her.

Being the daughter of the goddess of spring came with expectations. You are loyal and kind, with a bit of a wild side. Your powers had manifested as chlorokinesis, you're particularly fond of plants, much like the children of Demeter, but you've got a hardness they don't have, a certain darkness only a child of the underworld could understand. You’d learned that on your quest, where you’d even able to speak and command hellhounds.

There was more to you than meets the eye.

For instance, your infamous knack for growing poison ivy around those who piss you of. It had earned you a loving nickname from Luke…

“Poison” he’d called you after a particularly nasty sprouting during a game of capture the flag when you were just 14 years old. It had been Luke’s first game at camp, some Ares boys were terrorizing him up in the trees, when you’d seen it you felt bad for him. Everyone knew the story of how Luke and Annabeth had arrived at camp with Grover and what had been sacraficed to get there or rather who. You’d come to his rescue, sprouting poison Ivy from nothing wrapping it around their legs and taking them out of the game in one fail swoop with your daggers.

They glared at you for weeks.

It had started a long-lasting friendship between you and Luke. You two were close, and you helped him out in the Hermes cabin a lot. You trained together, ate together, really you did everything together. Luke understands the burning anger that sits beneath the surface of your skin. He knows the warmth and brightness you radiate during the days, but he also knows the bitter darkness that hides within you.

Luke sees you under your mask and still he stays.

Maybe that's why you’d fallen so hard for him.

It was hard not to fall for Luke. He’s all tall, dark and handsome. He’s the best swordsman this camp has seen in 300 years, he radiates confidence and commands respect. But even without all of that everyone loves Luke. It's hard not to, really. He’s kind and brave. It’s no wonder the Aphrodite girls are so enamored with him, really most girls are.

Sometimes you’d catch him looking at you with this funny soft look in his eyes. His touch would linger longer than necessary when helping you during archery practice, and he’d laugh a little too loudly at your jokes, and give you that rare goofy grin when he finds you in a room full of people.

It’s in those moment you’d wonder if he feels the same way. When his words are just for you, when he drags you by your hand to the dock and lays down beside you to look at the starts. When he kisses you cheek before the both of you return to the cabin, when he peeks over the side of your bunk and whispers the sweetest goodnight.

But then there are times you think you're delusional.

Like tonight for instance.

You're sitting at the post capture the flag bonfire with a few of your friends. Selina from Aphrodite, Clarisse from Ares, Katie, from the Demeter cabin, and Juliette from Athena. The Apollo kids are singing and you're in a particularly good mood from winning. But then you look across the fire and Luke has a pretty Aphrodite girl dotting on him, Haley, you think her name is. She’s whispering in his ear, perfectly painted nails wrapped around his forearm.

She's the type of girl Luke deserves.

Juliette's finger snaps in front of your face drawing you away from your pity party. You sit on the bottom step of the bleachers with a leg on either side. Facing you is Juliette, up a step to your right sits Selina, Katie, and Clarisse.

“Hello earth to Y/N, anyone in there??” Clarisse asks, your eyes snap to her and bounce between the others, they all look ammused.

“Sorry,” you mumble cheeks heating in embarsement.

They all look over your head where you’d been staring, There's a knowing look that is shared between them before they looking back at you with a mix of exasperation, ammusment, and pity.

You don't know which one is worse.

“C’mon you don't think Luke’s really into that chick do you?” Katie asks you.

“That chicks name is Haley,” Silena reminds, before reaching out and squeezing you hand, “and Katie’s right everyone knows Luke’s crazy for you, I don't know why she's even bothering.”

Clarisse scoffs and cracks her knuckles, “I can kick both their asses if you want.”

This draws a laugh from you.

“Hey, there she is!” Juliette exclaims, pinching your cheek, you swat her hands away and roll your eyes, the pity is leaving your body but you're still left with the bitter taste of jealousy.

“We’re just friends,” is what you settle with, earning an eye roll from all four of your friends.

“We are!” you insist, running a hand through your hair, “He can flirt with whoever he wants.”

“Y/N, do you think we’re dumb?” Clarisse asks.

“What? No of course I don’t—”

“Well then you know you can’t lie to us,” Katie says, she's much kinder than Clarisse who stares at you expectantly. A classic daughter of Demeter, she reaches for your hand and squeezes. You close your eyes for a second and sigh before looking back over at Luke. The Aphrodite girl is sitting closer to him now, he's nodding along to something she's said. You look away quickly.

“Katie’s right, and as a daughter of Aphrodite I can tell you without a doubt Castellan is just as crazy for you as you are him,” Silena’s so sure of herself, you wish you could feel that confident, you wish you knew how he felt.

“Yeah well it sure doesn't seem that way,” you gesture towards where they’re sitting. Across from you Juliette hums.

“Maybe he’s confused,” she says

“Or maybe Haley just doesn't know how to take a hint” Clarisse grumbles. You sigh and swing your leg over the bleachers before standing up.

“Where are you going?” Katie asks, brow furrowed.

“I just need some air,” you say.

“Y/N we’re literally outside,” Clarisse quips, you glare at her.

“Figurative air,” you say, gesturing wildly around you, away from all of this.”

You're much too aware of how pathetic this all is, you pining in a corner with your friends and Luke across the way with a pretty girl who deserves him. You're not some scorned lover, you're just a sad teenage girl.

“Do you want me to come?” Juliette asks you. She's such a good friend, fiercely loyal, they all are really, and you're incredibly thankful for them.

You wave her off anyway, “I’ll be fine, I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

Your friends say their goodbyes, not before reminding you for the thousandth time about the small party in the Aphrodite cabin later that evening.

If you'd been paying attention you'd have noticed Luke’s boredom, you’d have noticed his eye that always seemed to follow you.

It’s darker as you get further away from the bonfire, you don't mind, the few lanterns lighting the path to the lake give you enough light that you can at least see where you're going. When you arrive at the lake, you're thankful no one else has had the same idea. You can't even count the number of times you've snuck away with Luke only to find numerous couples making out.

Tonight there's no one, maybe because it had been a particularly rough game of capture the flag, or maybe because the usual suspects (aka Chris and Clarisse) are still at the bonfire.

You make your way toward the end of the dock before sitting down, feet dangling off the edge you lean back on your hands and lift your head back to look at the stars. Around you the only sound is nature, and very far off in the distance, you can hear the faintest sound of the Apollo kids singing. Their voices echo and combine with the sounds of the trees.

It would be peaceful if you weren't so miserable.

“There you are.”

You open your eyes and turn your head over the shoulder. Luke’s approaching you with that goofy grin on his face and a sweatshirt in his hands. He pops down next to you on the dock and hands you the sweater.

“I figured you’d get cold, you didn't have a jacket at the bonfire,” he explains when you give him a confused smile.

“Oh,” you say meekly, pulling it over your head, it's much too big for you and it smells like Luke and kind of makes you want to cry. Still, you tell him thank you. His smile drops a little when you don't say anything else.

“You wanna tell me what's wrong Poison?” he asked gently, nudging your shoulder with his. You pick at the sleeves of his sweater, eyebrows furrowed, but hearing the concern in his voice you manage a small smile.

“Nothing’s wrong, I'm just tired,” you excuse. You meet his eyes and you can tell he doesn't believe you.

“Y/N—”

“Seriously, I'm good, thank you for checking on me, and thank you for your jacket but you should go back I'm sure Haley is wondering where you are and I'm really okay,” you promise. He’s got the goofy grin on his face again and he lets out a breathy laugh.

“Are you laughing at me?” you asked annoyed. He’s still smiling like he knows something you don't, he's enjoying this.

“What?”

“You're jealous,” you go wide-eyed eyes at his declaration, but you recover quickly with a scoff.

"I am not jealous," you deny, your voice gives you away when it quivers on the last syllable of your sentence. Luke’s grin only grows.

"Yeah okay Poison," he throws an arm over your shoulder, "whatever you say."

I’m going to push him into the lake, you think to yourself.

You don’t, instead, you settle for pushing his arm off of your shoulder.

"Whatever, I’m outta here," you say before promptly standing up and storming up the dock. You've got tears in your eyes you're thankful he didn't see. You can hear him laughing and calling for you but you don't turn around. You know he's not doing it to be mean, Luke's got a thing for teasing you, and you know he thinks that's what this is.

It doesn't make the sting of it any less.

Luke's got long legs, and you can hear him scrambling after you calling your name. You ignore him up the dock and the sand before he stops you stepping in your path.

"C'mon Poison I know I'm hard to resi–" he stops when he sees the tears in your eyes and you turn your face away from him. His brows furrow in concern when he realizes you don’t think it's funny. He reaches for you again but you take a step back and cross your arms over your chest.

"Hey, hey, hey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong"

"You're crying"

"So?"

He looks at you like you've sprouted 8 heads.

"What do you mean so??" You pinch the bridge of your nose, you've seriously had enough of him playing dumb. "Can you just drop it please?" you beg, shifting on your feet and wiping furiously at your eyes before any tears can actually fall from your waterline.

But he's Luke and your Y/N and you should know by now he's not gonna drop it.

"Wait," he hums taking a step closer to you and prying your crossed arms away from the safety of your body, he holds both of your hands with his own and presses them to his chest, you've got nowhere to hide. Finally, he asks, "Were you actually jealous?"

His tone is softer this time, it holds no teasing just a gentleness you can't quite describe. You don't know if it’s pity or fondness, you're not sure which answer scares you more. You still can’t look him in the eyes.

"No–"

"Y/N, c'mon don't lie to me."

You huff in response. He steps even closer to you.

"Last week Lee Fletcher was helping you at archery practice," he says finally, you look at him now, his grin is gone but the soft smile he’s giving you, makes you feel like he’s going to let you down easy. He’s going to use Lee as a buffer, say it's clear there's something there when it's nothing. You feel for Lee the kind of platonic love you wish you felt for Luke.

What you feel for Luke is world-changing and gut-wrenching.

"Okay,” is all you can say, you try to step away again but Luke just grips your hands a little tighter.

“Just let me finish,” he pleads, you nod your head and avoid direct eye contact with him, instead you focus on his dark hair, the dark curls that shine under the moonlight. If he notices you aren’t looking him in the eye, he’s at least nice enough not to say anything about it.

"He said something to you, I wasn't close enough to hear what it was but it had you cracking up and laughing in the best way," Luke takes his thumb and stokes the corner of your mouth, "you get a little dimple right here when you laugh did you know that?"

You didn't, you also didn't even know he had been there that day. You don't even remember what Lee said that had made you laugh, something about your aim.

"What's your point?" you mumble, his touch on your face is searing and his other hand has moved to your waist, you can feel the burn of his skin through your (his) jacket. You finally cave and meet his eyes, he’s looking at you with such softness you think you might melt on the spit. You're not stupid either, you know what this is. But you need to hear him say it, or you might actually die.

"I was jealous," he shrugs, like it's no big deal, thumb tracing up your check to tuck a stray hair behind your ear before dragging it down to cup your face. "I didn't have any reason to be but I was.”

Then with that goofy grin he says, “Kinda sounds like someone else I know."

You’re smiling at him now, you both know this is teetering far too close to the edge to come back from now. In fact, even without him saying it, without kissing him, you don’t think you could ever come back from this.

"Why?" you ask him, hands coming to rest at the nape of his neck, you play with the strings of his camp necklace to distract yourself from the lessening distance between the two of you. He’s dipping his head closer to you, so close that if he speaks your lips will touch. You want him to kiss you in a way you’ve never wanted anything before.

"You know why." And then he's kissing you. His arm around your waist tightens instinctively, and he presses his lips to yours hungrily, like a starved man who's just arrived at a feast. Your hands drop his necklace and weave through the shorter hair at the nape of his neck, something akin to a sigh of relief floods through both of you. His hand is in your hair now, and he tasted of marshmallows and spearmint, something so distinctly Luke. It’s incredibly intoxicating you don’t want to pull away. And you don’t until you absolutely have to in order to catch your breath, Luke chases after your lips with his own. Kissing them softly once, and then twice, before pulling back and looking at you with a smile on his face. This time you return it, a little laugh escapes your lips before it grows louder.

“Alright now who’s laughing at who?” he grumbles, still smiling despite his tone, his thumb strokes your dimple, and it allows you to compose youself.

“I’m sorry,” you say reaching up to kiss him softly again. He’s smiling still, so you know you haven’t really offended him. “I just kinda feel like an idiot now,” you admit.

“Well you are one,” he tells you cheekily, squezzing your sides with both hands in the way he knows you both adore and detest, you squeal and stumble into him, gripping onto his biceps in attempts to get him to stop. “You’re absolutely the dumbest person alive if you think there’s any world that I would wanna do this with anyone else.”

“Really?” you ask.

“Really,” he confirms. You reach up and kiss him again, a little more searing than sweet. Both of Luke’s hands are back in your hair and he’s kissing you back just as fervently, you feel his tongue slip in your mouth, and you swear you’ve died and gone to heaven. It’s Luke who pulls away this time, gasping for air.

“I think I might be in love with you,” he admits.

“Yeah, I think I might be in love with you too.”

Suddenly you both hear footsteps approaching quick and heavy, Clarisse stops in front of you both and takes in your dishelved appearance, before rolling her eyes and yelling.

“Guys I found them! You all owe me $20!” she calls out to what you assume to be your group of friends.

“Clarisse what the hell?” you mutter stepping away from Luke reluctantly. Chris comes barelling out of the forest, tripping over shrubbery. Luke pouts at the loss of contact

“They were making out?” he pouts to Clarisse who gestures towards you both as if to say well just look at them! then Chris turns to you and Luke, “You guys couldn’t have waited like one more day?”

You laugh as Luke whacks him upside the head. The four of you begin making your way towards the rest of your friends and the Aphrodite cabin where the party (which is so not a party) is. Your girlfriends squeal and Luke’s friends cringe. Luke throws his arm around your shoulder, "All good Poison?" he ask.

"I'm good, how are you?" he laughs and kisses your head.

"Never better."

You look up at him fondly and kiss the bottom of his scar as the two of you enter the cabin with the rest of your friends.

Across the room, Haley pouts with her siblings, but you don’t notice. You’re too enamored with Luke, the boy you’ve loved for as long as you can remember. The boy who loves you back.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan imagine #pjo series #luke castellan oneshot #pjo tv show #pjo fanfic #luke castellan pjo #x reader #fem reader #reader insert

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nsharks · 1 year

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can we see more of dad ghost ♥︎ im obsessedLMAO

“soft around the edges”

aka when ghost’s son runs up to him in front of the team (a little part 2 to this fic. part 3 here.)

Soap doesn't share the Lieutenant's secret with the rest of the force.

Things go back to normal after that brief, bizarre encounter with you. When their break is over, Ghost carries on the typical dry humor and sharp orders, pretending that Soap never had dinner at his cozy home and met his pregnant wife.

Though, MacTavish does notice little differences in his stoic superior turned new dad. Ghost is shockingly, and ever-so-slightly, nicer. His language is still foul. But he's a little less rough around the edges: compliments Soap a bit more, tells him to shut the fuck up a little bit less.

It's not something that any of the others notice, of course, which is why they are all so baffled when they finally do figure out about Ghost's secret family.

It's two years later when they are disbanding at a base in the UK that you accidentally reveal yourself.

It's truly an accident.

Whenever you pick him up from the military base, Simon instructs you to wait outside. Says he doesn't want to put you at any risk. But you have a knack for not listening to him. You missed him so much during the past four months, and the two-year-old in your arms was old enough to start asking where his dad was, so you figured you could wait for him inside this time, hidden away in a corner.

Your plan might have worked if it weren't for the swell of your belly making it difficult for you to hold the squirming toddler.

He recognizes his dad even with the skull mask on.

Immediately starts to yelp for him, kicking his little feet around, and giving you no choice but to set the toddler down for a second. But your son is growing so much, and he's got his father's determination.

It's definitely riveting for Soap and the team to witness the whole thing unfold.

At first sight, the waddling two-year-old boy doesn't faze them. There were usually family members and little ones waiting at the gate. Gaz and Price are saying their goodbyes when they both notice that the toddler running around is coming in their direction. Or more specifically, in Ghost's direction.

Soap knows right away what's happening.

Watches with raised brows.

For the rest of the team, this is the first time they witness Ghost's demeanor shift to something so soft and peculiar. His mannerisms give everything away before the kid even reaches him: a typically-unfazed Ghost looks around frantically, probably wondering how the hell his son even got here, until he spots you waddling sheepishly after him.

Oh, fuckin' hell.

You give your husband an apologetic look that says I'm sorry and help me at the same time.

“Can’t believe what I’m seeing," Gaz mutters, watching as Ghost bends down to pick up the small child.

Tell me 'bout it, Soap wants to say. But he's already gone through the initial disbelief two years ago, so now, he simply watches with knowing eyes.

He can't say he didn't spend some time the past two years wondering what kind of parents you and Ghost had become. He knew bits and pieces of his past and hesitantly wondered if Ghost had carried on that behavior.

But now he witnesses the Lieutenant scoop the toddler in his arms, making him look so small against his broad chest. “I’ve got ya, kid.” And he is tucking the boy's head underneath his chin and pressing his masked nose to the top of his hair.

Then, the toddler reaches a small hand to his mask and pats it, perhaps harder than he realizes, but Ghost simply shakes his head and patiently wraps his much larger hand around the curious little one’s.

Ghost is soft and gentle and anything but angry, even though you worried that he might have been.

Everything seems to sink in for the team when they see you finally reach your husband. Your mouth moving to rush out apologies:

"I'm sorry, Simon, I know you said to wait outside. We just really wanted to see you and I tried to hold him and-"

And Ghost might have been frustrated on another day. But on this day, he’s just relieved to see you again. It's apparent to all of the eyes watching that this brooding man, with his deadpan eyes and a trademark mask, is utterly and unabashedly in love with you and the little family you have gifted him. Finally able to fully relax as he wraps an arm around your waist and nuzzles your neck, something you could never imagine him doing in public like this a few years ago.

“S’okay, love,” he tells you. “Can’t be mad, can I? Not when I get to see you two.”

You’re carrying his second child and he hasn't seen you in months and he simply doesn't give a fuck at the moment.

To his team watching, the Lieutenant seems like another person.

They're watching Simon, not Ghost.

"That's his girl, then?" Alejandro finally asks, as they have been frozen in place. Watching in curiosity and bewilderment.

“Wife seems like,” Gaz says. Shooting Soap a curious look, he adds, “Did you know anything about this?”

“Hell,” Soap shrugs to feign innocence. “Didn’t know a thing-“

But, of course, you’re soon waving over at him and smiling before your husband can stop you. “Hi, Johnny!”

Guilty and caught, Soap offers a small wave in return before shaking his head. “Christ, alright. May have ran into them awhile back.”

“And you didn’t tell us, MacTavish?” Gaz scoffs.

“Not my secret to tell,” Soap shrugs again and watches as Ghost caresses your pregnant stomach. He leans down to whisper something in your ear and you smile coyly at him, planting a little kiss to the cheek of his hard mask. Ghost is somehow able to hold you and your son firmly against his chest and still have more room. Must be what had the two of you realizing that a fourth family member was needed.

Soap hears the snide remarks as your family leaves and is out of earshot.

Looks like Ghost keeps himself busy on leave.

You think he helps with the diapers?

The kid’s even got his eyes.

Reckon he takes the mask off during sex?

Finally, Soap groans out, “Haud yer wheesht. That’s enough.”

“Sergeant’s right,” Price, whose own surprise has faded into something more stern, quiets the members of the team who are still lingering. “That’s your superior you’re gosspin’ about. Show some respect and bugger off.”

But once the Captain is gone, Soap allows himself this one quip (because, he’d been so good at not sharing what he’d seen for two years).

It’s a quiet one that he mentions only to Kyle.

“He takes her shopping an’ carries all the bags. Saw it myself.”

#simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #cod #call of duty #fanfiction #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghost #fluff #simon ghost riley x reader #fem!reader #dad ghost

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lyssaluvs · 3 months

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Just Play the Part

(Luke Castellan x Fem!Dionysus!Reader)

Summary: A makeover from Silena and the Aphrodite girls gives you the confidence boost you need.

A/N: this took me so bloody long it's borderline embarrassing. also luke is so out of character it almost makes me sick but whatever. god this is so short, i'm so sorry.

Warnings: Use of Y/n, reader is described to have curly hair but that's about it.

Children of Dionysus are rare, daughters even more so. As a matter of fact, you were the only one. To your knowledge… Before you came to Camp Half-Blood, you were an only child, and when you arrived, you suddenly had a much larger family that you did before. A father, brothers, it was fantastic, it felt amazing to have the family you had always dreamed of. However, with a somewhat absent mother, apparently no sisters, and not a whole lot of friends, let alone female ones, you had had little to no feminine influence in your life. This resulted in you becoming a bit of a tom-boy. It’s not that you didn’t want to embrace your femininity, you just didn’t know how.

“Oh goodness, those curls are a mess.”

“That outfit certainly isn’t doing her any favours.”

You heard the whispers as you walked past the small group of Aphrodite girls. As a child of Dionysus, you had quite a talent for theatrics, as well as being prone to sarcastic remarks, so you just couldn’t help but snap back.

“Can I help you?” You asked the group of girls, hands on your hips with your brows furrowed.

“Actually, we were wondering if we could help you…”

---

You now found yourself sat in a surprisingly comfortable barber-style chair in the bathroom of the Aphrodite cabin.

“Sorry I got defensive; I’m not really used to talking to girls much.” You apologise to Silena once again.

“Stop apologising! We love having a new girl to give makeovers to. And who knows, maybe this will give you the confidence boost you need to finally talk to Luke, since he’s obviously too shy to talk to you first.”

You cast your gaze downward as a warmth spread across your cheeks.

“Don’t worry, you’re not that obvious. I just have a knack for these kinds of things, comes with being an Aphrodite kid. Luke, however, is about as subtle a sledgehammer. Please don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.” She paused combing your hair to look you in the eye.

You just shrugged.

“The lingering touches when he corrects your stances, yearning stares…” She awaited your reaction and when she was met with a befuddled expression, she continued.

“Oh my god, you’re oblivious. Here’s what you’re going to do. Once we’re done here, you’re going to walk right up to him, and ask him out. There’s no way he’ll say no, so don’t try that excuse. And I’ve seen you on stage, you can certainly play an outgoing character, so if you’re going to use the shy excuse, I’ll tell you to just pretend you’re on stage.”

---

It had been almost two hours and your makeover was finally over. Your curls were healthier than ever, your nails were painted, light makeup had been applied, and you had never felt more beautiful. You looked at your outfit in the mirror, taking note of the way the new flare jeans were much more flattering than your previous daggy cargos, and your camp tee now a size smaller and no longer drowning you.

“You’re lucky orange suits you, now go get your man!” Silena pushed you out the door, giving your butt a playful smack on the way out.

---

Feeling more confident than ever you approached Luke while he was practicing his swordsmanship in front of the setting sun, alone, as he usually was at this time of day.

“Luke”

The brunette boy turned around so swiftly he almost lost his footing. He looked you up and down and swallowed heavily.

“Y/n, you look ama- “

“Do you want to go out with me?” The words shot out of your mouth before you could stop them. Regardless of Silena’s reassurance, if he did end up rejecting you, you wanted to get it over and done with as soon as possible.

His jaw dropped and he looked as though he wanted to say something, but his voice wouldn’t cooperate. The two of you stood in silence for a few moments as you waited for an answer.

“It’s fine if you don’t. I’ll just go.” You began to turn around.

“YES! Sorry, yes, I want to go out with you. Please. I really want to go out with you.”

It seemed his voice had finally caught up with his mind.

Hmm… He’s cute when he rambles…

@elz-zalarrr this one's for you!

credit to @cafekitsune for the divider!

#percy jackson x reader #luke castellan x reader #pjo x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan #pjo tv show

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avocado-writing · 2 months

Note

For the bg3 requests how about the companions realizing they love tav in the middle of a battle(love your work!!!)

partner piece to this!

Astarion

realises when he sees you cut down someone in battle to save him.

you don’t think twice about beheading the cultist, or shooting them full of a magic missile, or stabbing them in the guts from the shadows - whatever you do is equally wonderful.

his eyes go wide as he watches you make the killing blow. warm blood spatters on his face and, when you shout to ask if he’s alright, his heart does a funny little dance in his chest.

he’s alright. he’s the most alright that he’s ever been, actually

kisses you suddenly, the taste of the kill dancing between your lips, and stares at you very sincerely.

“I love you.” then back to the battle before you can press it any further.

Gale

if you’re a spell caster, he falls for you because of your capability using magic. you have a knack for it he finds delightful.

the twirl of your hands, soft speaking as you recite verbal components, all of it - it’s all perfect.

he stares at you, distracted for a moment, and then gets a club in the side of the head and is catapulted back to battle.

if you’re not a mage then it’s when you do something he taught you, silencing an enemy wizard by cutting them off when you realise a somatic component. you shoot him a thumbs up and he feels his whole face go bright red.

you listen to him. you care about him. and he loves you.

Wyll

you’re fighting back-to-back, fending off enemies as they charge towards you, yelling out directions for the other one to be watching.

“wyll! big guy on your left!”

he turns and stabs, running through an orc, and hears you laugh from the exhilaration of battle.

he realises then how much he loves you, how he’d never have any other life than this heart-pounding, blood-pumping excitement with you; and he’d do anything to keep you safe.

there’s no time for him to confess right now… but he does reach behind himself to give your free hand a little squeeze with his. just so you know. just so he can come back to it and confess later.

Karlach

raging, so it’s less her thinking through it and more a series of realisations which come to her all at once.

you: fighting. you: protecting. you: protecting her. you: capable. you: loveable.

oh, it all slips into place. she can’t do anything about it right now because her axe is buried in the face of an ogre, but after the battle when she’s calmed down she seeks you out.

is a bit awkward about it, finds reasons to be near you, but you manage to work out what it is she is desperate to say.

give her a kiss, and she squeals with excitement. she thinks you’re just perfect!

Lae’zel

ahh, lae’zel. would she fall for you at any other time?

has always watched your form in battle but there’s something about today, this fight. she can’t keep her eyes off of you.

you are flawless. perfect. dispatching enemies with ease.

she realises she feels not just fondness for you, but love. something she did not believe that she’d ever experience.

she is a little distracted and gets hit, but that just makes her focus back on the battle. you check in with her afterwards and she brushes you off, stomping away to go and mull her feelings over.

is… scared to confess to you. may do it one day. not today.

Shadowheart

runs over to heal you during a battle, your wounds are great, but you shake her off:

”you’re in far worse condition than me! heal yourself first!”

she realises how hurt she is for the first time. she sort of learned to deal with the pain as she was raised sharran, but… you’re the one who’s taken notice of her. nobody has ever done that.

suddenly she is overwhelmed with feelings for you. she’d been soft for you before, but now she is overwhelmed with emotion.

she does heal herself, and then you - luxuriating in the feel of your skin under her hands.

