#( she's hiding under a blanket in her cabin and she will pass out before they find her )

[duskandcobalt]

Time Will Be Frozen for Us

if you're like me and have a massive soft spot for slow and gentle domestic elriel moments, please allow me to present some cozy, elriel fluff for your holiday weekend 💗✨

ENJOY XX

1.1k words

Inspired by Sabrina Claudio’s ‘Frozen’

Read on AO3

Elain eased herself from Azriel’s arms, silently slipping from between the sheets and pulling his shirt over her head and down her body until it covered the gentle swell of her hips and the tops of her thighs. She tiptoed out of their room and into the small living area, carefully avoiding the floorboards she knew would squeak under her weight even if she knew the chances of accidentally waking him were low due to the exhaustion that resulted from the hours they’d spent coaxing pleasure from one another over the course of the night.

She made her way to the window that looked out to the woods. Snow fell heavily outside, blanketing the forest floor in a glistening, unblemished sheet of white.  Hazy beams of early morning light filtered through the shimmering, snow covered trees, illuminating the highpoints of her face as she tilted her chin upwards and chased the warm caress of the sun on her skin in an effort to preserve the heat she’d obtained from being tucked against the muscled chest of an Illyrian warrior for the past few hours.

It was a few days after Winter Solstice and Azriel had wasted no time upon Feyre and Rhys’ departure to their cabin before he whisked Elain away to this secret place of theirs for a singular night together, just the two of them.

Standing here now, Elain couldn’t help but think about how far she’d come since that first Solstice spent in this now-familiar body. Her heart, once splintered by a broken engagement, had slowly started to heal by then with the help of some hobbies and a few new friends - Nuala and Cerridwen… and the brooding male they reported to. A male whose stern features only ever seemed to soften around her. 

Elain had known since that first Solstice, since that night when he’d sat beside her and patiently listened to her explain her plans for the garden, that there was something between them. His unabashed laughter that evening, his sincere appreciation for her gift, had been the initial spark that lit the eternal flame of interest that would go on to burn steadily at the back of her mind, flickering higher and brighter each and every time his eyes met hers, until she could no longer stand to ignore it. 

Elain had come to think of Azriel like a book. She wanted to turn each of his pages, read him cover to cover. She wanted to memorise every word, lock away favourite passages for safe keeping. She was determined to know everything about him, wanted to devour him whole until there wasn’t a single part of him left unknown to her. She craved the time and space to allow herself to tend to what grew slowly and steadily between them.

It was made clear to her that Azriel felt the same - that he’d also realised that the heated glances and restricted touches that passed between them had rapidly outgrown the shadowed alcoves and cramped rooms they often found themselves in - when he’d winnowed her here for the first time six months ago, at the very beginning of summer.

She’d been shocked and delighted when he’d lifted his hands away from her eyes and she caught her first glimpse of the cozy cottage on the outskirts of Velaris, tucked away deep in a small patch of woods that she hadn’t even known existed.  

It was a gift from Azriel to her. A place they could escape to, somewhere far away from the ever looming threat of their secret being exposed. Here, they could pretend that they didn’t have to hide. Here, all the complexities of her mating bond ceased to exist. 

In this quaint cottage, amongst this thicket of trees, it was just them. A male, a female, and the sweet domesticity of a shared life.

It was the passing of a clean dish to be put away after a meal made and enjoyed together. It was his hand on her waist as he spun her around the tiny kitchen, his voice sweet as honey in her ear. Her soft laughter muffled by the skin of his neck. It was nervous confessions of obvious feelings in the middle of the night. Overwhelming emotion written plainly on both their faces, tears of relief shimmering in the light of a candle. 

It was leisurely walks in the woods, their joined hands buried deep in his coat pocket - unwilling to separate but desperate to keep warm. It was a roaring fire and a heavy blanket draped over their bodies, her icy toes pressed against his warm calves. It was a book falling from Elain’s fingertips, landing with a gentle thud on the worn wooden floor when the feeling of Azriel’s lips gliding along her shoulders won the fight for her attention against the words she’d been attempting to read.

Half a year later, neither of them could set their eyes on a single corner of the cottage without memories resurfacing of all the things that these four walls had witnessed. 

This sacred space commemorated the subtle trembling of his fingers as he undid the laces of her corset before he carefully laid her down for the very first time, watching as she fell apart for him. These walls stored her soft sighs and his deep moans. The whispered conversations in bed all the times after that initial night - Elain’s head on Azriel’s chest, his fingers tracing patterns over her sensitive skin as he patiently answered each and every question she had ever dreamt of asking him.

“Still snowing?” She’s pulled out of her thoughts by the rustling of wings and the sound of his voice, gritty with sleep.

“Pretty isn’t it?” She doesn’t turn to look at him but she could just about see his reflection in the glass - his dark hair tousled from the way she’d grasped it, his chest broad and bare.

“Beautiful.” Azriel’s arms slipped around Elain’s waist, pulling her back against his chest until he could rest his chin on the top of her head. She didn’t need to look at him to know that he wasn’t referring to the snow outside.

A soft smile found its way to her lips as she let her body melt into his, her delicate fingers mindlessly tracing over the scars on the large hands that now rested over her stomach as they both gazed out of the arched window and watched the snow fall.

She’d never been so grateful. For this place. For him. For the life they shared together, oblivious to the world around them. Seasons changed and time passed. Flowers bloomed and leaves turned colour. Trees, their branches once bare, were now covered in glittering snow. But whenever they were here, in this little cottage that had come to feel like home, time seemed to freeze solely for them. As if some higher power had paused the turn of Earth’s axis just to grant the Shadowsinger and his Seer the gift of an extra hour, an extra night spent together, lips grazing skin until the morning sun turned the sky the colour of the blush on her cheeks.

#elriel fic #elriel fluff #elain x azriel #my writing #this is so extremely unedited hehe #it's 2:51 am on christmas morning why have i chosen this exact moment to attempt to push past writers block? #who knows

[hslllot]

A Soft Place to Fall - Part I

Story List 

Word count: 3.6k // Rated M // harry x reader

Note: Wowowow ok! So, here’s the first part of what will be a multi-part story. It is just a short lil introduction to our duo... The second part isn’t too far away either :) I want to thank my bullies motivating friends that encouraged me to write and share this! I love writing but am always painfully nervous about sharing. So please, if you like it, let me know! If you don’t like it you can also let me know but I will probably cry. OK ENJOY :)

Part I

In a cozy log cabin at the base of Mount Yamnuska, Harry found himself in a position he thought he’d never find himself in again.

He was hiding. 

It was something he tended to do after a particularly difficult break up: Flee to a different country, alone, to write and sulk and ponder how he always managed to screw things up. 

Jamaica. Japan. Italy. 

Canada.

In the heart of the Canadian rockies, he sat by the fire in his lonely wooden home. There was a winter unlike anything he’d ever experienced outside his window and a mug filled with English tea in front of him. Next to his mug was his journal, open to an empty set of pages, words painfully unwritten. 

He arrived in Calgary by plane this morning, peering out the window to see the bustling and bright landscapes of California transform into blankets of fresh white snow on barren acres of farmland. They flew over the Rocky Mountains and, despite having seen them from above before, he was transfixed by their beauty and size, and he wondered if anyone ever got tired of seeing something so majestic. He had never seen the mountains in the dead of winter, the trees, the ground, and the mountains themselves covered in white while the surrounding frozen glacier lakes remained a brilliant blue. He appreciated the beauty of it all, and under different circumstances he might have turned to the person sitting next to him and urged them to lean over and take a peek out the window too. But his mood soured when he remembered that the person sitting next to him was a stranger, and he was, again, on this trip alone.

Once the plane had landed he sent a quick text to his family group chat and Jeffrey to let them know he’d arrived in one piece. He scrolled through his emails to find all of the different reservations Jeffrey forwarded to him so he could pick up his rental vehicle and begin the 100 kilometre journey to the sleepy mountain town he would be calling home for the next three months. 

The GPS in the rental guided him to the Bow Valley Parkway, the scenic highway that would lead him through Banff National Park and to his destination. As he entered the parkway, he pulled into a designated lookout just past a wooden gate that overhead read “WELCOME BIENVENUE”. Directly in front of him was a cerulean river, frozen over and backed by the most massive snow-capped mountain he had ever seen. He got out of his car, feeling the cold January air like pinpricks across his face, and quickly took a picture of the view. He sent it to his mother and promised to one day come back with her so she could see it for herself.

As he drove further down the Bow Valley, he felt kind of silly for pulling over at the sight of his first mountain when each mountain and lake he passed seemed to be bigger and more beautiful than the last. Eventually, he saw the signs for Mount Yamnuska and turned off the highway onto a long and winding road that would take him to his final destination. With nothing but tall lodgepole pine trees, grey skies, and the crooning voice of Billie Holiday to keep him company, he felt like he was on a different planet. A planet where the trees and the mountain air could filter out all of the negative voices, thoughts, and feelings he’d been privy to in the last few weeks. A planet where he might be able to clear his head long enough to find within it a melody or even a lyric or two. 

Harry wasn’t entirely sure what was waiting for him at the end of the road, only having skimmed the AirBnB listing Jeffrey had emailed him. He called Jeff two days ago, insisting that he needed to get away, to disappear for a bit. Having been in this exact position before with his client/friend, Jeff knew what that meant. His manager remembered seeing videos of aesthetic mountain vacations with rocky lookouts and great big turquoise lakes on TikTok, so he suggested that Harry sequester himself in the mountains. After discussing and agreeing on the destination, Jeff had the trip planned and booked within hours. 

Harry passed plenty of tiny cottages and cabins tucked away in the forest alongside the highway, but as it got darker he focused more on the road ahead and fixed his eyes to watch out for any wildlife (he heard mountain lions were a possibility in the Winter). When he finally made it to his landing place, he was at the end of a long driveway in front of a cabin carved into a landscape of endless conifer trees. The cabin looked small and simple on the outside, the entirety of its exterior made up of orange-tinted pine logs. There was a foot of snow covering everything in sight, save for the walking path from the driveway to a front porch that spanned the width of the cabin. On the porch sat two Muskoka chairs, red, to match the front door. 

Sat in the two chairs waiting for him, unphased by the darkening skies and blowing snow, he presumed were his hosts. 

He exited his car and zipped his jacket all the way past his chin, a lame attempt to shield his face from the wind. As he made his way toward the porch, the older man and woman stood to greet him. Both were dressed in black puffer jackets and knit beanies, perhaps in their mid-to-late fifties. They appeared friendly, wearing bright smiles as they welcomed him to their vacation home.

“You must be Harry”, the man said, reaching out to shake Harry’s hand.

Harry returned the gesture, “Hello, yes, I’m Harry.” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Paul and this is my wife, Nancy.” 

“We hope you found the place OK!” Nancy chippered. 

“Thank you, I did.” He said, shaking Nancy’s hand next. “I appreciate you taking me in on such short notice.” 

“Oh, it’s no problem. We actually just had a cancellation before your manager contacted us. Our daughter was supposed to stay here with her partner for the week but their plans changed. So everything was already set up for guests!”

“Lucky for me then.” He said with a smile as Paul took his bag and Nancy moved to open the door to lead them all inside. 

Harry did a quick scan of the inside of the cabin from where he stood in the front entrance. He saw they’d already started a fire in the wood burning stove and spotted a cozy looking armchair where he knew he’d be curling up with his book. “The place looks great.”

“We’re glad you think so. Please, come in, get comfortable. This is your home now for a bit, after all!” Nancy insisted, fussing over him to take off his jacket and shoes. She reminded him a bit of his mother, something about her demeanor making him feel at ease. “You’ve had a long journey so we’ll leave you to get settled in and explore the place. Just a few things though…”

He kicked off his shoes by the door and followed behind the two as they led him past the living room and into the kitchen. 

“We’re going to get more snow tonight and you’re probably tired from your travels,” Nancy opened the refrigerator. “We’ve already stocked the fridge with all of our daughter’s favourites so there’s plenty of food that you can have.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind getting my own.”

“Really, we’d rather it didn’t go to waste.” Paul chimed in. “But of course if there’s anything more you need, there’s some info in that binder on the table about going into town and grocery stores and restaurants and whatnot.”

“Alright, thank you. I really appreciate all this.”

“Of course!” He handed Harry a set of keys on what looked like a moose-head keychain. “Here’s the key. Our house is north of here, about 15 minutes away. So if you need anything just give us a call or text. Our address is in there too just in case.”

Harry bid goodnight to Paul and Nancy and once they were gone he took his bag and scoped out the cabin. It was a simple layout with two bedrooms just off the living room, a full bathroom between the two rooms and the open galley kitchen along the adjacent back wall, opposite the front door. There was a small kitchen island at the center in front of the red kitchen cupboards, and a wooden dining table for two in its own little nook off the kitchen. The cabin had a warm feel to it. The decor, you might say was quintessentially Canadian in the way they leaned into maple-scented candles, wood carvings of mountains hung on the walls, and no shortage of throw blankets and pillows adorned with buffalo plaid. 

Harry dropped his bag into the bedroom closest to the kitchen and was about to start unpacking when his stomach growled. Grateful they had left food for him to eat, he made himself a sandwich and got acquainted with where everything was in the kitchen before unpacking his things. He decided then that after he unpacked he would settle in for the night by the fire, brew some tea and maybe take a stab at writing. 

—————————

You hated driving in the winter. 

Were you competent and experienced enough to deal with the blowing snow and the black ice under your tires? Sure. But that didn't mean you enjoyed it. A lifetime of driving down the Parkway didn’t stop you from gripping the steering wheel so hard your knuckles were white, or straining your eyes in the darkness to avoid missing any moose or elk that might emerge from the trees. 

One thing you did like about road trips was that they were a great opportunity for reflection. You’d been driving for about 3 hours at this point, and had barely listened to the playlist you put on at the start of your journey. You were too busy keeping an eye on the road, or thinking about the last 72 hours, and playing out scenarios in your head where things had gone differently. 

You were exhausted, physically and mentally. Was it really only 72 hours since everything went down? 

You replayed your last conversation with Luke over and over again in your head, hoping that if you went over it enough you could better understand.

“I just can’t do it. Even if I came, I would have to bring work with me and I’d be working the whole time.” 

You were incredulous. Confused. Borderline seething. 

“This trip was supposed to happen last summer, Luke. We’ve postponed it twice already for your job.” 

“I know and I said I’m sorry. I just can’t up and leave right now.” 

“Did you not book off the vacation time? Your boss knows you're supposed to go away. It’s literally one week.” 

“Yes, I booked off the vacation time but I-”

“Well if you’ve booked it off and they gave you the time off what’s the problem?” 

“I just can’t go now, ok?”

“Is it that you can’t go, or that you don’t want to go?” 

That question had been lingering in the back of your mind every time the trip had to be postponed, but you never asked because you were afraid of the answer. You hoped that work really was so busy that he couldn’t take a week off, even though he had the vacation time approved by his boss. You wanted to believe that this was just the reality of being in a relationship with a lawyer. 

The trouble was that you’d been with Luke for two years and he had yet to meet your family. He seemed excited to visit the small mountain town where you grew up, citing that he’d always wanted to visit Banff and the Rocky Mountains. You met his parents and got on well with them and your relationship was moving forward, with talks of moving in together and maybe even a proposal on the horizon. 

However, every time you brought up visiting your family, he put it off and said he was too busy. You would visit home and he would stay back in Vancouver. Eventually he agreed to join you and the trip was booked, but at the last minute he claimed to be in the middle of an important case and couldn’t leave. You rescheduled twice since, and it was looking like you’d be adding a third. 

“Of course I want to go. It’s just not a great time right now.” 

“Is there ever going to be a great time? At some point I’m going to need you to make time for it, Luke.” 

You were beginning to think that he didn’t understand how important your family was to you. He didn’t understand that you needed to see how he fit into your family in order for the relationship to progress. Would he get along with your dad? Would he be kind to your mom? Could he be friends with your brother? You were realizing that maybe his lack of motivation to meet your family and see your home was all you needed to know. 

Before he could respond, you added “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” 

Of course over the last 72 hours you doubted yourself constantly. Had you overreacted? Should you have been more understanding about his job? You went back and forth, reminding yourself that you had a job too, sure it wasn’t as demanding as that of a lawyer, but no matter what you always found the time for things that were important to you. You even took a week off to go on a ski trip with his parents a few weeks ago.

After the break up, you called your parents to let them know you weren’t coming anymore. You fully intended to wallow in your apartment for the week and mourn your dead relationship. The wallowing lasted less than 24 hours before you decided the best antidote for a broken heart was a hug from your mom and a beer with your dad.

That’s how you found yourself on the Bow Valley Parkway at 11pm in the middle of a snowstorm. You thought it would be fun to surprise your parents, but now you were regretting that decision. You weren’t sure that the rental vehicle was equipped to deal with a January snow storm in the mountains and if you ended up in a ditch or hit by a moose, no one knew where you were. Knowing your parents, they were probably already asleep, and you didn’t want to wake them. You decided to spend the night at their guest cabin you had initially booked, with plans to surprise them in the morning.

—————————

Harry knew that a few hours on a plane and an evening in a log cabin in the middle of the wilderness wasn’t going to instantly fix his writer’s block. But he did hope his new setting might be able to wiggle some ideas free. 

As he sat with his tea and his journal open to an empty page, he begged the words to come to him. But he didn’t know what to say.

How could he write about a break up that he still didn’t even fully understand? 

He was just short of banging his head against the table and throwing his journal in the fire when a light shone through the window. 

A set of headlights turned onto the driveway, a small car bustling through the snow storm that had started raging outside. He looked to the door to make sure he’d locked it, in case someone was on their way to murder him in the middle of nowhere. 

Maybe Paul or Nancy forgot something, he hoped to himself. It was nearly midnight, so he knew that wasn’t logical. 

It was when you pulled up and parked next to his rental that he saw you in the driver’s seat. Your face was perplexed as you looked over at his vehicle and then to the log cabin. You awkwardly made eye contact through the window before you quickly looked away. 

Maybe she’s lost, he thought to himself next. 

He waited for you to come to the door, but you remained in your car. Eventually, thinking you looked harmless enough, Harry bundled up in his coat, slipped on his shoes, and went to meet you outside. 

—-

You whipped your head towards the cabin door when you saw it open to reveal a strange man walking toward your vehicle. 

Why is he coming out here? Oh god is he going to murder me? You thought. 

Embarrassed you’d been caught outside the cabin, you rolled down your window, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t think anyone would be here! I’m just leaving!“

You were hit with the realization of who was walking toward you, followed by some confusion.

What the fuck… 

And then panic when you realized he was walking up to your car. 

“I really am sorry this is my parents cabin and I thought no one would be here!” You shouted as he approached your opened window. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your evening.”

Harry fucking Styles crouched down to look at you through the driver’s side window. In the darkness, you felt his eyes on you taking note of your black and yellow North Face puffer jacket and the knit beanie on your head. There was a look of recognition on his face, perhaps noticing some of your features were strikingly similar to those of a woman he’d met only a few hours ago.

“Ah, you’re Nancy and Paul’s daughter.”

“Yeah, I am…So I’ll just h-”

“They said you’d canceled.”

“Oh? Yea, I did… I, uh, changed my mind, I guess. I didn’t think they’d book someone so quickly.” 

“It was good timing on my part, I guess.” 

“Right, ok, I’m so sorry for interrupting your evening! I’ll just go to their house!” It was nearly pitch black outside, save for the light of your headlights shining on the cabin in front of you. The wind was violent, whipping snow around him, and you felt bad that he was standing outside in the cold. His arms were crossed and hugging his jacket closed, talking to you while not wearing nearly enough layers to be outside.

Harry pondered for a moment, sucking his lips into his mouth and turning to look at the snow coming down around him. He was sure being from here that you had experience driving in weather like this, but he could not in good conscience let you leave without offering. 

“The snow’s coming down pretty hard. I was just having some tea before bed… Would you like to come in? At least until things calm down a bit.” 

Harry felt bold asking you to come inside when you were strangers. He could tell you were mulling it over, maybe unsure if you could trust him or if it would be appropriate. He wasn’t sure if it was either, but he kind of hoped you agreed to it anyway. Jeffrey would yell at him for this. 

“Are you sure?” You asked. Your first instinct was to outright decline the offer, but you knew the roads were treacherous and you were exhausted. 

“Yes, I’m sure.” He insisted. “Selfishly, I would never forgive myself if I let you go and you got into an accident or something on the highway.”

“Okay,” you agreed reluctantly. “I’ll come in just for a bit.” You got out of the car and followed him back quickly through the blowing snow and up the path to the front door. 

Once inside, he turned to you. “I apologize I didn’t even ask your name.”

You told him your name as you toed off your boots and took off your many layers of outdoor winter wear. 

“Well it’s nice to meet you. I’m Harry.” 

“Nice to meet you too, Harry. I know who you are, by the way. I’m a fan.” You paused and he noticed the way your face twisted, almost in embarrassment. “Ugh, sorry, is that weird to say?”

“Not weird.” He tried to reassure you. “Would be more awkward if you said you hated me or something.”

You took a seat on the sofa, grabbing the buffalo plaid pillow next to you and hugging it to your chest. You felt awkward. What was Harry Styles doing in your parents’ vacation rental? And what were you doing with him alone in the middle of the night? Were you going to sit here and chat with each other? Or would he carry on with his evening as if you weren’t here? 

You spotted his open journal and a mug of tea abandoned on the side table near the fire. He did mention having tea before, which was confirmed by him now filling the kettle with water. 

“Again, I’m sorry for interrupting. Really appreciate you letting me hang here for a bit.” 

He grabbed a mug from the cabinet to the right of the sink. It was the green mug you painted for your mom for Mother’s Day in middle school.

“You’ve got to stop apologizing. Very Canadian of you though.” 

“Right. Sorry. Shit.” 

Harry laughed whilst shaking his head at your incessant apologies. You liked his laugh. And his dimples.

OK, he’s cute, you thought. 

“Would you like a snack?” Harry called out, interrupting your wandering thoughts. “I’m pretty sure all of the food here was supposed to be for you anyways.”

— END OF PART 1 —

Thank you so much for reading! I am looking forward to diving into this story a bit more and would like to know what you think :) 

TALK TO ME HERE

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #my writing #asptf

[wardenparker]

Sassenach and the Spaniard - ch 5

Pero Tovar x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Delirious with sickness and near to death, Pero Tovar finds himself on the doorstep of a village outsider who nurses him back to health just before the winter snows descend. With a black cat for company, a mask on her face, and a biting wit that intrigues him, Pero comes to find out that his new companion is more than what she seems.  ✨  Inspired and influenced by Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series. ✨ Reader is described as disabled and having hair long enough to cover part of her face.

Rating: Explicit!  Word Count: 15k Warnings: **Blanket warnings for this fic include cursing, food mentions, references to previous sexual assault (multiple characters).** Masturbation (m and f), accidental exhibitionism, nudity, hair pulling, oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, biting, vaginal sex, unprotected sex. Confessions! And a little something at the end that I won’t spoil 👀✨ Summary: A heavy storm locks you inside the cabin with Pero, but there is no shortage of pleasurable ways with which you can pass the time. Notes: Thanks to everyone for your kind words last week, I’m feeling much better and powering ahead in life and in creativity. Remember how we said last chapter that it was about the yearning and the tension? Well, the wait did *not* last long!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4

Finding sleep is difficult with so much on your mind, but the old trick of basically lying still with your eyes closed and pretending to be asleep until you actually get there usually works for you, so you've been lying in bed under two blankets and the new hide trying desperately to fall asleep for what is probably an hour by now. It's much colder tonight than it has been and the snow is coming in sheets outside. The wind whips but doesn't come through the cracks in the window quite as much since Pero stuffed the open spaces with moss last week, but even thinking his name makes you wish you could just fall asleep already. He's barely four feet away in front of the fire and he's still all you can think about. If only you could just drift off...

You have been quiet for a long time, surely you must be asleep. Pero has lain quietly, willing you to sleep so he can take care of the incredible need he has. Since the conversations he had earlier, all he can think about is you – under him, taking him. Quietly, he reaches under the blankets you provided and unlaces his breaches and pulling his throbbing cock out, a small groan escaping his lips.

You barely manage to keep your eyes from popping open when you hear it, instead squeezing them even more tightly shut. That sound is unmistakable, but you can't believe you're hearing it in this space. Is he...? You swallow the lump in your throat and stay silent as the grave so as not to let him know that you're awake. Whatever does or does not happen between you, you don't need the awkwardness of him finding out that you have heard him.

He wants it wetter, imagining your cunt around his cock. you are still quiet and so he lets go of his cock, reach up so he can spit in his hand. Hissing when he wraps his hand around his cock again, he starts stroking himself a bit more eagerly.

Hearing him spit in his hand nearly makes you groan. Honest desire is about the sexiest thing in the world and the slick sound of his hand around his cock is going straight to your cunt as you listen with your eyes tightly closed.

It the low light of the night, the embers barely making a shadow over the walls. Soon he will have to build it back up, but for now, in the relative darkness – he whispers your name. Not Sassenach, the one you had murmured to him only once before. The one he had tucked into his heart and committed to memory the moment he discovered it was your scar that he bore. He whispers it to the dark as he works his hand up and down his length.

Did he just? Your eyes snap open but thankfully you’re facing away - facing the wall to be precise - and he can’t see your face. He’s thinking about you while he jerks off? Holy fucking shit…

He continues to work himself, thinking about the things that both drive him crazy and delights him about you. Which seems to be every damn thing that you do. Imagining using his mouth on you like you had talked about and hearing you cry out his name in your sweet voice... Pero groans your name again, closing his eyes.

The sounds he makes. God you could die a happy, horny woman in this moment. Instead of dying, though, you mentally throw up your hands and allow yourself to revel in it – snaking your own hand silently down to your now aching pussy. Dipping your fingertips in your dripping hole gets them plenty slick enough to rub your clit in time with the sound of his self-pleasure.

It's wrong, so very wrong. To be jerking off on your floor while he murmurs your name after you have given him a place to stay. Offered him a life that he still couldn't imagine. Still he cannot stop, rocking his hips up into his hand, hisses as he tightens his grip.

Not a sound comes from your bed even as your mouth hangs open, fingers rubbing your clit almost feverishly as he ramps up his own efforts on himself. There isn’t a hint of guilt, since you know he’s thinking of you, but there is a nagging and intense curiosity. You’re desperate to know what he feels like now that you know how he sounds.

“Mierda.” He grunts quietly, the pressure building, and he feels way that his balls are pulling up tight to his body. The scrap of a cloth he had snatched from your sewing basket is what he uses, covering his cock while he spurts ropes of cum into it. Moaning quietly through gritted teeth.

Listening to him moan and grunt through his end is gorgeous. It makes your whole body clench in the best way and just a second later your own orgasm is heralded by a tightness and tingling in your core right before the floodgates open. The blood in your ears is pounding so hard that you don’t hear the way you choke on your breath slightly – the only sound to slip past your lips.

Pero freezes, his ears straining to hear any other sounds from your bed. Praying to God that you have not woken up and heard him.

Sleep is nearly instantaneous and so wonderfully sweet that you barely pull your fingers from between your thighs before drifting off. All you can hope is that your dreams will be more of the same.

The soft snore that comes from you makes him relax. Cleaning himself up quickly, he tucks his cock as and crawls over to the wood to put more on the coals. The temperature has dropped and still plunging lower, he wants to make sure you are warm.

******

You wake up before he does in the morning, sneaking around to stoke the fire against the dip the temperature took last night and getting the morning pot of porridge on the fire before going into your stores to find the last of the fresh rosemary that has not quite dried yet. The strong scent will mask the smell of cum on your fingers until you can have a proper bath and wash everything away.

He groans quietly, burrowed into his blanket and curled in on himself. It had gotten cold last night, but he didn’t want to burn too much wood, so he had just toughed it out.

Feeling a little too affectionately toward him to tease this morning, you let Pero wake in his own time. When he is finally starting to sit up breakfast is almost ready, and you have been sitting and petting Binx since almost the second you got dressed. The storm is still raging – there will be no walks or leisure outside at all today.

“Mierda.” Pero hisses with a shiver as he climbs to his feet and moves towards the fire. “It has gotten cold.” He huffs.

“We have nothing to do but stay inside today,” you tell him, motioning toward the cottage’s few windows. “The snow is fierce and heavy.”

“That is good for us.” He insists. “We will melt the snow for the bath. And since there is nothing to do, you can linger as long as you like.”

“You could have one too, if you wanted.” The part of you that touched yourself to the sounds of his self-pleasure wants to offer to share the bath, or maybe throw your legs open in the water and let him watch how you touch yourself. Anything to find out if last night was sincere or just a fluke.

"I will bathe after you do." It's practical, using the same water. And it's not intimate, at least it wasn't before now. He has had to share water in public bath houses many times. Right now, though, even if he had jerked off just hours ago before he slept, his cock twitches at the thought of your naked body soft and wet.

“Good then.” What else is there really to say? You have a near-perfect visual in your head for how he will look in the bath since you stripped and washed him while he was sick. You may not remember the exact shade of golden skin that lies under his clothing, but you certainly remember how thick his cock is.

The tension that was there yesterday is still hanging in the air. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but it’s there. Heavy and thick. He groans again, stretching the sleep away from his limbs as he tries to tell himself that he’s imagining things.

Don’t react to that sound, you tell yourself sternly, but end up biting your lip despite yourself. Today is going to be just impossible – all because he doesn’t know that you want to drag him into your bed and show him exactly how good things can be.

Pero relaxes slightly and hums. “As the snow builds, the cottage will be more insulated.” He offers, shivering slightly. “But the next two days are going to be bitterly cold.”

“We will do what we must.” The fleeting thought of having him in your bed crashes through your mind again, but you tamp it down as best as you can. “Snow can be made into hot drinks as much as we need.”

“It will be made into your bath.” He reminds you. “I will collect it to get to the horse and your chicken.”

“I will be a much better smelling companion in a little while’s time,” you joke, trying to stop your mind from immediately making every single thing he says into something suggestive. The thought of washing your hair, though? That does make you sigh happily.

“You are always sweet smelling.” Pero blurts out before he can even think to stop himself. The scent of sweet herbs clings to you as well as something he can’t quite identify. It had driven him crazy over the weeks and he wants to burrow his nose against your skin and drink your scent in until it’s etched into his memory.

“You flatter me.” And because of that you really just can’t make goddamn eye contact with him this morning. It’s not knowing that he jerked off thinking about you that makes you shy, of course not. It’s the same damn compliment you would get for using literally any Bath & Body Works product.

“I tell the truth.” He huffs, rolling his eyes slightly. “Used to smelling sweaty men and horse shit.” He grins. “You smell like flowers and something spicy.”

“The truth can still be flattery.” You point out, trying not to look too pleased. The soap blend you use is one that you made yourself to avoid the horrible lye soaps of the time. “Come…we should break our fast.”

Nodding, he follows you over to the table and sits down. He watches when you lean over to spoon up the porridge. "You should tie your hair back." He murmurs. "It will be easier for you."

“I—” Keeping your hair over your eye has been habit the entire time he has been with you, even while you wore the mask. The idea of protecting him from being forced to look at your shared scar had dug into your mind very deeply. “I will wear the mask, then,” you murmur, setting the pot down on the table.

"Why?" He doesn't know why you are hiding from him, but he knows that is what you are doing. Reaching out when you go to move away, he captures your hand gently and tugs you back. "Why do you hide yourself?"

Claiming that you aren’t would be a fairly useless lie, and you end up sighing quietly. “It is bad enough that I have forced you to live with this,” you say finally, motioning to your useless eye and the scar across it. “I would not force you to look on it day and night.”

Pero scoffs, rolling his eyes and tugging on your hand again to have you look at him as he stands. Reaching up, he brushes your hair back and his thumb traces the bottom of the scar gently, feeling the mottled skin that is echoed on his own face. "Mirar a una mujer hermosa no es una dificultad." Looking at a beautiful woman is not a difficulty He murmurs in his own tongue. "It is a mark of courage and will to survive."

You really could just fucking break down and cry right there, but yesterday was full of too many tears and he didn’t seem to react well to them, so you hang on to composure with all of your might despite the riotous way your heart is beating. A small nod against his hand is the best gesture you can offer that doesn’t seem overactive, but it’s also not big enough. Not enough to say thank you for the permission to just exist that he has given you which you never give yourself. For something ‘big enough’, your body seems to act all on its own – leaning forward to press a kiss to his marred cheek before you can stop yourself.

For a man who has lived through what he has, seen what he has, he's stunned. Rooted to the spot right where he stands by a simple kiss. Especially since he has had much more involved ones with you. This one is one of thanks, for what he doesn't know, but it makes him burn. He stands there for a long moment before he turns and moves over to the table where he had been working on the hides, picking up a leather string to give to you. To tie your hair back. "Show your strength proudly, hermosa."

******

The morning moves easily after that. The tension between you doesn’t rise but it never dissipates, smiles and flirtatious remarks punctuating your time together instead of loaded sexual comments. He calls you hermosa twice more and you swear you could melt, feeling like you’ve hit schoolgirl crush levels of giddiness without trying.

When Pero opens the door, the snow is knee high. Making him click his tongue and huff as he grabs the buckets you have. It will be difficult to break the path between the cottage and the barn, but it is better to do it now than when the snow is higher. "Get your kettle ready.” He warns as he looks over his shoulder.

“We can fill the cauldron as well.” The suggestion almost makes you grin. Even after years, you still love the aesthetic of brewing in a cauldron. “You can see your bruja at work.”

He huffs and shakes his head. "If you can turn water into wine, I will get on my knees for you." He teases as he closes the door.

“Guess I should try.” Grinning at the closed door, you shake your head as you move around the cottage. “It might be worth it.”

Bucket after bucket is brought back into the cottage as he works. Gathering several at a time before he opens the door, knowing that every time he is letting more cold into the room. Although the fire is roaring, he does not wish for you to be more uncomfortable than you need to be, finding the buckets empty when he goes to trade them as you start to fill your kettle and cauldron with the quickly melting snow.

The bathtub is much larger than it looks, you find quickly. Every cauldron of water that heats to steaming is poured in so that the great, heavy pot can be refilled with snow, and you find yourself longing for a bubble bath with a glass of scotch and a romance novel before the thing is half full. It will feel like heaven to be clean again – truly clean – and you’re so grateful that he was able to catch that second deer. To trade it for something as luxurious as a bathtub is extravagant, but fuck is it going to feel good. Some dried flower buds go in, perfuming the water with scents that would not taste good but smell wonderful, and you sigh happily. This might be the first snowstorm you’ve enjoyed in years.

Pero pants, working in the snow as he finally reaches the barn. He is sweating, can feel the heat warm his body even as the extremities are colder. He will check on the animals and gather more wood to bring inside along with the snow. Eager to sit in a hot bath with the fire roaring and even more, he would like to catch a glimpse of you at your bath.

******

It’s almost another hour before Pero returns, and you had decided that undressing and getting into the bath before he returned would be gentler to both of you than having to shield him from a striptease inside the small cottage. The clean set of clothes from your trunk is laid out in the edge of your bed and Binx is snoozing away in the spot of winter sun illuminating your worktable, making the whole place quite tranquil when he opens the door one last time to come back inside for good.

Bare shoulders are the first thing that he sees when he walks into the cottage, immediately making his eyes widen before he realizes he should look away. That he should give you privacy. It makes him turn his back slowly, dragging his gaze away as he slides the bar back down over the door. While he did not worry about man bursting in, the wind could blow the door open and send icy snow inside, so it was best to have it barricaded.

“How are the animals?” Treating it as conversationally as if you were sitting doing any random chore, you take the wash rag – a new one, you couldn’t find your old one with your sewing things – from the side of the tub and begin to wash your legs under the water.

"They are fine, I broke the ice on the water trough and made sure there was plenty of hay." He chuckles. "Your hen was sitting on the horse's back." He moves towards the bedding that had been moved so the tub could sit in the warmest spot.

“Karen is fond of softness and warmth.” It’s the dumbest possible name for a hen, but the plume on the bird’s head had reminded you of the infamous Karen haircut and it made you laugh to scold the creature when she clucked at you as if you could possibly have a manager. “I will not take much longer. And there is a new cauldron of snow heating to make your bath hot.”

"Take your time." Pero insists. "I am not in a rush. Linger and enjoy it." He can hear the splashing and imagines your wet form, closing his eyes slightly as he tries to determine what your tits would look like bare. "It is a long day and we have all of it."

“Some of the salted venison is in a bowl of snow to become dinner tonight,” you tell him, still going about washing yourself fairly efficiently despite being told to take your time. “I thought to roast it in a way you might not have eaten before. You may like it, since you like spice.” It isn’t as though you’re trying to seduce him with a romantic meal – something that seems both unnecessary and a little odd under the circumstances – but you wanted to do something nice for him since he worked hard to get you this tub. “A year ago a merchant from Calabria came through with foods from his homeland and he had spicy peppers with him, so I bought as many as I possibly could. There are still a few left.”

Pero grunts and practically licks his lips at the prospect of a spicy meal. "I am sure it will be warming." He has to tell himself not to look over his shoulder at you, sitting in the tub and scrubbing at your skin. "We will warm some ale to go with it."

“Actually…” you glance over your own shoulder only to see the very deliberate way he is facing away from you with tight shoulders, like he’s having to force himself to behave. You nearly snicker, but keep it to yourself. “And you ever had truly cold ale? I know it will not fight the cold, but it is delicious.”

"I have not." He frowns slightly at the idea of cold ale. "It would be better when it is hot outside, no?"

“Yes.” A cold beer at a concert even during a Florida summer was a thing of beauty and it makes you sigh wistfully. “But sometimes just having something delicious is enough.”

"Then I will put the ale outside in the snow." You seem to want it, and he is finding that it is hard to deny you things that you want. He moves over to take the small cask off the table under the window to do just that.

“Thank you for indulging me.” It’s bitter cold for just a moment while he nestles the ale in a snowbank but he is back again in no time and the door is barred once more.

He chuckles quietly, keeping his dirty thoughts to himself about how else he could indulge you. Instead, he keeps his eyes on the fire as he creeps closer to it in order to throw some more logs on the fire and build back up the warmth for you.

“Be careful,” you bite back a giggle seeing how aggressively he is not looking anywhere near you. “One of us has already lost half their sight. You should not sacrifice yours too.”

He huffs and rolls his eyes, hearing your teasing tone. "Would you rather I stare?" He asks, as he stokes the fire and feeds it. "Make you uncomfortable?"

“I…” It’s definitely not going to make you uncomfortable. Horny, maybe. But not uncomfortable. “You are allowed to look at me, Pero.” You’re probably digging your libido’s grave, but so be it. After last night, you’re not about to deny him.

"When you are dressed." He huffs, trying not to turn his head to look at you. "Not while you are in your bath and vulnerable."

The smile that brings to your lips is small and shy – not disappointed at all. More like…impressed. “There is more than one way to be a good man, cariño. I will remind you of this next time you claim to be otherwise.”

His shoulders round slightly, flustered at the praise. And especially the endearment. “You are my soulmate.” He grunts after a moment, as if it explains all.

“Yes.” You hum, dipping your head back into the water to speak your hair. “Thank goodness.”

“You—” His head whips around to face you and catches an eyeful of your tits pushed high as you wet your hair. “Mierda.” He hisses and looks quickly back at the fire. “You are pleased I am your soulmate?” He asks, completely puzzled to why you would be thankful that you are soulmates.

“Pero…” You giggle a little at his reaction, finding it just fully amusing that he’s being so virtuous when last night he was moaning your name. “I trusted you enough to tell you my story after only a few days. And then I asked you to come back with me. I would not have done that if I—” If I didn’t have feelings for you. “If I did not think so well of you.”

He feels guilty. Guilty that he had tugged on his cock and whispered your name in the dark. Guilty that he cannot help the way his cock twitches and hardens while you are bathing, bathing. It should not make him burn as badly as it does. Gulping, he nods, trying to find the words to respond to that. "I think of you— well." He manages.

The part of you that is truly a ball buster wants to tell him that you know exactly how well, but that would only spoil the moment. “I am glad.” Is what you tell him instead, and simply reach for your soap to wash your hair.

The silence isn't heavy, but it falls between the two of you. The only sounds the very intimate ones of your bath. Pero bites his lip, hot from the fire and from the heat of his attraction but he does not move a fraction of an inch away from the small groans you give as you lather your hair.

The water is nearly cold by the time you reach over the side of the bath for the length of cloth you use as a towel. Your fingers are pruned and you’ve scrubbed every inch of your skin, giving you the most satisfying clean you’ve felt in…years, probably. “I’m getting out.” You tell him, wondering if he’ll continue to avert his eyes, and figuring he deserves the respect of a warning if he is trying to be respectful.

"Okay." Pero croaks out, biting his lip as he sees you stand out of the corner of his eye. Why had he thought he could be in the same cottage as you while you bathe? He huffs and tries to get a grip on himself, feeling his cock hardening.

It isn’t difficult to maneuver around him, wrapping yourself up in your towel and drying off just enough that you won’t soak through your chemise when you pull it over your head. Years of changing in large tents at summer camp or in gym locker rooms has helped you know how to do this quickly and easily, but that doesn’t mean you don’t thoroughly enjoy the way he’s struggling with his thread of self-control as you tie yourself into your stockings and stays, and then pull on the woolen tunic dress that keeps you properly clothed. You know you’ll be struggling just as hard once he’s the one who is naked, but for now it’s a nice little boost to your ego to know he wants you.