Halsin

he’s already fond of you, but the thing that really gets him is during one particular battle.

you’re fighting and he can see you’re doing your best to protect something behind you from your assailants. during a moment when an enemy is down he sees what’s behind you: a baby boar, terrified.

not the most pleasant creature, covered in mud and squealing, but you still are attempting to shield it from the battle, and when the fight is over he sees you use magic to talk to it and calm it down, check it over for wounds.

he realises how smitten he is with you in that moment. how much you care. you are perfect, and he wants to spend his life with you.

Minthara

probably falls for you during an act of violence, a particularly bloody kill.

you show no mercy to your opponent, opening them from throat to navel, eyes bright as you see them bleed out.

you are an angel of death, vicious and proud. you smile at your kill and minthara finds herself smiling too.

charming. you are charming, and that’s all there is too it. she smiles through the rest of the battle at the thought of you.

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satoruhour · 7 months

Note

*runs in*

colllege athlete!au where jjk men see you in their varsity jacket and just goes batshit crazy. They defo win the game afterwards and fuck you in it, best orgasm of your life.

*runs out*

❄️

a/n: MY LORD .......................... YOU JUST UNLOCKED SUM IN ME ICY !!!!! discussions of p -> v sex, unprotected sex, breeding, oral f! receiving, name calling, semi-public sex, long LONG post

gojo would def be the one to suggest it at first. hes even offering to buy two jackets just for you but then youre like “but i dont want you to waste money satoru... plus i want it to smell like you..!” omg that makes gojo cum on the spot lmfao. but is mostly caught off guard when you first wear it - it happens when its the half time of the game and his team is not doing particularly well bc he made u a little upset the night before and he felt bad :( youve been on his mind for the whole game and hes so distracted poor boy. but u also think you were being a little childish in how you reacted, so youre stealing his varsity jacket way earlier than he leaves and hes so confused when that morning he cant find it. shows up to the game in another jacket and got an earful from his coach that no one really likes, and bc theyre doing so badly, at half time the coach didnt want to meet with them for pep talk either. boo fuck the coach but anyway, youre rushing down to the lockets and whatnot in his jacket. feels like straight out of a movie dude omg. that troy and gabriella shit bc gojo is dragged outside and is hugging you close and muttering apologies into your neck, kissing u all over sigh. its gotten him a big boost of adrenaline tho! and as the star player of his team a lot of his teammates feed off of his energy. gojo is the last to leave the locker room, wanting to have a little more time with you. he twirls you around and admires you in his large jacket and makes out with you until he hears the buzzer from outside LOL. gives u a deep kiss, “ill win and fuck you good later, alright princess?” “go get ’em, satoru. i’ll be here always.”

yeah he def fucked you good later on, making you strip out of everything but his jacket and pounded u nice and good in the locker room long after everyone left. made you ride him on the benches, ate you out as you sat on the benches and kept thanking u for being his lucky charm thru all his matches. the grip on your hips were so heavy they were pprobably bruised, and the clanking of the lockers were so noisy it was a wonder you two werent caught. “that’s right, baby— taking my cock like the good girl you are,” you’re pushed up against the university lockers and railed into from brhind, sticking his fingers into your mouth as he made u arch your back in that varsity jacket of his. ooh lord. brought you out on a winning date and fucked u in his car, fucked you back at his home all the while wearing his jacket !!!!!!!

geto has never thought of it personally, but he wonders about it one day, thinking bout you in it without anything and he gets hard as heeellllll. has been wantin to put you in it for the longest time but just didnt have the opportunity to - youre always prepared with a cardigan or jacket of your own or you simply just dont get cold much to suguru’s dismay. so when you’re shivering one day before a game (sometimes they would watch the match before to get a sense of the two teams, and also bc you wanted to travel light handed for the date geto was going to bring you to after), geto’s so so quick to offer up his varsity jacket before you can think of any counter to it. but what you dont tell him is that youve been “avoiding” in a way, just bc you know if u get access to his jacket he will never. get. it. back. you have a knack for stealing his clothes bc geto smells good good and youre addicted to his scent. but either way youre trying not to gasp at the largeness of the jacket ... 🙏 same girl. you’re slipping one arm and then the other, wrapped in the safeness of geto’s jacket and hes trying so hard to show u that he isnt shivering LMFOAOAAOAO thank god the match was ending already and his team was up next. gojo only nods towards you later in the locker room as you stay thru their coach’s talk, smiling sickly bc he just knew what his best friend was going to do afterwards.

soon enough he can hear the cheers of the spectators flood his ears but hes only focused on you running up to him from the bleachers and hugs you close in his sweaty body (which u protest against and laugh about), but hes whispering “you dont mind though, right baby?” yeah you DEF dont mind it when he pulls you into the janitor’s closet and his body is grinding against yours. “was so hard playing through the game, yknow how difficult that is?” you reply back with i cant imagine with a giggle and let him do whatever he wants to you: hes so impatient he cant pull his game pants down all the way and the same goes for you. both your bottoms are stuck atound your thighs, and youre trying to stay quiet in that squeezy closet. it’s hard. youre so wet you dont exactly need foreplay, just maybe some brief fingering which has you whining into his neck and he slips in after. fucks you until the pails and cleaning supplies are falling to the floor and youre hoping to take off the varsity jacket but he refrains you from it, loving the way ur white shirt is turning wet from all your sweat. it’s sloppy, disgusting, juices spurting everywhere and youre so tight from your pressed-together thighs. i guess he has no choice but to put you in a mating press too and he goes so deeeep in that position you moan out loud. “yeah— made to take my cock like a slut, ain’t ya? only natural when you’re lookin’ so good in my jacket.” getos gross and u love it.

nanami fits better as an alumni whos come back for a friendly current students vs alumni match. hes entering the gym with haibara and his two annoying seniors gojo and geto and while they talk a lot of crap theyre great players. nanami comes up to greet you since youre still their manager and hes one year above you. dating across years is a little difficult esp with how nanami was in his last year of uni, and now that hes looking for work while u finish your last year .... it’s hectic thats for sure, but u guys make it work perfectly fine bc nanami prioritises you a lot!! but late youve been busy with midterms and him with settling in with his new job that he almost forgot about today’s match. is met with nostalgia the first time he steps intothe gym again but he never expected you to wear the varsity jacket that’s stuffed deep into your closet. frankly it doesnt fit him at all any mroe but you thought it to be fitting to wear it in this once in a lifetime match (bc hes just so busy!!!! to book a date w/ nanami is like going to the army dawg). nanami’s jaw drops when u first step foot into the gym and oh my god youre going to be the umpire too? he is going to become too distracted, instantly taken back to the many many times hes gotten you trapped in the gym bathroom with his cock in your mouth, or the time you ride him in the empty gym in the corner (it was late at night!!!!), or also the time right after his loss where he took all his anger and frustration out on you, jersey between his teeth as he uses you. something switched in nanami that day when u expressed how much u liked the roughness tee hee. surprisingly hes even more focused, in a way of proving something to himself bc he can probably count on everyone’s hands the number of times hes missed a cue from a teammate before when he was still in school just cause u were wearing his jacket 😭😭😭 man you dont even need to be in the jacket! thats how obsessed he is with u!!!

shoots you a small smile after each point and is trying to hard not to run to you to get a good job kiss. also finds the fact that youre judging appropriately and not showing biasness just cause nanami’s on one team really really hot! the way you call the shots, give the accurate penalties and that booming voice of yours echoing thru out the gym ..... youre so good at being umpire that even the juniors cant deny they lost fair and square and not just cause youre nanami’s girl. altho bc you two are so good at hiding they dont rlly suspect anything until hes kissing you - something that even he isnt that comfy with but he just needed to show off !!!!! that isnt the case when later he has you back in the gym, reminiscent of that one time!!! but nanami found it so hot, hes backing you back up into the quiet gym, illuminated by the moonlight. its way late after dinner and the uni students have gone back to their dorm already while the alumni has departed for their homes and its just you. thank god the gym is also located in a place that is a little secluded and disconnected from the campus so it isnt long before youre both making out against the walls of the gym, moans and sounds echoing in the large hall. “just like old times?” “yeah. except ill be taking my time with you” yeah, u take ur time indeed: the gargling of your mouth and groans of nanami is so disgustingly filthy, slobbering all over his dick and he also eats you out on the floor. when he stretches u out with his fingers you can hear yourself bc youre so wet that you drip to the floor. but none of u give a shit when you settle atop nanami and start riding him needily, bouncing and moaning out his name. the way the sounds of your slapping skin makes it way back to is gross!!!! but so hot!!!! its so lewd !!! you get tired soon enough and nanami thrusts up into you with whispers of ur name in the gym. u do that hot thing where you pull up your shirt and pull down ur bra so your tits r spilling out .... OOOOOOHH it gets nanami cumming instantly, esp with the large frame of the varsity jacket on you that he cums more than usual <3333

toji, rather than a player, is a coach for the team. youre the manager whos helping with all the admin stuff and waterbottles/towels and with moral in the team - kind of like kiyoko and yachi in hq, but when u show up always no one knows whose varsity jacket youre wearing. they all speculate between themselves and have their thoughts but the team members never suspect that it’s their own coaches one. it looks too similar to the team’s with no name on the back, the sewing is exactly the same and the small logo of their team takes its place on the left breast as usual. but they never bother to check the inside where toji has made a large blotched ‘T’ on the label and your name squeezed in on the underside. toji loves to see it on you, esp in games and while hed love to see it on you outside of it he cant run the risk that he’s dating the manager. but he also especially loves it when you surprise him at home: wearing his jacket with nothing but your panties, prancing around and doing chores as he comes back from another gruelling match. ohhhh the things he’d do to you... but the best is when you do it in public. that changes the whole game

you’re helping with practice here and there, picking up the stray shuttlecocks/volleyballs/whatever sport around the gym as they practice their drills, but toji realises you dont reach over and bend like you usually do - normally youd do it when you know toji’s the only one to be standing behind you so he can see your panties under the short skirt but you dont do ANYTHING so he wonders if he did smtg wrong. but also you’re squatting down to pick up things? it’s only later when you saunter up to him as his team is distracted and you unzip the jacket just a little and he gets the glimpse of the lingerie set he bought you and very very riskily bringing his hand down to your centre where you’re bare. toji groans to himself when he feels that youre already so wet, playing with your folds just barely until his student calls out to him and youre both shocked out of your daze. “you’re in for it, doll.” takes u to the equipment room, and fucks right after dismissing the team. “doing this typa shit in front of the boys? dirty girl.” youre holding onto the shelves of the equipment and it’s rattling so much that things are tethering so close to the edge, it’s insanity. the sight of his cock disappearing into you while you wear that short skirt is just pure serotonin for him, plus your moans echo a lot throughout the room along with the slapping of ur skin. stuffs the collar of the varsity jacket into your mouth to keep you quiet as he cums in you <3333 “look at that...” sighs when he removes his cock from you and cum drips to the floor, “my pretty manager.”

OKAY BYE . I NEED TO BE SPAYED.

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messrmoonyy · 2 months

Text

- The gilded cage

Arthur Morgan x Fem!reader

Request- how about some of the girls going along to the mayors party in Saint Denis. Have you seen the cut content of Molly when she was meant to be at the party? So Dutch takes Molly along, Arthur takes reader? And what if Arthur gets a a little jealous of reader mingling and then they sneak away for some smutty time together…

A/N- this is my first Arthur fic so he may be a lil out of character whilst I get to grips with writing him. I also have not written straight smut in like 2 years. But we vibe. Enjoy

Also shoutout to @devnmon for supporting and enabling my rdr2 brainrot. You’re a real one

Warnings- 18+ | smut: unprotected p in v, semi public sex ( wc - 7.7k )

Masterlist / AO3

Saint Denis was a little too rich for your blood. You’d only ventured into the city a handful of times, but the times you had you’d decided you didn’t really like it. You felt too… common. You never had liked the wealthy, flaunting their security and safety that was wrapped up in dollars and gold.

But. You loved money. God did you love money. And as much as you hated the residents of the city, you sure loved robbing them blind. You always had had a knack for making the rich mysteriously lose their dollars and their watches, it had been the sole reason you’d ended up in Dutch’s gang in the first place.

You’d even tried picking his pockets at first.

But you were on best behaviour tonight. Under Dutch’s orders. And you figured as boring as that sounded, you’d oblige. Simply because the men rarely let the girls get involved with any of the interesting stuff in camp. There was only so much laundry you could do before your brain truly went numb from boredom. Only so much listening to Miss Grimshaw nagging at you to do some work or Micah antagonising someone over something stupid.

So even with Dutch’s strict orders to behave and your dislike of the city, you had jumped at the chance to come along to the party.

“ i can practically smell the money “ you sighed as you took Arthur’s hand to step down from the coach, already hearing the bustle of the party happening somewhere out the back of the mansion in front of you “ you sure I can’t go pickin? Just a lil “ you were half joking, half not. On the times you had wandered into the city, the stuff you’d gathered picking your way around the saloons and back alleys had been a decent haul. The stuff some of these people carried around on the average day was enough to fund the food for the whole of camp for a couple days or more.

Who knew what kind of goodies they’d have on them in their finery.

“ no miss “ Dutch’s stern voice sounded, but he was sporting a small look of amusement “ keep those talented hands of yours to yourself. This is about business. We steal nothing. That goes for all of you. Steal. Nothing. Unless it’s information “

“ don’t worry. I’ll keep her in check “ Arthur spoke with a small chuckle, placing a hand lightly to your back.

“ this is why we shouldn’t have brought the women. They always cause trouble “ Bill complained, as he stepped out of the second coach with Hosea, making you scowl.

“ I hope you aren’t grouping me into that Mr Williamson “ Molly piped up with a disapproving scowl of her own as she stepped out of the coach, seemingly more mad at Dutch for not helping her out more than at Bill though. Arthur offered her his hand instead, helping her step onto the path without breaking her neck in her extravagant dress.

Always the gentleman.

She looked wonderful and you had begun to wonder if she had owned that dress all along or had gone out and got it special. Maybe Dutch had picked it up for her. It wouldn’t surprise you if she had been lugging it around from place to place, waiting for some perfect moment to pull it out. She always did look more put together than the majority of camp. Though you really didn’t understand how she could walk in the dress she was currently wearing, skirts full and you guessed pretty heavy too.

“ no need to bring you “ Bill continued.

“ I ain’t even causin’ trouble “ you piped in, throwing your own scowl Bills way again “ When did you last contribute to the box anyways huh Bill? I don’t see you doin’ nothin’ but sit around all damn day. No need to bring you I say. Jus’ cause you ain’t got no lady on your arm you’re complainin’ bout me and Molly “

“ what? A lady like you? I should be damn lucky I ain’t “

“ why you- “

“ Bill I suggest you leave it “ Arthur murmured lowly, planting himself between you and Bill before you did in fact cause some trouble. Bill grumbled something, spitting on the floor with a look of disgust and turning away from you.

Dutch sighed heavily, looking increasingly pissed off at the group in front of him and held his arm out to Molly.

“ Miss O’Shea “ It pained you a little to know he was probably only being nice to her tonight for appearances sake. He’d been practically ignoring her recently. And wasn’t doing Molly any good. You hoped a night out of camp would do her well “ now would you all just calm. Down. We, are simple distinguished gentleman, here for business. So start damn acting like it “ you scoffed at that, making a pointed look in Bills direction as you did

“ distinguished my ass “

“ play nice now “ Arthur said quietly, but you heard the smile in his tone as he did. He then offered you his arm as Dutch had done to Molly. But unlike Dutch the act didn’t feel performative, a way to blend in and appear far higher class than they actually were. Arthur actually was a gentleman. For the most part anyways.

“ why thank you mister “ you said in a cheery tone, throwing him a coy smile and slipping your gloved hands into the crook of his elbow.

It did feel a little funny to be walking beside him like that. All dressed up and in clothes that weren’t smeared with gun oil, dust or god knows what else. It made your mind drift a little to what life could’ve been like.

Your group crossed the street, promptly being stopped at the gates

“ gentleman “ the guard greeted, taking the invitation from Dutch’s hands “ the mayor doesn’t allow guns at official functions “ the way he looked at Dutch and the others was almost demeaning. Like he knew you were all riff raff and of course would be the sort to attend such an event armed “ Not after last years incident “ none of the boys seemed particularly thrilled to be handing over their firearms. Arthur in particular sighed heavily beside you as he handed his pistol over.

He didn’t like being unarmed. Especially when he was out with you. You usually also had your gun belt permanently fixed at your waist. But it wasn’t exactly fitting with your current attire.

Though you did note the guards didn’t even spare a glance to you or Molly, which in turn made you all the more smug knowing you had your knife tucked into your boot. Just in case of course.

“ Luca here will take you gentleman to Mr Bronte. I believe he is expecting you “

“ I know you got that knife in yer boot “ Arthur said lowly so that no one else would hear.

“ he ain’t said anythin’ about knifes. Only guns “ Arthur smiled and shook his head slightly, placing his hand over yours for a moment.

“ that’s my girl “

You walked up the neat cobbled path to the mayors house then, unable to do anything but look in awe at the huge house in front of you. You’d thought Shady Belle was something spectacular, had walked around every room imagining what it had looked like in all its glory. Amazed at the vastness of the place and all the rooms it had.

And yet it was nothing compared to this place. This was real money.

“ I look okay? “ you asked, suddenly feeling ever so slightly nervous, smoothing your hand over your skirts. Even in your attempts to look as clean and put together as you did, some part of you felt like everyone would see you were a walking sham.

All in all you knew you probably did look fine. The dress was the most lavish thing you’d ever owned, you didn’t even want to guess how much it had cost Arthur. It was still on the simpler side, skirts not quite as full as Mollys and not as detailed. But it was beautiful. Pale pink and ruffled shoulders and details on your skirts, gloves up to your elbows in a material so soft you’d sighed when you’d first pulled them on.

It all made a nice change from the usual simple clothes you wore, hips weighted by skirts rather than your gun belt. And skirts that didn’t have a million holes darned over.

And Arthur had picked it all out. Had picked it himself especially for you.

It did make you smile to imagine him in the tailors, completely out of his depth when it came to women’s fashion but determined to find you something nice. Your big, tough cowboy staring blankly at fabric swatches and fancy hats.

“ gonna be the prettiest girl here “ you smiled warmly at his words, hand smoothing over your dress again.

He’d turned up that morning into your shared room of shady Belle, finding you hiding away from Miss Grimshaw on the balcony, the dress draped over his arm along with some fancy suit and tie get up for himself. He’d looked almost sheepish as he’d shown you it, promising to go get you something else if you hated it. Which of course you hadn’t.

You’d practically jumped with joy at being able to go out on a job. The boys so rarely let the girls do anything meaningful other than tend to camp. Though this particular outing you knew Dutch had only brought you and Molly along because it would make your group seem a little more agreeable. Something about women making them look a little less intimidating. And of course Dutch and Arthur’s partners were the most obvious of choices.

Much to Mary-Beth and Karen’s dismay. Though they had very quickly changed their mind at the idea of having to hang off Bills arm all night.

It wasn’t exactly the reason you wanted to be brought along. But you took it.

The inside of the mansion was as glorious as the outside, it almost made you angry that people had such wealth. That these people could sleep in a new room each night of the week if they felt like it, when people were starving outside of their gates.

“ Hosea, Bill. Take the ladies out and enjoy the party. We’ll join you after we pay our respects to signor Bronte. Arthur, with me “ Arthur gave a curt nod

“ I won’t be long “ he assured, hand slipping down around your back and leaning down to your ear “ hands to yourself “ you scoffed as he said it, looking up at him as he stepped away from you.

“ I can’t promise “ you caught his smile as he walked over to Dutch and the staff. Disappearing up the stairs.

“ it’s just this way “ one of members of Lemieux’s staff spoke, gesturing the four of you in the direction of some doors leading out into the party.

“ let’s go ladies. You fancy a drink? “ Hosea said cheerfully, following closely behind you and Molly as you headed outside. You were ushered out into gardens, a mass of the rich and wealthy of Saint Denis all crowded around. Drinking and laughing at things you were sure were not as remotely funny as they were making it out to be.

Bill quickly made himself scarce, disappearing into the crowds to do lord knows what, much to your joy.

“ right. Champagne? “ Hosea excused himself to collect some drinks and you stood on the back porch looking down at the groups of people.

So far removed from what you were used to. You wondered how they’d react knowing you and your little group were currently sleeping in a barely standing plantation home, half of you out under the stars. That you were frauds. Not glamorous and wealthy like them.

In your experience the rich liked to pretend the poor didn’t exist. Unless they were hiring them as help.

“ oh I missed this “ Molly said beside you, almost dreamily in tone. And seemingly more to herself than to you. It was quite possibly the happiest you’d seen her look in days.

She fit right in. Her gorgeous dress rivalling that of some of the other woman down in the courtyard, her hair piled up on her head and her fancy jewellery that was actually hers. Not something stolen from an unsuspecting lady in town. This was Molly. Money and wealth. It still baffled you how she had ended up with Dutch, how she could leave that all behind for a life wandering.

“ you go to party’s like this a lot? Before Dutch I mean “ she gave a small shrug, searching in her small purse for a moment before placing a cigarette between her lips. You could imagine an even younger Molly, a bright eyed teenager done up all fancy and weaving her way through a party just like this one.

“ sometimes “ her eyes were scanning the crowds, practically sparkling at being surrounded by the upper class again “ wonder what kind of people are here “ she seemed to be talking more to herself than you again and very promptly dismissed herself, heading down the stairs and gliding between the guests. Like some true social butterfly, decked out in her finest.

Hosea returned with three glasses of champagne and a slightly confused look noticing Molly had vanished.

“ eh more for me “ he said with a smile, handing you your glass before promptly finishing his own and moving onto what would’ve been Mollys “ I’m going to do some snooping. You’ll be alright? “

“ I’ll be jus’ fine Hosea “ you said with a smile and watched him too disappear down into the crowds.

It was interesting to watch them, to see them behave as if this entire event was a normal evenings activity. Maybe for them it was. But it all felt so… false. People who appeared to be friends but didn’t seem to even really like each other, some silent competition between everyone to have the better dress. The better hat. The biggest house.

You’d take your creaky cot under the stars with Arthur any day, would much rather sit around the campfire getting tipsy and singing. Surrounded by real family. Real friends. Relationships built on loyalty and protection. Not on trying to out do each other.

You walked between the small crowds, eavesdropping on conversations in hopes to find something useful. Something to take back to Dutch to prove bringing you along wasn’t a useless endeavour. But it was mostly women discussing their elaborate hats, sharing stories of the terrible jobs their maids did, or complaining about their husbands poker habits. Or gossiping about how they had heard one of their friends was in delicate condition.

You heard mentions of Leviticus Cornwall, but nothing concrete enough to warrant telling anyone about.

You tried hunting down Molly, simply to have a friend to stand beside and not feel so…out of place. But she had vanished into the crowds somewhere. So you planted yourself on the side of an ornate water fountain, simply hoping Arthur would return soon. Maybe he’d dance with you, or take you walking around the vast garden laid out ahead of you.

You two never really got the chance to do things like that. Romantic things. Arthur had his ways, of course. He’d take you out riding or sit with you on his lap by the fire, telling you about whatever interesting thing he’d discovered that day. He’d bring you flowers he’d pick from time to time, find you interesting things when he went wandering, let you read aloud to him with the excuse he wanted you to get better at it. When in reality you had seen him confess to his journal that he simply just liked to listen to your voice.

He was far softer than he appeared. With you anyway. And as much as you didn’t like the kinds of people in attendance, you thought it might be nice to pretend for the night. To be two wealthy young oil tycoons, dancing and drinking champagne together, gushing about your money and your jewels.

You made your way through another flute of champagne before he returned, interrupting your frivolous daydreaming.

“ there she is “ you turned your head with a beaming smile at his voice, relief at a familiar face “ been lookin for ya “ he sat down beside you, looping an arm around your waist “ you behavin’? “

“ course I am. Ain’t took as much as a pearl “ you said quite proudly, though decided not to mention that the temptation had truly been hard to deny. Not only were these people rich, they were getting drunker by the second. They were practically begging to be robbed.

“ good girl “

“ it go okay with ugh.. what’s his name? “ you asked, turning to face him. He looked just as uncomfortable with the entire situation as you did. This wasn’t his scene. It never had been. He’d grown up just as poor as you had.

Arthur robbed the rich, he didn’t fraternise with them.

“ Bronte. Yeah. Fine. Dutch he’s tryna find the mayor or somethin “ he ran a finger between his neck and collar of his shirt, clearly growing uncomfortable with it. It made you laugh a little.

“ you ain’t cut out for the finer life “

“ no. I ain’t “ he was looking around at the guests in a similar way to you. With a mild sense of disgust “ saw some woman back there, hat so big she were topplin over “ you smiled and leant your head against his shoulder, he tucked you in closer to his side and dropped a kiss to the top of your head.

“ was daydreamin whilst you were with Dutch “ you mused.

“ yeah? About what? “

“ playin’ pretend. Bein’ fancy for the night. Y’know dancin’ and pretendin’ we got buckets of money “ the small sigh Arthur let out made you wonder if he thought that was a life you pined for. It wasn’t. Not really. Yeah, you liked money but.. you just wanted to be comfortable. Little ranch or a cabin some place quiet. Not poor. Not rich. Just. Existing happily “ ain’t us though “

“ you and me we… we ain’t like these people. We ain’t ever gonna be like these people “

“ we don’t gotta be. Me, you. Some pokey lil farm someplace out west? Now that’s the dream cowboy “ he chuckled and nodded, dropping another kiss to your head

“ that’s the dream darlin’ “ you both sat quietly for a short while longer, watching the rich get drunker and more foolish. The odd person acknowledged your presence, greeting you as they passed or tipping their hat. But mostly they left you alone. It was at the point that one man drunkenly stumbled into a bush a few feet away that made you speak up again.

“ never thought I’d miss that damn swamp. But lord above… these people “ Arthur scoffed as he too watched the fool try and right himself again, leaves sticking to the pomade in his hair

“ yeah. I think I need a drink “ he patted your side lightly so you’d stop leaning on him and stood up “ champagne? “

“ oh well ain’t you just so kind sir “ you said in your best attempt a dramatic upper class drawl “ and you gonna dance with me after mister? “ you asked with a teasing smile and he rubbed a hand at the back of his neck for a moment looking almost sheepish. But he was smiling, the sweet genuine kind he only really seemed to show around you.