Shuffling to his feet, Pero can't hide the tent in his breeches as he moves to draw out a few buckets of water to reheat and add the water that is still in the cauldron to heat the bath back up. Giving him something to do that isn't staring at you.

“Take your time and enjoy.” His one spare set of clothes that had been protected in his saddle bags is out and ready for him and you set yourself down at your worktable to begin preparing supper. “As you say, we have plenty of time.”

He knows that, but he still spends more time heating up water than he needs to. Trying to give his body a chance to calm down but like the traitorous thing that it is, it does not. His cock strains against his breeches still when the steam curls up from the tub and it is probably hotter than he should have made it. Leaving him no option but to start stripping down.

You should be fine. The man was naked and unconscious for you-can’t-remember how long when he came to you and you stripped and washed him. You should be fine. But he was ill then, racked with it, and despite thinking he was well built you had forced yourself to ignore the rest. Since then? Since then you have been fully pressed against that body, and despite there having been clothing in the way those times you had imagined so much from it. The strength and breadth of him is undeniable — and puts him squarely in the category of full fucking three course meal as far as your attraction goes. So you did not need to accidentally glance up from your knife right as he was starting to unlace his breeches. No. No you definitely didn’t need the extra focus that it brought to the tented fabric. Jesus Christ he’s going to be the death of you, you think as you try not to squirm.

Pero has no issue with his nudity, he is not a prudish man. However, he is embarrassed that he is fully hard and unable to make it soften as he pulls his breeches down and steps out of them. His cock bobs as he moves, tenting his loose linen shirt before he is pulling it over his head to drop down onto the other clothes.

He was polite and respectful and didn’t leer, and you know you shouldn’t either. You know you shouldn’t. But the one tiny glimpse you get of Pero getting into the bath is unintentionally perfectly timed to give you a glimpse of his fully hard cock and you genuinely might just melt into the floor. It’s an utter miracle that you don’t make a sound, but you immediately avert your eye back to the mushrooms you were cutting. Do not imagine riding him in that tub. Do not do it…

Pero groans and hisses as he lowers himself into the tub, having to cup his cock and balls to keep from settling into the hot water too quickly for the sensitive flesh. Groaning again when he gets settled and can lean back in the hot water to relax. The perfumed water smells like you and it doesn't help the state of his aching cock.

“Bueno?” You have to clear your throat slightly, but the question comes out evenly enough.

"Bueno." Pero rasps out, leaning his head back to hang between his shoulder blades as his arms perch on the sides of the tub.

“It is a luxury.” From where you are sitting, all you can see is what is above the rim of the tub and you smile softly at his blissful expression. “But one we have now, thanks to you.”

"Worth giving up the meat and hide." He groans, feeling his muscles relax and his eyes close as he soaks.

"It will be good for you." With all the physical labor necessary in this time, a hot bath to let the tension out of his muscles is a very good thing from time to time. "Every time it snows, we will celebrate with a bath."

He chuckles and rolls his head over to look at the white out window. "We will stay very clean this winter I think." He jokes, settling a bit deeper in the water and groaning again. "Mierda."

"So much the better for us." You hum, returning to your work. "We will be the best smelling and cleanest outcasts the village has ever seen."

He huffs and shakes his head. "They are the ones that suffer from casting you aside, hermosa." Pero tells you, turning his head to look over at you at the table.

"I am grateful for the friendship of the few people that I care most about." Having Arwena be less afraid to come and see you has warmed your heart and made you miss Beth, seeing some undeniable similarities between the teenager and your best friend back home.

"You have friends back in your time?" He asks curiously. "People who will be missing your presence? Worrying about you?" He wants to know if you have a lover you left behind, but it is none of his business.

"Well, I can't say for sure what they're thinking or feeling, but...I think so." Laying down your knife again, you look at him curiously, trying to figure out what he's really asking. "I have a best friend. So close that I call her sister. A few friends at the place where I work. My family lives far away, but I try to see them once a year."

The idea of women living far from their parents without being wed is strange to him but he doesn't comment on it. Instead he watches as you carefully cut up the vegetables that you have in front of you. "My mother would have liked you." He murmurs. He smiles as he imagines his mother's reaction to having a soulmate like you.

"Oh?" Smiling curls the corners of your lips and you can feel your cheeks heat despite the chill outside. "My parents would like you, too."

He snorts and shakes his head. "No man likes the man his daughter sleeps with." He drolls, remembering the moaning of men in all the taverns he had visited, drowning their sorrows over their daughters leaving home.

"Then I guess you still have time before he'll hate you." You quip, shooting him a teasing smirk.

He flushes slightly, when he realizes how you took that comment. His cock twitching below the water and breaking the surface. "How much of a time difference is there between us?" He asks, suddenly needing to know.

"Um..." The question makes you cringe, not knowing how he will process it all. It is such a large difference. "I will not be born for almost one thousand years."

"Fuck." Pero blows out a breath and tries to imagine that amount of time. "So you obviously prefer older men." He grunts out.

The fit of giggles that pulls out of you is fully unexpected, but it's so very much a joke that Beth would make that you get a big extra laugh out of how little people have really changed over so much time. "I do, actually, but usually not this much older. I've made an exception for you."

"Why?" That is the question that has nagged at him. Eaten away at his thoughts. You are from a different time, a better time. Why would you choose him. "Is it because we wear the same marks?"

"Because—" His confusion definitely sticks a pin in your laughter, and you tilt your head at him slightly. "Because despite the two of us being so very far apart in time and space, we're still so similar." You tell him, when you can finally wrap your head around the thoughts you're trying to express. "We are stubborn, and passionate, and caring in similar ways. We have the same sense of humor and we love to tease each other. We fight but never end the day angry. We disagree but never let it stand in the way of sitting down to supper with smiles on our faces. You are such a good man but not in the ways you think you should be and so you won't ever believe it, just like I will never believe that I could deserve to be loved in the way I desperately want to be. Just because we were born a thousand years apart does not mean that we are any different as people. It...it might actually prove that people have always been the same in their hearts." You shake your head slightly, feeling the tightly wrapped hold he has on your heart as surely as you draw breath. "It is not because we wear the same marks, that I feel so strongly. But perhaps it helped me to admit it to myself more quickly than I would have otherwise."

"You deserve more than me." Pero admits, lifting a hand to silence you when you frown and open your mouth. "You do deserve more than what I can give you, that what any man can give you." He insists. "You are kind when you have every reason to be spiteful and cruel. You are giving when you should be selfish. You are strong and stubborn and yet you have a grace and goodness that cannot be taught, it is ingrained in your very soul." He takes a deep breath. "I am not worthy of a soulmate like you, but I am selfish enough that I will hold on tight to the gift I am given."

"I hope you do." Though neither of you are ready to say the words, the air around you hangs heavy with their meaning. For two people who were strangers bare weeks ago, you have come together so easily that you truly are certain that the universe was correct in putting you together. "Whatever ideas of our own worthiness we have, only you can determine what is right for you, and only I can know what is right for me. It just...is fortunate that we seem to agree with the universe's decision."

He smirks and shakes his head, lifting a brow as he looks around the cottage and then up at the roof. "It isn't like we have much of a choice right now." He teases. "You would have starved, and I would have frozen to death." He gives a shrug and sinks into the tub deeper. "Now you are warm and your belly is full and you can soak in a tub of hot water." He sends you a playful wink. "We apparently work well together."

"You would have been dead long before the first frost if not for me." Clicking your tongue at him is just playful teasing, but you do have to admit now that the idea of losing him tears at you in a way that you cannot articulate. "But I am glad that it was my cottage you happened upon and not anyone else's."

"I am too." He admits fondly, readily admitting that you had saved his life. "Even if you tried to poison me with that foul brew."

You snort, shaking your head at him as you pick your knife back up and go back to work. "Tease me about it more and I will make you drink it again," you warn, though the threat is entirely empty.

“Bleh.” Pero grimaces and shakes his head. “I will pass.” He picks up the soap that you had left by the tub and starts working up a lather with it to scrub his body clean.

Silence falls again, as he washes and you work, and before long you are setting a pot of venison, parsnips, mushrooms, carrots, and chilis on the fire to stew. It will be enough for multiple days, but this is something that you are certain he is going to like so you have put plenty of confidence into it. "That will take some hours," you tell him, trying not to peak at him in the bath. "But it will smell divine."

“What do you do while you wait?” He asks, sluicing off the soap from his skin and reaching for the bucket to wet his hair. “When you were alone before?”

"Talk to Binx. Perhaps sing to her. Sketch, if I have a spare surface." Paper is expensive in this time, but sometimes stretches of canvas or planks of wood have been surface for your mediocre artwork.

“What do you want to do now?” He asks, soaping up his hair to scrub clean. After doing that, he will trim the hair on his face again.

The honest answer to that is still ride him in the bath, but you shrug as innocently as you can and reach for the kettle of hot water which will make both of you hot cups of lavender tea. "I do not mind," you admit quietly. "We could sit in silence and I would still enjoy being next to you."

“It is going to be colder tonight.” Pero hums. Finding the weather to be a good topic is boring, but it’s safe. “We might have to stuff rags under the door.”

"We might." The suggestion sticks in your throat, wondering what he might think of you being so forward in a world where women are expected to submit and obey. At its core, though, you're really just thinking practically – even if it does have a few fringe benefits that you would both enjoy. "Or we could use your mattress to block the cold...and we could share the bed?"

Pero drops the soap into the water. “Shit.” He hisses, scrambling to find it. “That— that would be— uh, yes.” He nods, not wanting to sound like an idiot and failing miserably. “Warm. We would be warm.”

"More blankets and body heat." You nod, as though no other reason had ever crossed your mind. "And I know it will be more comfortable for you."

It sounds so innocent when he is anything but. “I should not.” He groans, dropping the soap that he finally locates into the side of the tub and slides down to dunk his hair. His still hard cock lifts out of the water as he moves. “I will be awake all night. Disturbing you.”

"What is the harm in lying awake sometimes?" Lifting your head to look at him is terrible timing, as the water moves and reveals the fact that he is still painfully aroused in the bath. Good lord he's thick... "I—it...doesn't..." your mind has suddenly gone totally blank and you shake your head like a wet dog. "It does no harm. The worst thing that happens is that we sleep late tomorrow."

Sitting up again, Pero groans, wondering why you cannot just let him freeze. The price of being cold is a small one to pay instead of admitting he would be rock hard all night and itching to sink into your body, burrow into your skin and just stay there. "I am a man..." he offers weakly.

“Yes…” You’re about to say that you don’t see the big deal since you’re both adults, but then it hits your thick skull that that is exactly why it is a big deal. You might not have a problem lusting over him because you know he reciprocates – but he is still worried about offending you. “If you would not be comfortable, I understand.”

He sighs, hating how you phrased it. Growling at the way you are pulling this out of him. “I ache.” He hisses, standing up in the water and revealing the heavy length of his hard cock jutting out from his groin, standing proud. His scowl is defiant and embarrassed. “How can I share a bed with you and not touch you? When this is my state just by being around you?”

Full-on confessional was not where you expected him to go in this moment, but you do appreciate his honesty first and foremost. It takes you longer than you are proud of to tear your eyes away from the sight he has shown you, but you manage it, lust curling around something heavier and more meaningful in your belly. “Why can you not touch me? When was that law set down?” You challenge, wondering if he has some kind of rule in this mind about your imagined virtuousness.

Pero inhales sharply, cock twitching again and he growls under his breath, low and pained. “You— our— when we…talked.” He manages, water dripping down his body and he sloshes slightly as he steps out in front of the fire, making no pretense to cover himself since he has already bared all to you. You are not screaming or banishing him outside. “You did not tell me I could.”

“Forgive me, then. I should have been more plain.” Getting up to hand him cloth to dry with, you swallow the thick wanting in your throat and force yourself to meet his eyes and nothing else. “If you lay beside me tonight and are consumed by passion once more, please understand that I am in a similar state. Quiero que me toques, Pero.” I want you to touch me.

Pero's eyes are hot, liquid pools of desire and his breathing is stuttered in his chest. He wants to touch you now. Nighttime is too far away for his liking. Instead of taking the cloth, he grabs your wrist and drags you closer. "We are clean." He ventures, water still dripping out of his hair.

“And wet.” There’s still an abundance of your modern, dirty sense of humour in you, and the double entendre slips from you before you can even stop it, making you grin. “If I take you to bed now, we will dampen everything and make it freezing for ourselves tonight.” There is not, of course, any reason things can only happen in a bed, and you press in a little closer to him - as close as you can with him still dripping water onto your clean, dry dress.

He grunts, knowing that is true and he looks around the cabin, slightly frustrated that this is happening while both of you are wet. "Then we will dry off." He decides, reaching up and taking a handful of your wet hair and wrapping it around his hand. "Then I will touch you until you tell me no."

From the look on his face, he was not expecting you to moan when he tugged unexpectedly on your hair. The casual show of strength shoots right to your core, and you let your head drop back as if by command, biting your lip to keep from embarrassing yourself by whimpering. Hair pulling has always been a turn on for you, and it’s been so fucking long since anyone did it.

Hissing, he feels like he's about to cum right now, the urge to flip you over you and pull your skirts up so he can sink into you is nearly overwhelming. His hand tightens in your hair again and he's rewarded with another little moan, not as loud but it shoots straight to his cock. "Mierda." He pants, looking down at your tits as they heave. "You are— you like that?"

“Yes.” You narrowly avoid the urge to add sir to the thought, not wanting to overwhelm the moment with too much new information that he might have trouble wrapping his head around.

He growls, dragging you closer and fusing his lips to your desperately. Needing to touch you in some way. The need is as mutual as it is immediate, and you open up for him without hesitation. A kiss with the promise of more has you wrapping your arms around him without a single further thought for getting wet. At this point your aching pussy feels like it's dripping down your legs anyway, so who cares?

Pero plunders your mouth, his aching cock pressing against your belly through the material of your dress. Kissing and panting into your mouth for long minutes before he remembers that you are dressed and he is still wet. He has to take your shoulders and physically push you back because he cannot pull away. "Take off your dress." He orders you roughly.

The heat of the fire keeps the room warm but you swear that the heat rolling off the two of you rivals it right now. Pulling your tunic over your head takes no time, but the stays you just laced are slightly more stubborn. Loosening them just enough to pull those over your head too, the thin chemise that you wear close to your skin is effectively see through, giving him a moment to see you before you toss that aside to be naked again in the fire light.

He stands there, looking at you for a long moment, reaching up again and pushing your hair back behind your shoulder so you are not covering your face. Wanting to see all of you just as you are. "Hermosa."

Your bodies are littered with the proof that he has survived many battles and the few that have marked your own life. Bearing everything for him is easy in some ways, because he has seen every way your body has been marred already. But in others it is the most vulnerable you have ever been. Beyond any other attachment – he is your soulmate. If anyone is going to bring you to that place of breathless pleasure, it’s supposed to be him. And it’s supposed to make you inseparable. You just…you can only hope that that is true.

"I want—" He pauses, pressing his lips together for a moment before he starts again. "The things that you spoke of— the acts, I want to try them with you." He confesses, skin flushed and nearly scorching from his lust and the fire that crackles. "I want to see if it is as you say." He wants to explore you with his mouth, spread you out on the table and feast in the light from the hearth.

“All of them?” Clarification is for his sake, because you know that he is thinking of touching you already. That was said explicitly. But you wonder if he is even thinking clearly enough to want anything beyond just burying his cock inside you and cumming until your walls are covered in his seed. When there are other things – things he has not yet experienced – that he could also enjoy.

His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows heavily, licking his lip and nodding. Peering into your eyes and wondering if you had been blustering for the younger ones when you had spoken of such things. "Whatever you will— it is your decision." He will be happy with your hand on his cock and allowing him to slide inside your heat. He is a simple man with even simpler ideas of pleasure, but he knows that you are expecting more.

“Good.” He is tense as a bow string in front of you, holding himself back with every ounce of restraint he has, and you lean in to kiss him once more before stepping back again. Only when he’s watching you with hungry eyes again do you sink down to your knees, knowing he needs relief much more than you do right now.

He forgets to breathe. Thoughts gone from his head as he watches with wide eyes. Your form sinking down and your smirk playful while you are inches from his cock. He reacts physically, stomach lurching and a small tremor rushes through his muscles as he realizes what you are going to do. “I— I’ve never—” he stammers, even though you know he’s never had a woman’s mouth on his cock. He told you that, but he tells you again.

“I know.” You remind him gently. As badly as you just want to reach out and greedily gulp him down, you don’t touch him yet. Not until he’s okay with what is about to happen. “Will you let me be the first?”

“Fuck. He whispers, nodding quickly, almost making his teeth rattle with how hard he is bobbling his head in agreement. “Anything you want.”

“If you don’t like something I do, tell me.” Is the last instruction you give him before leaning forward to lick up the precum leaking from the purple head of his cock.

The noise he makes. It’s loud, obscene as it echoes through his head. The wet heat of your mouth is shocking, although it shouldn’t be. Maybe it’s the fact that your tongue is pressing against the slit.

Inside your own head you’re giggling evilly, wondering how fast you can reduce this fearsome mercenary to his knees with just your tongue, but the first time is not for that. Instead you hum, pleased with his initial reaction, and reach up to steady yourself with one hand on his hip so the other can wrap around the base of his length as you sink down on him. While he isn’t overly long, he is thick, and you may not be able to take him all the way down your throat because of it. At least not this time – not when you’re out of practice.

Pero groans, his hand flying to the back of your head and he holds it there, certain that his knees are about to buckle. “María, madre de Dios.” He pants. Mary, Mother of God.

This time when you hum it’s around him, making the sound vibrate through his body and making his cock twitch heavily against your tongue. It’s stunning, the way something as simple as the way you swirl that muscle around the head of him before using it to trace every ridge and vein makes him sound like he’s going to collapse or explode - or both - and you love it. Working his rest of his throbbing length with your hand is easy given the way your spit and his precum is leaking from the corners of your mouth, but you’re not going to stop for anything. The bath water is right there: if you need to wash your face after, then that’s what you’ll do.

Another flick of your tongue and Pero is gone. His body tenses up and to his utter relief and mortification, he starts to cum. A gasp is all he can manage, not even giving you a warning before his seed is spilling down your throat.

You don’t mind that it happens quickly - in fact you were betting on it from how long he had been that hard and the fact that this was his first experience with oral sex. That was kind of the whole point of you going down on him first - so he can calm down a little and enjoy things more if he decides that he still wants to explore with you. You drink down every drop that you can but it is a big load, and a few drops escape the corners of your mouth despite your best efforts. Moaning happily around him, you can feel yourself practically dripping in the cottage floor, but you’ll wait until he’s ready. Even if he needs hours to recover mentally and physically, you’ll still wait. He’s worth that respect.

It was a hard decision, closing his eyes in complete surrender or watching as you drink down his cum. In the end, he watches you under heavy lidded eyes, panting and whining while you continue loving him with your mouth. Shuddering when the slight pressure becomes too much, and his hips pull back slightly.

Rocking back on your heels so you don’t fall forward, you pick up the strands of cum that your mouth couldn’t catch on your fingertips and lick them clean, looking up at him with curious eyes. “Was it what you thought, cariño?”

Pero grunts, shaking his head and reaching for you to drag you up to your feet. "No." He rasps out gruffly, pressing his lips to yours. "Better."

You practically giggle against the kiss, glad to hear him so enthusiastic about trying something new with you. “We can rest as long as you need, hermoso.”

He frowns and shakes his head, pulling back and searching your face. "You do not want me to do the same?" He asks, disappointed by the prospect of not being able to explore you and give you the same pleasure.

“Of course I do.” Gently, one of your hands leads his to the meeting of your thighs, letting him feel that the dampness coating your curls is not water. “But only when you are ready.”

He grunts, again and lifts a brow at you in suspicion. "What kind of men are from your time?" He huffs, fingers sliding through your curls as he turns you around to guide you back to the table. "When I first spoke of this – I was meaning putting my mouth on you."

“Men are as changeable as women,” you gasp slightly when one of his long fingers probes deeper inside you but make it over to the worktable without incident. “You may not know every word I speak, but you know more than many men in my time if you know that a woman can find pleasure in many ways.” The number of men you slept with who thought the clitoris was a myth was shameful.

"I want to learn." He breathes into your ear. "Hear your sweet cries and watch you pant in pleasure." His hand doesn't leave your wet cunt as you sit on the table and move back, giving him room to sit in front of you.

“Y-you should have looked to the bed last night, then.” You tell him, gasping and squirming slightly as your body cries out for much more than his first, gentle touches. “You would have seen much.”

"You were asleep." He grunts, guiding you to lean back and he spreads your thighs wide in front of him. The light from the fire is enough for him to see your cunt clearly and he groans when he sees the slickness coating your lips.

“I was faking.” The grin on your lips curls into a smirk when you see him utterly fixated on your dripping pussy. “Bringing myself pleasure while you moaned my name in the dark.”

Moaning in embarrassment, his face turns hotter than the fire. His eyes fluttering slightly and he huffs a curse under his breath. “You touched yourself to my sounds?”

“I could not resist.” Sitting up, you press kisses to his forehead, nose, and lips without pushing too much. There are plenty of men who don’t like to taste themselves. “Knowing you wanted me as much as I wanted you? Set me on fire.”

He growls and captures your lips again – kissing you and biting your bottom lip sharply before he pushes you back slightly. "Good." He grunts. "Now I want to see if you enjoy my mouth as much as I enjoyed yours."

“I can all but guarantee it,” you promise him, laying back on your worktable propped up on your elbows so you can watch every single moment of this. Your legs spread completely, giving him plenty of room to see and explore you even as his fingers have never stopped dancing over your aching slit.

“Tell me what you like.” He demands, spreading your lips apart while he looks his fill. You are more experienced in this than he is. He is not so proud that he would not learn from someone who can teach.

“I like to be explored.” It sounds like a line, probably, but with his fingers stroking your pussy as he studies you, you’re biting back whimpers at every turn. “When you have licked along every part of my pussy and I am begging you for more, then focus on this.” One of your hands draws his attention to your clit, swollen and already aching with need just from having him so close. “Lick it, suck on it, whichever you like better. But no teeth. I like pain with my pleasure but not in this.”

He listens carefully, nodding and studying your cunt like it the outline of a battle plan. “This is where you like your pleasure, not inside?” He asks, sliding a finger over your clit.

“Both.” The whimper that passes your lips when he touches you is downright pitiful. “If you curl your fingers inside me you’ll see how much.”

“I will.” His fingers are wet with you, sliding around the hole that flutters so prettily for him. Groaning slightly as he pushed two fingers into the first inch of your velvet walls, his eyes finding your face while he sinks them in deeper.

Part of the challenge, you can see right away, is going to be patience. Not letting your hips be insistent or searching for pleasure or pressure but letting him explore and rewarding him with those moans and whimpers and encouragements that show him what you like most. Expecting him to understand your body’s nonverbal cues would not be fair at all, and only end up frustrating you both. “That’s it,” you nod, sighing audibly when his fingers delve a little deeper. “Just like that.”

He likes that. Pero’s fingers push deeper at your encouragement, feeling the slickness on his rough fingers as if it were his cock. He loves the breathless tone and he wants to hear more. His other hand caresses your hips, sliding down over your mound and grinning as he moves through your curls to press his palm against your clit as he curls those fingers up.

“Ah! Fuck. Yes.” The dual sensations take you by surprise, having been too caught up in watching the smirk on his face to pay attention to his hands. Your head drops back for second and you whine, loving the thickness of his calloused fingers. “Feel that?” You ask him, feeling him experimentally press against your g-spot with his fingers and making your hips buck and squirm a little each time. “That feels so good for me.”

“There?” His brow furrows as he presses up against that spot and your hips buck up off the table and another curse falls from your lips. His growl of delight matches the nearly feral quality of his grin as he starts to focus on that spot as he pumps and curls his fingers.

“Fuck!” Keening with the intensity of his strokes, the heat in your body has nothing to do with the roaring fire and everything to do with the man between your legs. It’s been so long since anyone touched you besides yourself and Pero’s attention to detail is so startling, that you can feel the knot in your belly already start to tighten. “Oh god D-do you—think you can suck on my clit at the same time?” You would be begging in a rambling mess of incoherent words if you weren’t trying to so hard to stay focused and teach him, but fuck if he isn’t a quick study.

His palm comes away from your clit and his mouth descends. It’s awkward, his shoulder folding in so he can keep his fingers moving inside your cunt while his tongue flicks over your clit experimentally. You taste warm, tangy and musky. The notes of your soap and skin hit his tongue and he groans, pushing his face deeper into you as he takes your clit into his mouth.

It’s almost a pity that you’re climbing to your peak as quickly as you are, wanting to savor this feeling as long as possible, but your body is responding to his attention so earnestly that it only takes a minute or two more before you’re gasping out a warning and bearing down tightly on his fingers with a cry of his name that echoes in the little cottage.

Pero groans again, feeling the hot rush of liquid on his fingers. Letting go of your clit and starting to rub his tongue all over your lips and again over your clit, noticing that your hips buck up again when he does.

The point of overstimulation is almost beautiful considering it shows how eager he is, but you have to nudge his head away with a groan - one that ends up a giggle when he pouts at you fiercely. “You’re a natural,” you grin, chest still heaving as you try to get your breath back.

“You enjoyed it?” His fingers are still buried inside you, unable to slide them out from your still fluttering cunt. He loves the noises you made and he wants to hear them again.

“When I scream your name, it is a good sign.” He still looks so hungry that you shiver a little and push up on your elbow to see your own slick shimmering on his lips and chin in the firelight. “You want more, cariño?”

“Yes.” He’s not going to deny it, wanting to see you fall apart again. He’s always been a greedy man, wanting more and this is no exception. Especially when there is no time limit on this, no where he has to be than right here in the warmth of the cottage with you stretched out for him to feast on.

“Tell me what you want.” With snow outside and the only other occupant of the cottage – Binx – disappeared somewhere out of sight, you have no desire to do anything but let him explore you.

“Tell me what else you like.” He demands, curling his fingers up inside you again. His cock is still soft, but he knows he will be hard again soon, once he has recovered.

There’s a lot. You won’t deny that, knowing that you have a couple of kinks that could come out in the future but not wanting to give him too many new or ‘modern’ things all at once. Assuming that he knows that tits are a sensitive pleasure center all their own, you reach down and thread your fingers through his wet hair indulgently. “I like things a little rougher than other women. As you saw when you pulled my hair. There’s also places I like to be…bitten. Unless that sounds too odd to you. We can go to bed, and I can show you another way to lick my pussy if that is what you wish.”

He tilts his head curiously and looks down at your cunt again. “But not your cunt, correct?” He asks of the biting, remembering your earlier words.

“Correct.” It actually makes you grimace a little. “That could be like me biting your cock.”

He grunts and shakes his head, his fingers curling gently. “Don’t do that.” He asks. “I don’t want to hurt you, want you to feel pleasure.”

It’s been just long enough that the feeling of overstimulation has faded, and you hum softly when he starts to move his fingers inside you again. “I won’t ever hurt you intentionally,” you promise, knowing that humans are clumsy and accidents happen. You can’t swear never to hurt him, but you’ll do everything you can to avoid it.

“What else do you like?” There is something incredibly indulgent about talking with you while your naked and his fingers are moving inside you. “Tell me, hermosa.”

“There is—” It’s hard not to gasp with him slowly finger fucking you again, but you would never claim not to love it. “A way for us to lay together…where we can have our mouths on each other.”

Pero growls, eyes darkening in delight. “You will show me.” It’s not even a question, he knows you will.

"On the bed." You tell him, glad that you rightfully guessed he would immediately love the idea. "Always on the bed. For comfort."

He groans, not even wanting to pull his fingers away from you yet. His eyes watch you for another moment before he shakes his head. “After.” He huffs, leaning down again. “After you cry out again.”

He's going to be the death of you, you can tell already. The entire winter will be spent wrapped up in each other if Pero has his way and really, you would be lying if you claimed to be upset about it. "Whatever you want," you agree, too distracted by the way he is spreading his fingers apart inside you to worry about literally anything else. It draws a moan from you, and you grind down on his hand unconsciously to get more of that gorgeous sensation.

This time there is less hesitation, more confidence in the flick of his tongue and the pressure of his fingers. Listening to the sounds you make and cataloguing them with tremors of your body. He's surer the second time, one hand digging into your flesh and shoulders holding your legs wide open for him to have a full view whenever he opens his eyes. The curiosity is still there but this time it's hungrier, understanding a little better the way your moans and shaking legs lead him toward your pleasure. A second orgasm is slower to build but Pero never backs off, never hesitates, just keeps pushing you up and up that mountain until you're teetering on the edge once more.

The sounds you make are gorgeous, this time going to his cock and stirring it again. Making him harden as he works you towards an orgasm while every flick of his tongue before he pulls your clit into his mouth and sucks on it as he watches you.

The way your thighs are squeezing him, if they were around his ears he’d have completely muffled hearing by the time your body tenses up and draws his fingers in tightly, coating them in another rush of cum as you cry out his name into the cold afternoon. The stars bursting behind your vision keep you - temporarily - from seeing the pleased flash of desire in his eyes right before he doubles down on drinking every ounce of your pleasure and prolonging the spasms of your climax as long as he possibly can. It’s like drowning and floating all at once, held steady by the broad shoulders, strong hands, and plush lips of the man determined to devour you whole.

This time he does not need you to push him away, sitting back and watching your breasts heave while you come down from your high. He’s smirking, smug in his ability to bring you pleasure twice now. Happy that he could do that.

"Fuck." The groan is accompanied by a low giggle, though, as the lingering adrenaline of orgasm makes you feel like you're floating instead of lying on a table. It isn't until you sit up again that you see the nearly feral smirk on his face, and you draw him into you so you can kiss him more easily. "You deserve to look that smug."

“That is fun.” Pero hums against your lips. His arms wind around you and pull you closer, still disbelieving that he is allowed to touch you. His soulmate.

"You can do it anytime you want." He tugs you into his lap, easily having you straddle his thighs in the process. The insistence of his renewed arousal is right there for you to feel, heavy against the inside of your thigh as you brace yourself over him and nip his bottom lip between kisses.

This is what his mamá was telling him about. The feeling that was indescribable when you are with your soulmate. Pero squeezes you tight and his answering bite to your lips is just as passionate as yours.

"Pero..." So many friends had described this moment to you in the past. This first moment of real intimacy with your soulmate being such a telling thing between the two of you - and it's stunning to you how right they were. The way he wraps his arms around you and breathes you in is astounding, and he has somehow become your only source of oxygen. If you ever stop kissing him it will be far too soon.

His eyes are closed, relaxed. Not that he’s been on guard around you, you literally found him at his weakest. Just this moment is monumental for him, swearing that his heart stopped beating for an instant and started to beat in time to yours.

You're the first to move again, body demanding more despite already having cum twice. The feeling of him beneath you is just too good and you grind down in his lap to roll your hips over his cock and feel him buck. "Amor, por favor."

The breath he lets out boarders on a whine, fingers digging into your back and hips while you grind down on him expertly. If he didn’t know better, he would say that you were a most talented whore, sent to empty all his pockets of coins, but the heat and tenderness in your touch tells him that it’s so much more. “Amor.”

The word had slipped from you without realizing it, too caught in the honesty of the moment to censor yourself or even catch the unconscious truth from emerging. Opening your eyes, you lean back slightly and cup both of his cheeks in your hands to bring his gaze to yours. "Amor." You whisper, knowing that you don't need to be any louder than that for him to hear you. It's like breathing him in had awakened something inside you that you never knew was dormant, bringing it all right to the surface.

Pero is strong. One of the things that he is proud of is the fact that he has strength that would rival plenty of men. With that strength, he grunts, lifting you up to carry you the short distance to the bed.

He laughs when you squeal, throwing your arms and legs tightly around him as he starts to get up to cling to him even though it takes him all of five steps to get to the bed. No one has ever done that with you before no matter how sexy you always thought it would be, and it gives you a sort of giddiness that only makes your accidental confession better.

Pero doesn’t toss you down, but both of you tumble to the bed and he makes sure that he covers your body with his own and his might immediately attaches to your neck.

If you thought he was broad before, it is only thrown into even sharper relief with him hovering over you. It doesn't seem to matter to either of you, though, as your fingernails dig into his shoulders to keep him close and his thighs continue to keep your legs spread in this new position. All that matters right now is that he never stops, and the heavy weight of his cock against your inner thigh has you wet all over again.

“Sassenach.” He groans, kissing down your throat and biting gently on your skin. Keeping your comments about enjoying being bitten in mind.

There's going to be a trail of bites along your skin tomorrow that are ever so slightly tender but you really could not care less. It will be a gorgeous reminder of being spread out beneath him, feeling the weight of him pressing you into the mattress while delicious anticipation builds all over again. Each nip makes you gasp, back arching off the bed to press your chest against his.

Pulling back, his dark eyes bore into you, “I want to be inside you.” He groans, nearly begging for permission as his hand caresses your thigh. “Can I have you?”

That twist in your chest says you can have me forever, but given the slip you had a minute ago you just nod, crushing your lips against his before shifting on the bed to spread your legs a little wider. "Please."

He’s practiced in this. Sex is something that he knows. Wrapping his hand around his cock and pumping, pulling back the foreskin as he shifts his hips and lowers them so he can press against your entrance. “Amor.” He murmurs, kissing you while he starts to push forward.

It has been a hell of a long time since you've been in this position – not taking the chance on forming connections in the past had been a line you fed yourself for years until ultimately being solitary became habit. Even before arriving it had been several months since your last encounter, making it something like eight plus years since you had had anything but your own fingers between your legs. That might be a part of the reason it feels so fucking incredible to have Pero's cock slowly spearing into you, but you know it's mostly him. Your soulmate.

He’s grateful that he had cum earlier, the hot velvety grip of your cunt has him in a chokehold. Making him grunt as he slowly fills you. Bracing his elbows in either side of your shoulders and staring down at you in wonder.

You shift almost immediately, hitching your legs up high on his waist and letting them wrap around him to take him deeper and letting out an appreciative moan when you can feel the head of his cock nearly bump against your cervix. It's an impressively full feeling, one that has your eyes rolling back in your head for a moment as you pant under him, eager to feel how perfect it will be when he's fucking you into the mattress as hard as he damn well pleases.

The first thrust is experimental, wanting to see if that sense of liking it rough is different from his. Often he can be harsh but never cruel as he worked out his frustrations but he doesn’t want to be too harsh with you.

It’s like being in another world altogether, that gorgeous snap of his hips making you moan and rock against him as he finds the rhythm that he wants. Gentle or rough doesn’t matter to you right now, knowing there will be more than enough time for fucking as well as love making in the winter to come.

Pero moans, loving how easily to take him, the eagerness in the way your legs tighten around him. You name falls from his lips when he buries his head at your throat.

The pace he sets isn’t rough, per se, but it’s eager. Wanting to see how deeply and entirely you can take him and how sharply he can make you cry his name in pleasure. The grind of his hips makes you gasp each time and nearly see stars, and the deliberate strokes make it entirely clear to you as you cling to him - if Pero Tovar fights half as well as he fucks, it’s no wonder he never had trouble finding someone to sell his sword to.

He’s never felt anything quite like you. Maybe it’s in his head because you are his soulmate, maybe it’s that your body fits his perfectly - but it’s like you were made for him. His hands curl under your back, pulling you closer as he bears down, every jolting thrust met with a cry of pleasure that he’s quickly growing addicted to. “Mierda.”

Moments run together, making time meaningless as the entire focus of your world is narrowed to the man inside you - surrounding you, anchoring you to the world. His own grunts and growls vibrate through him, making your body tingle with every sound he muffles in your skin.

He can feel your grip tightening on him, squeezing him. He knows that you will cum soon, groaning as he pushes his hips a little harder and the echoes of his skin slapping against yours is heard.

When you finally tense beneath him one more time, the rambling praise and cries of his name are louder than any other sound in the little cottage, echoing off the walls and coming back to his ears like music. Your fingernails dig into his shoulders as you cling to him, back arched to press you against his chest and body heaving with the effort of the most intense orgasm you can remember. It might be that it’s just good sex – but that bursting in your heart promises that it’s because he’s your soulmate.

You are perfect beneath him, wonderful and he can’t even remember the last time he has felt so much pleasure. Your pleasure makes him rush headlong into his and within a few short thrusts, he is pulling out of you, not even touching his cock as he grinds against your belly and paints your skin with his release as he whines out your name again.

The only sound for a long time is the two of you panting for breath, punctuated by soft kisses exchanged in the firelight. For as greedy and demanding as your need for each other became, this moment is full of tenderness. It is also, unfortunately, a little dishonest. Or at least not containing the full truth. “You didn’t need to do that,” you murmur softly, voice tinged with regret as you look down at the Pollock-like work of art his cum has turned your skin into. You should have told him. He deserved to know before you got too close, says your mother’s voice in your head. Guilt attached to something you had absolutely no control over. Over something you never chose.

Pero frowns, shifting to his side and shaking his head. “I have no desire to plant a baby in your belly right now, amor.” He murmurs softly. “Even if you have the means of dealing with it.”

“Th-that…is good.” When you turn your head to look at him, he has settled on the pillow beside you and is gazing at you with such affection that you frown and look away again. “Because I cannot bare your babes no matter how often we might try.”

Pero frowns again, sending you a confused look. “You know you cannot?” He asks, tucking an arm behind his head and stroking your side with his other hand so you will look at him. “You have tried and failed to have a baby?”

“In my time, there are doctors…those who specialize in the health of women.” How do you explain a gynecologist? Or a Pap smear? It used to give you panic attacks just to think about - having to one day tell your partner that you couldn’t have kids. Now you find yourself heartbroken all over again because of how difficult it is to explain. “Mine discovered that I am barren. It was not through trying and failing, but because my body…my womb did not form properly.” You shut your eyes, exhaling deeply before opening them again to find him with your singular gaze. “I should have told you before this. I am sorry.”

Reaching out, Pero captures your chin in his hand and holds it firmly in his grip. "Do not apologize for things you cannot change." He tells you firmly. "You cannot have children. I never imagined actually having any." He admits. "Never thought I would live long enough."

“I had always thought to adopt, if my soulmate wished for children.” Despite the slight tremble in your chin, you’re grateful for how steady he is in this moment. So many other people had considered you less of a woman for something entirely beyond your control. “But that is…a question for much later, I suppose.”

"Adopt?" He furrows his brow and tries to understand what you mean.

Right. Vocabulary. You frown at yourself, but there is no difference in the already displeased expression on your face. “Take in a child in need. A child without a family of their own.”

He nods, understand what you mean now. "Taking in a bastard or urchin." He grunts, not opposed to the idea at all. "If you wanted to, I would not stop you." He promises. "If you wanted to not do that, I would not look down on you." He pulls you closer. "I do not care about your womb." He stops and smirks slightly. "Except for the knowledge that I can fill you without worry."

“As often as you want.” It is a relief to have what would generously be called your confession over with, and you lay your head on his shoulder. “I did not think we would ever be in this position.” The entendre makes you grin. “Or any other that we tried today.”

He chuckles for a moment and holds you close, his fingers brushing over your skin gently as the two of you lay on the much more comfortable bed you sleep in. "You were upset when you told me." He doesn't like that and his voice is gruff. "Why? Did you think I would toss you aside?"

“I—” You have to resist the urge to turn away or look elsewhere again, knowing that you need to be honest with him. “Yes.”

He grunts at that, rolling his eyes slightly before he catches himself. He doesn't know what it would be like to know he could never have children if he wished. He reaches up and caresses your cheek as you lay on his shoulder. "I am not." He promises you. "You are my soulmate." He reasons softly. "If God or the universe wished it—" He shrugs his other shoulder, not mentioning that he would have assumed that if it was supposed to be then it would be possible. He is not a man who dwells on what he cannot change. "It is good that you know so you do not fret when you cannot give me a child."

All the imaginary conversations you ever had with imagined versions of your soulmate over the years come brimming to the surface and you bury your face. “If the day ever came when you decided you wanted a child of your own, I would understand.” It would break your heart; you know that now. But loving someone means wanting them to be happy, and calling him amor was not an exaggeration. You do love him.

Pero snorts and decides that you need to look at him. Rolling you over and pinning you under him again. "Listen, Sassenach." He grumbles at you. "I have no need of a child of my own. And I will not be breeding a bastard on someone." He scowls slightly at the mere idea of it. "You will have your gato and maybe more chickens and a goat to love on. If you want a child, I will drag home some urchin for you to love on and worry over, but I do not need you risking your life and body to bear me a child in order to be happy."

“I have said my piece.” There is no way to escape his gaze like this, and you know that that is what he intended. For a man who could be coarse and frustrating at nearly every turn, he has a gentle sweetness and care that you wish you had the words to describe properly. It’s like having a special place to sit that is all your own, perfectly tailored to be the exact comfort and care you need without having to ask for it. Plus orgasms. “Gracias, amor. For accepting it.”

"De nada." He hums and leans down to press his lips to yours again. He senses you do not want to discuss it anymore and he will not push you. He would not dream of pushing you to talk about things like that. Instead, he just concentrates on making you moan into his mouth softly.