“ sure darlin’. But I’m definitely gonna need that drink for that “ he ventured back into the crowds then and you stayed put, continuing to watch the guests laugh and talk about how incredible their lives were.

“ I don’t recognise you “ an inquisitive voice spoke, tinged with that accent that the wealthy had started latching on to in some attempts to make themselves sound more superior. Smarter. Whatever. You thought it was quite ridiculous. You turned your head to look at the man, seeing if he was in fact talking to you.

“ talkin’ to me mister? “ he was eyeing you up and down like he was somewhat intrigued but amused by you at the same time. A stupid top hat on his head adored with plumes and the chain of a pocket watch hanging from his pocket. It almost made you laugh at how your brain immediately began thinking about how you could steal it and how much it was worth.

“ I am indeed miss “ he stepped closer, puffing on his cigar and not taking his eyes off of you for a second “ I have frequented many of the mayors parties but you… I do not remember you “ a small wave of panic flushed your skin but you remained calm. Not recognising you was far easier to work your way out of than if he had recognised your face.

“ I’m new in town. My… uncle. He’s friends with Mr Bronte “ the man hummed, sitting himself down beside you.

“ so you’re here with your uncle? “ you shifted slightly at his closeness but remembered you needed to keep up appearances so forced a smile onto your face

“ yeah. And my husband. He’s around here someplace “ the man’s eyes immediately darted down to your gloved hands, probably noting the lack of a ring on your finger. You and Arthur weren’t married. But you may as well have been. He often referred to you as his wife, and he as your husband.

He’d ask you one day.

“ a lucky man “ the man said, blowing smoke in your direction and still looking you up and down. You decided at that moment you very much wanted to steal his watch. Dutch be damned. Having to put up with the likes of slimy rich men for more than ten seconds… well you figured that warranted you at least getting something shiny in return.

“ oh well ain’t you just a charmer “ you said with a smile, placing a hand to his arm “ you here with your wife mister? “ the man laughed and shook his head, scooting a little closer to you.

“ I’m more of a… free spirit “ you gave a small laugh, trying not to crinkle your nose at the smoke blowing in your face again.

Arthur often smelt of fresh smoke, both cigarette and fire, and that fresh air smell that clung to your clothes after being out in the open air for hours. And you loved it on him, because it was well… him. The smoke from this man was far from appealing. But that watch…

“ ohh I see. You ain’t one to be tied down huh? “ your fingers inched closer to the man’s pocket, wrapping lightly around the chain.

“ everythin’ okay here? “ Arthur appeared behind you, a glass in each of his hands.

“ ah is this the fine man that brought you along? Well aren’t you lucky sir “ the man spoke and you noted he didn’t even glance in Arthur’s direction as he spoke, you were now looping the chain of his watch around your wrist. Just one small tug…

“ Mr Callahan “ Arthur murmured, handing you a glass and standing behind you with a hand to your shoulder

“ wonderful to meet you sir. Me and your wife were having a delightful conversation weren’t we dear? "The pressure of Arthur’s fingers increased as he spoke the sweet name, though you weren’t entirely sure it wasn’t because he’d noticed the man’s watch was now safely hidden in the fabric of your skirt.

“ oh yes. Wonderful mister “ the watch discreetly made its way into your boot and you were ready to get away

“ where’d you find a beautiful thing like this sir? I may need to frequent the place myself “ he placed a hand onto your arm and finally looked up at Arthur rather than at you. He made your skin crawl. You didn’t hold a single ounce of remorse for the stolen watch

“ oh no where you’d like “ his tone was a little snippy, the kind when someone was starting to piss him off but he was trying to keep his cool. And Arthur kicking off in the middle of the mayors party wasn’t exactly a part of Dutch’s plan.

“ now I am so sorry but i believe my husband did promise me a dance “ you rose to your feet, sipping your champagne before placing the glass down and taking Arthur’s from his hands “ ain’t that right my love? “

“ yeah… need ya to come with me “ he said lowly, offering you his arm. His face had gone slightly dark, not entirely able to read him, you frowned slightly. But let him lead you away from the man, completely bypassing the area with couples twirling to the music.

“ where we goin? “ you asked with a small laugh, latching onto his arm again and having to take quick steps to keep up with his purposeful strides “ Arthur?”

He didn’t answer immediately, simply led you away from the crowds and around the side of the mayor's house.

“ You mad cause I took that watch? Look he deserved it- “

“ ain’t mad “ he mumbled, still leading you along.

“ okay… so we stealin’ somethin’ else? “ you asked with excitement filtering into your words, already trying to figure out what it could be “ need me to act like a maid? I can do that real good y’know. Is it money? Papers? Oh, is it jewellery? Gold? “ Arthur chuckled at your excitement and shook his head, bringing you to a halt between some elaborately trimmed bushes and trees in planters.

“ we ain’t stealin’ a thing “ you pouted with a mild disappointment and he chuckled again, advancing on you and backing you up against the wall behind you “ don’t gimme that look “ he tucked his fingers under your chin, nudging your face upwards to look at him. He was a god few inches taller than you, but he always made you feel ten times smaller when he looked down at you like that.

“ what’s gotten into you? “ you asked with a giggle, hands slipping under his jacket to slide over his waist.

“ just wanted some time alone with you is all “

“ behind some trees? You are a strange man sometimes Arthur Morgan y’know that? “ he gave a heavy sigh and brushed his thumb across your cheek softly, watching you intently. He always looked at you like you like you were the only woman on the planet “ you sure you ain’t mad about the watch? “

“ no. I ain’t mad. Feller flirtin’ with my woman and only loses his watch sounds like a good deal to me “ he grumbled, leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips.

And a light bulb suddenly pinged on in your head.

“ are you jealous? “ you asked, unable to hide your complete utter joy and amusement as the realisation hit you. He grumbled some kind of an answer and tried to kiss you again but you turned your head to the side, so he settled for your neck instead “ why Arthur Morgan. You are jealous “

He didn’t answer you again, simply tilted your head so he could get at your neck more, his other hand splaying over your lower back to tug you close against him. A mischievous streak ran through you and you chewed on your lip for a moment deciding whether or not to push his buttons.

“ he was kinda nice to me y’know. He seemed a nice feller “ Arthur’s teeth grazed your skin at your words and your smile grew bigger “ kept me from bein’ so lonely with you gone “

“ he wanted to do more than keep you company “ your fingers ran through the long strands of his hair, sighing softly as he continued to kiss your neck

“ you think? You gonna keep me company now? “

“ oh I’ll keep you company “ you had said it only really to tease. Thinking that actually, a sordid little moment with your lover behind the bushes would be an incredible improvement on the evening.

But it was hard to simply just kiss Arthur. He had wandering hands, had lips as addictive as whiskey. Even when you assumed he wasn’t particularly trying to work you up, he did. But the way he was tugging at your body to keep you pressed against him, the way his lips were burning a trail along your neck and across your jaw…

“ Arthur… y’know anyone could come round here “

“ stay quiet then and they ain’t gonna be none the wiser “ your skin prickled with heat at his words and your hips involuntarily rolled against him. Maybe it was the thrill. Maybe it was the fact that he was so… needy. Desperate to remind himself that you were his and not some stupid rich man in an equally as stupid hat.

He groaned against your hot skin as you pressed against him, the sound igniting something deep in your bones. Flaring up through your veins and cursing like lava through your veins.

Your hands found themselves back under his jacket, fingers tugging at his shirt to free it from where it has been neatly tucked into his pants. You knew you couldn’t get it off of him but you still wanted to feel.

You hummed softly when your fingertips met his skin, as hot as you knew yours must be. He loved to feel you touch him, loved when dragged your nails across his back, sunk your teeth into his shoulder to quiet your moans when you were dangerously close to other members of camp.

You wished you could do it in that moment. Wished you were back in your room, truly the only good thing to come out of Shady Belle was the fact that you had a room.

But Arthur didn’t seem keen on waiting. Seemingly having some point to prove to himself. And you were more than happy to let him.

His hands drifted down to the floaty material of your skirt, reluctantly pulling himself away from your neck to frown at the material in front of him.

“ why you gotta have so many damn skirts? “ he grumbled, fumbling with the layers of fabric hanging from your waist.

“ you picked the dress “ you reminded him with a smile, chasing after his lips again. Desperate to kiss him properly now that he had stopped his assault on your neck. He kissed you with a energy that demanded your attention, that drew you in and locked you in place. Hot. Wet. Addictive “ least it ain’t as big as Mollys “ you said when you let yourself pull away.

“ yeah well I weren’t plannin’ on keepin’ you in it when we- god damn there’s enough fabric here to dress the entire camp “ you couldn’t help the giggle that fell past your lips, watching him try to figure out how he was going to play out whatever sordid thoughts were running through his head.

Your own mind had quite ungracefully fallen into the gutter itself, realising exactly what Arthur wanted. And your constant desperation for the man in front of you overruling all your concerns at the location.

He seemed to be getting a little agitated with your dress and you held back the urge to giggle at him. Instead opting to try sooth the frown lines worrying at his forehead, reaching forward to palm at him through the material of his pants. In hopes it would be some kind of incentive for him to hurry up as well.

As much as you needed him as badly as you needed air, you were also still aware of exactly where you were. And how long it would take until Dutch came looking.

“ c’mon Arthur “ you whispered, desperation beginning to fill your words “ ‘fore they notice we’re gone “ it had been his idea to take you away, and yet you were seemingly the more desperate of the two of you now. But how could he or anyone else blame you? When he was all gussied up like he was. In truth you liked his normal attire a little more. Liked him a little more… rugged. But lord did he look handsome in his suit, his hair and beard all neat and tidy.

Arthur’s breath audibly caught in his throat from your touch and it seemed to effectively spur him on.

“ yes ma’am “ He spun you around with strong hands to your waist, your own hands bracing yourself against the wall. The next moments were a flurry of his hands hitching your skirts over your hips, grabbing at your undergarments before a strong arm looped around your waist to pull you back against him.

His hand disappeared under your bunched up skirts making you gasp softly as his fingers dipped into the warmth between your thighs.

“ this all for me darlin? “ you could hear the smirk in his words, feel it as he brushed his nose against your cheek. The short stands of his beard tickled at your skin, sending a shiver snaking along your spine.

“ course it is “ the sound of a lady drunkenly laughing a little too close by made you freeze, hand reaching around to grab at Arthur’s arm.

He didn’t seem discouraged by the idea of someone stumbling upon you both, simply moved his hand up to grasp gently at your jaw, turning your face towards his to kiss you. His other hand was still between your thighs, and you sighed softly against his lips as he drew a thick finger between the wetness of your folds “ oh Arthur…“

Your cunt clenched around nothing. As if silently begging for his fingers to just push inside of you, take you in a way you had always found so much more personal than just sitting on his cock. His fingers that held his guns, that he used to beat people to death more times than either of you could care to count. Those same fingers working you open, covered in the slick evidence of your desire for him instead of gun oil. Fingers that cause pain and damage, but also sent you spiralling into mind blowing pits of pleasure.

And paired with the current location? It just felt… dirty. Erotic. You felt no better than a common whore loitering in a saloon for custom. You wanted him so desperately, needed him.

“ Arthur “ you sighed, pushing your self against his hand as he toyed with your swollen clit.

“ tell me what y’need pretty girl “ he said softly, tickling your skin with his beard and dragging his tongue across your neck before sinking his teeth into the flesh, making you whimper.

“ you- Arthur. You. Please “ his hand continued its gentle movements as he worked at your neck. You pushed your hips back against him, grinding against the hardness still trapped by his pants in a way that couldn’t be comfortable. His breath shuddered against your skin as you did, holding you flush against him to let you wiggle your hips in a silent invitation to just take you already.

A smashing glass drew your attention briefly away from him again. And as much as you could let him do that all evening, you were still hyper aware of your surroundings.

You silently wished he’d just waited until you were back at camp, could take his time with you on that shitty little bed in the privacy of your room at Shady Belle.

But there you were. And there were hundreds of others only a few feet away too.

“ stop teasin we ain’t got the time “ at any other time he’d have worked you into a mess with his fingers, even dropped to his knees and disappeared under your skirts, have you coming on his tongue over and over again just because he wanted to. But he hadn’t planned the situation well at all, and you weren’t exactly in the best of locations. If anyone so much as peaked around the corner of the building a little too far you were certain you’d be spotted.

And wouldn’t that be a tale.

“ ain’t you bossy “ you opened your mouth to snip back at him, but your words evaporated into nothing but a soft whimper as Arthur followed your demands, pushing past his desires to take his time with you. Truly it was his own fault that he couldn’t though, as he withdrew his fingers and fumbled with the buttons on his pants.

“ Arthur “ you whimpered softly, breath stuttering at the feel of his swollen tip brushing between the wet folds of your cunt.

“ quiet now darlin’ “ He pushed in slowly, in the way he so often did. Making sure you felt every single devastating inch, your back arching against his chest as your body flushed with warmth. Even after so many times the stretch was still a lot, a deep burning ache that eventually melted away into a blinding hot pleasure that burnt its way through your veins.

He pressed on until he was flush against you, the material of his opened pants scratching against your soft skin as he held you there a moment. He exhaled slowly, his breath warm against your skin.

It was never fucking with Arthur. Not very often anyways. It was love making. Soft. And slow. And a brutal pace that made sure you remembered he’d been there the next morning, but oh so drawn out. He was gentle. Tender. It had always shocked you how violent he could be and yet become so careful and soft with you. And even there, concealed by a few perfectly trimmed bushes and planters, he was taking his time. Reminding you that you were his. And maybe reminding himself of the fact too.

Reminding himself that maybe there were men only a few feet away that wanted you. That would pay for the pleasure of your company. But only Arthur could have it, that he was the only one you would ever offer it too.

That this deep rooted instinct to protect what was his wasn’t entirely necessary but god was it wanted. That his desire made your blood boil with lust, skin burn under his touch.

“ That’s my girl “ he whispered, tone low and steady as he set himself into a bruising pace, still tightly holding onto you as he did. His face had fallen to your neck again, lips latching onto every inch of exposed skin they could.

You were certain you were going to walk back into the party looking like you’d taken a dip with some leeches.

You tried your best to be quiet, teeth sinking into your bottom lip in some hopes that mixed with the sounds of the party happening only a few feet away you wouldn’t be heard. But it was so hard to be silent when he was fucking you like that. So determined, so strong, pulling out almost completely before pushing back in hard.

Your hand was still gripping at his arm, blunt fingernails digging at his skin through his jacket. His pace increased a little, settling into a steady rhythm that carved a devastating stretch inside of you.

“ y’know I think that feller- that feller back there. He wanted you like this “ you couldn’t help the smile that pulled its way onto your face, still flushing with joy at his jealousy. You knew Arthur desired you carnally. Always had done and always would. But a reminder like the present one was always nice.

“ y’think so? “

“ I know “ he grumbled, his pace increasing a little more, clearly attempting to take out his frustrations with the handsy man. But also maybe simply trying to assure himself in the process too.

Arthur didn’t like to admit it but he was a little self conscious. You’d heard him talk down to himself in the mirror countless times, had seen the way he spoke about himself when you peaked over his shoulder at his journal. Had an almost crippling fear of abandonment that sometimes he did need to be reminded that you wanted him.

“ poor feller “ you said with a small sigh before pushing lightly at Arthur’s arm so he’d let you go. You winced slightly as he pulled out, immediately missing the heavy feel of him there, and spun around tugging him back towards you by the lapels of his jacket “ ain’t got nothin on you “ you hitched your skirts up in your arm and wrapped your spare hand around the now slick length of his cock making him stutter a breath.

His face was flushed, bottom lip shiny from kissing you. You wanted to absolutely devour him, strip him of his fancy clothes and remind him just how much you wanted every part of him.

The look in his eyes was almost primal. Desire and lust burning so brightly it made your chest ache, to feel so wanted. To feel so desired.

To have a man so usually controlled and put together, be reduced to not being able to even wait until you got home. That he had to have you there. Right there in that moment. He couldn’t wait.

You needed him to pull you apart. To worship every inch of you in the way he so often did.

But the side of the mayor's house was truly not the place for such a thing.

“ no one could make me feel the way you do “ you whispered, stroking him softly in your hand as you tried to stoke the fire under his ego. Make him realise he truly had no reason to be jealous “ and him back there? He thought he could huh? Poor feller “

“ poor feller “ he echoed, sliding a hand over your leg and hitching it over his hip, sliding back into you with a welcome ease that made your head fall back against the wall.

“ Thinks he could fuck me better than this? Man must be damn crazy “ you said with a smile, breathless as he fucked into you. You were practically dripping around him, the lewd sounds between you enough to make your skin flush.

“ you’re mine darlin “ you nodded immediately. Not a single doubt in your mind on the matter. You were his. And he yours. That was how it would always be “ all mine, you hear? “

“ all yours Arthur. Ain’t no man in this whole damn country could replace you”

He moved with more determination, thrusting into you harder in a way you knew was going to bruise your back from rubbing against the wall. His all too familiar deep, hard pace. You pulled him down by the back of his neck, muffling your whimpers with his mouth cautious again that you were getting a little reckless.

“ that good? Makin me feel so good darlin’ such a good girl “ the entire thing felt almost animalistic. Desires so strong they couldn’t be withheld. Dirty. Filthy. Perfect.

“ God Arthur “ the look on his face alone made you clench around him, never wanting him to leave, needing to feel the heavy bruising sensation as he split you apart for the rest of your life. He hitched your leg higher, hitting some new devastating part inside of you that made you see stars. Eyes rolling to the back of your head and unable to contain the sounds escaping your throat any longer.

“ There she is, jus’ like that darlin I got ya” his grip on your leg grew restless, fingers dancing over your skin and trying to pull you as close to him as he could get you. He always wanted you close. Always wanted to feel your skin against his own. A moment later his thrusts became sloppier and you knew he wasn’t far off. Though quite frankly neither were you “ so pretty for me like this ain’t ya? My girl “ his words only pulled you closer to the edge, knot twisting tighter.

“ Arthur I- “

“ I know. I know darlin, can feel it “ he almost cooed, lifting a hand to cup your face gently “ that’s it look right at me. That’s a girl right at me “ with his gaze so intense you couldn’t hold it any longer, biting down on your lip as you attempted to conceal your sounds of ecstasy as you came over his cock.

He was barely a second behind you, a stuttered groan of a sound leaving him as he dropped his forehead against yours, painting your slick walls with rope after rope of come as you clenched around him. Holding him in place so that not a single drop of him would go to waste. It was a risky business letting him finish inside of you, truly it was. But in your sex drunk haze you didn’t care, couldn’t give a damn because it simply felt too good to give up.

He nudged his nose against yours, brushing his lips against your own and kissed you softly. So tender and gentle, his hand carefully lowering your leg back down, slipping his softening length out of you making you wince. He kissed the crinkles it caused to show at the corners of your eyes, whispering a gentle sorry. He soothed his hands over your waist with a care very few men had for women those days.

“ my girl “ he murmured, littering kisses across your cheeks and nose.

When he pulled back you couldn’t help but smile. The dopey, soft kind. He was looking far less put together than he had done when you’d arrived, the pomade in his hair no longer serving its purpose after your fingers had gotten to it. He’d broken a sweat too, his forehead shiny. His skin flushed.

The smugness was overwhelming though, could see it in his eyes. In the small smirk pulling at his lips. He seemed incredibly proud of himself.

“ you are somethin’ else “ he mumbled as he finished readjusting his clothes, reaching forward to slip the ruffled strap of your dress back up your shoulder from where it had slipped. Pressing a kiss to the skin there for good measure.

“ I ain’t the jealous one “ you teased as you combed your fingers through his hair in some attempt to tidy it.

“ ain’t jealous. No idea what you talkin about girl “ he said with a small clear of his throat in some attempt to hide the obvious lie, you simply smiled again and pressed a kiss to his cheek

“ mhm sure “

There was something about having to go back out into the party with the light ache between your legs, with the evidence of Arthur’s jealousy slowly dripping down your thighs. And Arthur seemed to think so too

“ now. I believe you wanted to dance? “

#Amy in the kindest possible way. keep scrolling #I know I’m posting late but I want i didn’t wanna wait until tomorrow sooo #ANYWAYS. FIRST ARTHUR UPLOAD WHOO #crippling fear or writing for a new character and fandom starts now!#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #Arthur Morgan smut #x you #Dutch van der linde #van der linde gang

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krowbby · 5 months

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my current discworld audiobook is going postal and. i’m feeling emotional about grandad. he’s twenty six and he’s so much more experienced than the teens around him they call him grandad. i’m turning 23 at the end of this week, and sure, who in their 20s hasn’t made a joke about how ancient they feel. but this less reminds me of that joke and more reminds me of people in their 30s being called queer elders because we don’t HAVE many community members who are our grandparents age. later in the book, mad al says that one man has died for every three towers standing. how many of his peers has grandad lost? how many kids younger than himself has he lost? and he always has something to be doing in the tower when princess is there, so that this 13 year old girl isn’t alone with older boys. and then, during the big race:

And she wondered what Grandad most feared: that dead clacks-men could send messages to the living, or that they couldn’t.

i mean, fucking brutal, right? pterry has this knack for introducing characters with a tiny part in the story— i think across the whole book there’s maybe 3 pages about this clacks tower? — and making them feel so real that i’m over here tearing up about this guy. so of course, it’s fitting that one of the most meaningful quotes and moments for the whole fandom comes from this character:

It was Grandad who spoke next, after a long pause broken only by the squeaking of the new shutter bars. When he did speak, it was as if something was on his mind. ‘We keep that name moving in the Overhead,’ he said, and it seemed to Princess that the wind in the shutter arrays above her blew more forlornly, and the everlasting clicking of the shutters grew more urgent. ‘He’d never have wanted to go home. He was a real linesman. His name is in the code, in the wind in the rigging and the shutters. Haven’t you ever heard the saying “A man’s not dead while his name is still spoken”?’

#discworld #terry pratchett #gnu terry pratchett #going postal #HE SHOULD BE IN THE CLUB!!!

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margowritesthings · 9 months

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A Job Well Done

pairing: Arthur Morgan x reader (f) word count: 4944 words warnings: 18+ minors dni, sexually explicit, oral (f giving), rough oral, a little choking, a touch of voyeurism, explicit language, it's pretty much a blowjob fic authors note: idk what to say... this started as a little drabble because me and my fiancé love having a little smoke together at night and.... well, here we are I guess?? i hope you enjoy you lovely lot, and if you've asked to be tagged and you're not please let me know!! I have a new system for keeping track of my taglist and I may have lost some requests in the transfer

taglist: @cowboydisaster @inkandbloodbound @counteveryfreckle @elifsukirdaghehe @reaveries @delilah-grimes @mrsarthurmorgan7 @twola@the-marsh-harrier @wildfloweroutlaw @photo1030 @luvliewriting@pine4pple-b0i *if i've missed you please let me know!!!*

You pull Arthur’s jacket tighter around your shoulders, settling into the old wooden chair while it creaks beneath you. Thanks to being in the middle of the Lemoyne swamps, it isn’t too cold despite the moon hanging so high in the sky above you, the jacket is more for comfort. From where you sit, you can see near the whole camp, watching lanterns flicker off incrementally as each member of your makeshift family retires for the night. A few of the boys stay up, drinking by the fire, their voices muffled and distant in the thick air.

It’s been a week to the day since you last saw Arthur, before he left to track a rather sizable bounty down and attempt to cushion out the camp funds, and God do you miss him. The days feel so much longer, nights so lonely you’ve considered saddling up and finding the bastard yourself just to bring him home sooner. Comfort can be found, though, in the ways Arthur’s presence has bled so deeply into your life that his physical being doesn’t even need to be here.

His smell lingers on the jacket he left (the one he wore every day before he had to leave just so you could wear it when you missed him), that perfect mix of tobacco and whiskey and something so ineffably Arthur that you soak up every time you wrap it around your frame.

He’s there in the routines you've built your lives around, intertwined as they are, the ones you can’t shake even if he’s not beside you. The cup of coffee in a morning, his so much better tasting than yours but you try anyway. The first morning after he left, you made two, ending up giving the extra to a very grateful Abigail to save face.

There’s a nightly routine, too. The one where you get ready for bed, then climb through the window to meet him on your balcony. He’s always there waiting with a cigarette hanging from his lips, patting his lap ready for you to crawl on. He’ll drag a match across his boot, (or sometimes the bottom of yours, if you’re still wearing them) lighting up the smoke before handing it to you. You’ll pass it between each other, catching up on your days, limbs entangled just how they should be as you watch Shady Belle fall asleep around you.

Without him, those routines bring you comfort, grasping onto the remnants of your cowboy until his safe return. That’s why you’re sitting in this spot, pulling a cigar out of the little tin stash box Arthur left behind. Normally it’s just a cigarette, you could never survive a cigar a night and have the throat to tell the tale, but there’s something inexplicably Arthur about this brand of smokes, something you’re seeking tonight.

You pluck a match from the tin, striking it against the table beside you, never having gotten the knack of igniting the thing on your boot as effortlessly as Arthur does, and light the cigar between your lips. The all-familiar woody essence dances across your tongue, your tired muscles relaxing from the first few tokes.

It’s just you, the moon and the crickets as you sit on the balcony, Arthur’s smoke between your lips. You wonder what he’s doing. He should be sleeping, but knowing him he’s probably up planning, or doing exactly what you are right now. You pray he’s safe, hasn’t been gotten by the law or worse, gotten himself killed. You can’t let yourself even think about that, the very idea bringing a tremble to your limbs. To combat the sudden spike in anxiety, the next time you bring the cigar to your lips you drag in just that bit more smoke, letting it soak down your spine. Not nearly as experienced in smoking as Arthur, you cough a little, but you recover much quicker than you used to.

Memories of that first time, of Arthur offering you the little brown stick and you nervously nodding, bring a little smile to your face. Oh, how you spluttered, Arthur giving you his drink on instinct, only realising that the whiskey burn would do the opposite of help once it was too late. You’d have been in your right mind to be embarrassed as hell, but by the way he chuckled as he rubbed circles around your back told you that he found it nothing but adorable.

You sit there for a few minutes, basking in the precious peace so seldom found nowadays and taking a drag every now and then, the smoke riding a sigh from your lips. Your eyes slip closed, trying to shut off as many senses as you can to really connect with that smell and taste, imagining him emerging from your bedroom window to be here with you.

He’s much less graceful than you are, often catching some part of his person on the windowsill when he climbs out onto the balcony. So many nights spent patching up little holes in his pant legs, right where that out sticking nail used to be in the frame before he ‘bested it in combat’ (i.e. pulled it out with a hunting knife and threw it ceremoniously in the lake).