“Tomorrow we will give Caballo the hay from your mattress.” You tell him, glad to see the smile return to his lips and feel it on your own. “And the cloth can be saved for whatever need may arise. I wish to lay with my soulmate each night.”

Pero hums and nods. “I will never deny you.” There’s a small smirk and a flash of a wink. “Your bed is comfortable and we will be warm.”

“And you will never need to touch yourself late at night again.” It’s too good to resist teasing him just a little, since it turned into this.

He huffs at you, biting your shoulder and pouts slightly. “I did not know you were awake.”

“I was afraid to say something and frighten you from providing me such a beautiful sight.” You admit, pressing a kiss to his cheek before he can lift his head away.

“You saw me?” He could disappear right now in embarrassment.

“Only a glimpse.” The blush on his cheeks is not something you would have guessed at, but it is so endearing that it earns him another kiss. “I had to be sure that what I was hearing was true.”

He snorts and shakes his head at his luck. Although he doesn’t really mind it since it had allowed him to touch you today. “You could have invited me into your bed last night.” He grunts at you playfully.

“I could have.” That thought did flutter across your mind, even though it seemed too fantastical to be a real possibility at the time. “But then our baths would have been much less dramatic.”

He chuckles quietly. “I did imagine you in your bath when I told the boy to get one.” He admits, ducking his head and nipping your shoulder.

“Was it worth it?” It was certainly worth seeing him in the steaming hot water. You would kill to get him under the powerful shower head in your apartment back home.

“Yes.” He groans happily and nods. “So much so that I would do it again tomorrow, or the next day.” Having a tub in the house is a luxury and it feels decadent and rich to watch you bathe in the large tub he had provided.

“I am glad.” Nipping at his skin in turn, you soothe the small bite with a kiss and offer him an honest smile. “We will pass an extremely pleasurable winter this way, I think.”

“Much more satisfying than I had imagined.” He agrees. “I had imagined sneaking out to the barn to relieve myself as my want for you grew.”

“We will leave the barn to the young ones.” It warms you to know that his feelings were growing the same way yours were - both emotionally and sexually - and that neither of you had to hide it any longer. “But perhaps we will see next time if that bath can hold the both of us?”

If he were younger, he would be spreading your thighs again. For now, he had can only nod and occupy himself with another kiss.

“Rest, amor.” The suggestion is soft, accompanied by your hand carefully searching out the edges of the blankets and furs on your bed to pull them up. “It will be hours yet before supper is ready. And we have had a great deal of excitement today.”

He hums and shifts slightly, his leg thrown over yours while you draw the covers up over both of you. “We have. Sleeping next to you is just what I need right now.”

“Then we shall sleep.” One more kiss to his lips and another to the pronounced bridge of his nose for good measure, and you tuck yourself into his side to rest. A well-earned afternoon nap is calling both of your names, and you’re sure it will only be the first of many for the season.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom

SatS: @canadianmaebe @badassbaker @od-ends @amneris21 @padbrookcottage @chaoticfestninja @xdaddysprincessxx @mostclevermiss @im-sylien @wherethewildfanlives @ficsbynight @djarinsimp @ellenmunn @jediknight122 @under-the-seas @wellaintthatsumthin @sarahbellesaurus @roxypeanut @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @bruxasolta @kaylay2187 @freshlemontea @humanransome-note @virtualanchortimetravel @leoisme @do-not-go-gently-42 @catsandgeekyandnerd @happypalaceroadpie @ghoulpatroul @lizzystorm48 @imoutoid @rainbeaubrightchild @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @dudelorian @thirddeadlysin @piratesangel @jazzieomega @iceclaw101 @strangegirl32 @lights-on-the-ridge @godofbadass8909 @pann-malii @littleone65 @notyouraveragemochii @shawdowolf993 @rebel-fanfare @rav3n-pascal22 @love93sstuff @choppedmugjudgeplaid @aurelac-heart @we-could-have-been @bilibiche @prettydull180 @dinoflower @my-life-as-a-bird @tuquoquebrute @damnitjaskier @fishingforpike @sherlock221b114679797 @sainteredhood @nekodemon73 @missredherring @middlemichi @moonflower91 @rachelle-on-the-run @miscellaneousfangirling @danamercury @hyacinthsatdawn @i-am-amora-the-enchantress @milkandoil @generalplaidhorseherring @raptorclaw24 @mrsparknuts

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Pero Tovar #Pero Tovar x reader #Pero Tovar x you #Pero Tovar x female reader #The Great Wall #soulmate au #disabled reader

[the-possum-writes]

Fiona and Cake: FaC!Fern X Fem!Reader

I don't have much other than that I just wanna see that tbh. No smut is the only rule. That's a lie- the other rule is to have fun writing this. No smut and have fun.

❥Character: Flora Mertens (Fem!Fern)

❥Tags: SFW, established relationship, snowy cottagecore

❥Synopsis: It's winter season and you're left helping Flora by chopping wood and keeping her company.

❥A/N: I'mma be real and admit I didn't know what to write for this request and kept postponing it, sorry if it's on the short side. But hey, I still wanted to do some fanart for her.

"That'll do," you say as you let go of the ax after chopping the last log in half, removing your gloves to rub your calloused hands together. Since the majority of forest animals hibernate once the snow falls, it is silent outside.

The snow-covered dirt crunches under your shoes as you pick up the extra logs surrounding the chopping block and stack them in your arms before bringing them inside your tiny hut. You piled your wooden stack next to a coat rack when the door banged shut. Upon hearing two pots shuffle in the kitchen, a female voice says "How's the weather?" from inside your isolated home.

"It stopped snowing, and it's not as cold so maybe we can head out for a walk later." you suggest mainly because cabin fever has been eating you from the inside out these past few weeks but Flora doesn't share your sentiments.

"I'll pass, even if the weather is fine i hate feeling the cold snow biting at my feet." she expresses with a complain.

"Come on Flo, the clouds look really pretty and soft during the sunset. Besides, I bet it gets pretty lonely and quiet here when i run errands at the village." you insist while removing your excessive coat and scarfs.

"You're just jealous my heaters keep me company at night." she taunts.

"Jealous? Hah! It's like a tropical forest in there, I'd evaporate the moment I take a step inside!" you cross your arms. "I'll keep staying in the guest room thank you very much."

Flora walks in the living room with two mugs in hand but all you can do is stare in bewilderment at your roommate's choice in clothing. "Pfft, what are you wearing?" you suppress a chuckle but failed to hide your smile.

Homegirl looks like she's prepared for the next ice age, she's wearing at least 6 layers of sweaters and two blankets thrown over his shoulders for good measure, the shuffling you heard from the kitchen comes from her bunny slippers that barely contained her pointy feet wrapped in socks and legs warmers.

"What do you mean? It's my winter clothes." Flora responds with annoyance, more than aware that her choice of clothing looks like a bundle of laundry.

"You look like the pile of clothes on the side of my bed." you laugh, standing up to retrieve your own scarf from the coat hanger on the door entry.

"Yeah, yeah I know I look ridiculous but if you were in my place you'd know how bad plants have it during winter." Flora defends, almost regretting to bring you hot chocolate.

"I didn't say it looks ridiculous, rather I'd say you look comfy, like when we get together to watch home movies," you place your scarf around her neck and tie it properly, the final cherry on top to complete her cozy outfit. "There, you left a part of your neck exposed." you complement her, placing a kiss on you forehead as you take the mug from her hand.

The gesture and compliment has Flora's mood change, softening her expression as she takes a seat on the living room couch. "Now that the wood is chopped up and the fire is burning, how about we finish watching that TV series we left behind yesterday?" she pats the empty spot next to her, an offer you can't deny.

#adventure time x reader #Grass Fionna #Flora Mertens #Grass Fionna x reader #flora the human #Flora Mertens x reader

[jellidile]

7 to 8

So apparently my brain can think of all the nightmare plots NOW, like a month after Season of the haunted is over. but that’s FINE. Here’s my guardian’s nightmare and another one of his past resets May I humbly present: Loche-9 !

                                                 ---------------------- Loche vaguely acknowledges the little nightmare that hides under his robes as he scans the gardens with his rifle. Every now and then it whimpers when the Leviathan creaks and groans. It trembles and clutches onto him when Calus speaks. But worst of all is when it whispers to him. The voice is soft, not at all how Loche remembers it. And sometimes it speaks with the voices of the city,   

“They all depend on you Loche. You cannot fail Guardian.”   

“You can’t save them all.”

He can’t bring himself to lash out to snap at the phantom and be rid of it. In fact he can’t speak to it at all. There are no words for him to say that will satisfy the hurt this nightmare was born from. So he stays silent, allowing the spirit to comfort itself by clutching to him. He’ll ignore the stasis crystals creeping up his fingers -He never did manage to control it as well as he did arc- as he sits and waits for Eris to give him instructions,  

  “You’re nothing but a mispointed weapon now. I thought you said you’d stop the fighting?” Loche sighs as the nightmare looks up at him expectantly. He wants to sob and plead that he’s trying. That he wants to stop, that he would rather be at home with Variks and Mithrax. That he would rather be like Saint and stay in the City helping it’s people. That he would rather have died years ago. But instead he cups the cheek of the nightmare and pats its head,  

 “Go on, climb onto my shoulders. I know you like to play with the crown of Tempests.” it accepts his offers as it whispers to him,  

 “Do you remember how you let me die?”

He stands atop the ruins of a small makeshift town. It had been lively only a day before, but of course what could one expect when the Iron Lords rolled through. They were known for their special brand of peace. No matter the cost it came at. Loche knew well enough to stay away. Even if they were like him. He passes by a collapsed house and hears a small sob. He doesn’t hesitate to look into the sound and half crushed under the rubble he finds a small child. She’s bruised and bloody, Vesuvius floats above her, and shakes his core. Her broken body will not last the night. Little brown eyes stare back at Loche as he gingerly picks her up and carries her back to his cabin. Her unbroken arm reaches out for his ghost and he lets her hold his one companion,  

 “Mama says-” her voice is so small as Loche sits atop his home resting her on his lap  so that she can see the setting sun. He’s wrapped her in one of his best blankets as she wheezes,  

 “Mama says, you came from the traveller. That you’re here to help us.” Vesuvius nods, suddenly speechless at her words,  

 “You’ll make sure to help everybody right? So there’s no more fighting?” Loche hums,  

“Of course. No more fighting.” She smiles, giving Vesuvius a last hug, before letting him go. Her tiny hand grabs Loche’s as she wheezes again. Loche can feel her heartbeat slowing, he can see his blanket slowly being stained red.   

“You live far away, Loche… I know you would’ve helped. If you knew.”   

“I’m sorry.” he mutters  

 “It’s okay.” She replies, gently squeezing his hand. The sun slowly dips beneath the horizon. Stars begin to twinkle overhead,   

 “It’s so warm.” she smiles.

And then she’s gone.

Loche buries her under a nearby tree where she’ll never be hurt again.

 His reset tick goes up.

 Loche-8 does not remember the grief.

#destiny 2 #destiny #destiny oc #destiny fanfiction #Loche-9 #Guardian OC #destiny guardians #destiny exo

[moteldogs]

New Mexico, part 2: Lordsburg to Silver City

In which the desire for pizza is the driving force for many choices.

May 11

Mileage: 15 mi

I’m up at 6 but bleary, reluctant to leave the cool comfort of the motel bed. After picking over the continental breakfast, retaping my feet, and packing up all my shit, it takes me longer than I wanted to get on the road again.

I’m glad to be walking again. My feet are fine, except for the blisters on my heels, but those were the newest so they’ll take longer to heal no matter what I do. And the backs of my legs are still angry and red, but near-constant application of hydrocortisone cream and aloe vera over the last day means that it doesn’t hurt to stand or squat or walk or lay on my back anymore.

Yesterday I lazed in bed in the morning before wandering down to the conti breakfast, then went back to my room and watched the Andy Griffith Show on the fuzzy TV while I sorted through my food bag and washed my socks in the sink. The black and white hum in the background in the cool motel room, like a dream.

I walk out of town on the shoulder of the highway for miles, then finally slip under a barb wire fence and back onto the trail. I walk for a while under the hot sun.

At 3:30 pm I sit up from the shade of a big yucca, spiky and alien-looking, which I associate always with the cover of the Mountain Goats album Zopilote Machine. 10 miles north of Lordsburg and the sky is bright bright blue, wispy horsetail clouds floating overhead, the wind blowing cool. The cactus pads are big and flowering. I remember how cold it was in the cabin this last winter, after the heating oil ran out in late February or early March, I can’t remember which, and all the fuel companies were backordered and I didn’t have enough money anyways. I remember being curled under three wool blankets and my sleeping bag, not letting myself turn the space heater on because it ate up the electric bill, just laying there trying not to be cold. The desert will never let me be cold again. I’m deliriously happy.

Twenty feet away lies a cow carcass, skin still on, only the ribcage and skull bleached white with the sun. I’m surprised not to see vultures anywhere in the sky, not even a crow, but maybe it’s been picked mostly clean already. A shrew? mouse? climbs up one bleached horn, then back down and across the skull.

A cloud passes over the sun. This is the first time that’s happened in days, the first time since I set foot in this desert. In six miles I’ll be walking up the mountains, which look promisingly green-speckled. Shady. I’m glad to be out of town, glad to be here where everything looks like the set of Road Runner or a cowboy movie, and the sky is so blue and the yuccas are so sharp and bones are so white.

Before I leave my spot I make a grave marker for the dead cow out of piled stones, and lash two sticks together to make a little cross, plant it in the dirt in front of her and say a little prayer. Hope she’s up in the green meadows where all good cattle go.

Around dusk I see another dead cow, almost all decomposed but skeleton still intact, bits of fur clinging to the skull. This one’s creepier, somehow. Maybe because it’s dusk or maybe because it doesn’t look like a cow anymore, without the hide. Just some huge dead thing lurking behind a bush. Still, green meadows.

Three pronghorns cross the trail up ahead, quick and light and silent as anything. If I hadn’t happened to be looking, I would never have known they were there. They make no sound, like they’re just floating across the ground without ever touching it.

I make it to the first water source on this section (no more official caches, only cattle waterers and trail magic from here on out) and it’s dry. I have a liter and a half left and the next water is 8 miles uphill.

I cowboy camp in the sand and plan to be up early, to get up that hill in the cool morning so I don’t need as much water to do it. Because what if that well is dry, too?

I’m conserving my water, so I eat my trail dinner of peanut-butter-on-a-spoon drymouthed, and fall asleep. I don’t sleep well — I’m too warm and I think I see a cow standing over me at one point, but maybe not.

May 12

Mileage: 23.7 mi

I’m walking at dawn and the day is cool. I’m in a forest now, a real forest with trees taller than me. I’m on track to make it to the well in plenty of time, but it turns out I didn’t have to worry too much — near a highway crossing, there’s a trail magic cache of gallon jugs and a big bag of Skittles. I sit happy in the shade and read trail information for the next section on my phone. There’s this campsite called the Burro Mountain Homestead 15 miles ahead, and if I get there before 5 I can buy pizza at the camp store, apparently. I check my watch and decide I’m getting that pizza come hell or high water.

I speedwalk to the well, eat lunch there, and top off my waterbottles — only 2 liters, because next up is a steep climb up Burro Peak to eight thousand feet and I don’t want to carry more weight for that than I have to. I have to be speedy if I want my pizza tonight.

Burro Peak crushes my hopes and dreams and my entire soul. It’s four miles of the steepest uphill on the trail so far, and it’s so hard. I move my legs mechanically. My mind goes numb and nothing else exists except the mountain. I don’t exist except as a thing that’s climbing the mountain. All my bones and joints and muscles were made to get to the top of this mountain and when I do that I’ll evaporate.

At the summit, I hobble to a patch of shady dirt and lay down to eat Oreos. It’s 5 pm exactly and the Burro Mountain Homestead is 4 miles away. My dreams of pizza are out of reach. I don’t care anymore. The climb up that mountain reached in and plucked something out of me. My body is okay — my legs won’t even be sore in the morning — but I’m emotionally exhausted. I wonder if my dad ever had this hard a time with a mountain. How am I going to make it through the San Juans if one little mountain was this hard for me?

But the San Juans are in Colorado and I’m in New Mexico and nothing else matters unless I get through New Mexico. One step at a time. I get up and put my pack back on. Burro Mountain Homestead has water, which I need for the 19-mile dry section that comes after, so I’ll go there.

I get to the place just after sunset, in the gloamy light, and walk down a sandy lane lined with RVs. There are garden lights and 4-wheelers parked up, and wooden porch attachments that you back the RV into. I find the campground office — they have free tent camping for CDT hikers — and follow the instructions for after-hours registration. It’s dark now and I’m tired and I can’t find anywhere I need to go, but the ‘Activities’ trailer has a light on so I poke my head in there. There’s a campground tenant and another CDT hiker in there, and together they tell me where the washhouse is and that I should camp in the orchard.

I set up my tent and limp to the washhouse to brush my teeth. I have new blisters, one on each pinky toe. I’d been lancing my blisters with a sewing needle, but I found a couple days ago that the easiest way and the only way I can get mine to drain is to take nail clippers to them. A little snip and blister juice goes rocketing across my tent. Gross, but at least it won’t hurt to walk on anymore.

I think about cutting off the rest of the miles to Silver City, just hiking east on the road tomorrow and hitching on 90 up to the city. It’s tempting. I feel hollowed-out from today. And if I get to Silver City tomorrow instead of Saturday (two days from now) I won’t have to pay weekend-night prices for a motel room.

I decide I’ll sleep on it. It may be only 9:30 pm, but there’s a reason they call 9 pm “hiker midnight”. I’m exhausted and I fall asleep as soon as I’m horizontal.

May 13

Mileage: I forgot to write it down and now I don’t know

In the morning, I decide to stay the course and walk the rest of the CDT route to Silver City. I also decide to stay at the campground until the camp store opens at 9 am, so I can get my damn pizza.

Turns out the camp store actually opens at 10, so I sit on the white-painted porch waving at retirees as they go rumbling by in their 4-wheelers. When the door finally unlocks, I don’t actually want their pizza. It’s the Jimmy Dean kind that comes in a box and you microwave it. I’d been conjuring up images of huge New York slices gooey with cheese, and now I can’t bring myself back to reality. Instead, I buy an ice cream bar and a bag of chili cheese Fritos. I eat the ice cream on the porch, fill up my water bottles at the washhouse, then get back to the trail, feeling sluggish.

I’m not in any hurry today, and somehow I can’t work myself up to hurrying. When the sun gets hot, I lay in the shade and eat the entire bag of Fritos.

My favorite thing about the trail is I can do whatever I want with my body. Nobody tells me what to do, nobody wants or needs anything from me. My body is just for walking and carrying heavy shit, and nothing else. And today, I want to walk slow and lay in the shade, so I do. At the end of the day, I’m curled up in my sleeping bag under the stars. This is maybe the happiest I’ve ever been.

May 14

Mileage: 10

I wake up tired again, watching the sky grow bright from the warm comfort of my sleeping bag. Eventually, I get up and walk. Today I make it to Silver City.

The trail winds down from the hills and wanders into a broad dry wash lined with shade trees. A cow follows me for a while, then I watch her squeeze through a gap in a cattle gate and go right on through to another rancher’s property.

I’m only on the shoulder of 180 for half an hour or so before I get picked up by an older guy — part-time rancher, part-time equipment driver, part-time wildland firefighter. “Gotta do a little bit of everything round here to make it,” he says.

As we drive into Silver City, he points out a low plume of smoke over the green hills. A new fire in the Gila Wilderness, besides the one that was already burning. He tells me they’re planning to shut down the trail through there in the next couple days, so if I want to go through there I better go quick.

He drops me at the grocery store in town with a handshake and says he’ll be looking out for me if I’m headed northward. I go across the street to a shade tree on the corner and sit underneath it, sort through the remnants of food in my bag and call my dad.

It’s too stupid to walk straight into an active wildfire area when I know the fire’s burning hundreds of acres and 0% contained at this point, so I decide I have to hitch to Pie Town, northwards, and pick up the trail from there. My dad agrees, which makes me feel better about it. I’m sad to miss the magical Gila — the promised land where there’s a real river and you can have water anytime you want, and you ford the river a hundred times a day and it’s cool and beautiful. But it looks like I’m meant for the desert for a while longer.

I resupply at the grocery store and walk down towards the main street of town phoning motels. There’s no vacancy anywhere in town, except a rundown place that’s still somehow charging almost $200 for the night. I don’t have the money to spare and even if I did I wouldn’t pay that much, on principle alone. Which means I’m shit outta luck.

With nothing else to do, I find a pizza stand on the town’s main drag and pig out. 4 huge slices of pizza (gooey with cheese! just like in my imagination!) and a big salad (vitamins are important, probably). I sit outside with my food, feeling like shit, stranded with nowhere to go. It’s 5 pm and if I start hitching now I’ll just get myself stuck on the side of the road for the night. Nobody picks up hitchhikers in the dark.