Manifestation is a powerful tool, you’ve always believed that, but you still nearly jump out of your skin when you feel a large hand grasp your shoulder just as you imagined, Arthur’s gruff, hushed whisper tickling the words “hey, sweetheart” into the skin of your neck. It takes you a second to catch your breath, heart racing from the shock before everything registers and reality sets in.

“Arthur?”

He’s here.

“C’mere, darlin’.”

You fly out of your seat, the rickety old thing nearly splintering under the force, launching yourself into his open arms to burrow yourself into him. Every part of him consumes your senses and you drink it all in like an addict. The smell, the real thing, much more of that Arthur essence than the whiskey or cigars, probably because he forewent breaks in his journey for those little pleasures to get back to you sooner.

He seems to be taking you in as much as you are him, inhaling long through his nose and sighing it out contentedly, feeling whole again after so long without you in his arms.

“I missed ya’, beautiful.” He says softly into your hair, holding you tight against him, his knuckles brushing up and down the small of your back through layers of clothes you’ve stolen from him.

“I missed you so much…” You mumble into his shirt, hardly able to breathe through the wall of hard chest muscle you’re pressed against, caring even less.

It’s only then do you remember the cigar, forgotten and abandoned, smoking away on the table propped up on a jar lid turned makeshift ashtray. Most of the boys don’t bother with one, and neither did Arthur, until a fateful night a few months before you started dating when you first handed him the jar and told him you read something about birds and rabbits eating the butts of cigarettes. He kept the little piece of junk right next to his bedside, waiting for you to find it after that first night together.

Arthur spots your momentary pull of attention, pulling his chest away to raise a brow down at you with a little chuckle rumbling his chest.

“Having a fancy smoke of a night, are we?”

A cheeky little smirk- Arthur’s favourite, actually- tugs at the corner of your lips, waiting patiently for him to kiss it away.

“The smell reminds me of you…” you play coy, earring yourself that kiss when Arthur lifts you up to his height, kissing you softly, letting his world and yours fall back into place together.

“Well I’m here now, angel. Wanna sit? Could do with a nice cigar with my girl to celebrate a job well done.”

You’re eager to nod, heart fluttering at the prospect of getting to sit with him and hear all about his trip. He untangles from you to sit down first, patting his lap for you to crawl into. You fit perfectly together (you should do, you were made for eachother), head resting on his shoulder, legs splayed over his thighs with your arm draped over his shoulder. The cigar has gone out, so Arthur strikes a match so expertly on his spurs before shaking it out and placing his hand on the small of your back for support. You lean into him, watching him take puffs of the cigar and feeling the tiniest bit of tension leave his joints. He looks so natural with a smoke between his teeth, commanding an air of power with each movement he makes. Smoking doesn’t suit just everyone, you think, but God, does it suit him.

“We’re celebrating? You got the bastard, then?”

“Sure did,” he says, smoke spilling from his lips with each syllable. Arthur looks you over again, drinking in the dearly missed view, before kissing you on the forehead and flipping the cigar between his fingers to offer it up, “Eventually found him up in Fort Brennand, but he weren’t alone. Nearly lost a damn eye, but luckily only Woffard had to be brought in alive, so I dropped the other bastards and ran.”

You hang on his every word, your hero. You know he’s downplaying the fight, the danger of it all, but he does it so that you don’t worry every time he’s gone. It never works, and you always do, but you love him for trying.

“Oh, Arthur, I’m so glad you’re alright…” You coo, pressing a hand to his cheek, feeling the weeks worth of stubble scratching against your palm. He nuzzles into your touch, not unlike a cat, and your find yourself keeping your hand there to mindlessly play with his hair, tipping his hat off to put on your own head. He chuckles, reaching to adjust it on you.

“Course I am, couldn’t leave you here all alone with this buncha’ fools, could I? Besides, someones gotta bring home the bacon around here, and you know Marston’s too trigger happy to bring a bounty in alive.”

“So you got the full price?” Your eyes gleam, the proudest smile on your features as Arthur nods and shifts both your weights for a moment to pull out a stack of bills and smack them on the table dramatically.

“You’re damn straight I did, baby.”

Of course he did. Arthur never fails, and God knows how much the camp needs this right now, freedoms diminishing by the day as Dutch makes more enemies and plans jobs that just seem to keep going wrong. But you don’t want to think about that right now. Right now, there is only you and Arthur, and the promise of a whole night spent with him uninterrupted. You hand him the cigar back, along with a stolen kiss, and he takes another mesmerising drag. The way he holds it, every so often tipping the ash into the first gift you ever gave him, it does things to you that you just can’t explain. It’s just a cigar, and yet you’re pressing your thighs together tight to futilely subdue the tightness coiling between them.

“I’m so proud of you… I always am.” Unkempt locks of hair are twisted between your fingers, your face so close to Arthur’s you can pepper his cheek, temple and lips, whenever not occupied, with little kisses, Arthur’s hat sometimes tipping up against his forehead on your head. The two of you are always like this after a few days apart, unable to get enough of each other or keep your hands off one another. You shift your weight to access him better, catching his bottom lip between your teeth to press a long, tender kiss there. He hums under you, hand splaying under your jacket to grasp at your shirt. It’s seconds before you feel it, that hardening that nudges up against your thigh, prodding and reminding you just how much Arthur has missed you.

You pull away from the kiss, just enough to raise a teasing brow at how sensitive your cowboy is to your touch. He shrugs, unashamed, with that cheeky grin and those glistening eyes directed right at you.

“What? I missed ya…” His words are accompanied with a pinch of your ass, which makes you writhe on top of his stiffness, the friction dragging a low growl from deep within his chest.

“I can see that, cowboy… I missed you too. I missed you more.” You emphasise, nipping at his lip again and splaying your fingers across his chest. He rises to your touch, and you feel him stiffen more so under you. It takes a second of manoeuvring, but you’re soon straddling him, hovering above him like the angel he sees you to be. From this angle, with the moon behind you, you’re glowing.

“You absolutely did not, you little siren…” He growls again, pulling at the flesh of your ass so that you’re grinding against him, the friction of denim against denim igniting you both and burning so wonderfully.

“Oh, yeah? I can prove it.” There’s a little cock of your head, a raise of one teasing brow as you start to slide off him. He looks confused, disappointed, even, until your knees rest on the planks of wood on the balcony floor and he instinctively spreads his legs to give you the space between them. Your fingers splay across his thick thighs, and they tense under your touch, as does Arthur’s jaw. He’s starved after a week without you, clearly trying to reign in a control he’s struggling to possess. There’s no wonder, having his girl knelt before him like this.

“You wanna take this to the bedroom?” He growls out, abandoning the still smoking cigar in the jar lid. You look up at him, peeking out from under the rim of his hat.

“No.” You reach for the cigar, taking a few drags yourself before flipping it in your fingers just like he did and placing it between his teeth, “Finish your smoke.”

A distant laugh captures Arthur’s attention for a second, reminding you both just how close you are to the other gang members. You’re somewhat hidden by the railing, but if they looked in your direction, Arthur is fully visible from the chest up. A simple bob of your head- and you’re planning on plenty- would bring you into view.

The look Arthur gives you when he quickly diverts his attention back from Marston and the others is downright feral, especially when your hands reach for his belt buckle. Nimble fingers make quick word of the obstruction, and you’re soon pulling Arthur’s thick, long length out from his jeans. He groans at your very touch, involuntarily bucking his hips up into your hand.

You laugh, the sound a tempting little giggle as you tell him “Patience, cowboy…”

He almost snarls in response, clearly having been goddamn patient enough over the last week where all he could do is fuck himself with your name on his lips and the thought of you knelt just like this between his legs at the forefront of his mind, always.

Just as you lean in, when your soft lips trace over his rosy, swollen head, he pulls you back by plucking his hat from atop your head and throwing it to the side. He rests the cigar between the fingers of his free hand to free his mouth to speak to you.

“Need to see you while I fuck that pretty little moutha’ yours, angel…”

His words soak through you (and soak you through), and you just can’t wait a second longer, needy to have his cock deep down your throat, desperate for the burning of your lungs and the stinging in your eyes when he loses that control he so often vehemently clings to.

Unable to wait a second longer, you run your tongue from base to tip, feeling every vein pulsing under your muscle and eliciting a deep groan from Arthur. When you finally take him in your mouth, his hand reaches to cup your cheek, following you down as you take as much of him as you can.

“Fuck.” He groans, fingers reaching to tangle in your hair, scratching at your scalp. He’s probably louder than he should be, your eyes flickering to the general direction of the others as a warning, but they soon snap back to your cowboy, an intense eye contact burning at your skin as the head of his cock bumps the back of your throat. Arthur never takes his eyes off you, guiding you up and down his length and bringing the smoke to his lips. The tip of the cigar flares a deep, fiery orange, and smoke billows from his mouth with each laboured breath you coax from him. The way he’s sitting, fingers of one hand pulling at your hair, controlling your movements, and the other limply holding the smoke, he exudes a power many seek to master but never quite get. It makes your heart swell and your cunt throb for him, knowing on your knees before him is the only place you ever want to be, knowing only you inhabit it.

You can taste Arthur, his salty essence leaking from the pure ecstasy you’re providing and spit pools in your throat, mixing with it and dribbling down your chin. Arthur catches it with his thumb, guiding you off his cock to push the digit into your mouth and let you suckle from it. You do, hungrily, adjusting on your knees to better take Arthur deep down your throat and-

“Arthur! That you?”

Marston.

For eyes widen at each other, Arthur instinctively pushing you a little lower by your shoulder to keep you out of sight. John hasn’t seen you, and you’d like to keep it that way, being in the incriminating position you are between Arthur’s legs.

You spot the irritated sigh, the twitch of Arthur’s jaw as he plasters a fake friendliness onto his features and peers over the balcony to see his brother standing on the clearing below.

“Sure is. Whatchu’ want?”

Straight to the point.

“We didn’t hear you get back. How long’ve you been here?”

All that tension you’ve worked so hard to dissipate comes back to Arthur’s form with a crashing force. You can almost hear his plea for just one second a’ goddamn peace, merely by the way he sighs before answering.

“Not long, thought I’d try and sneak past you fools and get some shut eye.”

Subtle, cowboy.

Ever oblivious, or simply not caring, John continues, “How’d it go, then? You got the bastard?”

He has you pressed against his thigh to hide you from sight, cock standing to attention right beside your face. It’s too tempting, especially with a none the wiser Marston stood right below. When your tongue darts out, hovering above Arthur’s twitching, aching cock, his eyes flick down to you, warning residing deep in his eyes. You take it as less of a warning, more a challenge.

You wouldn’t.

Oh, but I would.

And you do. You lift up, just enough to fit the head of his throbbing cock past your lips and slide the whole length in. It bumps the back of your throat, but upon hearing Arthur’s strangled, poorly hidden groan, you can’t seem to stop yourself.

“Y-uh… Yeah, I got ‘em…”

It’s impressive, how he can just about hold a conversation despite his cock being so far down your throat his balls rest on your chin.

You can’t see John, but you can only imagine how his head must tilt and his brows must pull together at the strange response from Arthur.

“You alright, brother?”

He won’t be.

You blink up at Arthur, feigning an innocent, near angelic expression as you inhale through your nose and push him even further into you. You hum, low and quiet, letting the vibrations pass through him. Arthur whimpers, instantly knocking any and all sounds you’ve ever heard from top spot and replacing them as your favourite in the whole world.

“I-I’m fine. Just tired.” He tries to hint again, to no avail. His fingers are digging into your shoulder with a bruising force, that control slipping bit by bit with every passing second, every little movement. Tears prick at your eyes, that burning in your lungs you’ve been reaching for finally igniting. You’re stuffed with him, feeling so full that it’s hard to breathe. When you go to release him, to be able to gasp for precious air, you realise you can’t, Arthur’s huge hand holding you right in place with his palm flush against the back of your neck. Revenge.

“Where’s the Mrs?”

A raise of a brow. You’re not married, but everything is so naturally right between you and Arthur that the gang just seem to have defaulted to that. It makes you beam, wanting nothing more than to be this man’s wife, the kind of wife that makes him cum down your throat while he has a menial conversation.

“S-She’s- fuck…” When he grips harder at you, you gag around his length, tears now streaming down your cheeks and mixing with your spittle and the little bits of precum that leak out from Arthur. “She’s in bed. I-I better go check on her, a-actually.” He whimpers again, fingers now gripping into your hair to keep you in place. You’re not sure how much longer you can last like this, struggling to breathe, overflowing and, God, so wet for him.

John sounds unconvinced. You’d giggle, if you could.

“Alright… Well, g’night, brother.”

Arthur barely manages a grunt, and you can feel his thighs tensing and twitching from the sheer effort of not bucking his hips up into you and giving the pair of you away. He stills, most likely waiting for Marston to fuck off already, before he rips you away from him and pulls you to your feet, gripping your aching jaw with force enough force to keep it open.

“You goddamn siren.” He isn’t mad. He’s trying to be, but you know Arthur far too well, and he’s burning with a fire far hotter than mere anger. Need.

The mischievous glint in your eye is all you can offer for response, what with his iron grip on your face, but you do manage to slip your tongue out and lick the pad of his thumb, tasting the mixture of fluids still lingering.

It’s all getting too much, knowing what you just did and who you did it around, hearing Arthur unable to string a sentence together because of you. You don’t think you’ve ever been so turned on in your life, so desperate for a release that you’re pathetically writhing in Arthur’s hold. He notices, forced anger on his features replaced with a cockiness that only comes from knowing he’s regaining the power in the situation.

Your cheeks tingle when he releases you, sitting back in the seat and leaning back, one elbow resting on the arm of the old wooden chair and picking the cigar back up. God, you could ride him in that chair till morning, if you thought the wood wouldn’t splinter under the force.

“You gonna finish what you started, my little siren?” He asks, taking an especially long toke from the smoke while he waits for you to drop to your knees before him. Your cunt throbs, screaming out for his attention, but it would seem your antics have earned you punishment.

Your knees hit the wood with a force, though an involuntary whimper escapes you, hips grinding pathetically against nothing. Arthur notices, smirking like a goddamn cheshire cat at his little wanton whore.

“Patience, angel.” Your own words echo back to you like a slap in the face. You definitely deserve this.

The grip you had on the power in this game you’re playing with Arthur officially disappears when his hand snakes around the back of your neck, grasping at your hair and winding it around his wrist like a leash. You have to tilt your head so the tugging at your scalp is a mere burn rather than a sharp pain, but that’s just where he wants you.

“Now, little siren, I’m gonna teach ya’ some manners, and you’re gonna finish what you started, alright? And if you’re a good girl, maybe I’ll think about getting that sweet little cunt of yours off…”

It’s all it takes, the promise of Arthur’s fingers deep inside you while he sucks on your clit just how you like it, lapping up your juices like a man starved, and the defiance in your eyes dissipates. Arthur bends you to his whim, messy, sloppy putty in his hands as he drags you onto his weeping cock. You’re all but drooling for him, leaking out of the corners of your mouth when he slips into you. Your scalp tingles with the pull, especially when Arthur involuntarily tightens his grip with a hiss of his breath. His tip bumps the back of your throat, but he doesn’t stop even when you’ve fit all of him in that you can.

“Fuck, good girl, just like that baby girl…” he groans, and when you open your eyes to look up to him, he is watching you with a gaze so intense you feel like it could tear you apart. The tension burns between you, coiling so tight the chirp of a nearby cricket could snap it.

There’s an unspoken question in your eyes when you start to nearly choke on his length of when you’ll be released, but his eyes darken, “Come on, baby, you can take more, can’t you?”

He seems to register your fear, but it phases him little. It seems more a challenge, really, coaxing him into rocking his hips into you, pushing you even further onto his cock until you feel it start to breach past your throat in a way you didn’t even know possible. You splutter, wriggling and writhing as you try your hardest to breathe through your nose.

“Shh… good girl,” he coos, a ravenous look taking over your usually so lovable cowboy. You’ve pushed him, and God do you live for it. “Not much further… wanna see you take all of my cock, alright? You gonna do that for me, angel?”

You can’t nod, but it isn’t much of a question, not much choice available with your limited movements and the way Arthur has completely commandeered your body. You’re irrevocably his, body and soul.

It doesn’t feel possible to fit more of him in, your throat burning for relief that won’t come until Arthur is satisfied, but when he bucks his hips into you, you feel his base press against your nose. He groans hard, the noise initially from the sensation of having your throat wrapped around his cock, but when he sees the sight of you, tear stained and gagging on him, the moan is pulled out into a noise of pure ecstasy.

“Good girl… my good fuckin’ girl.”

His thumb rubs lovingly over your wet cheek, a sensation you cling to as the corners of your vision get fuzzy. Fuck, you’re not sure how much longer you can hold out, but you’re so desperate to feel Arthur’s spend trickling down your throat, feel him lose control and moan just for you that you’d honestly be willing to die for it.

Your expression, complete with lust-fogged, watery eyes, and beautifully flushed skin, teases the last of Arthur’s restraint like a razor thin blade against that final thread. When it finally snaps, you’re allowed one gasp for air, before he’s thrusting back into you hard. You can feel him stiffen, even more so than before, as his hips splutter into your mouth and he starts to tumble over the precipice into that realm of pleasure that only the two of you share.

“F-Fuck, sweetheart, I’m gonna-” But he interrupts himself with a visceral, primal groan, the vibration of it shattering the both of you. You take advantage of his practically inebriated state to regain some of your own anatomy, managing to swirl your tongue around his pulsing head inside your mouth. The hot, salty spend blooms across your tongue at that, Arthur guiding you by the cheek to bob up and down on his cock while he paints your throat white. His moans are a melody you’ll never tire of, animalistic and vulnerable all the same.

It feels like it never stops, Arthur’s spend filling your mouth up and leaking out from the corners of your lip. You can hardly stay still, writhing your needy cunt against your own heel, desperate for a reward you’re earning when you look him in the eye and swallow it all down. Pride blooms across Arthur’s features, saturated with a love that warms you from the inside out. His thumb caresses your face softly, wiping the tear tracks as you finally release his cock from your mouth and he guides you to your feet, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then nose, then lips.

“My good girl…” He coos, barely above a whisper as you breathe each other in, both as breathless as the other. Your throat aches, your jaw burning, but you’d do it a thousand times over to experience what you just did all over again.

“Now…” He splits the sentence with another kiss, catching your chin between his thumb and forefinger, “Get on inside, sweetheart, I think you’ve earned yourself a reward.”

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan x you #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fanfiction #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redeption 2 #red dead 2

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thecuriousquest · 5 months

Note

Hii can I request platonic yan gojo with prompt i 1 please and thank you! ❤️

Why, Gojo, Why?

Tag List: @issamomma @repostingmyfavs @palesweetscherryblossom @chickennugnugnug

Warnings: Platonic yandere themes, handcuffs (not sexual), murder, kidnapping, controlling and possessive tendencies

Prompt Request: “Why would you want to leave? I’m keeping you here for your own good.”

Master List

Yandere Alphabet Prompt List

—————————————————————————

There’s not a single thing you can do against your father. You didn’t inherit the six eyes; you didn’t even inherit his white hair. Instead, your eyes are a smokey gray, and your hair is a rich mouse brown. He often tells you that you look so much like your mother, but you don’t know if that’s true or not. You’ve never met her, haven’t even seen a damn picture of her.

Satoru Gojo fears for you, for your life. He keeps you in the house for your own safety because you have no cursed energy. He makes jokes here and there, telling you how the world is filled with unstable people you just don’t want to be around.

But then you catch him staring at you during dinner. Your gaze shifts uncomfortably as you swallow your food. “Daddy, why are you staring at me like that?”

“Nothing, don’t worry about it, kiddo.”

You’re left feeling uneasy, but you don’t question him. Your dad has a knack for switching topics seamlessly if you press something he doesn’t want to talk about.

———

The days pass by rather slowly in the Gojo household. Perched on a couch with a book in your lap, you sigh as you look out the window. You wish you could go to school like you see on the television. It would be really nice to have someone to talk to other than Gojo, Megumi, Aunt Shoko, and Uncle Nanami. You don’t even really talk much with Megumi to begin with. He never opens up to you, never says anything more than “hey”, and you don’t press him for a conversation.

You toss the book on the table and storm off to your father’s bedroom where you know he keeps his favorite candy. You can’t help yourself. You know it’s there, and he could never get mad at you. Even when you threw one of his crystal ducks through the window and broke everything all at once, he still didn’t get mad at you.

Opening the drawer to his bedside table where he keeps his stash hidden away from your sticky fingers, you rummage around for the chocolate. A pout tugs your lips downward, unable to find what you’re looking for.

“Damnit, Dad, fucking fat ass eating everything good in this fucking house.”

You refuse to give up. Continuing your search, you go through his entire bedside table, then the matching one on the other side. You rake through the table next to his big comfy chair by the window, painfully look on high and low shelves. Hell, you even crawl under the bed to see if he has a box tucked underneath. His watch drawer is neatly lined with wrist wear yet no fucking candy!

“How could Daddy do this to me? Does he not trust me?” It hurts your heart a little bit to think that he wouldn’t leave his delicious sweets in the kitchen because of your wondering hands looking for a five finger discount.

Setting your hands on your hips, there’s one last place to look: the closet. Not having inherited his height either, you have to jump as your hands roam the top shelf above his clothes. Your hand feels the surface until you find a box hiding in the corner.

“Great, how am I supposed to reach that! This candy better be worth the effort.”

Fingers stretch as you jump and reach for what feels like cardboard. You’re able to knock it closer and closer to you until it tumbles over the shelf and hits you on the head.

“Fuck!”

You press your hand against your forehead, feeling the impact of the sharp corner against your skin. When your eyes open, you’re both amazed, confused, and concerned about what you’re looking at.

There are at least over a hundred pictures scattered around you. Some of them have one person, others have two or three, but as you comb through the photographs, you notice there are never more than three people in the photos.

You also notice that every single picture has the same person in it: a woman with brown hair like a mountain and stormy gray eyes. She’s so beautiful, you can’t help but take in her remarkable features.

Looking closer at the pictures with a group of two, there seems to be someone crossed out in all of them, as if scratching at their face with the sharp end of a pen until their visage is completely distorted. It seems to be a masculine figure, always with an arm wrapped around the woman with brown hair and gray eyes.

What’s even more confusing is how in the pictures of three, the crossed out man is hugging the pretty brunette, but she’s holding a baby.

What are all of these pictures? Who are these people? Why is a man’s face crossed out in every single one that he’s in? And who’s that baby? More importantly, why does every picture in this box contain the same woman?

“Hasn’t Daddy ever told you that snooping is bad?”

You drop the picture as your head instantly snaps up to look at your blindfolded father. When you look back at the stack of photos now sitting beside you on the bedside table, you sputter to come up with something feasible.

Nothing comes to you.

“I wasn’t snooping, Daddy!” You look back at him with wide eyes. “I was just…I was looking for candy, and I found this box. Who are all of these people?”

Your father walks over to you, snatching the picture from your hand and gathering the others to pack away. He does everything neatly with such refined care, placing the box back in the closet where it belongs before shutting the doors.

“They’re nobody, sweetie. Why don’t you go lie down before dinner or something?” He sticks his hands in his pockets and walks out of the room.

Getting up off the bed, you run after him. “No, wait! Hey, I wanna talk to you!”

Your father doesn’t even bother to turn towards you. “Didn’t I tell you to go rest?”

“Dad, who are those people? Why is there a man’s face crossed out in every single one he’s in? Why are you hoarding pictures of the same woman? Who is she?”

Finally, he turns to you and sighs. “I think you’re just tired, baby. Why don’t you go do as Daddy says and take a nap?”

“No! I’m not tired! I want to know what’s going-”

Never before has your own father pressed two fingers to your forehead, knocking you out. You would feel betrayed if you could feel anything at all, but for now, you sleep.

———

Peeling your eyes open seems to be particularly hard after being put in a mini coma. Oh, yeah, that’s right. Your father FUCKING KNOCKED YOU OUT COLD.

You sit up, or try to at least, but you find that your wrists are chained to the bed, restricting your motions. You can’t help but stare at the cold steel.

“Dad! Daddy?!” you cry out for help.

He’s there in an instant, and you feel some relief but not entirely.

“Daddy, what’s going on? Did you do this to me?”

Taking a seat on your bed, he rests a hand on your knee. “I kept hoping I’d never have to face this day, but look at where hope gets you.” He removes his hand, letting his elbows rest on both knees as he fixes his gaze on his shoes. “I loved this woman named Kazumi a long time ago. She was the light in my life after Suguru left, but she loved another man. She was actually engaged, but I knew we could work things out if she gave me a chance. They had their little wedding, they had their kid…and then I couldn’t stand by and watch anymore.

He was taking everything away from me. Little by fucking little, and I couldn’t take it. I was there to bring her back to me, and everything just went all wrong!”

Satoru lets his head hang, hair supported by hands doused in luxurious cream.

“Daddy…what happened?” you whisper, horrified by the story but needing to know the end.

“He was getting in the way. He was always in the way. I had to do it. I had to. I used my cursed energy against him, but Kazumi threw herself in the way! I couldn’t…it was his fault! If he had just let us be together, she would still be alive!”

You can hear the mania in his tone, the high to low pitch accompanied by notes of mental instability.

“She threw herself in the way, and then I killed that bastard for causing me so much trouble, so much pain! He fucking deserved to die! I’m glad he’s dead! That fucking pig never should have been born! He never should have had a kid with her! It should’ve been me!”

His breath is ragged, and he takes a moment to calm his rage from the past memories as he relives them all over again.

“After I blasted him into nothing, you woke up, crying, screaming for your mommy. I decided to take you with me, and I took a box of photos that I knew she kept hidden underneath the bed of family photos and ones that she really liked of herself. I couldn’t stand him being in any of them, so I crossed him out.”

Your father turns to you with panic ridden eyes. “You’re all I have left of her. You’re the only thing keeping me alive.” He presses his hands against your cheeks, cupping your face with a possessive grip.

“You killed my parents? You’re not my real dad?” It’s all you can manage to ask.

“You’re my baby girl. I raised you. You ARE my daughter. You might not be my blood, but you are my gift. She gave you to me. It was supposed to happen this way.”

“My mother didn’t give me to you! You fucking killed her and took me!”

You’re shaking beneath his fingertips, something you never thought was possible. Your father who only ever spoiled you, only gave you warning taps on your bottom to behave or else…you never imagined you’d be so afraid of him that you would be trembling with fear.

He moves his right hand to your chin, forcing you to look at his blindfold as he lowers it and reveals celestial-like eyes of blue.

“I understand it’s going to take some adjusting, but we’ll figure things out. For now, I want you to get some rest. You’ve had a rough day, kiddo.”

“No, you let me go. You need to let me go!”

You shake and pull on the shackles around your wrists. It’s uncomfortable, metal biting into your skin. Your father only watches, barely interested in your escape attempts.

“Let you go? Why would you want to leave? It’s not safe for someone as weak as you out there. Curses are dangerous, and you need me. You need me to protect you. I’m keeping you here for your own good.”

#yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #yandere themes #triggering content #triggering themes #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen gojo #yandere gojo #yandere gojo satoru #platonic yandere gojo #platonic yandere #platonic yandere big brother #platonic yandere satoru gojo #yandere satoru gojo

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mydearlybeloathed · 6 months

Note

Helloooo! I enjoy your stuff a whole lot and I was wondering if I could ask for a scenario where a rescued reader is on the sunny/merry feeling really homesick so she shyly asks sanji if he could cook her up a meal from her homeland. Then when she bites into it she starts crying cause shes so happy? Im in a fluffy sorta sentimental mood (*⌒∇⌒*)

𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after being rescued by the strawhats, you find yourself homesick one morning, and sanji has a foolproof cure.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sanji x fem!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.5k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: food, smoking

Your thoughts were being more of a bully than usual. You suspected it was because of how you stood at the edge of the Going Merry’s afterdeck, staring out at the water with an air of melancholy about you.

You’re much too sad for a woman rescued, your thoughts would taunt.

But you couldn’t help it! Of course you were more than grateful to have been rescued from your captors by the crew of pirates known as the Strawhats.

You thanked them every chance you had, asked what you could do to help at every turn—most of the time they just smiled and told you to relax. I can’t, you would say. I’ve forgotten how.

So now you stood on the deck of the Going Merry, grateful even through this terrible sorrow washing through you.

The sea breeze reminded you of home. The gull’s cry reminded you of home. The sound of Zoro and Sanji’s bickering reminded you of home. Everything was a reminder of the little village of your childhood… and how you’d never get it back.

It was burned—slaughtered—by the very pirates that took you away from it.

There was nothing left to return to. So yes, you snapped back at your thoughts, I’m homesick. If that made you ungrateful, so be it.

“You,” said a charmingly familiar voice, “look like you could use a friend.”

Sanji leaned on the railing of the afterdeck, nudging you with his shoulder. You ducked your chin and let your hair fall around your face, if only to conceal your grin.

“I could use a cigarette,” you mumbled, receiving that smooth chuckle of his in reply.

He complied, slipping his lighter and cigarette box out of his coat pocket, lighting one with practiced ease and handing it off to you. You didn’t try to ignore how he watched you take that first puff, something almost fond in the way he looked at you, before he followed suit in lighting his own.

He’s very fond of you, said your thoughts, to which you replied, He’s Sanji. He’s very fond of everyone.

That didn’t stop you from being very fond of him in return.

After some time in silence, he posed a question. “What’s on your mind?”

You didn’t have the heart to lie. “Home.”

“Oh.” He knew what had happened to your village. He was the one you’d sobbed to on your first night on the Going Merry, after he’d caught you trying to slip out on a dinghy in the night. Sanji had taken your hand and led you to the kitchen, letting you get out all your worries as he made you some food.

“Yeah,” you sniffled. “It’s fine, though. I’m okay.”

He stared at you for a long moment, before he turned his face away and said, “I know a cure for homesickness, you know.”

Skeptical, you side eyed him. “You do?”

“Mhmm.” He leaned into your ear and whispered, “Food.”

You laughed softly as he gently took your wrist and started to lead you away from the railing. Though confused, you didn’t fight, walking beside him as his hand slipped perfectly into yours. “Sanji?”

The man took you all the way into the belly of the ship and right to his workshop: the kitchen. You stood in the center of the room as he rounded the counter and turned to smile at you. “C’mon. What do you want? Let’s make it.”

Something about that let’s was powerful. Sanji didn’t just let anyone use his kitchen, especially with him. He had his own rhythm, and there had been countless times he’d snapped when anyone so much as slightly disrupted it.

He’d never snapped at you though, and you certainly had a knack for disruption.

For a good solid moment, all you could do was stand and stare. Sanji kept on smiling, the expression growing warmer and softer with each second. Softly, you told him your favorite dish from your hometown, glancing up through your lashes to find him already fishing around for pots and pans.

“I think that can be arranged, madam.”

Some time later, the kitchen was thick with smells of a superficial kind of home—no matter how you closed your eyes and focused, you couldn’t bring yourself to believe you were actually there. You were always drawn away from your fantasy by the sway of the ship and the song Sanji hummed.

And now you sat side by side at the table, the fruit of your joint labor plated before you, yet you could barely even look at the food.

Your thoughts called you a coward while your heart mourned something you will never have again.

But Sanji was so kind, and the food smelled really good, so you closed your eyes and took that first bite, all too aware of how Sanji eyed you like a hawk the whole time.

You melted as the flavors filled your senses—in an instant you were catapulted back to a simpler time, seated at the counter with your mother, grinning over a plate of food so similar to this. That countertop was gone now. She was gone now. Everything was gone, yet you remained.

You were the last reminder of the home you loved.

Tears had started to stream down your cheeks before you could stop them, swallowing down the food as your fork clanked onto the table. You crumbled in your seat and prayed with everything in you that Sanji somehow wouldn’t notice.

It was a foolish wish; Sanji noticed everything.

“Love, what…” he couldn’t find the words, his whole chest seized as he caught sight of glistening tears. “Is it that bad?”

You laughed, though it was a broken sort of sound. “Please. Everything you make is ambrosia.”

Wiping at your cheeks and turning away, you didn’t expect it when Sanji reached for your hand and wrapped it up in both of his. You met his eyes instantly, your own wide in question, and wondered how a person’s hand could be so warm that it sent a wave of heat throughout your entire body.

Or maybe it wasn’t his hand. Maybe it was the way he lifted one hand to hold your cheek, thumb swiping away the last of the tears, allowing you to clutch his other hand so tightly.

He observed you a little longer, then sighed. “Home?”

You squeezed your eyes shut and turned into his hand, another wave of tears spilling down. And then you were drawn forward, enveloped in his arms, hidden from the world. For some time, you sat there, awkwardly leaned into him as you both remained in your chairs, your hands ruining his neatly ironed dress shirt, his hands rubbing circles into your back.

That’s when you found your thoughts to be unusually quiet, and you weren’t going to start complaining. Now all you heard was your own heartbeat racking through your ribcage. Your face was dry, though, and you felt very warm.

“I know we haven’t talked about it,” said Sanji, rather out of the blue. “Other than the offhand mention of the best port to find work… what if… I mean, we all enjoy your company—some of us more than others—some of us being me—and I think…” He took a breath, pulling away with a little smile. “I think you should stay.”

A sniffle. A blink. A very long hesitation wherein Sanji felt more panicked than he had in a very long time.

“Okay.”

Sanji huffed a chuckle. “Really?”

“I have nowhere else to go,” you shrugged. His head tilted just slightly, eyes prodding at you. “And I might enjoy everyone’s company too.”

Sanji wondered, “Anyone in particular though?”

You leaned back and cast your gaze back to the plate of food, probably cold by now. “Zoro isn’t too annoying.”

He scoffed. “Hate to disagree.”

“Liar,” you teased, barely able to conceal your grin. “Zoro’s also kinda boring after a while. I like talking.” Your cheeks dusted pink then, but you didn’t back down, looking up at him through your lashes. “I like talking to you.”

His smile could have kept you alive in the darkest winter storm. “Lucky for you, I’ve been told I never shut up.”

You rolled your eyes and shifted on your seat, taking up your fork and admiring the food. You’d made this together, and you could only hope it wasn’t the last time you joined him in the kitchen. There was something so softly domestic about it. So softly home, whispered your thoughts, back again for a fleeting moment.

“Thank you,” you mumbled.

He nudged you gently, inching his own forgotten plate toward him as well. “For what?”

“Being here.” All was still, contentment filling the silence, before there was a soft pressure on your temple; a kiss, you realized, turning a dark crimson as you whipped your head around to stare at the man beside you.

A thousand words threatened to spill from your lips, some incoherent and some so flirty you paled to think of them, before you let out a deep breath and felt your lips tilting up at the corners.

“Always,” said Sanji. His blue eyes bore into you and right through to your heart, which thundered once more.

Your thoughts were silent, for all but one, a very loud and frightening and lovely thought: Sanji is starting to feel like home.

#sanji #opla sanji #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #black leg sanji #one piece sanji #strawhat pirates #sanji vinsmoke #vinsmoke sanji x reader #sanji x you #sanji x y/n #sanji vinsmoke x reader #one piece live action x reader #one piece live action sanji

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1d1195 · 6 months

Text

Faking It (Part 2)

You can read the first part here: Faking It it wasn't a great first part in my opinion because I wrote it on my phone while falling asleep but a lot of you wanted more:

@gem1712 @sunshinextemptress94 @fairytale07 @cherry01 @daniizstyles @igave-so-manysigns

so here it is :)

~3.5k words

warnings: smut. a lot of it. good girl, praise kink, doggy, oral, 18+ only please.

“We don’t have t’do this right now,” he offered. Maybe the conversation should have happened first.

“Scared you can’t make me come?” She asked delight dancing in her eyes.

He glared at her. “Don’t.”

Harry was the only thing that was on her mind. She was lucky her autonomic nervous system oversaw things like breathing because if it required any thought, she was a goner. Harry was kissing her. Her best friend was nipping at her lips and asking for permission to let his tongue into her mouth without words. His hands were touching, caressing, and moving all over her sides. He pulled on her belt loops to get her hips closer to his, angling her so he fit snuggly between her thighs, and she could feel the hard bulge through both their clothing.

Fortunately, her autonomic nervous system also controlled her heart rate and prevented a full-blown cardiac episode. Although, she felt as if it was still close. Only Harry could mess up the automatic responses of her body with just a press of his hard length against her core. She moaned softly at the thought of it inside her.

“S’good,” he murmured breaking his mouth away from her lips to press a kiss to just below her earlobe. “Good girl,” he cooed. “Keep moaning. Gonna make y’cum so hard,” he promised.

The only brain cell that wasn’t obsessed with Harry managed to squeak out her worry. “Um... sometimes...it’s hard for me t’cum,” she whispered. It should have been awkward to say that out loud. But this was Harry. Her Harry. If it was another guy, she would have blushed and felt worse but...Harry was kissing her skin and making her think of all the things she wished he would do to her so many times. Whenever he wore those sparkly vests that showed off all his muscles while he danced on stage... It was unfair that he was so hot. Now he was there, kissing her whole body, promising he was going to make her see stars.

“Oh?” He mumbled into her throat as he kissed down over her collarbones, his fingers slipped under the hem of her shirt at the same time coaxing her out of the clothing. “So y’better not fake it,” he murmured reattaching his lips to her making her wonder why they never did this before. “If it takes all night, love,” his voice was sultry, but she could hear the kindness of her best friend whispering a promise to her. Hiding in his practically pornographic whispers. “No faking it,” he repeated. “Wanna feel y’cum on my fingers...on m’tongue...on m’cock,” he was nearly whimpering into her skin.

Of course, she was flushed. “Can... we go in the bedroom?” She whispered.

Harry didn’t give any vocal affirmation, but she was suddenly in the air, over his shoulder as if she weighed less than a bag of groceries. She giggled slightly and pinched his butt since it was right in front of her face. It sparked a low chuckle from him, and they were in his room. It smelled like the candle he got her for Christmas. The bed was made with the sheets he got her for her birthday. “Don’t know how long I wanted this, kitten,” he promised as he deposited her on the bed so gently. No longer a bag of groceries but a delicate vase that needed to be wrapped in paper for storage.

Harry’s muscles were going to break her mind. “Me too,” she whispered.

“Yeah?” He paused his movements, which were undoing the button and zipper of her jeans and he looked at her with that face she adored so much. It was her best friend. The person she didn’t feel embarrassed or weird around. He probably knew her every thought before she had it. Harry had a knack for knowing what she needed. “Didn’t know that.”

“How could I not?” She asked. “You’re...you,” if it were anyone else it would mean Harry Styles. Boy band. Singer. Small time actor. Celebrity.

But on her lips...it wasn’t. It was just Harry. The person she told everything and never hid from. The one that watched her throw up with the stomach bug and hold her while she sobbed over heartbreak so bad that she got snot all over his T-shirt and he didn’t even care.

Harry already wanted to be inside her so very badly. He imagined it so many times while on tour buses and in hotel rooms. His hand fisted around his cock pretending it was her warm body imagining what she would feel like when she sent him voice memos of her singing to plants. He fell so hard for her just watching her wash dishes on FaceTime with him while he struggled to fall asleep in a hotel room that didn’t feel like their cozy apartment—although the was sure it would if she were there with him. She told bad jokes like he did and always laughed at his. Even when she had already heard it. Her smile lit up the room.

The moment he saw her he didn’t get butterflies. There was no symphony of classical music. Instead, his heart rate slowed. There was this glow around her. Like an aura of sunlight backlighting her figure. It was his best friend. The person he never felt like a celebrity around. It was just her and Harry when they were together. It should have been so obvious. This should have happened ages ago. But right now, he wanted to ask her all the thoughts he didn’t know; she wanted this. Had wanted this for a while.

Maybe he should have stopped and asked her more. They would have all the time in the world. But he wanted to prove that he could make her cum and that no one—especially her—would fake it with him. There would be time for questions later. Harry was certain that he could do it all with her. Everything.

Harry’s lips were back on hers, his kiss languid now and she felt it vibrate through every cell in her body. Her toes tingled and she had her hands fisted into his hair and pulled him closer to her. His hands pulled her jeans down her thighs and off her legs. His fingers trailed slowly up her shin, and he hooked it over his hip as he dipped down to grind against her and just the pair of underwear separating her from his clothing.

“You’ve never seen me naked,” she reminded him as he tugged his shirt over his head.

“Uh...” he chuckled sheepishly. “Might have caught y’leaving the shower a few times.”

She gaped at him. “Harry!”

“Oh please, kitten,” he rolled his eyes. “Know y’saw me when m’drunk.” Her cheeks turned this beautiful shade of red and imagined the times Harry came stumbling in the apartment and almost immediately stripping in front of her. “Mmm...” He unbuttoned his own jeans. “S’what I thought.”

“I like what I saw,” she admitted.

“Should have told me,” he murmured and dipped back down to kiss the length of her neck. “I loved what I saw,” he promised. “Take your shirt off.”

She had no choice but to obey him. She tugged her bra with her shirt leaving her nearly totally bare in front of him. She watched his eyes roam over her. Again, she expected it to be uncomfortable, but it was as if it was the only thing that made any sense at all.

Harry was looking at her as if she was a sculpture in a museum. His gaze was heavy and warm. “I don’t want t’stop looking at you,” he murmured. “You’re gorgeous, kitten.”

It felt like someone had set her on fire. His skin was warm against her body, and she tried to remind herself that this was her actual life. It wasn’t one of her really good dreams. His boxers were thin—so were her panties—keeping very little between them. The last bits of fabric separating each other from where she wanted him most.

“No faking it.”

“Somehow, I don’t think it’ll be a problem,” she tilted her head back to give him more access to her collarbones. She wasn’t one to have a display of love bites, but she wanted him to suck her skin purple and bruised with a reminder that he was really going to make her cum.

“Kitten,” he pulled away from her. He pinned her hands beside her head, pushed himself to hover above her. His cross dangled from his chest. It felt like it was hypnotizing her.

But Harry looked at her... like... like he loved her. “Any time y’want to stop, you say it,” he warned her. “Promise me.”

The air in her lungs felt like it was choking her. “Promise,” she whispered.

“Don’t y’dare fake it,” he reminded her again and pushed to the side of her body to tug his boxers off. She tried not to stare but he was so long and firm. It was impossible not to look.

“I can’t,” she spoke before she thought about what she was saying.

He smirked and looked down at her panties separating him from where he wanted to be most. “D’you have an attachment t’these?” He asked his finger dipping into the elastic of the half-lace, half-spandex fabric. She shook her head. “Good,” he murmured and ripped the hole he spotted in the lace when he pulled her pants down her legs earlier.

Oh, there was no way she would need to fake it.

“Gonna make y’cum so hard, kitten,” he promised bringing his mouth to the inside of her thigh and pressing wet, warm kisses on her soft skin. He was losing his mind being so close to where he wanted to be most. “Where’s y’cactus?” He asked teasingly.

She was gone. Harry’s breath was so close to the apex of her thighs. She was aching. He ripped her underwear off. His question didn’t even register in her clouded mind. She arched toward him wanting his mouth between her legs more than she ever wanted anything.

“Kitten,” he hummed his nose brushing against her sensitive thighs. She wanted to close her legs around his head. “Asked y’something.”

“What?” She asked.

He chuckled, his breath torturing her body in ways she never imagined. “Cactus.”

“No...” she shook her head. “Please no,” she whimpered. She didn’t want that. She wanted Harry. Wanted his lips on her and his cock inside her. She wanted him and only him.

“Just in case, love,” he promised. “Gonna take care of you, promise,” he kissed the inside of her legs. “Mmm...” he sighed. “Please, kitten,” he begged.

“Fucking hell,” she whispered and reached blindly behind her pillows and pulled the vibrator from the pillowcase and tossed it beside them on the empty space of her bed.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he moaned and pressed his lips to her dripping hole.

She gasped and arched immediately into his face, and he gripped the outside of her hips so hard they would certainly bruise. He was sinfully good at it. It felt like he knew exactly what he was doing. How on earth could he write a song about someone faking it? She was going to cum in seconds. His tongue dipped perfectly between her folds and pressed into spaces she didn’t know could feel so good. He slipped further up and flicked his tongue against her clit so expertly it felt like his mouth belonged between her legs.

“Feel like y’part of m’body,” he murmured into her thigh while he took a moment to breathe. The cool air made her spin as well as the words that came from his lips. She grabbed fistfuls of his curls and tugged him back to her center. “Y’like that, kitten?” He asked against her sensitive skin.

“Yes,” she whimpered. She couldn’t even give into the teasing in his voice. She couldn’t manage any sort of flirting. All she wanted was his mouth to lick her until she couldn’t move.

“Good girl,” he whispered as he sucked her clit between his lips so he could focus his tongue’s attention on the little bundle that would drive her mad. She keened and whimpered tugging on his hair. Her heels dug into his back as she tried to get him closer to her even though it was impossible. He couldn’t get closer. “Y’taste like heaven, kitten,” he murmured. He felt drunk on her. He would stay there forever. Even with the feeling of how hard he was had him rutting against her comforter. It was worth it. Just to smell her, taste her, kiss her most sensitive skin and lick every part of her that deserved the utmost attention. “S’good, baby,” he cooed. “Good girl,” he repeated as she pulled his hair harder. “Keep doing that,” he murmured. “Good girl.”

“Harry,” she whimpered.

“S’good, good,” he praised.

Holy shit. She could feel the heat spreading all through her body. She was going to explode, and she felt like she wouldn’t be able to stop if she didn’t do something right now. “Stop, stop, stop,” she begged, her voice breathy as she released his curls and removed her legs from their vice around his body.

Harry ripped from her immediately, alarm and worry painting his features. “What, s’wrong, kitten?” He asked. Her best friend was back. The person that worried about her when she fell asleep with a candle burning. The only one who seemed to care that she made it home safely when it was raining, and he wasn’t even in the same country as her.

Her breath came in pants, and she felt so utterly fucked out already she was so screwed when he was finally inside her. “Want you inside me,” she whispered her cheeks blushing with the request.

Relief replaced the terrified expression on his face. He even smiled so beautifully, like she was the most amazing thing he had ever had the pleasure of gazing at for any period of time. He thought she was regretting it. Hated it. Wanted nothing to do with him. The idea of losing his best friend was unbearable. This was manageable.

“Whatever y’want, kitten,” he promised. “Condom?” He asked. She tilted her head toward the nightstand.

“Uh...” she took a deep breath. “I haven’t had sex in a while.”

“How long is a while?” He asked.

“Uh...” she swallowed. “Like... a year?”

He paused his blindly felt search into her nightstand drawer looking for a foil square. “A year?” He asked in surprise.

She nodded. “I was kind of swearing off guys...till you came to your senses,” she was joking but Harry could see the worry the hurt in her eyes because this was his best friend.

He knew her last relationship fucked with her head a lot. He didn’t know it meant she had spent the last year fucking her fingers and toys because of it. “Me?” He mumbled.

“S’always been you,” she shrugged looking away from him. He knew that look. It was the feeling of inadequacy she got whenever she struggled with wanting to be the best in her class, her job, as a daughter, and a friend...a girlfriend. “You’re just...never here.”

This was suddenly not just about making her come so hard she would make her voice hoarse from moaning his name. This was to assure her that he adored her. Every single part of her. This was safe. This was okay because it was them. “Kitten,” he whispered. “You’re m’favorite person in the world.”

She nodded, feeling stupid to bring this up now. After he nearly had her in shambles from just his tongue. She didn’t look at him and Harry brought his hand to her face and turned her to look at him. His beautiful eyes. His perfect pink lips. The way he smelled like home.

“Kitten,” he leaned down to press his lips on her forehead. “Y’should have said something. Only an idiot would give y’up.”

“But you’re...” she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I know you’re my Harry... but you are someone... someone important,” she whispered. “I’m just...”

“No,” he interrupted. “No, love. You are the most important person I know.”

Looking up at him through her lashes had his heart skipping a beat. He smiled kindly at her. “We don’t have t’do this right now,” he offered. Maybe the conversation should have happened first.

“Scared you can’t make me come?” She asked delight dancing in her eyes.

He glared at her. “Don’t.”

“No...m’good. Also, if you don’t make me come...after all that, I might cry.”

“Well...” he ripped the wrapper open with his teeth and slid the rubber over his shaft. “Definitely don’t want that,” he smirked. “What’s your favorite position, kitten?” He asked pumping his hand gently over his length along with the condom. At the same time he brought his hand down to her center lightly rubbing his index finger over her clit.

She felt embarrassment flood her body. “Um...”

“No faking, I’ll know,” he promised dipping his finger lower between her folds. As if this was normal. A conversation that two best friends had all the time while they looked at each other naked. She closed her eyes and pushed herself over until she was on all fours. Harry moaned. “Beautiful,” he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her fleshy backside before he lined himself up behind her. “Say if it hurts, angel,” he mumbled. She felt the tip of him enter her, but it didn’t seem to matter that she was dripping with desire for him. He felt enormous as he slowly slid in. He was patient and slow and paused periodically until his torso pressed snuggly against her pretty bum. She moaned low and arched so her hands gripped the top of the mattress below the pillows, her face smushed against the comforter. He tilted his head back and moaned in response, the condom doing very little to prevent him from feeling like exploding inside her just from entering her. “Oh, s’good, angel. Good girl. Taking me so well,” he crooned. She felt like his voice was going to send her into a spiral. It never felt like this. It felt like she was meant to have Harry inside her. “S’that good, baby?” He asked hands gripping the outside of her hips. “Y’feel like heaven, love,” he moaned. “Think m’gonna last two seconds when I start moving.”

She managed a light laughter, but it felt so good to be wrapped around him. His fingers digging into her skin made her feel so...good. “You can move,” she told him.

“Yeah?” He croaked feeling so heavenly already. She dropped her chest to the mattress and Harry thought the curve of her spine dipping was so fucking gorgeous he practically wanted to cry. “Y’sure?”

“Please.”

He didn’t need to be asked twice. Slowly he pulled himself out till just the tip of his cock was in her warm, wet pussy and then slid back in a little faster. She moaned and Harry felt her clench around him at the same time. “Oh,” he groaned his hand sliding down the length of her spine and gripping a handful of her bum. “Careful, kitten,” he whispered.

She was backing herself up to him as he pressed forward creating this heavenly feel that made every part of her shake with desire for him. “No faking,” he murmured.

“No faking,” she repeated breathlessly.

“Good girl,” he cooed rubbing her sides as he snapped his hips toward her and enjoying the view of her naked skin before him. He smacked the side of her bum not quite hard, but not quite gentle. She whimpered and clenched again making Harry gasp out. “Oh good girl,” he grunted his voice hoarse with desire. “S’good. Do that again,” he spanked her with the same force again. “S’a good girl.”

“Harry,” she could feel the knot in her stomach unraveling. She moaned into the mattress, her heart rate skyrocketing. “I’m—”

“Good, good girl,” he praised. “Cum. Cum all over me, good girl,” he whispered. Leaning forward to reach around her hip and pressed on the bundle of nerves to set her over the edge.

“Oh, yes,” she whispered breathlessly her body slumping forward as Harry felt the waves of pleasure cause her to flutter around him making his mind spin while he tried to focus on riding out her orgasm so she felt it for as long as she could. She was twitching and whimpering as the waves subsided and Harry kept pumping into her.

“Good girl. Right there, kitten,” he whispered. “M’right there,” he promised croaking out the words thickly as he finally spilled into the condom with three final deep pumps. He pulled himself out causing a hiss to escape his lips. Her hips slumped down to the mattress and Harry twisted off and tossed the condom into the trash by her bedside.

He turned her over to her back so he could gaze at her lovingly. It made her stomach twist. “No faking?” He asked cupping her face as she took deep breaths. The smile on his lips made her crazy with adoration for him.

“Yeah,” she smirked. “Faked the whole thing.”

He chuckled. “Want your cactus?” He smirked.

She shook her head and pressed her face against his chest as she brought her hand to his face and kissed him softly on the lips. “M’good,” she promised.

“Good.”

“You didn’t fake it, did you?” She asked.

“Oh kitten. S’no way,” he kissed the top of her head. “S’all you. Always been you.”

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lividstar · 2 months

Text

𐔌᭥ᩙ༉ PALETTE OF DESTINY.