A few feet away, their backs to me, are two barefoot street buskers. One buzzcut with dangly purple and blue earrings, his red sweatpants rolled up above his knee, drumming wildly on an upside-down bucket; the other with dreads and a dirty bandana around his neck, playing guitar like no tomorrow. He has a big backpack sitting next to him, sleeping pad rolled up and strapped onto it. I have a big backpack too! The homing signal of !!?FRIEND?!! pings in my brain. I bet these guys know somewhere to sleep without getting caught. If I play my cards right I can get in on that.

I watch the buskers for awhile, picking at my food, then go over and offer the last two slices of my pizza. The pizza thing works and we start talking. I ask them how long they been in Silver City. “Three years,” says Buzzcut, and “since September,” says Dreads. “How ‘bout you?”

“About three hours,” I say, and get a chorus of welcomes. Buzzcut (whose name turns out to be Dave) says it’s a quiet town, and pretty cool. “Like Boulder,” he says, meaning in Colorado. He’s been a street kid since he was sixteen, but he’s planted a garden here so he figures he’s pretty much settled down here.

Dreads introduces himself as Fuzz. He hiked the CDT in 2016 or 2017, has been roaming around living out of his backpack for the last ten years or so. He’s quiet, doesn’t talk much, but so am I. Dave does most of the talking, it seems like.

I sit with them listening to their music, tapping my hands on the pavement, until the sun starts encroaching on our shady area, and they decide to move down the street for more shade. “Want to come with?”, Dave asks. Hell yeah I do.

And then we’re sitting on the street corner barefoot, Fuzz on his guitar, me playing percussion with an empty waterbottle, Dave drumming on a wooden box and hollering stream of consciousness lyrics. “Lady across the street/in a blue! shirt!/what a gorgeous color/for this beautiful day!/Excuse me sir, in the red! truck!/could you spare a smile?” He’s uninhibited, open, and friendly, and gets smiles from passerby, calling out the names of people he recognizes. “Lorenzo, Rico, looking good!” he sings.

A group of Native wildland firefighters, young men in camo uniform pants and tight-laced jump boots, walk past dancing to the beat. Teenagers on skateboards bop their heads, “ay! ay!”. Even grumpy old men behind the wheels of beat-up pickups drum their hands on their dashboards.

It’s great. It’s amazing, actually. I make it a game to smile at everyone and see who I can get to smile back. We play for hours, until it heads toward dusk and Dave and Fuzz decide to clock out. They’ve been out here since seven this morning. “Twelve hour workday,” Dave says. “Not bad.” They made a hundred bucks total today, and thirteen dollars in the last few hours, of which each of us get four. The odd dollar out goes in the priming stash, which is the couple bucks they toss in the guitar case when they start playing to signal that they’re busking for money.

Dave runs across the street to the co-op and comes back with discount milk (he’s the only one to drink it once he announces that there was a little mold on the top, but he skimmed it off) and a can of Pringles. Then he runs down the street and comes back with his leather knapsack, which has a baggie of filterless cigarettes, a tin of weed, and the tiniest pipe I’ve ever seen. Dave and Fuzz pass a cig back and forth, and me and Dave pass the pipe back and forth. (I don’t smoke tobacco because my birth mom died of lung cancer, and I can’t shake the feeling of my dad telepathically beating my ass from half a continent away for even looking at a pack of smokes.)

The moon rises high in the dusk, a full moon. A procession of tricked-out cars makes its way down the main drag, Camaros and Mustangs with neon underglows and shimmering wraps pulling up to the stop sign on our corner and peeling off as fast and loud as they can. One after another, and then they reach the end of the main street, turn around and do it again. Dave copies their sound as they go by. “We should have scorecards,” I say, “like Olympic judges or something.”

We sit around waiting until 9 pm, when the pizza place closes. Dave and Fuzz stand outside debating the best way to sneakily catch the attention of the waitress who promised them the leftovers for the day earlier, without getting the eye of the line cook who seems opposed on principle to giving out free food, even if it’s just going in the dumpster earlier. I drop my pack and go inside, smile real big and do my best down-home boy-next-door routine, and emerge triumphant with a big pizza that’s only slightly burnt.

We sit on the pavement of an empty pavilion and eat our free pizza. It’s dark out, and we talk about deep feelings (well, I don’t, but I’m listening). Street corner philosophy, the meaning of the universe with dirty feet. I pull out my little sewing kit and make some repairs to my pack while I listen. Dave is maybe the most emotionally healthy person I’ve ever met. One thing he says sticks in my head. “The people with the ‘get up and go’,” he says, “they always have it. The travelers always stay the same.”

I think about my dad, a childhood bouncing around. He’s moving back to the east coast and I know already what’s going to happen. My stepmom’s going to nest in their new house and the first chance my dad gets, he’ll be in Mongolia or someplace. Not that I can blame him. I guess I’m the same way.

Eventually the evening winds down. I ask Dave and Fuzz if they know any good spots to stealth camp not too far out of town. Dave suggests the roof of a local cafe, which I almost want to take him up on. Be unlikely to get caught — nobody ever looks up. Fuzz says that since he’s housesitting for a friend tonight I can use his usual spot, out in a park. I’d feel better a ways out of town, I think, so I take Fuzz up on it and he shares the coordinates for the spot with me; then we split up, heading off into the dark.

I walk up quiet residential streets to the outskirts of town and an open, bramble-filled park. I find Fuzz’s spot no problem and lay out my sleeping pad and bag to cowboy camp, set a vibrate-only alarm on my phone and put the phone under my shirt against my chest, to wake me up before dawn without noise.

It’s peaceful out here, the stars and full moon above me. It’s been a good day. I’ll be in Pie Town soon, with all the name promises. I sleep like a baby.

#.txt #cdt22

[bloodycassian]

anon request - READER X AZRIEL - sorry if this wasn’t exactly what you want! I got a bit carried away in my own idea of Azriel being supportive but protective at the same time!

some hurt/comfort with Azriel where he and the reader get in a huge fight over protecting Elain (like they travel to a different court and Azriel is overprotective) and then the reader goes scouting to also cool down a bit and they get ambushed, the reader gets injured and the mating bond snaps. Hope it's not too much trouble!!

Elain was absurdly still as the conversation played out. Conversation being a loose term for the shouting happening around her. You didn’t leave her side though, even though your anger flourished while they spoke as if she wasnt there. Azriel was packing her things, shoving them haphazardly into a bag. The bag that Feyre had given her from their first trip down to the markets after Elain had started acting somewhat normal again. The happy memory seemed so distant now, compared to the anxiety ridden emotions that played about in the room.

“We are not going to the continent.” Az’s tone shift was abrupt, a snap of anger leaning into it. He tied the top of the bag closed and set it roughly atop the living room table. The scattered odds and ends of survival gear and weapons scraped against the wood. You watched the stare down between the high lord and his shadowsinger patiently. Waiting for your moment to speak rationally to them.

Rhys’ power roiled above, his eyes did not hide his frustration with his brother. His gaze was simmering with that dark power he possessed. Azriel did not back down. “The continent is the only place that may be safe. If the King finds out she’s a Seer he will never let her go. We can’t risk losing her as a hostage.”

You knew she would be a hostage too. Feyre would never let her sister be taken without a fight. Rhys knew his mate well enough to know not to risk just Elain, but Feyre too. Cauldron knew what Nesta would do if she were in that room during the conversation. Likely spitting fire and shoving Elain out the door to wherever she seemed to think was safe. Thankfully, both sisters were scouring deep in the library for any way to help win this battle.

Azriel did not break eyecontact with his brother as he made to speak again. You interrupted before he could make the situation worse. “I have somewhere in mind.” You spoke softly, urging the staring contest to end. Azriel looked away first, and you were surprised at that. His eyes met yours with something like relief. “Autumn. We have Eris on our side if we’re caught. I have a spot we can stay until-” Azriels scoff sent anger shooting through you. You clenched your teeth together to keep from lashing out at him as he had been doing just moments before. 

“Autumn is possibly the worst place we could send you right now. We’re on the brink of war with them potentially being on Hyberns side. We would be sending you straight to Hybern himself.” 

“Exactly. It’s stupid and they would never expect it.” 

“You’re not going. Beron exiled you. Don’t you remember what that means?” He looked at you with actual concern now that he knew you were serious. As if you had been injured and you were speaking a different language.

“It means we will be safe from Hybern when they come here to look for Elain. Isn’t that the point?” You wrapped an arm around her small shoulders and pulled her close. Az couldn’t argue with that. The other courts were not an option, as it would be harboring a target against one of the Night court Allies. And Winter court was nowhere to be spending the night. Not many survived the night there without shelter.

Rhys’ sigh was long and exhausted. Left without another option, he nodded to himself. He held out a hand and summoned two necklaces, both with pendants of black onyx that shimmered in the firelight. Az’s brows pinched together at the sight of them. The dull glow behind him shone through his wings, highlighting all the delicate structures there. You found his wings more beautiful than the enchanted stone Rhys handed you.

“Hybern won’t be able to sense your magic. Keep these on.” 

Azriel was already tensing, his fists balling at his sides ready to make it physical if Rhys refused to listen. He knew with his entire being that something was off. Something would go wrong this night. His shadows warned him of something. And he couldn’t shake it no matter how hard he tried. “Rhys-”

“And you will be going with them. Keep them company while Feyre and I investigate just how many ships and forces they plan to bring.” He ordered in that indisputable tone of the high lord. With only a hint of friendliness. He gave Az a long look before turning back to you and Elain. “Do not take those off.” The nodded to the necklaces and started to winnow. Elain stood abruptly, startling you. 

“Thank you.” She said softly to the high lord. He seemed taken aback for a second, before giving her a gracious nod and finally disappearing. You rose to Elain’s height and took her hand in yours. It was warm, welcoming. “We’re going to be fine.” You promised, not caring if Azriel saw the care you gave her. She had been there for you just as you needed to be now. She had practically kept you alive with her soft humming and reading to you when you were at your worst after being exiled. 

 “I know.” She said, voice soft as rose petals. But that dark power within her were the thorns of that pretty, perfect rose. The reason Hybern even knew to look in Velaris for Elain. That cauldron calling power that she couldn’t control to save her life. You grimly smiled at her.

“We need to leave.” Azriel ordered, tone neutral. Just a warrior needing to move troops.

“Let me get your bag.” Elain said, giving you a squeeze of her hand, disappearing up the stairs. Leaving you with the brooding Illyrian. You grimaced in his direction. He ignored you as best he could, hoping that the time for babysitting would pass quickly. He had always found it strange how you and Elain moved like magnets together. Found the soft way you comforted each other somehow upsetting. He paced quietly in front of the fire while you gathered your gear. Two small blades - one for Elain - and your sword. You rubbed at a speck on the hard steel of the sword. 

Perhaps his lack of family had made that rivaling jealousy turn into hatred for the display of affection. He contemplated to himself. Had he become cold to everyone? Too harsh? Had the darkness he possessed taken him over? He tore his eyes from your short sword and locked them with yours. The thrill he felt wasn’t from anger or terror. His cheeks flushed slightly and you fought the grin that you wanted so badly to flaunt at him. The innuendos regarding the sword that you wanted to say were cut off by that look he gave you.

“Do not get into a situation where you have to use that.” He warned with a stern look. You couldn’t help the angelic smile you gave him.

+

The smell of rotting apples and decaying leaves was all you needed to sense to know you were home. You took in the court border slowly, adjusting to your orientation after being winnowed. Elain clutched your hand tightly, the bag in her other hand quivered only slightly from her shaking. Your hands became slick with sweat at the familiar sights and smells of Autumn. You hadn’t been back since being exiled.

“We wont be able to have a fire.” Azriel stated, gazing towards the sky. It was far too clear of a day out to risk it. The slight chill in the air filled your stomach with dread for the night to come. 

“This way.” You pulled Elain along with you, leaves crunching under your feet as you entered Autumn court. She didn’t move. Her eyes were blank, staring lifelessly into the orange and yellow forest. “Elain?” You asked softly.

“Five foxes will die tonight. Three more in the morning.” 

Her words sent a chill down your spine.

Az took the lead, territoriality putting himself a few paces in front of you. He wasn’t subtle about it either, occasionally jogging ahead to scout for any enemies around piles of bramble when you came across it. 

By the time you found your hideout, you were fed up with waiting for him to give you the all clear everywhere you went. You let you go of Elains now calm hand and stormed into the small shack with familiarity. Azriel hissed and seethed when you lit a lantern inside. “Get over yourself, Shadowsinger.” You laughed, taking in the small piece of home you made for yourself long ago. 

It indeed was a long time ago when you’d last been there. But it still felt homey to you. The small space was just big enough for a stove, the table you’d found, and a bed pushed against the far wall. The fireplace hadn’t been used in years. Soot marked small animal prints along the light plank floors.

The dusty blankets on the makeshift bed were pocked with holes from mice and moths. The fireplace was nearly caved in on itself. The bramble covering that acted like a second roof was growing through the actual roof in some places. But it was still home. Your small exit from the world when things got too tough. Even after being exiled Beron hadn’t known about this place. He would have had it destroyed if he did know of it.

Elain pushed in passed Azriel. His shadows went wild. Searching every surface of the cabin. The long beams of the floor were hardly visible through the darkness he brought. 

+

You knew you should have brought more blankets. You held back the teeth chattering as best you could, letting Elain sleep. She would need all the rest she could get. You could tell she’d been tired after the days walk. She rested peacefully under the layers while the wind shuddered the leaves outside. You pulled your coat tighter to your body. 

“This was a stupid idea.” Azriel muttered from the corner. He didn’t seem cold, but the dark curls of shadow wrapped around him protectively. While you were left with nothing more than a coat. Your own magic couldn’t save you from the stormy wind, the necklace Rhys had given you also weakened your power enough that you couldn’t use it. Even in your homeland. It bothered you endlessly, feeling so useless in such a dire situation of needing to help Elain. 

“Then maybe you should just leave.” You barked back simply. He didn’t have to come in the first place if he was going to be so bothered. 

“I just mean-” He sighed, and sat on the creaky old table that took up half the small kitchenette. “We could have done this better. We could have planned… Differently.” 

“We didnt have the time. We’re here now, so we just need to deal-”

“I know that. I’m just bothered that you’re so recklessly looking for danger everywhere we go.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? I’m from here Azriel. I know what areas are dangerous.” 

“Maybe once.” His eyes were not angry when he said it. They were full of pity and doubt. Your rage spilled over, and you were ready to shout. Ready to scream at him about what a piggish idiot Illrian he was being. But Elain turned over, sighing softly to herself. 

So instead, you clamped down on that burning anger and walked out. And of course he decided to try to follow you. He made it a few steps outside the cabin before you turned on him, ready to roar. “Be safe at least.” He tossed his red jeweled dagger to you. Your heart squeezed, choking you up slightly. You brushed it away as best you could before he could see. You couldn’t yell at him. 

So you took the dagger and walked briskly away, into the brush of autumn forests. Laced with the smell of heavy fruits and warm trees. Leaves fluttering in your wake as the wind tossed with ease. 

You held his knife close at your side the entire aimless walk. Then, the sound of twigs snapping and males laughing heartily made you pause. 

Far to your east was a dull glow beyond a knoll. You backed away slowly. Trying to be as soundless as possible in case they could scent you. The breeze whipped at your skin, blowing in their direction. The trees above you shuddered sharply, and you swore as a heavy weight fell upon your shoulders.

+

Azriel paced in the kitchenette, his shadows swirling around him relentlessly, waiting for a target. It felt wrong letting you go. It felt like letting his hope sink. His shadows even seemed upset about it, as they now whipped around him angrily. 

He swore he was going to run a rut through the plank floor. He sighed, glanced to Elain’s sleeping figure and forced himself to sit. You had the dagger. You were capable. You knew the area and knew what you were doing. He tried his best to soothe himself. It didn’t help much.

The old chair creaked under his weight, and he smiled. For someone who claimed they couldn’t work around the house, you were quite the crafter making such a nice hideaway for yourself. He finally took a moment to pause, and actually look at the cabin.

The stove may have been older than he was. The missing burners on top were replaced with a few forks placed carefully around them. The ancient shelves were dusty, along with all the jars and cups atop them. Cobwebs spotted the entire house, but his shadows had gotten rid of most of them after the first one clung to his face upon walking in. 

Then he came to the table he sat at, the four unmatching chairs circling it. The table itself was solid oak, he could tell that much. But he wondered how you’d gotten it inside at all. Out of curiosity, he pulled on it. It didn’t budge. His eyebrows knitted together, and he stood slowly. The curiosity consumed him. He gave the table another tug. Still, no movement.  

He crouched down, and noticed the planks around the single leg of the table had been cut out. Then he noticed the intricate roots weaving their way up the trunk. The table wasn’t just a table. It was an entire tree - or what was a tree once… And you’d built the entire cabin around it. His awe was quickly quieted by Elain.

“A part of you is missing. The foxes will die.” She muttered sleepily, her eyes blank. And he lay back down as if it hadn’t happened. “Elain?” Azriel called. Dread, cold and stinging coarse through him. “Elain?” He asked quietly, approaching her side. She flung the covers from her lithe body. Azriel jumped back, holding his hands up defensively. “It’s okay, its me.” He calmed her, noting the wild look in her expression. 

“Find yourself.” She breathed, her eyes going wide with concern. Azriel’s heart sped, and he felt like he’d been dunked in a cold ocean of dread. Terror drug him under the deep waves and threatened to drown him the first chance it got. He took Elains hand and started walking the direction you’d left. 

Leaving behind the supplies and the living table that you’d created.

+

A glance at the oversized uniforms told you all you needed to know. The fox sigil pinned to their tunics proved that the uniforms were stolen from Autumn soldiers. Your blood boiled. Elain had been right. But they would die. Five of them, at least. But you had only glimpsed at three so far. You tugged at the ropes that bound you. Firm, and not able to be broken.

Their campsite was large, and full of small boxes of different fruits. Several different types of weapons leaned against their low lying tents. And with how many scars their fae leader had, you knew the rest of their story in an instant. Bandits. Filthy trade merchants that lived for thievery and making a quick gold mark.

And you’d be worth their weight in gold once they turned you in to Beron.

“We’ve got a live one!” The male shouted to his comrades. They cheered drunkenly, their voices carried far by the wind. Their fire sparked and popped against the blue night sky. And you knew that your death may not come in glory of battle, or in the name of your home. But in being stupid enough to be caught by bandits. You could have died that instant if it would mean you didn’t have to feel that kind of shame.

The male cut the opal from your neck, and you felt your magic explode from you. Your thoughts were racing, searching. Finding something cold and dark in the depths of your mind and tugging on it. Then, it was a live beast beneath your mental hands. It coiled and rose, ready to strike. 

The same one cut a long line down your cheek with the blade that had just cut your only protection against Hybern from you. You prayed to the mother that Hybern was too busy to notice a small blip of magic from an Autumn fae like you. You hissed in pain as the blade stung its way down to your neck, stopping at your collarbone. 

You pulled on that coiling beast that called to you. Beckoned it to find you, to help you from this pain. Maybe you were begging for death, or at least unconsciousness so you wouldnt have to feel the pain anymore. The male stood back to let another scaled lower fae get a look at you. His tongue lashed out over your bloodied neck. He hummed in approval, letting his forked wetness slither across your wounds.

You felt them seal and itch with every pass as he took your blood. “Good.” the one with the blade ordered, then… to your dread, he pulled a glowing rod from the fire. They would brand you. Then take you to the high lord. Only after they’d humiliated you though. The males clucked at your involuntary reaction. They huddled close around, waiting for the screaming to start. Their excitement coated the air with a tangy adrenaline filled scent. 

You reared away from the burning metal as best as you could. The ropes around you seemed weaker now that you had your weak magic back, but still too constricting to do much with. 

You closed your eyes as the glow approached your chest. It warmed your face with the heat. They were going slow on purpose. Wanting to savor your reaction. It made your stomach go queasy. You hoped you would pass out. Better yet, just die of the agony. That way Beron wouldn’t have the satisfaction of killing you himself. 

There was a thump, and sizzling. You cracked open your eyes, waiting that searing pain to hit you. But it didnt. The males stood back, bewildered. Across the camp in the dull glow of the fire as the one that had been lowering the branding stick to you. It was speared through his chest, pinning him to a tree. His mouth gasped, eyes wide and glowing a haunting orange from the fire. You would never forget the sight of it. The smoldering that came from the tree behind him as the hot iron burned into it. The wet sounds of his mouth opening and closing. 

Then, the gasp and thump each male that Azriel incapacitated before you. Elain stood at the edge of the trees, her eyes still puffy from sleep. Azriel kept the kills quiet and concise. None resembled the one pinned to the tree, now sagging under the weight of death. No, the rest of them had easy deaths at the hands of one skilled at dealing killing blows. The wet splatter of blood leaving a body pulled you back to the scene in front of you. Az’s scowl as he cleaned his blade was that of a warrior who had seen much worse. Done much worse. 