୨ genre ୧ fluff, highschool au

: you’re an aspiring artist who’d very much rather trip over a paintbrush than have people find out about your passion. but when rafayel, the school’s golden boy and president of the art club, stumbles upon your sketchbook on a fateful day by chance, things are destined to take a huge turn – and suddenly, your well-kept talent was no longer much of a secret.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡ note ! my break is finally over !! so glad i managed to pull through (also they only allow 10 image insertions so i apologize for the lack of dividers haha)

in the chambers of linkon high, where bonds formed like constellations in the night sky, you and rafayel orbited in separate galaxies. rafayel, with his magnetic charm and sarcastic wit, loved to stand in the center of the spotlight. you, on the other hand, were the complete opposite. you found solace in the shadows, often keeping to yourself as you went through the days in silence. it was as if your paths were not destined to cross, given how your worlds were practically parallel to each other.

yet beneath rafayel’s facade, a longing for at least a few seconds to himself laid beneath the surface. as much as he pretended to like being the center of attention, even though he would never admit it – not even to himself, he wanted nothing but for those eyes to keep their gazes off of him. after all, having a lot of people like you despite not being remotely close to you only meant one thing – they either have the intention to use you for their own good, or are just keeping an eye on you with the eagerness to watch you trip on your tracks.

you’ve always been thankful for rafayel over hogging the spotlight all the time, which never failed to ensure your chances to be one step away from the crowd everyday.

yet unbeknownst to both you and the crowd that adored rafayel, he has had his eyes on you for a fairly long time now, although it’s not in the usual way you’d expect.

rafayel had always been jealous of how the only attention focusing on you was your own. he was curious about your whole being, because people at school either love him or loathe him, yet you stood on neither sides – which made him both intrigued and grateful. intrigued because he always wonders what you are up to because of how mysterious you were in his eyes, and grateful because at least there’s one person in linkon high who doesn’t really care about his presence.

it only made him want to know more about you, though.

as everyone formed their own groups inside the classroom to chatter and spend their free time to its fullest, thomas leaned over to rafayel, tilting his head at him. “you really have a knack for making every little thing in your life complicated, don’t you? why don't you just go talk to her?” he suggested, nodding towards you who sat at the back, lost in thought by the window.

rafayel shook his head in disagreement, his brows furrowing as he did so. “that’s way too typical- you know i refuse to do things the easy way. also, i don’t want to invade her space or make her uncomfortable.” he replied, glancing over you with a hint of curiosity.

thomas shrugged, understanding rafayel’s reasons. “well, you’re right.” rafayel crossed his arms as he leaned back, looking down on thomas as he sat on the boy’s table. “aren’t i always?” thomas only shook his head, already used to rafayel’s cocky behavior. “no, not really.”

he teased in a flat tone.

“so then, what’s your plan? don’t tell me you intend on following her on her way home after school later just so you could have a one on one moment with each other.” thomas crooked his eyebrow, seemingly skeptical of rafayel’s plans.

rafayel scoffed, rolling his eyes. “please, like i’d ever do something so cliché- and why are you looking at me as if it’s an idea i’d actually consider?”

“because it is.”

“you-” the sudden ringing of the school bells echoing through the halls cut rafayel off, as students left the classroom one by one with their lunchboxes at hand, headed for the cafeteria. thomas stood up from his seat, patting rafayel’s shoulder as he walked right past the boy sitting on his table. “good luck on your journey of befriending the person who’s very likely to actually be the one who hates you the most.”

“that’s not even-”

this was the second time rafayel had been cut off now. thomas had simply closed the door on him. groaning in annoyance, rafayel hopped off from thomas’s table as he walked towards the front door – the one thomas had just shut to cut him off. but just as he was about leave, rafayel heard a loud thud behind him, making him turn his head quickly.

whatever he was expecting to see, it certainly wasn’t your sketchbook lying on the floor while you were in a deep slumber with your head down on your table.

walking closer towards you with cautious steps, he crouched down, picking up your sketchbook with curiosity. he took his time to examine each and every sticker and doodle on the front cover, a small smile tugging on the corners of his lips as he found it cute.

as he flipped through every page, he found himself becoming more impressed with each sketch he laid his eyes on. he could tell you made sure each and every stroke of your artworks were given enough detail – they didn’t seem like something you made for fun to distract yourself from boring classes, no, rather, they seemed like something you actually put dedication to. you were undoubtedly a skilled artist who has had this hobby for a fairly long time. after all, it takes an expert to know one.

he eventually starts to wonder why you never publicly expressed this talent of yours. as far as his knowledge as the art club’s president led him, you’ve never joined any events related to art – you weren’t even part of the club, to begin with. but why?

something so beautiful should never have been hidden in the first place – at least that’s what he believes.

as he closed your sketchbook and carefully placed it back inside your bag, he found himself in a trance as he glanced at your sleeping expression. based on his observation, it didn’t seem far too different from how you looked when you were awake. you’ve always appeared to be calm, no matter what.

that was one of your traits he was unsure whether he admired or wanted to have as his own.

he decided to leave you to yourself shortly after, but it wasn’t until an idea suddenly came up in his mind. rafayel hurried over to his seat at the center front, rummaging through his bag as he ripped a page off his notebook, taking a pen out of his pocket. the sound of his pen scribbling on the paper softly echoed around the empty classroom as he wrote a note on it.

after carefully putting it inside your bag, he quickly left the room – not after taking a quick glance at you once more. as he searched through the halls to look for thomas, rafayel couldn’t help but wonder how you’d react after reading his little note.

—

“-which reminds me, i went to look for you at the cafeteria earlier, but i didn’t see you anywhere. were you at the rooftop again?” tara asked in curiosity.

“huh? oh... i think i fell asleep.” you pondered as you tried to recall the events before waking up to the sound of your classmates walking back inside the classroom one by one as they chatted loudly. “everyone was already going back to their assigned seats the moment i woke up, so i think that’s the case...”

“i’m not even surprised at this point... but, you know, i do wonder how you manage to fall asleep in your classroom- especially since rafayel’s one of your classmates. i bet it’s really loud there, huh?” she tilted her head.

“i’ve gotten used to it already at this point, i’m afraid...” you rubbed your nape as you chuckled sheepishly. “well, whatever helps you sleep at night. at least now i know where to look for you whenever i don’t see you around during break time- you’re either enjoying your own company at the rooftop, or sleeping in your classroom.” she smiled as she nodded while pointing a finger at you.

you chuckled softly, yet gave her a nod in return as well. “okay, then... take care, tara,” you smiled at her, waving farewell as you parted ways.

“bye-bye!”

you were already far deep into the night. your surroundings engulfed you with a deafening silence, as the dim glow of the moonlight passed through your bedroom window. you’ve been on a staring contest with your ceiling for approximately 10 minutes now, uncomfortably laying down on your back. this was exactly why you tried to avoid sleeping during the day as much as possible – you’d always end up having way too much energy to fall asleep.

groaning softly as you sat up, you reached for your bedside lamp as you switched it open, the empty space of the bed in front of you deflating as you placed your bag on it. rummaging through your items, you searched for your sketchbook, wanting to have something to do to distract yourself from the long night.

it was then that your hands stumbled upon a small crumpled piece of paper.

at first, you were confused – the paper was unfamiliar to you, so there was no way it was ripped off of something of your property. you unfolded it carefully, curious about what was written on it.

“the world deserves to witness how talented u are :)”

your eyes widened slightly in disbelief as you read the words written on the paper – this could only mean one thing.

someone had seen your artworks.

but how? and when? you tried to backtrack, and that was when you remembered that the last thing you saw before you fell asleep was your sketchbook. so then, now you were stuck wondering whether the note’s intention was to give a compliment or to make fun of you in a passive aggressive way.

opening your phone as you lightly squinted after being practically blinded with its blindness, you searched for tara’s number in your contacts, immediately dialing her number the moment you found it.

the soft glow of your bedside lamp illuminated the room as you sat up, your heart pounding with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

after a few rings, tara’s energetic voice filled the line. “hey, you! what’s up?” she greeted cheerfully. “how do you manage to remain enthusiastic even in the middle of the night...?” you pondered, a confused expression on your face.

“drinking iced coffee four times in a row in one sitting, maybe?” and with the tone she used, you weren’t even sure whether it was a lighthearted joke to uplift the atmosphere or if she actually meant it. nevertheless, you just let out a sigh.

“why the sudden late night call, though? can’t sleep?” tara asked from the other line. “well, if i called a few minutes earlier, i guess that would’ve been the case...” you trailed off, looking down at the note you held in your hand. “huh? what do you mean?”

“i was rummaging through my bag to look for my sketchbook earlier, and i stumbled upon something strange...” tara didn’t even let you finish, already exclaiming eagerly the moment you said the word “strange.”

“mysterious findings, you say? i’m all ears!”

you looked at the note once again, reading it aloud to tara. “i found this note. it says... ‘the world deserves to witness how talented u are :)’. i don’t know how, when, and where it got here, though.”

there was a brief silence on the other end of the line, followed by tara’s gasp of realization. “oh my, that sounds like something straight out of a shoujo manga! wait- maybe it’s a secret admirer!”

you awkwardly chuckled, quickly dismissing it as unlikely. “what? no, i doubt it, tara.. i don’t believe it’s possible.” you replied, your voice tinged with self-doubt.

“what? hey, don’t sell yourself short!” tara chided gently. “you’re amazing, and it’s very likely someone out there clearly sees it- as they should! i mean, does the note not say it enough?”

you couldn’t help but smile at tara’s unwavering optimism, her words offering a glimmer of hope in the darkness of uncertainty. “my point still stands, but i appreciate it, really. but then again, you never know whether someone’s messing around with you or not in our school..”

tara remained silent for about a couple seconds. “now that you mentioned it... wait, what if the person who saw it was one of your gossip-obsessed classmates? what if they spill the beans until it reaches the art club?”

a pang of worry shot through you at tara’s theories, the thought of your private hobby becoming public knowledge leaving a bitter taste on your tongue. “i hadn't thought of that," you admitted worriedly. “i’d really hate for that to happen..."

tara’s tone softened, her concern evident in her voice. “let’s hope that’s not the case- i’d prefer for the mysterious person to be a secret admirer of yours and not the latter. and hey, even if it does get out, your talent deserves to be recognized, y’know?” she reassured you.

feeling a sense of relief wash over you, you thanked tara for her understanding before bidding her goodnight. as you settled back into bed, the warmth of tara’s friendship enveloped you, easing the uncertainty that had plagued your thoughts.

you felt the corners of your lips tilt upwards as you stifled a chuckle. you’ve always been grateful to have tara as your best friend, because her outgoing personality fits just right with your likeliness to remain self-reserved all the time. her loud presence had a perfect contrast to your quiet aura – which made everything between your friendship just go so well.

if you had a dollar for each time people would wonder how you two manage to tolerate each other’s presence, you’d be on a yacht right now – they’d always ask comments such as, “don’t you feel overwhelmed by tara’s enthusiasm?” or if not, they’d go like, “how does tara manage not to get bored by your consistent silence?” yet you two would only brush it off every single time.

you two were glad to have each other in your lives, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

glancing at the small piece of paper on your hand once more, you let out a sigh as you put it back inside your bag, finally feeling exhaustion spread all over your body. you figured there was no longer a need for sketching the night away at this point, so you placed your bag away as you switched your bedside lamp off, wrapping yourself around your blanket as your eyes fluttered shut.

as much as you tried to deny it to yourself, you couldn’t help but feel curious as to who the mysterious person who put the note inside your bag was.

and you had a bad, bad feeling that it’ll turn out to be someone you’ll least expect.

“first of all, you’re really, really stupid. second of all, you’re very stupid. lastly- holy hell, you’re actually so stupid!” thomas’s frustration echoed through the empty classroom as he frantically searched through his bag, his fingers desperately seeking the familiar touch of his phone screen.

rafayel’s incredulous expression mirrored his disbelief. “wha- now it’s on me?!” he retorted, his hands instinctively moving to his chest in a defensive gesture. “i hate to be the bearer of bad news, mr. thomas, but when you indulge in utterly foolish activities, you’ll have to shoulder the consequences afterward. it’s very immature of you to pass it on to other people simply because admitting that you're dumb puts your ego in pain,” rafayel asserted, crossing his arms in a display of dominance.

thomas’s sarcastic tone cut through the air like a knife. “are you done talking now, shakespeare? do you finally have the time to lend me a hand?” he quipped, his eyes practically rolling in their sockets.

“why should i?” rafayel shot back, his patience wearing thin with each passing moment.

“because you were the one who left my bag open before we headed here! if it weren’t for you, my phone wouldn’t have—" thomas’s words were abruptly cut off by rafayel’s hand covering his mouth, muffling his protests.

“yeah, yeah, i’ll go look for it, or whatever. can you shut your mouth now?” rafayel rolled his eyes, wiping his hand on his uniform as he released thomas.

just as thomas was about to retaliate with a snarky remark, rafayel sauntered past him with a smug expression, heading toward the stairs. “that’s what you call payback, thomas," he called over his shoulder, winking as he waved him farewell.

“rafayel, you-!”

rafayel relished the cool morning breeze as it caressed his skin, the tranquil atmosphere of the rooftop offering a brief respite from his hectic schedule. “guess this wasn’t a bad idea after all, huh?” he mused to himself, settling onto the floor and allowing himself a moment of quiet reflection.

closing his eyes, he momentarily forgot his purpose for coming to the rooftop. however, his peaceful reverie was interrupted by a familiar voice calling his name – soft chuckles he had heard every once in a blue moon during class.

“rafayel...?”

opening his eyes, he was taken aback to see you standing before him. “oh- hey,” he greeted casually, attempting to maintain his usual air of confidence. which was strange – being laid-back usually came naturally to him.

yet, in your presence, it felt different, and he couldn’t quite pinpoint why.

“um... what brings you up here?” you asked, your tone curious yet cautious at the same time. rafayel chuckled softly before replying, “well, i could say the same for you. what’s your story?”

you hesitated for a moment, not used to being the center of attention- and neither were you expecting him to pass the question back to you. “well, i usually come up here during free time,” you explained, feeling a bit vulnerable sharing this with someone.

“oh? why’s that?” rafayel inquired, patting the floor beside him, inviting you to join him. you were a little hesitant at first, but rafayel’s easygoing demeanor put you at ease. “it’s nothing special... i just find it peaceful, away from the chaos of the school,” you explained, finally taking a seat beside him.

rafayel nodded, understanding. “i get that. sometimes you just need a quiet place to escape to.” you nodded in agreement to his words. “what about you...?” you asked, shooting the question back to him.

“well, you see,” rafayel launched into the backstory of his rooftop adventure, recounting the events that had transpired earlier. “ thomas and i had a little spat over his missing phone, and things got a tad heated,” rafayel explained, a hint of amusement in his voice. “he’s convinced i had a hand in its disappearance, but i swear i’m completely innocent.” he said in defense, holding his hands up.

“he didn’t seem like he was going to stop putting up a fight anytime sooner, though, so i just went along with his orders and told him i’ll go look for it- and you’re probably wondering what that has got to do with me going up here, but i figured it’d be easier to search for it from above, because, well, maybe he dropped it on the ground or something.” he shrugged.

listening to his animated storytelling, you found yourself drawn in by the humor of the situation. unable to contain it, a stifled laugh escaped your lips at a particularly amusing part of his story.

surprised by the genuine warmth of your laughter, rafayel couldn’t help but smile, his own laughter mingling with yours. realizing the significance of the moment, you quickly composed yourself, returning to your usual calm demeanor as if nothing had happened. “well...”

with the school bells signaling the start of the first period, your conversation with rafayel was cut short. as he stood up, he fixed his uniform, running his hands through his hair. “wanna walk to our class together? it’s not like we go to separate rooms, anyway.”

you were hesitant to accept his offer at first, but you figured there’d be no harm in agreeing anyway. you then found yourselves walking side by side down the hallway, headed to your shared classroom. the atmosphere was laced with a subtle awkwardness, and rafayel, always the entertainer, couldn’t resist breaking the silence.

“so, do you have any exciting plans for today?” he asked, a hint of curiosity in his tone. you glanced at him, “me? well... not really, just the usual routine,” you replied softly, appreciating the effort he made to fill the silence.

he chuckled. “routine, huh? well, maybe today will be different. who knows, maybe we’ll discover a hidden talent or stumble upon a secret club meeting.” rafayel gestured dramatically, creating an imaginary scenario with a playful smirk.

you couldn’t help but smile at his antics, the shared moment of lightheartedness making the walk to class a little more enjoyable.

just as the silence was starting to settle yet again, rafayel came up with yet another topic to discuss. “so, what do you think the chances are of mr. nero bringing up quadratic equations again today?”

you couldn’t help but become amused at his attempt to lighten the mood. “knowing mr. nero... i’d say the chances are pretty high, maybe? but, i don’t know... maybe he’ll surprise us and throw in some trigonometry instead.”

rafayel grinned, pleased with your response. “ah, the joys of high school math. it’s like a rollercoaster ride, isn’t it?” you nodded in agreement, grateful for the distraction from the usual quietness of your interactions with rafayel. as you reached the classroom door, rafayel gestured for you to enter first.

“after you,” he said with a smile. “i’ll catch up in a minute.” confused by his sudden change in routine, you hesitated for a moment before stepping into the classroom. once inside, you found your seat at the back of the room and settled in, glancing over your to the front door to see rafayel entering a few minutes later.

as he entered the classroom, all eyes naturally turned towards him, the usual attention that followed the school’s golden boy. however, what surprised you was the way his gaze briefly connected with yours, despite having everyone’s gaze focused on him. in that fleeting moment, there was a hint of something different in his smile, something that caught you off guard.

confusion clouded your thoughts as you watched him take his seat. was it just a simple gesture, or did it hold a deeper meaning? you couldn’t help but return his smile with a small one of your own, though uncertainty lingered in the air.

mr. nero began the lesson, and you pushed aside the thoughts about what just happened, focusing instead on the task at hand. but the memory of that moment stayed with you, a puzzle waiting to be solved in the back of your mind.

as rafayel settled into his seat, thomas leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. “so, did you find it?” rafayel glanced at thomas with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “find what?” thomas rolled his eyes. “my phone, genius. the one you conveniently lost.”

rafayel feigned innocence, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “oh, that. well, let’s just say it’s still out there, waiting to be discovered.” thomas groaned, shaking his head in disbelief. “you’re impossible, you know that?” rafayel simply shrugged, his attention now focused on the front of the classroom.

meanwhile, thomas seized the opportunity to get his revenge, crumpling a piece of paper and taking aim at rafayel’s head. with a flick of his wrist, he let it fly, but to his dismay, it veered off course, heading straight for mr. nero instead.

as mr. nero’s stern voice filled the classroom, rafayel’s grin faltered, replaced by a mask of feigned innocence as he faced his wrath as the whole class erupted into a fit of laughter.

“rafayel, care to explain why there’s a projectile flying through my classroom?” mr. nero’s tone was sharp, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

rafayel glanced sheepishly at thomas, who was struggling to contain his laughter. “wha- me? sir, i swear it wasn’t-”

“quit beating around the bush! is it really that difficult to act in an orderly manner?” mr. nero crossed his arms, a frustrated expression on his face.

“well, i just- it was an accident, sir. i assure you, i had no intention of disrupting the class.”

thomas couldn’t resist chiming in, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “yeah, right. because accidentally throwing things seems to be a common occurrence for mr. perfect over here.”

the class erupted into laughter once more, and rafayel felt a pang of irritation at thomas’s teasing. he was supposed to be annoyed, but as he glanced towards the back of the room and saw you stifling a laugh, he couldn’t help but soften. maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to take the blame just this once after all.

caught in the moment, rafayel played along with the situation, flashing a glare at thomas before turning back to face mr. nero. “sorry, sir. it won’t happen again.”

thomas leaned back in his seat, a smirk on his face. “nice aim, raf. maybe next time you’ll hit your target.”

“shut up.”

you and tara were supposed to go home together, but her girlfriend, jenna, the student council president, had a date planned for both of them after school, leaving you to head home alone. just as you were heading towards the gate, you noticed a phone lying on the floor. curiosity piqued, you picked it up and unlocked it, revealing a childhood photo of rafayel and thomas as the wallpaper. this must be the missing phone rafayel was referring to.

wondering where they might be, you remembered rafayel’s role as the president of the art club and headed towards the art room. pushing open the door, you found the room empty except for rafayel, his back turned to you as he focused on his painting.

“rafayel?” you called out suddenly, causing him to jump in surprise, accidentally smudging a stroke of red on his canvas.

as soon as he heard your voice, he didn’t need to see you to know it was you. still, he turned to face you, a faint smile gracing his lips.

“what brings you here?” he asked, genuine curiosity coloring his tone. you hesitated for a moment, feeling a bit nervous under his gaze. “um, i found this phone outside, and i thought it might belong to thomas. i was going to return it to him, but i couldn’t find him.”

rafayel nodded, understanding. “i see. well, i owe you my entire life- now i no longer have to worry about him nagging into my ear about his missing phone.”

before you could respond, your eyes fell on the smudged red stroke on rafayel’s painting, and you couldn’t help but point it out, apologizing profusely for potentially ruining his masterpiece.

“oh no- i’m so sorry, rafayel...! i didn’t mean to mess up your painting...” you apologized, feeling genuinely remorseful for your unintentional mistake.

rafayel examined the mark for a moment before dismissing your apology with a casual wave of his hand. “don’t worry about it,” he reassured you. “in fact, i think it adds something to the painting.”

perplexed, you questioned his reasoning, prompting rafayel to introduce you to the red string theory. as he explained the concept, you listened intently, captivated by the depth of his perspective on art.

“so, you see, the red string represents the invisible connections between people,” rafayel elaborated. “it’s said that those connected by the red string are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstances. even though it’s invisible, it binds us all together in unexpected ways.”

his explanation resonated with you, and you nodded in understanding, impressed by the philosophical depth of his interpretation. “that’s why i believe the stroke of red on my canvas adds more meaning to it,” rafayel concluded, his eyes gleaming with passion.

you were awestruck by his insight, realizing that his role as the club president was well-deserved. though you considered yourself an artist, rafayel’s level of understanding elevated your appreciation for the craft.

“actually,” rafayel began, a thoughtful expression crossing his face, “why don’t we add both our names to the painting?” your eyebrows furrowed in surprise. “both our names? but it’s your artwork. i don’t want to impose or take credit for something i didn’t create.”

rafayel chuckled softly, shaking his head. “it’s not about credit, it’s about meaning. your accidental contribution gave this painting a story- a connection. it wouldn’t be the same without it.” you considered his words, realizing the depth of his sentiment. “oh... alright, then.”

with a warm smile, rafayel handed you the marker, gesturing towards the bottom of the canvas. “go ahead, write your name next to mine. together, we’ll leave our mark on this piece.”

grateful for the opportunity to be a part of something meaningful, you carefully inscribed your name alongside his, feeling a sense of pride and camaraderie in the shared moment.

as mr. nero’s voice filled the classroom, announcing the upcoming event proposed by the art club, the room buzzed with excitement.

“attention, students! i’m pleased to announce that the art club has proposed an extraordinary event. it is a school-wide art exhibition centered around the theme of ‘strings of affection: capturing love’s melodies,’” mr. nero declared, his tone brimming with enthusiasm.

“this exhibition aims to delve into the complexities of love and its complex manifestations.” whispers and murmurs erupted among the students, excitement evident in the air.

“during the exhibition, each participating student will have the opportunity to display their artwork in the school gallery,” mr. nero continued, gesturing to a large poster board adorned with colorful flyers. “artworks can include paintings, drawings, sculptures, photography- anything that captures the essence of love.”

sitting at the back of the class, you found yourself lost in thought, your fingers fidgeting anxiously under the table. “the theme encourages exploration of various aspects of love, including romantic love, familial bonds, friendships, and self-love,” mr. nero elaborated, his voice carrying a note of significance. “we encourage each of you to delve deep into your hearts and minds to convey your unique interpretations of love through your artwork.”

the idea of participating in the art exhibition sparked a mix of excitement and apprehension within you. could you summon the courage to explore such a profound theme and share your interpretation of love with the entire school?

glancing around the room, you noticed people exchanging excited whispers with their friends, their eyes alight with anticipation, whereas the others were nodding to each other in silent agreement, perhaps contemplating their own interpretations of love for their submissions.

despite the lively chatter filling the room, you felt a sense of isolation, the weight of your decision resting solely on your shoulders. as mr. nero concluded his announcement and the chatter in the classroom continued, you found yourself lost in thought, pondering the depth of love and whether you were ready to explore it through your art.

as you sat there, wrestling with your decision about whether to join the art exhibition, the note you found in your bag earlier suddenly came to mind. pulling it out, you studied the words written on it, feeling a pang of uncertainty.

lost in your contemplation, you were startled when a paper plane soared through the air, landing neatly on your desk. with curious fingers, you unfolded it, revealing a short message scrawled across the paper.

“gonna join? - R”

your gaze darted around the classroom, searching for the sender, until you locked eyes with rafayel, who was seated at the center front. heat rose to your cheeks as you quickly stuffed the crumpled note back into your pocket, pursing your lips. you redirected your attention to the unfolded paper plane, hoping to conceal your flustered reaction.

for a brief moment, rafayel’s eyes widened in surprise, a flicker of recognition crossing his features. it dawned on him that the note you hastily concealed was the same one he had written and placed in your bag the day he stumbled upon your sketchbook.

as you exchanged a smile with rafayel, a wave of warmth washed over you, mingled with a tinge of uncertainty about the mysterious note and the unexpected connection it represented.

rafayel couldn’t shake the desire to speak with you directly, to bridge the gap between them rather than relying on secretive notes. but with gour classmates constantly surrounding him, initiating a conversation without drawing attention to you was a challenge.

turning to his friend thomas, rafayel leaned in close, whispering urgently, “hey, can you do me a favor? tell her to meet me at the rooftop during breaktime.”

thomas raised an eyebrow, shooting rafayel a curious look. “what am i, your loyal butler or something? why don’t you just talk to her yourself?”

rafayel sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “i don’t want to make it seem like a big deal, you know? plus, it might be less suspicious if it’s coming from you.”

thomas groaned, shaking his head. “you’re hopeless- really hopeless. but since it appears i have no other choice, i’ll pass on the message. just don’t screw it up, yeah?”

as thomas approached you, confusion was etched on your face as you greeted him awkwardly. “oh- hey... what is it?”

he cracked a small grin, noticing your confusion. “hey there. that insufferable purple-haired guy at the front wanted me to let you know to meet him at the rooftop later during break time," he explained while gesturing towards rafayel, his tone friendly.

your eyes widened slightly at the unexpected message, and you stammered out a reply, “huh? oh, uh, okay. thanks for telling me.”

with a casual wave, thomas returned to rafayel, leaving you in contemplative silence. as your gaze lingered on their interaction, rafayel’s eyes remained fixed on you, adding a layer of intrigue to the message delivered through thomas.

perched on the rooftop, you found solace in the quiet surroundings, immersed in the act of sketching. the image of a sleeping cat with a delicate flower petal atop its head unfolded gracefully on the pages of your sketchbook, each stroke carefully crafted.

lost in your artistic reverie, you failed to sense rafayel's stealthy approach from behind. just as he was poised to startle you with a playful “boo,” your world shattered into chaos as you swung around in alarm, inadvertently smacking him in the face with your sketchbook.

the moment hung in the air, frozen in time, as rafayel recoiled in surprise, his hand instinctively rising to cradle his nose. wide-eyed and mortified, you stammered out an apology, “oh my gosh, rafayel! i-i’m so sorry! i didn’t mean to-”

caught off guard, rafayel playfully teased, “well, that's one way to say hello, isn’t it? didn’t know my face doubled as a notebook magnet.”

you blushed, flustered by the unexpected collision, “i really didn’t mean to hit you, rafayel. sorry...!”

his laughter echoed, resonating with an easygoing charm, “no harm done. i’ve endured worse for a good laugh. besides, it’s about time someone hit me with a notebook- adds a bit of excitement to my day.”

rafayel’s curiosity piqued as he pointed to your sketchbook, asking, “what’s that you’re writing?” you hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether to reveal your secret passion, but his playful curiosity was too infectious to resist. “oh, it’s just some sketches,” you replied softly, flipping through the pages to reveal the drawing of the cat you saw earlier.

rafayel leaned in, genuine curiosity evident in his eyes as he examined the drawing. “whoa... you drew this? that’s really good!”

you felt a rush of relief at his positive reaction, showing him the reference photo you took earlier. “yeah, i saw this cat on my way to school this morning and couldn’t resist sketching it."

his grin widened as he glanced between the drawing and the photo, barely even noticing any differences. “you’ve got some serious talent, you know that?”

feeling awkward at the unexpected compliment, you muttered a shy thank you, feeling a sense of warmth spreading in the midst of your quiet rooftop rendezvous.