“I told you not to fucking-” He snarled, his hands on the rope at your wrists. He stopped though, and stared. The shadowed light of his eyes seemed to be blooming with awe. You couldn’t look away. The beauty in the deep irises, the way small freckles played about his dark skin. All new and exciting things you’d never noticed before. His scent alone was like a punch to the gut. 

Him. Azriel. It had been him to find you. Him to respond to that silent plea that you so badly needed to be heard. He was that coiling darkness that had saved you. Your breath was a gasp, and you nearly fell to your knees before him. 

+

His hands didn’t work anymore. The world stopped turning all together. His heart was no longer his own and his soul belonged wherever you were. It didn’t matter that you were in the middle of a foreign court’s borders. It didn’t matter that Elain trembled in the corner of the clearing. He was yours, and you were his. 

He vowed it, for eternity that was how it would stay. He’d never leave your side again. Never choose to be without you for as long as he may be alive. His very being was now shared. With you. His soul intertwined your yours, wrapping delicately around your earthy light that contrasted his darkness so perfectly. If you were the sun he was the moon, always chasing, always following and living in your light. 

The words weren’t needed but he managed to utter them. Around a shuddering breath and a shattering explosion of love he managed it. “My mate.”

#azriel #azriel x reader #acotar #acotar fic #reader x azriel

[chilly-me-softly]

Fake Proposal • John Stones

I saw a video on instagram and got the idea but as usual I got carried away, writing like a 4k long piece so read it at your own risk.

-

"Ugh" John sighs letting himself down on the couch resting his head on your lap, one of your hands immediately going into his hair as you smile.

"Your mother again?"

"My mum again" he sighs before hiding his face in his hands and holding back a moan in his throat, "She's been breathing down my neck with the whole marriage thing. Please help me"

"How? It's not like you can pretend to have a girlfriend and propose" you state slightly but his eyes snap open staring at you.

"No" you thunder, "No John. Get that look off your face. No" you shake your head covering his eyes as he squirms managing to lock your hands between his.

"Please, please (Y/N) help me" he pleads and you're the one who has to try not to meet his gaze so you don't give in to that madness.

"They'd never believe us John, everyone knows we're friends"

"That's exactly why it might work (Y/N)!" he sits up abruptly, "if I do it with a random person it would be suspicious" his gaze is lost somewhere, his eyes move as if he's picturing everything and you can almost see the wheels of his brain in motion.

"And then how are you going to do that? Your mother wants a wedding, she won't be satisfied"

"I'll buy some time, she'll be less on my back at least for a while and then I'll think about it" he looks at you expectantly, he seems really determined even though he would never have thought such a thing until just now.

"Please (Y/N). I don't like fooling my mother like this either but if I hear again how I'm getting older and need to start a family I swear I won't answer for me anymore"

"Fine" you sigh closing your eyes, missing his surprised expression and then his big smile before he literally throws himself at you.

"John! John John John" you giggle trying to get him off you, "don't get into something bigger than you"

"I won't, don't worry"

-

Don't worry. Sure. He makes it easy.

John seemed to take it all lightly, just happy to get his mother and her demands off his back for a while. He'd booked a cabin in the mountains for a couple of days ready to spring into action as soon as possible, counting down the days just like kids waiting for Christmas Day to open their presents.

You must have been crazy to have agreed to help him with something like this, you kept repeating it by packing your suitcase or letting people know you wouldn't be home or waiting for him to pick you up. And then you had decided that if nothing you would enjoy that couple of days' holiday at his expense.

You look around to see if you've got everything before you leave, when John honks. He gets out of the car to help you put your bag in the boot as you close the front door, but it's only when you're both getting into the car and you've fastened your seatbelt that he leans in to leave a kiss on your cheek.

"What's all this sweetness Stonesy, are you afraid I'm going to say no?!" you tease him as he starts the car, shaking his head.

You take over the radio, spending the ride humming songs and complaining about not finding the right one and asking John if you're there.

"(Y/N) I swear, you're a pain in the ass" he sighs before turning right heading into a driveway.

"If you had told me where we were going I would have checked it out myself" you retort looking around as a few houses finally start to appear under your gaze.

"You really need to learn how to chill out" he sighs, "And anyway, we're here"

"I'm totally calm" you state getting out of the car slamming the door on purpose earning you a warning look. Men and their cars.

And you leave him to pick up the bags you brought while your eyes don't know what to look at first. The swing next to the door strikes you immediately, you've always wanted one but never had the space so you immediately rush onto it climbing the stairs waiting for your friend with a huge smile on your face.

"Come on in, let’s go pick out your room"

"I get to choose?" you ask rhetorically following him, being captivated at first glance by what's in front of you. The place is similar to all the ones you see in typical Christmas movies, wood seems to be the main material of the whole construction and the fire in the fireplace is already lit giving the room a pleasant warmth.

"Sure. But only if you're quick" one look and you're already running down the stairs trying to pull him by the shirt and not fall at the same time.

"Mine!" you flop down on the bed panting deciding to go straight for the farthest room in the dark, "go get my suitcase now"

"We're not engaged yet, you can't boss me around like that" he argues leaning against the doorframe sneering but you dismiss him with a wave of your hand.

"What if the other room is nicer?" he asks returning and placing your bag at the foot of the bed, you don't hint at moving from your comfortable spot.

"I like this one" you murmur clutching a pillow to your chest.

"Yeah but what if the other one's prettier?!" his tone blatantly mocking as you roll your eyes giving in to curiosity, complaining loudly as you get up and make your way to the other room.

You open the door thinking you're going to find who knows what, but you find that it's a copy of the room you just left. And his bags are already there so he knew that, that bastard.

"But they're identical" you murmur confused, looking around for a sign of diversity but not finding it. "John! They're the same!" you complain turning to him and hitting him with an open palm on the arm receiving only laughter from him.

"Stop teasing me"

"Sorry sorry. I couldn't help myself"

"Keep laughing, I'll have fun later John Stones" you try to scare him but the smile on his face that doesn't hint at disappearing tells you that you failed in your intent, making you roll your eyes.

-

The first of the two nights you spend there goes by without a problem, well at least after you get familiar with the place and calm your brain because not all the noises you heard were due to thieves. And the next morning you and John have breakfast still sleepy before he proposes you to take a tour around there, the day before you had gone to the city to fill the fridge and you had stayed there and it didn't seem right to spend days away from the city without really spending days away from the city.

After getting ready, you take a path not far from the house and following the various signs along the way, you find yourself in a place that is stunning to say the least. You find yourself on a bridge built over a river, on one side of which there is a small waterfall, creating a unique and relaxing atmosphere.

"You don't want to do this now do you?"

"Ssh you have to look natural" he leaves a light kiss on your cheek before throwing a sideways glance and you call on all your strength not to follow his gaze, pretty sure you'd run into some guy intent on filming the moment.

"Now I'm going to pretend to tell you something cheesy so pretend to get emotional" he starts gesturing and you can't hold back the giggle that escapes your lips as he drops to his knees.

"(Y/N)" he gives you a knowing look and you cover your mouth with your hand trying to hide that smile, from a distance it will look like you're really excited instead.

"Okay so... I need to spend some time like this. It's uncomfortable and um blah blah blah will you marry me?" John starts ranting taking a small box from his jacket pocket.

"You didn't really buy a ring" you mutter shocked when he opens the small box, the surprise completely true at that moment at seeing that item.

"Are you going to hurry up and say yes? My knee is crying out for mercy" he presses you gritting his teeth as you then quickly nod and he gets back to his feet holding you close to him.

"You could have at least prepared a speech" you murmur in his ear tugging at his hair slightly as he laughs, pulling away to put the ring on your finger. His hands actually shaking as he does so and then he draws you to him unexpectedly, connecting your lips with his.

-

"I knew I'd find you here" you smile turning your head towards John, him handing you a cup of hot chocolate sitting next to you on the swing while you adjust the large blanket over your shoulders even around his as you can.

"What does your mum say?" you sigh blowing on that steaming drink looking ahead of you.

"See for yourself" he unlocks his phone quickly opening the conversation with his mother.

'Mum I did it' he had texted sending a picture of him kneeling in front of you and you hugging then.

'Johnny! Omg yes!!!!' 'Wait... is that (Y/N)?' 'I knew it' is mum's frantic reply making you giggle as he pulls back his phone not letting you see anything else.

"I'm glad she likes me" you giggle taking a sip of chocolate.

"She's always liked you" he retorts and silence falls between you two for a moment before he sighs.

"(Y/N) if you're upset about that kiss, I'm sorry"

"It's alright John, it was an act" you reach out to set the mug down, "after all which proposal is believable without a kiss" you joke elbowing him in the side as he sighs passing his arm around your shoulders pulling you to him. Both of you not so sure about it.

-

"I believe this is yours" you murmur taking off the ring and handing it to him, for some reason you didn't manage to give it back to him either the night before or over the course of that day and now that he's about to leave after driving you home it's your chance. It's now or never. But he is quick to shake his head and tighten that object in your hand. "No, keep it... in case my mother comes to visit"

"Don't" you point your finger at him making the most threatening face you have triggering his laughter. "I can't keep my mother at bay"

"John"

"(Y/N) listen, it's just a scenario. It's not going to happen"

"You can't be sure of that"

And in fact a few days later, when you had finally decided to go out grocery shopping, you opened the door and found the woman in front of you. The surprise had been such that you stood open-mouthed in front of her for a few moments before you shook yourself and made her come in.

"Were you going out dear?" she asks you going to sit on the sofa casually as if she was coming to your house every day.

"Just a bit of groceries, I can go later" you had dismissed it removing your jacket and sending a panicked message quickly 'I'm going to kill you!!!'

"Good" the woman looks around before congratulating you on the house, to which you reply embarrassed.

"Oh don't be embarrassed (Y/N), we're going to be a family soon after all" she states and you clear your throat, "Can I get you anything, some water or tea...?"

"A glass of cold water thank you" you apologise then and quickly go to the kitchen opening the fridge and hiding behind it you take the phone back into your hand.

'John Stones!!!' 'Your mother is here!' 'I'm going to kill you'

John doesn't even view the texts and you can't stand there forever waiting so you grab the water jug and take it to the woman.

"I don't want to take up so much of your time, you might be wondering why I'm here" the woman smiles after taking a sip.

"Um I can guess" you hide your nervousness around your glass, struggling however to down a sip of water.

"I assure you I'm not always this nosy" yeah right, "but with John I worry maybe a little too much" you smile at the woman's bluntness, taking time to observe her better you can see how much she actually looks like John.

"I never know how to handle him, he's always been so secretive about everything and I've always tried to push him because I want what's best for him" you don't know if you read right into it but it sounds as if the woman is trying to apologise for something. And you open your mouth to say something but she beats you to it.  

"You've been friends for a long time, I should have seen it coming" you gasp with a suddenly blank mind, internally screaming at yourself to get yourself back into sense so you don't look even more hopeless. But apparently the woman is more focused on something else and doesn't notice your obvious discomfort.

You follow her gaze, caught by a photo of you and John from a few years earlier. You're not fond of pictures of yourself around the house, where everyone can have access to your memories, but John had given you the frame begging you to put it there, so you had pleased him.

"Can I just ask how long you've been together?"

"I don't know" you answer without thinking before widening your eyes trying to make up for it, "I mean... there was no specific date. It just happened I guess"

"I really should have seen it coming" for a moment it's as if she's lost in thought, shaking her head in disbelief, "there isn't a day we don't end up talking about you and he's always so fidgety when it comes to you"

"Really?" you ask surprised straightening up with your back as your phone vibrates but you don't feel the need to pick it up.

"Yeah, and he always has a smile on his face when it comes to you"

"John smiles all the time, I don't think that can be considered a one-off"

"Yeah but there's ways and means of smiling. It reaches his eyes"

-

"What happened? I was at practice I just saw the texts. I'm so sorry (Y/N), I'm going to have a good talk with her" John speaks sharply as soon as you pick up the phone and you have to raise your voice a little to make yourself heard and shut him up.

"It's okay John" you state around a spoonful of ice cream, the container in front of you.

"I'm sorry (Y/N) I swear, that woman crossed every line" he mutters and you can imagine his serious expression, his eyes a little darker than usual and half-closed, his nostrils flared.

"John no" you stick your spoon into the ice cream sighing, "don't do anything hasty, just calm down. Where are you? Are you driving now?"

From the other end of the phone only silence comes before you hear a sigh, "I'm on the road"

"Come to my place okay?"

The drive hadn't been that long to your house so you can still sense the annoyance in his figure and his gaze as he walks in and heads into the kitchen immediately eyeing the box on the counter.

"Why are you so annoyed?! Where's the carefree Stonesy from the last few days?" he looks around before stealing the spoon from your hands and taking some of that ice cream after sitting down on the counter.

"And why aren't you in full hysterics?" he retorts taking another spoonful of ice cream as you roll your eyes.

"I was at first, I wanted to kill you if you remember, but then we talked" you walk over to him taking the bowl out of his hands as he groans trying to take it back.

"If you're hungry I can make you something"

"That is fine"

"I don't think it's good for you" you put the lid on before setting the box down in the freezer before turning to him again, seeing him with his arms crossed giving you a dirty look. You do the same raising an eyebrow, you've become an expert at holding up his game over the years.

"What did she say to you?" he gives up shortly after relaxing his figure by swinging his legs, "she didn't treat you badly did she? She can be a bit-"

"Nosy? I noticed that" you shake your head opening the fridge just to do something as he pushes on. "Well?"

"Hmm? Nothing, I guess deep down she came to apologise because she didn't know we were together and apparently she's been pushing you into a lot of random girls' arms lately and stuff" you gesture shrugging and closing the door, giving him just a sidelong glance.

"Are you sure? There's nothing more?" John checks wary, it's your apparent calm and the bowl of ice cream you were practically devouring that put him on his toes. He'd practically been able to feel your panic through those texts you'd sent him and then he sees you and you seem to be a different person.

"You know me John, if there had been anything else or she had disrespected me in any way I certainly wouldn't have kept it to myself" you try to sound as calm as possible but your playing with that ring, taking it off and putting it back on, gives you away.

"Come on say it" he sighs, lowering his gaze to his shoes for a moment as you raise an eyebrow. "What?"

"Just say it"

"John I don't know what you're talking about"

"I told you. Just say it" and he looks like he's ready to be hit just as if you were going to do it with a punch or something. But you just sigh as you move closer to him, his ankles linking lightly to your legs seeking contact.

"How long are you going to keep this up? Because I'm with you, I'm in now and I'm going to keep playing along. But your mother is just that, an eccentric mother only concerned about her son"

"So if we actually get married..." he leans his head slightly to the side smiling innocently as you smack him on the forehead rolling your eyes.

"Did you hit your head lately? Did you even hear what I said?"

"You said you would like to be with me"

"I said your mother is a good person, and she doesn't deserve this" you retort without giving your brain time to process what he's telling you.

"But if you really think about it, it would be perfect. I'd solve all my problems by not turning out as a liar and you'd have me"

"Did you just imply that I can't get a boyfriend in a normal way? I hope not"

"Sorry, I didn't mean that" he chuckles at your threatening expression pulling you to him and leaving a kiss in your hair.

His gaze is lost somewhere, he's so easily distracted you almost read surprise in his eyes when he lowers his head and realises you're still there. "John, what's going on with you mh?"

"I don't know. I guess I'm starting to really think about what my mom says. And that she's right. When football ends, what will I have left? What's wrong with me? Why couldn't I find anyone?"

"Hey no John listen to me carefully now. At thirty you may be considered old in your profession but I can assure you that for the rest of us life begins at that age" you take his face in your hands gently stroking his cheeks with your thumbs making sure he sees and hears you above all, "you will have all the time in the world to find someone if you want to, to start a family and come to terms with the fact that you are getting older and your hair is getting white"

"Never" he quickly retorts, making you giggle, "I'll never have white hair"

"We'll see... if you can keep those curls, you'll be trouble even when you're old"

"Oh wow so you think I'll make it to eighty still on my own?!" he jokes strengthening his grip on your legs and moving forward slightly.

"Eighty? You have very high expectations for your life" you downplay by moving your arms along his neck.

"Aah what would I do without you" he sighs happily holding you close to him again, "Promise you'll always be by my side?"

At your non-response, his grip becomes more pronounced literally crushing your face into his chest. "Promise me"

"I promise. I promise" you giggle making his chest vibrate with your laughter as well. Quite often you're the one with the identity crisis and John has to play the therapist, calming you down and reminding you to get your feet down on the ground. But often the roles are reversed and you're the one putting the boy's pieces back together, happy that all those years of friendship have created a relationship where he's not afraid to be fragile and let himself be fixed.

"You'll always have me" you remember him in his arms, and when you pull away to let him know with your gaze too, he's already there looking at you. You see his face move closer to yours and instinctively you step back.

"Please I need to know"

"Know what?" his tone is almost a plea while there is confusion and nervousness in yours.

"If what I'm feeling inside is true" he knows you well by now and he can catch your eyes widening in surprise for a split second, a reaction that to unfamiliar eyes might not have happened.

"Can I kiss you?" you nod but you're already closing your eyes waiting for his lips to touch yours again.

-

"What are you doing?!" you ask giggling to yours and John's brother upon seeing the two of them exchanging some money.

"He bet fifty bucks your engagement was fake. And he lost" your brother is obviously very happy to have earned something in that whole thing, your brother-in-law is not so happy though.

"You bet on us?!" John asks incredulously at your side, an arm around your waist.

"Is that so unbelievable?" you hide your smile in the glass in your hand.

"You don't know John if you ask a question like that"

"Eh I can assure you I know him quite well" you two exchange a look of understanding as your brothers pretend to vomit. And you leave them arguing about the validity of that bet, turning away from everyone to have a moment alone in the garden of that facility that hosts you.  

"Are we ever going to tell them the truth?"

"Who, to those two? Nah my brother deserves it"

"But mine doesn't" you quickly retort making John chuckle, "I'm sure we can find a way to take them off him"

"How?" you ask interested as he leaves a kiss on one cheek before moving closer to your ear, "We can steeal them"

"John Stones! You're such a bad influence on me... Let's do this" you rise up on your toes to search for his lips. "Anyway, your family is so damn crazy, nothing surprises me anymore"

"You're not completely normal either admit it"

"Hmm maybe you're right. I must have been pretty crazy that day to going along with you"

"Just that day?" he teases earning himself a hit on the arm before he draws you back to him to kiss you.

"I can't believe we actually got married" he sighs connecting your foreheads gently.

"Who knew my happy ending was always right in front of me"

"Sometimes I think if it wasn't for my mom we'd still be wandering around looking for someone"

"You mean your mother would still be introducing you to some girl"

"Are you jealous?" John smiles cheeky as you do the same. "Oh you know there's this little thing called a divorce"

"Oh no. No no no no, not now so many things seem to make sense. Don't even think about it" he shakes his head energetically tightening his grip on your waist as you laugh, running your ringed hand through his hair.

"I love you John Stones"

"I love you (Y/N) Stones"

#my writing #john stones #john stones imagine #john stones imagines #original #john stones one shot #football imagine #football imagines

[agustdakasuga]

You Never Walk Alone | Chapter 3

Genre: Werewolf!AU, Poly!AU?, Mate!AU, romance, fluff

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Student!reader, Omega!Seokjin, Alpha!Yoongi, Beta!Hoseok, Alpha!Namjoon, Omega!Jimin, Beta!Taehyung, Alpha!Jungkook

Summary: You live a quiet life in your late grandfather’s cabin in the woods. You go to school just to graduate and get your diploma, not to make friends or stand out from the crowd. That was until one day, you enter your home to see a pack of wolves that need shelter.

You’re enjoying a nice picnic with Jimin when all of a sudden, you meet his 6 brothers and they all seek shelter in your home. 

“Jimin. Would you like some fruit?” You asked as you packed your bag full of food. Jimin barked, wagging his tail. Honestly, he wasn’t even crazy about food but the fact that he could share something with you excited him.

“Alright, someone loves his fruit.” You snorted and packed bananas, grapes, apples and a small knife inside your bag. You made sure all the food containers were securely closer and you filled up two water bottles with cold water, one for you and one for Jimin. 

“Ready?” You smoothed down the skirt of your sundress. 

“Yes!” Jimin jumped. You laughed and patted his head. Jimin walked slightly ahead of you out of pure excitement. He led you to a spot right by the lake. 

“Here?” You took the blanket out of your bag and laid it down. To weigh it down, you put the food containers out. Jimin also sat his butt down on one corner to help you. 

“I got it bubba.” You winked and placed a container down. Jimin almost smiled in satisfaction and moved closer to you. 