“makes me wonder... why aren’t you part of the art club?” not expecting rafayel’s sudden question, you chuckled nervously. “well, you know, i’m just really busy with school and stuff.”

rafayel didn’t seem convinced. “is that really the reason?” he inquired softly, his tone genuine and caring. you hesitated, feeling reluctant. “actually, i’m just... i’m a bit self-conscious about my skills. i don’t really want anyone to find out about it.”

rafayel’s expression softened, understanding evident in his eyes. “may i?” he asked, reaching for your sketchbook. nodding silently, you watched as he flipped through every page, his eyes widening in genuine surprise and admiration. he lingered over each artwork, appreciating the detail and emotion captured in your sketches.

as he closed the sketchbook and placed it back on the ground, he uttered words that struck a sense of familiarity within you.

“the world deserves to witness how talented you are, you know?”

your heart skipped a beat at his words, a memory surfacing of the note you had found in your bag after that day you fell asleep in school. it said the exact same thing. before you could inquire further, rafayel stood up and reached out to you. confused yet intrigued, you took his hand, and without hesitation, he led you on a journey through the school, eventually arriving at the art room.

as you stood there, taking in the familiar sights of the art supplies and canvases, rafayel turned to you with a warm smile. “i thought maybe you could use a little encouragement to share your talent with the world,” he explained softly. you blinked in confusion. “what are we doing here?”

rafayel’s smile was gentle as he took your hand, placing a paintbrush in one and a palette in the other. he led you towards the largest canvas in the room. “what am i supposed to do...?” you inquired, tilting your head in puzzlement.

rafayel’s smile widened as he picked up a paintbrush and palette for himself. “do what you do best,” he replied. “huh?”

with a sense of determination, rafayel painted a bold black line down the center of the canvas, separating it into two distinct halves. “every five minutes, we’ll switch and continue each other’s paintings,” he explained, his voice calm yet full of purpose.

you nodded, intrigued by the challenge, and began your half of the canvas with soft, lighthearted portraits and delicate strokes. your colors were gentle and inviting, focusing on capturing the essence and aura of the subjects with a sense of warmth and innocence.

as the minutes passed, you and rafayel seamlessly switched, each adding your own touches to the other’s work. rafayel’s side of the canvas was a masterpiece of emotion and complexity, with mesmerizing details and layers of meaning poured into every stroke.

“you’re quite the artist, you know,” rafayel remarked as he added a flourish to your portrait, his tone praising. you blushed at the compliment, unsure how to respond.

somewhere in the middle of the exchange, rafayel not-so-accidentally brushed a small portion of paint onto your cheek. “oops, my hand slipped-”

and so did yours, it appears, as you left a mark of paint on his nose. you stifled a chuckle as you feigned innocence, “um, sorry,” you murmured, your voice soft yet sarcastic.

rafayel laughed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “congrats- you’ve officially caught me off guard!” he teased, his tone lighthearted.

as the playful exchange continued, each stroke of paint serving as a reminder of your shared connection, you couldn’t help but feel a warmth spreading in your chest. it was as if, in this moment, you were shedding your inhibitions and embracing the joy of simply being yourself around rafayel.

and as the final touches were added and you both stepped back to admire the masterpiece you had created together, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride and accomplishment. little did you know, as you looked at the painting, rafayel was looking at you with admiration in his eyes, captivated by the quiet strength and beauty he saw reflected in you.

"so, about that note...” you began tentatively, but rafayel cut you off with a nonchalant, “yeah, that was me,” accompanied by a shrug and a playful grin.

“you...?” surprise tinged your voice as you glanced at him, and rafayel nodded with a hint of mischief, pointing to himself.

“i mean, seriously though, you’re really talented. if you joined the club, you could totally be running the show instead of me,” rafayel suggested, his tone a blend of sincerity and teasing.

“i can’t tell if you’re trying to flatter me or if you’re trying to recruit a new member for your club...” you replied with a small chuckle, earning a grin from rafayel.

“oh, come on, i’ve already got a bunch of members, most of whom couldn’t care less about art. it’s a bit frustrating, to be honest- it’s like they’re not even there to appreciate the beauty of art in the first place,” rafayel lamented, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation.

“maybe they’re just there for you,” you offered, watching as rafayel nodded in acknowledgment, his expression thoughtful. “it’s not as glamorous as it seems, you know? being popular means you’re always in the spotlight, whether you like it or not. it’s exhausting,” rafayel admitted with a sigh, his frustration evident.

“so, that’s the price of popularity...” you mused, feeling a pang of sympathy for rafayel’s predicament.

“that’s why you caught my eye. you never seemed to crave that attention, and i found that refreshing.” rafayel confessed, his tone softening as he opened up to you. “i wanted to get to know someone who saw me for me, not just as who i’m made out to be.”

“huh?” you murmured, feeling a mix of confusion and curiosity at his words.

“i’ve always admired how you kept to yourself, not letting the whole popularity thing affect you. it made me want to know more about you,” rafayel explained, his gaze holding a hint of something deeper that intrigued you.

“so... what do you mean?” you asked, your curiosity piqued by rafayel’s candid confession. he sighed, running a hand through his hair as he considered his words. “y’know, it’s just... these days, it feels like everyone is so caught up in their social status, popularity, reputation, you name it. and despite never wanting to be, i’ve been pushed into the center of all that because of the way people are way too interested in my life,” he explained, his voice tinged with frustration.

“people like you, who are genuine and don’t use others as stepping stones to become popular, are rare.” rafayel continued, his gaze meeting yours with sincerity. “your presence feels like a breath of fresh air in a world where everyone is so focused on climbing the social ladder.”

oh. “i never expected someone to see me that way...” you admitted, your eyes meeting rafayel’s with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. his expression softened as he listened, his gaze filled with understanding. “i guess we both had our assumptions about each other,” he mused.

you nodded in agreement, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “the reason why i least expected you to be the one who put that note in my bag was because i always felt like we orbited in separate galaxies," you admitted, and rafayel listened carefully.

“it was as if you stood under the sun, whereas i found solace in the dark. i’ve always admired the way you easily socialized and blended in with the crowd, wishing it was something i could do, too.”

rafayel’s eyes widened slightly in surprise at your words, and you felt a rush of nerves at having laid bare your innermost thoughts to him. but as you saw the understanding and empathy in his gaze, you knew you had made the right decision in sharing your feelings with him.

“but now, knowing your perspective regarding your popularity, i feel like my perspective has just changed as a whole,” you added, your voice soft but earnest.

“maybe we’re not as different as we thought, huh?” he said, an amused expression on his face as he suddenly took your hand and held it within his gentle grasp.

“huh...? i...” to say you were at a loss for words and had no idea what to feel over the sudden gesture would be a huge understatement. it didn’t help that holding your hand seemed to be something casual to rafayel, either. “i guess...” you trailed off, looking down on the ground to avoid his gaze.

the familiar ringing of the school bells echoed across the walls of the empty art room yet again, cutting your conversation short – like it always did. yet this time, you were grateful for it. had it not interrupted both of you, you’d be a stammering mess by now.

rafayel let go of your hand, putting one of his hands in his pocket. “i’ll see your name somewhere at the art exhibit, then?” he tilted his head, sending you a wink before heading out, leaving you all by yourself as you looked at the large canvas in front of you once more.

perhaps grabbing an opportunity standing right in front of you wouldn’t be so bad, just this once.

—

it had been three nights. three nights of you frustratingly ripping pages off of your sketchbook simply because your ideas kept clashing with each other everytime you laid it out on the pieces of paper sprawled out in front of you. your artworks were merely a product of your own will – none of which were required for a specific occasion, at least not until now.

love.

how were you supposed to convey the meaning of a feeling you weren’t sure you have ever felt in your entire life? not even the romance books stacked up in your shelves could make up for an inspiration. within each tick of the clock, the day of the art exhibit kept inching closer, making you dread every passing second.

letting out a frustrated sigh as you laid your head down on your study table, you were no longer sure if you still wanted to participate in the event anymore. maybe you should’ve just shut down rafayel’s expectations of you partaking in the art exhibit while it was still early – hold on.

that was it. that was exactly it. if you needed to seek guidance from someone whose field of expertise is art, there was no longer a necessity for searching all over your surroundings – the answer was already right in front of you.

you weren’t sure when his contact number got on your phone, but you were grateful for it nonetheless – maybe he added it during your collaboration in the art room while your attention was focused on something else. dialing the number, you waited patiently for him to pick up as you bit the inside of your cheek.

“what up, buttercup?”

the unexpected lowering of the pitch of his voice, void of its usual sarcasm and sass, caught you off guard. it carried a hint of raspiness, a sign he might have been roused from sleep. and suddenly, regaining composure became a priority for you.

“oh- did i interrupt your sleep? i’m sorry, i’ll-” he was quick to cut you off from the other line, immediately brushing off your concern. “nah, don’t worry about it. what’s gotten you all up late in the night, though?” he asked curiously.

“um, well, you see,” you stammered, struggling to articulate your frustration. “regarding the art exhibit event you and your club launched... i just can’t seem to find the right way to express... love,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

rafayel’s curiosity piqued. “why’s that?” he inquired gently, sensing the weight behind your words. “i don’t know,” you admitted, feeling a pang of embarrassment. “it’s just... how do you convey a feeling you’ve never experienced?”

there was a brief silence on the other end of the line before rafayel spoke again, his voice softer than before. “you mean... you’ve never fallen in love before?” he asked, a hint of surprise evident in his tone.

reluctantly, you confirmed his assumption with a quiet nod, even though he couldn’t see you. rafayel let out a soft sigh, the sound conveying both understanding and reassurance.

truth be told, that was the last thing he had expected to hear from you – but then again, the world’s always full of surprises, isn’t it?

“hey, no shame in that, yeah? we’ll find a way for you,” he said gently. “meet me tomorrow morning at linkon tower?”

your heart fluttered at the prospect of his help, and you agreed eagerly, grateful for his support. “okay,” you replied, a sense of relief washing over you. “thank you, rafayel...”

“anything for you.”

—

as you stood waiting in front of linkon tower, the morning breeze tousling your hair, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of nerves in your stomach. the anticipation of meeting rafayel was both exhilarating and nerve-wracking, and you found yourself fidgeting with the strap of your bag as you scanned the area.

suddenly, you spotted rafayel running towards you,an apologetic expression on his face and two cups of coffee in his hands. “fashionably late, as always,” he quipped, his tone light as he caught his breath.

you couldn’t help but smile at his teasing remark, a mixture of relief and amusement washing over you. “i was starting to think you’d gotten lost in the crowd...”

rafayel chuckled, a twinkle in his eyes as he approached you. “nah, just had to battle my way through the caffeine-deprived masses,” he replied, holding out one of the cups of coffee to you. “one caramel latte, just how you like it- hopefully.”

you accepted the coffee with a grateful smile, feeling a warmth spreading through you at his thoughtfulness. “oh- for me? thank you...!” you said softly, taking a sip of the steaming beverage.

he flashed you a charming grin, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. “no need to thank me at all. like i said last night- anything for you, right?”

blushing at his words, you couldn’t help but feel a need to change the topic. “so... what's the plan for today?” you asked, eager to find out what creative ideas Rafayel had in mind.

he shrugged casually, taking a sip of his own coffee. “well, i thought we could take a stroll around the park, soak in some inspiration from nature,” he suggested, his tone relaxed. “unless you have any other brilliant ideas up your sleeve?”

you shook your head with a shy smile, feeling grateful for the way he took the lead. “no, that sounds perfect,” you replied, falling into step beside him as you set off towards the nearby park. as you walked, the gentle chatter between you and rafayel filled the air, the warmth of the morning sun casting a golden glow over your skin.

while taking your time to admire your surroundings, your eyes then caught sight of a cat sitting on a bench. gasping in awe, you couldn’t help but to tug on the sleeve of his cardigan, immediately pointing to it- and the next thing you knew was he was practically holding onto you for dear life, looking at the creature with a horrified expression on his face.

you stifled a chuckle, not expecting the sudden action from rafayel out of all people. “rafayel, are you, perhaps... scared of cats?” you tilted your head, waiting for an answer. “scared? hah, please, like i’d ever- get it away from me!”

you held up the cat in front of him, laughing as you watched him hurriedly take a few steps back. he was about to completely turn his back to you in fear of getting scratched by the feline’s claws, but it wasn’t until he came to realization that this was the first time he has ever heard you laugh – all he’s ever heard from you were short giggles and stifled chuckles.

he admired you in awe without even realization dawning upon him that he was, staring at you as you kept inching the cat closer to him. “you do know it’s more afraid of us than we are of it, right?”

your voice pulled him out of the bottom of his thoughts, making him flinch slightly as he tried to play off the fact he just called you beautiful in his head.

he feigned offense, placing a hand over his heart in mock indignation. “oh, please, don’t underestimate the cunning behavior of these creatures,” he replied with a smirk. “they may look innocent, but behind those whiskers lie a mastermind plotting world domination.”

you couldn’t help but find his dramatic antis childish, yet couldn’t suppress your laughter. “alright, fine, i’ll handle this dangerous mission myself," you joked, putting the cat back down on the ground.

as you practically dragged Rafayel towards the ice cream parlor, his laughter echoed through the air. “woah, slow down! i didn’t know it was possible to love ice cream this much.” he remarked, amusement all over his eyes.

you flashed him a bright smile in return. “don’t we all?” you replied, unable to contain your excitement as you joined the line behind a group of eager kids. while waiting for your turn, the sweet aroma of freshly made ice cream filled the air, making your mouth almost water in anticipation. rafayel observed your enthusiasm with a fond smile, clearly amused by your excitement.

finally, it was your turn to order, and you wasted no time selecting a combination of three of your favorite flavors. as the server handed you your towering cone, you struggled to balance it in your hands, wanting not to let a single scoop go to waste.

rafayel chuckled at your efforts. “looks like you’ve got your hands full there,” he teased, buying the same flavors you had chosen. “i’ll have the same, just in case yours decides to take a tumble.”

—

while you and rafayel were strolling along, you stumbled upon an old vendor selling flowers. the vendor greeted both of you warmly, a twinkle of nostalgia in his eyes. “one for your lovely lady, sir?” he asked, gesturing towards you with a knowing smile. yet before you could interject and clarify that you weren't a couple, rafayel was quick to respond, his voice charming. “i’ll have a bouquet, if you may,” he said with a playful wink, catching you off guard.

“huh? rafayel, you-” his actions caught you by surprise, making you stumble over your words. yet even if you wanted to clarify your relationship with rafayel to the old man, you found yourself not doing so, having a feeling that no matter how you tried to deny it, rafayel would eventually find a way to brush your reasonings off. and you weren’t even sure why he’d do such a thing- you just knew he would.

as the vendor handed rafayel a beautiful bouquet, he offered a nostalgic reflection. “ah young love. you two remind me of me and my wife during the days we were still young... I hope the best for both of you,” he said with heartfelt sincerity.

rafayel played along effortlessly, nodding in agreement. “i hope so too, sir.” he replied with a grin, accepting the bouquet with a flourish.

as you both walked away from the vendor, you couldn't help but be confused at the unexpected exchange. before you could question rafayel about his actions, he leaned into the playful act even further, bowing theatrically in front of you.

“for you, my lady.” he said with mock formality, offering you the bouquet with a mischievous hint in his eyes. you couldn’t suppress a laugh as you accepted the flowers. “well... while, thank you, kind sir,” you tried to reply with equal playfulness, making rafayel laugh in response.

—

inside the arcade, the bright lights and buzzing sounds of the games immediately filled the air, igniting a sense of excitement within you both. making your way to the claw machine, rafayel insisted on taking the first turn, his determination evident in the way he eagerly inserted coins and maneuvered the claw.

you watched with amusement while he focused intently on the task at hand, heavily concentrated as he attempted to win you a plushie. but despite his persistence, the claw came up empty-handed each time, much to his dismay.

as the claw machine swallowed another round of coins, rafayel’s competitive spirit seemed undeterred. “alright, watch closely,” he declared while positioning the claw with precision. you couldn't help but admire his persistence, even as the plushie continued to escape his grasp. “you’ve got this,” you encouraged him, unable to contain a smile at his unwavering focus.

but as the claw went down for yet another attempt, rafayel’s expression shifted from confidence to disbelief as it once again came up empty. “what?! how did i miss that?!” he exclaimed, his frustration evident as he shook his head in disbelief.

with each failed attempt, rafayel’s facade of confidence began to crack, replaced by exaggerated frustration and protests. “this machine is rigged, i’m telling you!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “it’s like it’s got a personal vendetta against me or something.”

you couldn’t help but giggle at his theatrics. “um, maybe you should let me have a go at it?” you suggested, feeling a rush of nervousness as rafayel turned to look at you. he raised an eyebrow challengingly, a playful glint in his eyes. “oh, you think you can do any better, huh?” he teased, already stepping aside to let you take your turn.

with a small smile, you approached the machine, trying to ignore the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. as you focused on the task at hand, you couldn't help but feel rafayel’s eyes on you, his presence both comforting and slightly unnerving at the same time. you maneuvered the claw into position, holding your breath as you watched it go down towards the plushie of your choice. and then, with a satisfying clink, the claw closed around the prize, lifting it triumphantly into the air.

you couldn’t contain your joy as you retrieved the plushie from the machine, holding it up for rafayel to see with a huge smile. “i did it!” you celebrated enthusiastically, feeling a warm flush spreading across your cheeks as rafayel grinned at you, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

“incredible!” rafayel exclaimed, his tone filled with mock astonishment. “i’ve officially been defeated by the claw machine champion.”

—

as the afternoon came to an end, while the sun painted the city in hues of gold, rafayel casually inquired, “so, where do you live?” your head tilted in puzzlement, not quite catching what he meant until he clarified, “i’m gonna walk you home.”

you felt your heart flutter, your cheeks warming at the unexpected offer. “oh, um, it’s not far from here...” you responded, a smile tugging at your lips. rafayel’s grin widened, his gaze softening as he gestured for you to lead the way. “lead the way then, my dear companion,” he teased, falling into step beside you as you started walking.

as you walked through the familiar streets, a comfortable silence enveloped you both. yet, it was rafayel who broke it, his voice carrying a playful lilt. “sooo, did you enjoy our little date today?” he asked, his tone light yet filled with genuine curiosity.

a small chuckle escaped your lips as you nodded, feeling a warmth spreading through you. “of course i did. thank you for spending the day with me, rafayel...” you replied, stealing a glance at him.

it seems as if the fact he called it a date completely went over your head – and could anyone blame you if you were just happy enough to spend the day with him that you no longer cared whether it was a friendly date or something else?

rafayel’s smile softened, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than usual. “anytime.” he said, his voice filled with sincerity. “we should definitely do this again sometime.”

you felt a flutter in your chest at his words, your heart skipping a beat as you nodded in agreement. “yeah... i’d like that.” you agreed softly, a shy smile creeping up your lips. the walk continued, each step bringing you closer to your destination.

—

you two stood in front of your apartment building, and as you bid farewell to each other, you waved at him with a close-eyed smile.

rafayel swore his heart had never raced faster than it did now.

just as you were about to walk away, he held you back by your wrist, halting your movements. “wait.” you took a step back. “rafayel...?” you tilted your head in confusion as you turned to face him. his hand was still holding onto your wrist, and as he stood there, holding your wrist gently, an unreadable emotion in his eyes. He cleared his throat, “i was going to wait until the art exhibit event was over to say this to you, but... screw that. i don’t think i can wait any longer.”

“what do you mean...?” you asked, not quite getting what he was implying.

“well,” he began, his voice no longer laced with his trademark sarcasm. “i’ve got a confession to make.” He paused, taking a deep breath as he gathered his thoughts, his gaze never leaving you. “from the moment i first saw you sleeping at the very back of the classroom while everyone was busy talking in separate groups, something inside me shifted. it was as if the universe intended to bring us together, to intertwine our lives in a way that i couldn't comprehend at the time.”

your heart skipped a beat at his words, curiosity mingling with anticipation as you waited for him to continue. “you see,“ rafayel went on, his tone softening ever so slightly. “i never knew why i felt so drawn to you that day even though i didn’t even know anything about you- there was just something about you that made stare at you a little longer than i was supposed to.” he paused, a smile playing at the corners of his lips as he recalled the countless times he had looked behind to see whether you were gazing out the window, writing down notes, or sleeping.

“you know, i’ve spent all this time trying to figure out why you just seemed to be so different from everyone else in my eyes. and maybe you’re wondering why- but that’s the thing. neither do i know.” you listened, captivated by the sincerity in his words, the layers of his personality laying bare before you.

“and then it hit me.”

rafayel continued, a warmth spreading through his chest as he spoke. “i’ve watched you, admired you, in ways that i can’t quite put into words- way before i even saw your sketchbook lying down on the ground.” rafayel confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “getting to know you even further with each passing day from then on was the nail in the coffin, you know? as i got to know you better through time, i just- the next thing i knew was i wanted to have more excuses to spend time with you.” he ran his hands through his hair, a soft expression on his face as you listened with surprise.

“your kindness, your warmth, your quiet strength, the way you’re always trying to view every circumstance you come across in a positive light, the way you’re... you. they’ve captivated me in ways i never thought possible.” you listened, your heart racing with his words, the air heavy with the weight of the unspoken. he took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving you.

“i don’t even know when, how, and why i started feeling this way. all i knew the moment i first heard you chuckle quietly at the back of the class that one time thomas and i were arguing over which of our answers to the equation mr. nero wrote on the board- neither were correct, by the way- was that if it ever became louder, i wanted to be the reason behind it.”

“you’re making it so hard for me not to fall for you, and as i stand in front of you now, i’m proudly declaring that i’ll be admitting my defeat.”

as rafayel’s words hung in the air, you stood there in disbelief, finding it hard to make his words sink in. and then it all came crashing down on you. the overwhelming surge of happiness you felt when you were adding your own touches on his artwork that one day at the art room wasn’t just a feeling of being glad you were finally able to express your talent in a way that isn’t scribbling on your sketchbook – it was because the feeling of being comfortable with letting your guard down around someone who wasn’t tara was an unfamiliar yet great experience for you.

the reason why you always found yourself staring at him in class wasn’t because you were curious as to how popular people like him lived their lives; you weren’t curious about his lifestyle, but rather... you were curious about him as a person.

“rafayel,” you whispered, your voice barely audible above the rustle of the leaves. “i... i never knew... i never dared to hope...” but before you could finish, rafayel reached out, cupping your face in his hands, his touch gentle yet electrifying. “you don’t have to. just... let yourself loose, yeah?” rafayel’s gaze softens, his hand still gently holding yours as he waits patiently for you to gather your thoughts.

“it’s just... it’s a lot to take in.” you finally manage, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment as you admit your struggle to process his heartfelt confession. “but...” you pause, biting your lip nervously as you try to find the courage to voice the thoughts racing through your mind.

“but what?” rafayel prompts gently, his eyes filled with warmth and understanding. “it’s just... everything makes sense now,” you confess, your words tumbling out in a rush as you finally allow yourself to let out the thoughts you had buried deep inside.

“that day in the art room, when we were working on that huge canvas, i thought i was just happy to be able to express myself through art... but now i realize it was more than that. it was the feeling of being comfortable with someone other than tara, of letting my guard down and just... being myself without having to afraid of being judged.”

rafayel listened intently, his expression softening with each word you speak. “and in class, when i would find myself staring at you... i always thought it was just curiosity about how someone like you lived their life. but now i see it was something more. i was curious about you as a person, and whatever you were hiding beneath your usual personality, i just... i wanted to know all about it.”

“i don’t know when, how, or why it all started either, but... all i know right now is that... i want to be with you, rafayel.”

a blush crept across your cheeks as you finished speaking, your gaze dropping to the ground as you awaited rafayel’s response. but before you can look up, you feel his hand gently lifting your chin, his eyes meeting yours with a warmth that sent shivers down your spine. “you know...” he said softly, his voice filled with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. “i’m glad you feel that way. because... well, because I've been feeling the same way about you for a long time now- if that wasn’t obvious already.”

as the weight of your shared confessions hangs in the air, there’s a palpable tension between you and rafayel. slowly, almost hesitantly, he leans in closer, his breath mingling with yours as his lips hover just inches from yours.

your heart races in your chest, a nervous feeling fluttering spreading through your stomach as you anticipate what’s about to happen. and then, in a moment that feels both infinitely long and short at the same time, his lips finally meet yours.

it’s soft at first, a gentle brush of his lips against yours, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins. but then, as the realization sinks in that this is your very first kiss, the sensation intensifies. his lips mold perfectly against yours, fitting together like two puzzle pieces finally finding their match. there’s a warmth that spreads from the point of contact, igniting a fire deep within you that you never knew existed.

as the kiss deepens, you find yourself melting into him, losing yourself in the sensation of his lips moving against yours. his hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer until there’s barely any space left between you. time seems to stand still as you lose yourself in the moment, the world around you fading away until there’s nothing left but the two of you and the overwhelming rush of emotion coursing through your veins.

and then, as the kiss came to an end, you’re left breathless, your heart pounding in your chest as you finally pull away, your lips tingling with the memory of his touch.

“rafayel, i...” you mumble, cheeks ablaze with a crimson hue that refused to fade. he chuckled warmly, his hand ruffling your hair affectionately. “you’re too cute when you’re flustered, you know that?”

your response came out as a nervous stutter, your words stumbling over each other as you try to process the rush of emotions flooding through you. he gently pinches your cheeks, eliciting a short laugh from you. “hey now, none of that,” he playfully scolds, a playful sparkle swirling in his eyes. “unless you want me to die or something.”

you blush even deeper at his teasing, unable to find a clever retort. instead, you offer a sheepish smile, your heart fluttering at his words. as you bid farewell once more, the memory of his kiss still lingering on your lips, you turn to head inside the apartment building. but before you do, you steal one last glance back at rafayel, waving at him with a shy smile.

he returns the gesture, a soft smile gracing his features as he watches you disappear inside, leaving you with a fluttering heart and a head full of thoughts of him.

—

you lay on your bed, cheeks still flushed with the warmth of the kiss and your heart pounding with excitement. unable to contain your bubbling emotions, you bury your face in your pillow and let out a muffled squeal, the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

just as you start to calm yourself down, your phone’s notification jingle breaks the silence, causing your heart to skip a beat. with trembling hands, you grab your phone and glance at the lockscreen, where a message from Rafayel awaits.

“looking forward to seeing ur art exhibit project ;)”

your cheeks flushed even deeper at his message, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. you quickly unlock your phone and type a reply, fingers flying over the screen as you try to contain your excitement.

“i guess you weren't lying when you said i’d head home with a newfound inspiration... ～⁠(⁠つ⁠ˆ⁠Д⁠ˆ⁠)⁠つ⁠｡⁠☆”

on the other side of the screen, rafayel chuckled softly at your message, finding the kaomoji you sent along with it absolutely adorable. with a smile, he typed out his reply, reminiscing about the intimate moment you shared earlier before parting ways.

“see? that’s why it’s always the best choice to trust me in every possible situation.”

he replied, his message feigning smugness. you couldn’t help but giggle at his response, feeling a warm flutter in your chest at his playful demeanor.

“as much as i want to talk to you for longer, i still have to get my art exhibit project finished (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)”

rafayel’s lips curled into a small smile as he read your message.

“why not go to sleep now? we can always talk more tomorrow, yeah?”

and despite the simplicity of his suggestion, you couldn’t resist the urge to internally scream with excitement.

—

while they strolled through the venue, thomas couldn’t resist teasing rafayel about his frequent glances towards the entrance. with an amused smirk, he nudged rafayel, arching an eyebrow in curiosity.

“looking for someone, raf?” rafayel’s response was casual, though his eyes betrayed a hint of anticipation. “just curious if she’s made it here yet.” thomas followed rafayel’s line of sight, scanning the bustling crowd. “haven’t seen her around yet,” he responded. rafayel continued to scan the room, his gaze lingering on each passing figure in search of a familiar face.

meanwhile, as you hurried into the venue, tara spotted you and dashed over, enveloping you in a tight hug. “hey, where have you been? you’re late!” you chuckled sheepishly, “i may or may not have overslept...” tara only pinched your cheek, seemingly unsurprised by your response.

“also- there’s that one painting over there that everyone’s been admiring for a while now, and the art style seemed very familiar to me... that one’s yours, right? please say it is!” tara’s eyes sparkled with excitement. with a shy smile, you nodded. “yeah, i finally decided to share my work...” tara squealed in delight, squeezing you even tighter as she practically squealed in your ear how proud she was of you.

as she guided you through the crowd to your painting, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of nerves. but when your eyes met rafayel’s across the room, a wave of warmth washed over you, calming your nerves. tara caught your eye contact with rafayel, turning to you with a puzzled expression. “do you two know each other?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

you nodded shyly, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. tara’s expression shifted from confusion to surprise in an instant. “wait, don’t tell me... he’s the anonymous person behind that note you found in your bag, isn’t he?” she exclaimed, her eyes widening in realization.

with a knowing smile, you simply nodded, causing tara to gasp in disbelief. “oh my gosh! no way! are you sure you’re not living in a shoujo manga?” she teased, her excitement evident in her voice. but underneath her teasing, you could sense her genuine happiness for you.

meanwhile, thomas noticed rafayel’s gaze fixed on you and couldn’t resist nudging him with a smirk. “there’s your girl, go get her.” he teased, earning an eye-roll from rafayel.

as they both approached you and tara, the lingering memory of yesterday’s kiss remained fresh in your minds – and it was painfully obvious with the way you two were stumbling over your own words. thomas couldn’t contain his laughter. “look at rafayel all flustered...” he chuckled, thoroughly amused by his friend’s uncharacteristic behavior.

tara, on the other hand, was practically squealing with delight at the romantic encounter unfolding before her eyes. “they’re so cute together...!” she whispered to herself, barely able to contain her excitement.

sensing the need for some privacy, thomas grabbed rafayel’s attention, patting his shoulder. “i’ll go ahead and check the other artworks.” tara quickly followed suit, declaring her sudden need to visit the bathroom, leaving you and rafayel alone in front of your painting.

as the curious gazes of the surrounding students lingered on the two of you, rafayel turned to you with genuine interest. “so, are those lovers in each petal supposed to represent us?” he asked, his tone filled with curiosity as he pointed to a petal that had a painting of two people eating ice cream.

you nodded, feeling a rush of warmth at his question. “yeah... i painted each scene with us in mind.” you admitted, feeling a bit shy but also strangely exhilarated by his interest. rafayel’s eyes shone with appreciation as he examined the beautiful details of your artwork. “wow, you’re really...” he murmured, his voice filled with genuine admiration as he seemed to be out of words. “you have such an amazing talent, you know that?”

you couldn’t help but smile at his heartfelt comment, feeling a surge of confidence in your abilities. “you think so...?”

“know so.”

“i swear, one day my lighthearted jokes about you being the next president of the art club will come true to life. i wouldn’t even be surprised, you know?” he teased, flashing you a charming grin that made your heart skip a beat.

as you and rafayel left your painting behind to explore the other artworks, the eyes of the gathered students followed your every move. some watched in surprise, their eyebrows raised in curiosity as you were engaged in a conversation with rafayel. others couldn’t contain their excitement, their voices tinted with squeals of delight as they observed the unlikely dynamic between the two of you.

“oh my gosh, look at them! they’re so adorable together...” one girl whispered to her friend, nudging her with an elbow as she pointed discreetly at the two of you. “i know, right? who would’ve thought they’d make such a cute couple?” her friend replied, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“did you see the way he looked at her? it’s like she’s the only one in the room!” one of them remarked, her heart fluttering at the sight. “and she’s glowing! i’ve never seen someone look so beautiful before.” another girl added, a sense of joy evident in her tone as she observed your interaction with rafayel.

nearby, a group of boys exchanged knowing glances, their expressions filled with admiration for rafayel’s ability to break through your shell. “man, rafayel’s really got it going on with her.” one of them remarked, a hint of admiration in his voice as he watched you two interact.

“yeah, but look at her, she’s holding her own too. rafayel’s really lucky, isn’t he?” another boy added, nodding approvingly as he watched you converse with rafayel. "have you ever seen anyone as radiant as her?” one of them whispered, captivated by your presence.

“she’s like a living artwork herself.” another remarked, admiring the way you seemed to bring color and life to the atmosphere surrounding both you and rafayel.

“i heard she’s the one behind that stunning painting. makes sense, she’s got such a creative aura about her, doesn’t she?” a third boy commented, impressed by your artistic talents and the way you expressed yourself through your work.

as the crowd’s whispers of admiration reached your ears, rafayel couldn’t help but grin, turning to you with a proud gleam in his eyes. “you hear that?” he said softly, his voice filled with genuine admiration. “told you the world deserves to witness how talented you are.”

you felt a warm flush of gratitude spread through you at his words, grateful for his unwavering support. with a shy smile, you nodded, feeling a newfound sense of confidence blooming within you. “thank you, rafayel- for everything, really.” you whispered, feeling a surge of appreciation for the boy who had helped you break out of your shell and embrace your true potential.

and you’ll forever be grateful for having him in your life.

♡ , cupidswan.

#love : aerith 💌#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #rafayel love and deepspace #rafayel x reader #rafayel #l&ds rafayel #rafayel fluff #lnd x reader #lnds #l&ds x reader #l&ds

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fatuismooches · 10 months

Text

natalis numerus ???

synopsis: Year after year, your birthday comes around without fail. Dottore celebrates with you, as best as a man like him can anyway. (His clones too, of course.)

includes: dottore w/ gn! reader

notes: This is really just a pure fluff fic. Both Reader and Dottore are unhinged as usual. Dottore also creates headphones for you. There is a lot of kissing at the end. Thank you to 🎐 anon for inspiring some of the ideas in this fic <3.

It was your birthday today.

To be more exact, it was your- actually, your exact age would give anyone a start since your youthful appearance was a stark contrast, so it was best to keep it a secret.

After living for hundreds of years, one would probably get tired of celebrating birthdays. You could understand this sentiment of course. Sometimes, at the end of it all, when your special day was coming to a close, you wondered if the next birthday would be any different. If perhaps your life and health would be any different. If you’d be able to run around and spend your birthday a bit differently. You never asked for anything for your birthday (besides kisses from Dottore) but inside, your only wish was to be cured of illness.

Though you preferred to focus on the happy aspect of your birthday. Hell, not many could claim to live as long as you had, much less had as many sweet birthdays as you had. You were pampered to the best possible extent that a group of insane madmen could achieve, meaning you never failed to receive a ‘Happy birthday, [Name]’ from every single clone that resided in Dottore’s lab. You were presented with your favorite foods throughout the day that you’d been longing to try, to which the clones were eager to hear your feedback (your answer decides whether the current cook keeps their life or not.) Not to mention there was usually no screaming throughout the lab on this particular day. How thoughtful of them!

You even had the pleasure of receiving a present from your dear husband. Though gift-giving was far from Dottore’s expertise, he always seemed to come up with something. Knick-knacks, trinkets, novelties, rarities, curios… sometimes they were brought, but many times they were handmade by the Harbinger himself. A multicolored, six-sided cube. A strange rectangular device that allowed you to communicate with him from a certain distance (still in the wonky prototype stage). A workbook with a compilation of brain teasers (many morally questionable) that he created over the last year. You’re not sure if Pantalone has realized that the extra materials he brought were for you rather than his research.

Mortals may view how you spent your birthday as simple. Though you liked to keep your birthdays simple now. Simply receiving good wishes and lovestruck looks from the clones was enough for you. More importantly, spending time with your beloved Zandik always proved to be the highlight of your birthday. Not many immortals could claim to have the person who was at their side from the very beginning still with them. But you could, which made you happy.

Dottore himself had long stopped caring about the day of his own birth, he never cared about it even when you two were students at the Akademiya. But it was still a special day for you, it was the day your lover came into this world. Your life would be rather drab without him. So naturally you had a tradition of (lovingly) attacking Zandik at 12 AM sharp (he was always awake anyway) and forcibly dragging him to bed, under the premise that one should not be sleep deprived on their birthday. You made sure to serve him his favorite food, gift him anything he seemed interested in (you learned how to buy illegal items just for him secretly), and be at his beck and call. He never cared about his birthdays, but you liked to think you made them slightly more valuable for him. Naturally, he never cared about the birthdays of other people either. That was until you forced yourself into his life, and he supposed one as useful as yourself was worthy of slight appreciation.

But that was when you two were at the Akademiya. It was different now. Very different. You could no longer do the things you were able to. Your illness had… actually, today should be a happy day. You shouldn’t dwell on sad things. Hopefully, your aches and pains would leave you if only for a mere twenty-four hours.

As you stared at the ceiling, slowly shaking off the sleepy daze you were in, you wondered which clone would be the first to wish you. It had become somewhat of a tradition for the clones to decide amongst themselves who had the privilege of seeing you first and uttering the two important words. It would happen every year, and once a segment won they would be removed from the process until every single segment could see you first, and then it would start all over again. It was kind of funny.

You remember the first time you found out that they actually fought over who got to assist and greet you first on your birthday. To resolve these conflicts, they would enter competitions between each other - who could dissect the most amount of bodies, or dispose of the most corpses in a timely manner… You know, usual Dottore-centric stuff. Which, you didn’t really care, but after you saw how they were quite literally working nonstop, you decided to suggest a more relaxed option - duking it out in a game of TCG instead. It proved to be useful as long as you ignore the few times Prime scolded them for getting too heated.

At the end of your reminiscence, you sat up and rubbed your eyes. As you freed yourself from the soft blankets wrapping your body and swung your legs to the edge of the bed, you tried to remember which clones were candidates for this year.

Knock-knock.

Ah, looks like he was right on time.

“[Name], are you awake?” The voice from beyond the door was higher pitched than the usual deep tone you were accustomed to. You smiled as you instantly knew who it was.

“Yes, I- oh!” You couldn’t even finish your sentence before the door slammed open and a little boy shot straight into your chest, catching you off guard. It turns out that the child segment of Dottore was the first one to greet you on your special day. His tiny hands grabbed your own and he smiled an adorable toothed smile.

“Happy birthday, [Name]!”

“Why, thank you little one! That’s very sweet of you,” You hoisted the little clone to sit in your lap and he gave you a hug, which you reciprocated and giggled at his childishness. He was such a cutie.

“So many of your birthdays have gone by! How old are you now, [Name]?” He tilted his head curiously and you laughed at his question. Indeed, so many centuries of birthdays had flown by in the blink of an eye.

“Well-” Before you could respond, another voice entered the conversation.

“It’s inappropriate to ask [Name] that, little brat,” an adult segment of Dottore now stood at the doorway, rolling his eyes at the young clone, to which the child pouted and stared daggers at the other man.

“That’s not true,” the youth in your arms clung to you more, “They enjoy it when I’m inquisitive,” the boy said, repeating your words from long ago.

“Yes, yes, that’s nice, now get off of them so they can get started with their day,” the clone replied but the child stuck out his tongue defiantly and tightened his hug.

“No, I won’t.” You could see that the noncompliant response was about to send the other segment into a fit so you quickly intervened.

“Say, why don’t you go and try to guess how old I am? If you’re right, I’ll read your favorite story to you again,” you beamed at the young boy on your lap, playfully booping his nose. Regardless of whether the kid was right or not, you were going to read him the story anyway. He was always the most attentive and engaged listener.

“Hmm…” The boy was sad to leave you, as you were the only adult he liked being around. But he understood, and the idea of you reading to him again was appealing. “Alright, I will. I promise to get it right!” With that he bounded off your lap and dashed out of the room, not before sending another dirty look at the older clone, who tried not to react, instead focusing on you.

“How do you feel today?” The segment inquired, needing to note down every possible change in your condition. He offered you his hand for support which you took, pulling you to your feet. “Any pains? Changes?”

“No, not really. In fact, I think I feel better today than usual. Or maybe I’m imagining it,” you hummed in response. Maybe it was the birthday happiness clouding your mind.

“Understood.” He recorded your statement in his head. “Happy birthday, by the way,” the segment mentioned nonchalantly. This segment was from when Dottore was horrible at expressing any positive emotions or words to you, and if he somehow managed to, it sounded very bland. But you found it hilarious, poking his cheek to which he then sent you a half-hearted glare of annoyance and flustered embarrassment.

“Thank you. I’m proud of you for getting that out of your system,” you teased, to which the clone scoffed at your antics, but couldn’t be mad at you for them.

“Whatever. Let’s get you ready,” he huffed and you happily complied.

—

As you expected, as soon as you entered the lab, practically everyone’s neck snapped to you. Numerous birthday wishes were sent your way, each with a maniacal toothy grin to go along with it. There was no way any of them could forget, especially when they were fighting over who got to do what inside of their own heads for days before your birthday. Some of the clones had the pleasure of feeding you, while another fixed your hair… one even gave you a massage. After all, the birthday person deserves to be pampered, no? And these were the same segments whose faces were terribly familiar, having been by your side for centuries for all the past birthdays. They knew what you liked, and it was awfully enjoyable.

But there was still one more person to see. The most important one. Zandik.

Normal people would probably think it was crazy for your lover to be the last one to wish you a happy birthday. But for you, you thought it was perfect. You spent some time with the clones so they wouldn’t feel left out, and then for the rest of the day, they knew to leave you in solitude with their creator. No distractions or interruptions with your Zandik. Besides, after all-

They always say to save the best for last, don’t they?

—

You didn’t even need to knock on the door to Zandik’s private lab as it was already open. He was expecting you. Zandik’s back was facing you when you walked in, but he realized your presence immediately and set the vial down to greet you.

“[Name],” the emotionless expression on his face morphed into an enlivened one, his pointy teeth flashing. “Earlier than I expected.” Strangely colored liquids and concoctions were scattered over the table. You think you interrupted him while he was making medicine, but he didn’t seem to care. His attention was now turned to the multitude of drawers where various items were stored, opening them and then shutting them, appearing to look for something.

“It is I,” you smiled back at him, “and what can I say? I just wanted to see you. Not to mention, I must say I’m curious as to what crazy invention you’ve thought up for me this year. It seems you never run out of ideas.” Zandik had always liked to present his little gift at the start. Despite how he acted as if it was no big deal and not very important, he was always intrigued to see your reaction.

Though this time you had an inkling of what it was going to be. A while ago, he had asked to borrow your beloved device for playing music using Radiant Spincrystals (which you had named “Music Thing” much to his amusement.)

There were other furnishings that could be used for playing Radiant Spincrystals, but you had no need for them. After all, Zandik’s own creations always surpassed the other ones. Unlike the one from Liyue, the one he had made for you was much more portable and light, so that even you could carry it around. There were even buttons that changed the volume of the music! So you assumed that he was going to make some more changes or adjustments to Music Thing.

“That is correct. But I believe you’ll find this year’s gift especially useful. Watch.” As you thought, he revealed your Music Thing and a sole Radiant Spincrystal. Zandik inserted a Spincrystal into the device, yet no sound emitted from it, which left you a bit confused.

“But nothing’s playing.”

“Is that so? Why don’t you listen closer?” He smirked at you and motioned you to come closer, which you did, and then realized there was now something plugged into the device. It was a wire that led to something much larger.

The large gadget was oddly shaped. The top of it was like a band that curved into two circles on both ends, which looked like it was padded with something soft. Regardless, you had never seen anything like it and you had no idea what it could be used for. You were very confused but then you realized you could hear the music from the Radiant Spincrystal playing from the apparatus.

“Huh…? I can hear the music coming from this thingy!” you exclaimed, picking up the weird item and bringing it closer to your face, examining it more. Zandik’s grin only grew larger.

“Put it on,” he encouraged, he himself excited to see the results of his multi-hour project.

“Put it on? How though?” You fumbled with the device and pushed the two circle things apart, bringing them to your ears. And then you were immediately entranced by the music coming from it. You felt Zandik adjust the instrument for the top part to rest on top of your head.

“A perfect fit, as I expected,” he hummed, taking a good look at you. Indeed, he was correct. The thing that still didn’t have a name fit snugly around your head and ears. But you were far more entranced and shocked by the loud music going straight into your eardrums. Instead of having the music play openly, it was going straight to you. And better yet, only you could hear it! You pushed the things covering your ears even closer in amazement, standing there for a good few minutes simply enjoying this delight.

Until it abruptly stopped.

You looked down and realized that the wire that connected this thing to your Music Thing device was unplugged. By Zandik.

“Hey! It was just getting to the good part!” You pouted.

“I’m sure it was my dear, but you don’t want to hurt your ears by putting it too close or too loud,” he chided. For such a deranged man he was always taking precautions when it came to you because of your health.

“Alright fine… but you have to tell me what it is? How does it even work!” Something better than listening to music was listening to your husband go on about his experiments and inventions and thought processes.

Zandik then picked you up with ease making you squeal with surprise, walking over to his paperwork chair and then placing you on his lap. Ah, he properly didn’t want you to stand for too long. Though he wouldn’t say that. You made yourself comfortable, resting your head on his chest as he rambled on.

“I merely redirected where the sound travels…” Just as you wanted, he delved into an explanation of what he did to make the gadget, what parts he used, the few complications, the easy parts, everything. And you enjoyed it thoroughly.

“It is truly incredible,” you commented at the end, still thinking about how easily bendable and comfortable the mechanism was. “Does this one have a name?”

“I know.” You didn’t even care that he was being smug about it. You loved it. “And no, it does not.” For some reason, he always left the naming up to you. You wondered why.

“Hmm… I dub thee… Headcircles!” You decided, and Zandik raised an eyebrow at your questionable name. “You know, because it goes on your head, and the two things at your ear look like circles!” You were rather proud of your genius name.

“Another fascinating name,” he remarked to which you playfully hit his shoulder.

“Would it kill you to be nice? On my birthday at least?” You giggled, not actually meaning it. You loved him like this.

“I am unsure as to what you mean. I truly find your names… creative,” he stated with a horrible grin on his face. “It’s why I kept you as my assistant.”

You narrowed your eyes and wrapped your arms around him. “So you kept me around for my naming ability? Not for my impeccable organizational skill? Nor my expertise in deciphering your terrible handwriting and scribbles?”

“I do acknowledge that you possess many exceptional traits, but after all, how can I forget when you named the first Ruin Guard we dissected together? Spinny Thingy? How truly outstanding.” He mocked you with no remorse to which you immediately groaned at the mention of that name. You still remember that day vividly - you both had found a nonfunctional Ruin Guard in the wild which you two had fun dismantling, and Zandik had called it No. 7 in his notes. But you found that far too boring and recommended “Spinny Thingy” because you know, the thing spins! The look he gave you after that made you want to crawl into a hole though. (He didn’t take you up on your proposal.)

“Oh, shush you,” you muttered, a bit embarrassed at the memory. Zandik chuckled and wrapped an arm around you to support you, and a comfortable silence fell over the two of you as he began to sign and look over some paperwork. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest too, something that was strangely soothing. You could almost fall asleep… ah, you need to thank him first though!

“By the way, thank you for the gift, Zandik.”

“It was nothing,” he replied, waving off your gratitude. For one, it was actually no big deal to him, as little inventions like this were of practically no difficulty to him. Yet deep down, the scientist knows that the ultimate gift would be to free you of the suffering your sickness causes. Yet the mighty doctor has yet to find a solution to that. But you looked so content right now, he could put it to the side just for a little bit. Especially since you looked like you were about to beg for kisses with those eyes.

He was right.

You first started off with one simple kiss on the cheek, and then another on the other side. Yet Zandik continued to write, ignoring you on purpose to rile you up. But that was no problem. It wasn’t hard to get him to pay attention to you. Your hands slithered up to his shoulders for balance, and immediately you went to work, placing a kiss on his bare neck, and then two, and then three, your breath fanning against his skin.

Still no reaction.

Well, good thing you had an easy solution to this. On your fourth kiss, you bit down, intent on leaving a mark so-

“[Name],” a deep voice echoed close to your ear as the pen dropped to the table, and you knew you had him. Because for some reason it was okay to litter you with bites but you couldn’t do it to him. Nevertheless, you stopped and instead smiled against his neck to declare your victory which you knew he felt as he sighed. But, Zandik knew, you did deserve something today out of all days. And so you received the same treatment, attacking your neck with far more force than you did, causing you to let out a gasp. But it felt good. Zandik’s kisses always felt good, you thought as he now moved upwards.

“Happy birthday, [Name],” Zandik whispered so quietly, that you wouldn’t hear him if you weren’t so close to him, his pointy teeth grazing and nibbling on the shell of your ear.

Zandik saying those words always felt somewhat surreal. You still clearly remember the first ‘happy birthday’ you received centuries ago as a student. You thought him shoving a gift into your chest and telling you that you had the day off would be all you received. You genuinely did not think he’d verbally say that, considering he never knew how to form his words when it came to things like this, much less in a polite manner. Nonetheless, it made your heart soar.

You smiled against his neck, humming a wordless thank you, as your hand snaked up to his cheek and fingered the edge of his mask, silently asking for permission which he granted. Looking straight at him, you removed the mask and let it clatter on the ground, far too occupied with the handsome sight in front of you. His eyes were the most brightest and brilliant shade of red that you adored, coupled with jagged scars that ran across the top half of his face. So handsome. All yours.

“You always do this,” Zandik let out a resigned sigh, eyes rolling although he kept a firm grip on you on his lap. He had worn the mask for so long, that the rare times he took it off in front of you proved somewhat of a challenge at first due to your ceaseless stares of love despite the scars. Though now he had grown used to it. You merely giggled.

“Do what?” You feigned obliviousness. “I’m simply appreciating my husband’s face,” you shrugged nonchalantly, to which he kept his cool gaze on you.

“Is that all? Is there anything else you intend to do?” He questioned, already fully aware of what your answer would be.

“Why, thank you for asking. In fact, I intend to take advantage of my other birthday gift as well,” you purred, eyes raking down his face to his exposed neck shamelessly. Zandik was not wearing his usual layers of clothes, only his collared blue shirt along with the harness that wrapped around his body. It was your birthday, so surely you could get away with some things, you thought. You mischievously hooked a finger around the harness near his chest, pulled it, and watched it snap back with amusement. Zandik’s eyes bore a hole through you the whole time before he spoke.

“Such a greedy little thing you are… do you truly think it’ll be that easy?” He clicked his tongue in pretend exasperation and annoyance at your audaciousness, leaning into you as he kept contact with your eyes. His own was a mixture of insanity and madness, yet love and possessiveness swirled around as well, almost hypnotizing you. You wished you could see his eyes more. With the right touch, they could be so expressive, just for you of course.

“Well, you know I’ve never lost a fight. Remind me, who was the one dragging the unwilling test subjects to you, and protecting you from the Ruin Machines you accidentally set off back then?” You smirked and licked your lips, not intimidated by his little challenge. “Even now, I’d say I’m still quite something, no?” You always enjoyed every second of being bold to Zandik. Something about having such a deadly man bending to your wishes really did something to you.

His eyes narrowed at your confidence as an amused grin appeared on his face. “I have to say, your analysis is rather correct, as expected from you. You truly are something special, unique… although this may be the first battle you lose. I won’t let you have your way simply because it’s your birthday, love.”

“I guess I’ll just have to take my gift by force then… how rude of you,” you playfully teased, hands resting securely on his shoulders as his own began to dig into your thighs. “Usually, I’d take my time, but today I’m impatient,” you murmured, voice dropping to a low tone as you captured his lips with yours, eagerly deepening the kiss which Zandik reciprocated.

“No need to rush, [Name]. You should know that the best experiments are conducted with time and patience. I’m looking forward to seeing the results myself.”

One may say that this was quite an average birthday. It was nothing like a typical birthday. And they would be right. Yet Zandik does not treat you like how an average, normal lover would. He was eccentric, from the way he spoke to his actions to his hobbies. But you could always say this without hesitation.

Another birthday was well spent in your mad doctor’s loving arms.

Bonus:

“By the way, I left some cake for you.”

“I do not want it.”

“… Yes you do. I’ve known you for centuries, trying to hide your likes from me isn’t very effective, you know?

“Go to sleep.”

“Please, can I feed it to you this time?”

“No.”

“You know I’m going to keep asking this every year, right?”

“I’m not sleeping with you tonight.”

“Wait- come back! I’m sorry!”

The plate was empty the next day.

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