“Thankfully the weather is perfect today.” You hummed. 

Jimin sat beside you, panting as he stared out into the lake. You ate your chicken sandwich while you put out some beef mince mixed with rice for him. You stopped eating when you heard him gobbling out the food and burying his entire face into the container beside you. When you laughed, he looked up at you, blinking in confusion.

“You’re so messy, Jimin.” Reaching out, you removed the rice grains that stuck to his nose. 

He shook his head, snorting while you moved away in laughter. You continued eating your sandwich while he finished his own food and was even licking the bowl clean. 

“Slow down, bub.” You stroked his head. He huffed at the sight of his now empty bowl but started eyeing his sandwich. 

“Hey, hey. No eyeing. This is mine.” You held your sandwich away. 

“No! Jimin! No!” You laughed as he put a paw in your lap to give him some leverage. He stood over you, his large weight and body making you fall back onto your back. You squealed as Jimin leaned down to eat the sandwich out of your hand. 

“No!” You shouted. Jimin moved back to his spot as you watched him eat the rest of your sandwich. You glared at him. 

“Yah! How dare you!” You slapped him repeatedly. Jimin just ate your food until all that was left where the breadcrumbs on the mat. He looked at you and you crossed your arms. 

“I’m not talking to you.” You scoffed, turning away as you ate some fruit. 

*Whimper*

Jimin came behind you and you felt him put a paw against your back. You continued to ignore him but a small smile was on your face. Jimin continued to whine and whimper for your attention. Then you felt him rest his head on your shoulder, his fur against your ear and his damp nose touching your cheek lightly. His whines and whimpers got louder. 

“Excuse me, personal space.” You ducked out from under him. His ears folded down and he pawed you gently. 

“Alright! Alright! Geez. Here.” You broke half of the banana you were eating and held it out. Jimin’s ears perked up as he gently licked it up from your hand, chewing happily. 

“I wish we could stay here forever.” You threw an arm around his neck and leaned against him. 

“Her hugs always feel good.” Jimin closed his eyes.

“You know, I haven’t been here in a while because the last time I came here was with my granddad. The tide was high and he taught me to skip stones. When he passed away, I tried coming again but it felt lonely to just sit here alone.” Tears pooled in your eyes. 

“Don’t cry, (y/n).” Jimin turned to you with soft eyes. He gave a low whine and nudged you with his nose gently. 

“But now, I have you.” You leaned in to kiss his muzzle. He licked your cheek lightly and you smiled, ruffling his fur. You stood up and walked to the edge of the lake. Jimin walked over and stood by your side. 

The wind blew against your form, lightly pushing your hair back. Jimin looked up at you and your beauty. 

“Y-You...” Jimin was stunned. You looked down at Jimin, tilting your head in confusion as he just continued to stare at you. Jimin opened his mouth but couldn’t speak.

“Y-You’re my m- OOF!” Jimin was suddenly tackled by something. You screamed in shock, backing away in fear. 

“J-Jimin!” You screamed in horror as another wild wolf stood over Jimin. This wolf was bigger and a darker brown with black tips on his ears and tail. 

“JIMINIE!” 

“T-Tae?!” The smaller wolf stared up at his best friend and beta wolf. His mind link was working again! Taehyung gave the same grin that he always had. Jimin turned to see your still shocked and scared expression, pushing Taehyung off him. He bumped his muzzle against Taehyung’s and Taehyung jumped up, putting his front paws around Jimin’s neck playfully. 

“Are you okay?” You asked Jimin. Jimin trotted over to you while Taehyung just stared, his head tilting at you. Jimin put his head under your hand so you could pet him. You smiled softly at him. 

“You... know him?” You bent down in front of him and Jimin let out a bark. 

You tried your best to hide your hurt and sadness with a smile. Of course, you were happy for Jimin to find a pack member but then, that meant you were alone again. 

“C-Congratulations... Jimin.” Your voice shook. Jimin blinked in confusion at your sudden change. What was wrong? 

“I... just remembered that I have some work to do.” You headed back to the picnic mat and bent down to pack everything up into your bag. Taehyung and Jimin stared at you. Jimin didn’t like your sudden coldness. You were giving off such sad emotions. 

“It... It was nice having you around, Jimin. Maybe... I’ll see you again soon.” You turned away before you could cry. 

“W-What...?” Jimin’s jaw hung open in shock as he watched your rushed form head back through the forest. He let out a sad whimper. 

“Who is she?” Taehyung asked. 

“Someone who took care of me and loves me. I need to go, Tae.” Jimin started walking in the direction of where you went to go back to your cabin. Taehyung followed behind him. 

“What about the hyungs and Jungkook?!” Taehyung barked. 

“I...I need to make sure that she’s okay.” Jimin ran to the cabin. Taehyung continued to follow him, not wanting to lose his brother again. Jimin went to the cabin and pawed at the door while he whimpered but you didn’t answer. Taehyung sniffed the area, the house was empty, there was no one inside. The two of them walked away. 

“Maybe she’s just walking.” Taehyung comforted. 

“Let’s go find the hyungs and Jungkook first. Where are they?” Jimin asked. Taehyung led the way. 

“We’ve been hiding in a cave. We’re getting a new house built nearby. They’ll be happy to see you again.” Taehyung jumped over a tree root and Jimin followed. 

“I couldn’t hear any of you through the mind link. But luckily I could see your crystals when I went to the lake.” Jimin said. 

“That’s weird but usually, strong emotions do block the mind link.” Taehyung explained as they came before the entranceway of a cave. As the two wolves entered deeper into the cave, Jimin could hear the familiar squabbling. Jimin couldn’t help but smile. 

“Hyungs! Jungkook!” He barked. 

“Jimin?! Is that really you?” All 5 wolves turned and rushed to him. Well, some were limping over. 

“Jin hyung! Hobi hyung! Are you okay?” Jimin panicked. 

“We were hit hard that even our sped up healing is taking a while. How have you been, Jimin? You look good.” Hoseok smiled despite the pain in his leg. Jimin thought about you and your sad expression. 

“I’ve been with a human. She found me the night I ran away and has been taking care of me ever since. She’s really nice, not like other humans! At first, she’s cold and seems like she doesn’t care but she’s really funny, loves to laugh and... vulnerable. I like being around her.” Jimin couldn’t help but smile at the thought of you. 

“Does she... know?” Namjoon asked. 

“Not yet. She’s fragile so I don’t want to scare her. It’s only been like 4 days.” Jimin shook his head. 

“Why don’t we go see her? Her cabin is near here. She’ll help Hoseok hyung and Jin hyung! This cave is not a good place. Maybe she’ll let us stay there until the house is built.” Jimin suggested. 

“I don’t know...” The pack members looked at each other uneasily. 

“Trust me! She’s not like other humans!” Jimin persuaded. They nodded their heads and followed Jimin to your cabin. He led the way. When they passed by a big, open field, Jimin saw in the middle. 

*bark*

“J-Jimin?” You wiped the tears from your eyes as you looked at Jimin. He barked and ran towards you. Smiling, you opened your arms and let him jump at you. You wrapped your arms around him and laughed as you fell on the ground, letting him stand over you. 

“You’re back.” You smiled. There was another bark and you sat up to see 6 other wolves there, the same wolf as before with them. 

“Is this your pack?” You asked and Jimin barked. He nudged you to stand up and pushed you over to them. You bent down in front of them, holding a slightly shaky hand out. 

“You’re hurt.” You saw the white wolf with a layer of gold on his back limping. 

“Let me treat you?” You offered. Jimin barked and jumped. You walked back to your cabin with Jimin by your side, the 6 others following behind you. 

“Wait here.” You put your bag down and went to the kitchen. The 6 sniffed around the area. Jimin’s scent was definitely prominent in here, he was telling the truth. You offered him shelter. 

“Come. Whoever is injured.” You sat down. You scrolled on your phone to research on how to treat wolves. Hoseok gave Jimin an unsure look, who nodded back at him. He stepped forward and you gave a small smile. Opening the first aid kit, you took the bandages out. You saw a similar cut on his leg as Jimin had on his side. 

“This may hurt.” You warned and purple sprayed the wound. The wolf pulled away but you stroked his back comfortingly. 

“It’ll be okay. I’m sorry.” You hushed. Taking the gauze, you wrapped the bandage around his leg. When you were done, you assumed that was all until the light grey wolf stepped forward. 

“You’re hurt too?” You cooed. 

Jin lifted his front paw. When you touched it, he let out a growl. It was definitely inflamed and warm to the touch. You stood up and went to get an ice pack. The first thing you did was wrap his paw then gently laid the ice pack over it. You held your hands out. 

“Sit here. It’ll help take some pain off.” You cleared up and went to the kitchen to wash your hands. Turning, you saw the 7 wolves staring at you. 

“Huh?” You blinked.

“She’s amusing.” Jungkook scoffed. 

“Told ya~” Jimin sang as he headed over to you. His brothers watch as you bent down to ruffle his fur with a smile as you cut some fruits. You didn’t have much feed 7 wolves. 

“Have this first while I figure out what I can give you all. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting to feed 6 more wolves tonight, other than Jimin.” You sighed as you laid the fruit down. They sniffed and took a bite while you sat on the couch, keeping your distance and munching on a banana. Jimin jumped up and came to you, staring at you.

“You have some there! Why do you have to take mine?” You complained. Jimin just stepped closer to you. 

“Fine! Fine! Just take it! Food nabber.” You rolled your eyes and broke a piece off, holding it out to him. Jimin smiled in triumph and gobbled it. You shot him a dirty look as you ate the small leftovers of your fruit. 

“I don’t know if you’re here to stay but I’m glad you’re back, Jimin.” You ruffled his fur. 

Standing up, you cleared the empty plates that you used for the wolves and went to wash your hands. 

“I’ll be in my room. If you guys need me, Jimin knows where to find me.” You smiled and went upstairs to your room. You fell back on your bed, putting a hand against your chest. You were feeling overwhelmed. All of a sudden, there were 7 wolves in your home instead of just 1. 

“It’s alright. Calm down. They’re Jimin’s family and just needed your help and shelter.” You huffed.

-

“Jimin, are you planning to tell her?” Namjoon asked as Jimin sat back down. Jimin sighed, hanging his head low.

“I should but I don’t want to scare her. She’s... already going through so much.” Jimin sighed. He didn’t even get to declare what he wanted to declare at the lake because of Taehyung’s interruption. 

“She’s nice, Jimin. You’re right. She isn’t like the other humans.” Taehyung smiled. 

“I told you.” Jimin nodded in agreement. He left his brothers to go upstairs. Using his nose, he squeezed through and pushed the door open. You were humming to yourself as you arranged your bookshelf, so absorbed that you didn’t even notice Jimin entering. Jimin didn’t bother you, curling up on your fluffy carpet and just watching you. 

“Woah. You scared me there, partner.” You stepped back. 

“Jimin, are you happy to have found your family?” You asked and he lifted his head, wagging his tail. 

“Well, I’m happy you’re happy.” You giggled. You laid down, using his middle as your pillow. You snuggled into his warmth as he looked back at you with so much adoration and affection. 

“Sleep, (y/n). You’ve been through a lot today.” Jimin put his head down. His slow heartbeat was able to lull you to sleep. 

“You’ve really grown attached to this human, huh?” A voice said and Jimin lifted his head, careful of not moving too much to disturb you. 

“Hyung... I don’t know...” Jimin faced the all white wolf. 

“You’ve only been with her for 4 days and you’re so enchanted by her. Why are you so enamoured by her? Do you not remember what humans do to us? Those hunters? They’re humans. They’re all out to get us, Chim.” Yoongi growled lowly. 

“That’s different, hyung. (y/n) wouldn’t hurt us.” Jimin shook his head.

“And how are you so sure?” Yoongi glared.

“Because she cried when I left with Tae to find you. If she was going to hurt me, she would have taken the chance to when she found me injured. She wouldn’t have helped Jin hyung and Hobi hyung.” Jimin argued. 

“You’re hiding something.” Yoongi’s eyes widened in realisation as he moved back slightly.

“What?” 

“You’re hiding something. Taehyung said your mind link was blocked but mind links can never be blocked, especially one that is as strong as ours. It can only be blocked by... strong emotions.” Yoongi’s eyes travelled to you. 

“I don’t know either, hyung.” Jimin lied. 

“Come downstairs. We’re having a meeting.” Yoongi turned and walked downstairs. Your head had rolled off Jimin’s body so thankfully, he could get up without waking you. He stood on your bed and grabbed your blanket, pulling it over your sleeping form to cover you. Turning to give you one last glance, he walked downstairs to meet with his brothers. 

By the time you woke up, the sun had set. You were lying in your room, alone on the floor, with the blanket over you. 

“Jimin?” You called. There was no replying sound. Rubbing your eyes, you stood up and tossed your blanket back on your bed as you headed downstairs. There were no sounds. 

“Jimin?” You called again, searching the kitchen, bathroom and living room. You even went outside to find it empty. 

“Jimin...” You whispered and fell onto the dirt. He...left? 

You felt a lump in your throat. Once again, you were alone. Jimin had probably left with his pack, go back to the wild where he belonged. You didn’t own him and he didn’t owe you anything. He didn’t need to stay now that he was reunited with his brothers. 

“A goodbye would have sufficed.” You chuckled bitterly as you wiped your tears. There was a howl, followed by leaves crunching. 

“Jimin?” You turned around, only to be faced with an unfamiliar wolf. He growled at you, bearing his canines as he stepped towards you. His eyes glowed red and you scrambled back. 

“S-Stay back!” You shouted. 

This wolf snapped his jaws at you as you gulped. He leapt forward and almost got your ankle but you reeled your legs back. This was how you were going to die. 

*Howl*

Suddenly, there was a flash and 7 wolves stood in front of you. They flashed their canines, growling and hissing. You knew them, well, one of them. It was Jimin! The bigger, black wolf brother of Jimin barked at the enemy and he ran away. You sighed in relief, bursting into tears as you wrapped your arms around Jimin, crying. 

“I...I thought you left again! I was so scared! I... I... I... thought I was going to... die.” You cried into his neck. Something wet touched your arm. 

“H-Hello. Sorry.” You faced Jimin’s brother, wiping your tears in embarrassment. The dark grey wolf was also bigger than Jimin. He panted, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth as he whined. 

“Thank you. I’m fine.” You chuckled. You held your hand out and Jungkook looked at Jimin, who nodded. 

“Just put your head under your hand. She wants you to do it only if you want to.” Jimin explained. Jungkook ducked down slightly, putting his head under your palm. 

“Your fur is so soft.” You said in awe. 

“Thank you for protecting me. Sorry, you had to see that. As I always tell Jimin, I’m a little crazy and overboard sometimes.” You turned to all 7 of them, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly. Standing up, you dusting your clothes and went into the house. The 7 followed. 

“No more beef, bub. But I’ll mix chicken and pork.” You tried to console as Jimin poked his head into the freezer to see what meat you were taking out to cook for their dinner. 

Jimin scowled, giving you the same flat look. You raised your hands in defence as you took out the packs of mince to thaw. 

“Your fault for not warning me about guests.” You shrugged and cooked some rice. Looks like you’ll have to go grocery shopping again soon. 

~~

Tag list

@georgie-me-myself-i​ @tatastaetaemainblog​ @dragoste-lunes​ @lil7bluedragon​ @amber-thumbs​ @greezenini​ @jisoosbitch​ @taozibun1​ @ghostkat23​ @fullvoidmoon​ @lovelyseomin​ @aclp-jb1d​ @mrcleanheichou​ @smallbaby-cat @thestrugglesofateenagedirtbag​ @veronawrites​ @hobisbeech​ @purelyecstacy​ @hxsxxk-180294​ @bts-edits-bitch​ @namjoonies-dimple​ @cool-strawberry @kthsmullet​ @bubbletaetaesstuff​ 

#kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop series #bts #bts series #bts scenarios #bts wolfau #bts wolf au #bts werewolf #bts werewolf au #bts poly #poly!bts #poly!bts x reader #werewolf au #werewolf!au #werewolf x reader #wolf!au #wolf!bts #wolf series #ot7 #ot7 x reader #ot7 bts #bts ot7

[whitelacepants]

Title: Saturated and Inflated

Word count: 1,017

Pairing: Percy/Nico, kinda

Summary: Nico doesn't think Annabeth is a good partner, so he calls her out on it.

ahhhh i finally did it! so this is my little fic thing, i hope you guys like it. i know it's bad, this is the first thing i've written in like 6 years, but pls be nice >_<

for background, nico just tried to off himself but failed, that's why everyone's there in his cabin, and that's why nico confronts annabeth about her behavior, bc he doesn't think he's gonna be around much longer to see the fall out. it's from nico's pov so the italics are his thoughts. this takes place like, 3 years after the earth war, trials of apollo doesnt exist :)

okie dokie, happy reading, let me know what you think ;3

(edit: i just realized the fuckin ages are off in this part ohmygAWD they're supposed to be like 19-21 throughout the whole thing, im sorry i cant do math 😭)

__________

"Has she ever once told you that you were intelligent?" 

The room stills.

I'm gonna die soon anyways so I may as well rock the boat.

"What?" Percy asks.

Will sat a little ways away from Nico on his bed, Percy, Annabeth, Jason, and Piper huddled in front of him on the floor. Piper holds onto Jason's arm like a lifeline while Jason tries his best to remain calm, keeping his face neutral. Confused, Percy takes a breath in to respond, but of course Annabeth has to butt in, because apparently Percy can't think for himself now-

"Nico, what are you talking about? Of course I've mentioned it before-"

"I wasn't asking you." Nico says with a hard edge to his voice. She pauses, her mouth open in shock, before abruptly clicking her mouth shut. Piper and Jason stare on in silence.

He turns his attention back to Percy.

"Percy." Nico pleads quietly. The boy in question had been staring at the floor in front of him with a far away look, presumably trying to remember something that might help his girlfriend's case. Upon further inspection, he looked less "far away" and more...conflicted. Finally, he lifts his head to look into Nico's eyes.

"No. No, she's never...no."

Ah, that's what I thought.

"Has she ever told you that you were pretty?"

Percy startles at the question.

"Pretty?" He asks, as if Nico was insane for even implying that that was something he could actually be, and shakes his head.

"No, no one's ever...called me pretty before."

An absolute shame. It's been 7 years and he's still as stunning as the day i saw him.

Nico looks Percy in his eyes and says,"I'd call you pretty everyday if I could. I'd tell you that you were intelligent everyday until you believed it. Until you could say it yourself," Nico says longingly, slightly desperate but mostly just defeated. The group stares at him in shock. Makes sense. He's not really one to pour his heart out like this, but he may as well keep going. What's he got to lose? Looking down at his hands clenched in the bedsheets in front of him, he continues.

"You don't value him."

Annabeth bristles. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Nico responds in a clipped tone, glaring at her. "You know, for an Athena kid, you're really fucking dense. You don't value him. You treat Percy like he's the bane of your existence and call it "feminism" instead of what it actually is. It's borderline fucking abusive." He ignores the angry scoff Annabeth throws his way and keeps going, her annoyance egging him on. "We all know he was a replacement for Luke anyways, it's not like you hide it very well. That being said, you can't expect him to act like somebody else and then turn around and reprimand him for being his own person." He steels himself. "I know what happened in Tartarus a couple years ago."

"What?" Percy asks in a strained voice.

"Yeah, I found out a couple months after the war was over."

"How did you find out?"

Maybe I'll tell him eventually but. Not today.

"It's not important. I saw the way she used to look at you, and I see the way she looks at you now. It's different than before, more cautious, more...calculated." 

Holy fuck.

He looks up directly into Annabeth's eyes, hit with a realization.

"You're waiting for him to turn on you, just like Luke did, aren't you? That's why you keep him on such a short leash."

She snaps.

"You have no clue what you're fucking talking about!" She stands up, looking ready to fight. Percy holds her back by her arm.

"Oh, I don't?!"

"No, Percy is perfectly fine with me!"

"Annie-" Percy starts.

"Annabeth, he can not breathe with you! Can't you see that?!"

"Nico-" he tries again, but to no avail.

Piper's grip on Jason becomes a little tighter and he reciprocates the action. Will's got his own arms wrapped around himself.

"Fuck, he would do anything for you, and you're taking advantage of that! You call him a stupid fucking nickname and plan out the rest of his life for him knowing good and gods damned well that he's not gonna say anything about it because he wants to keep you happy!" he shouts, starting to feel light headed, his vision getting spotty.

She responds with a hard edge to her voice,"At least I'm not hopelessly in love with a guy that will never give a shit about me."

"Alright, that's enough!" Percy screams. It takes Nico a second to realize that he's shivering. They all are, except for him.

I lost control again. Fuck.

"We're all here today because we want to keep Nico alive, making him scream and cry until he passes out isn't gonna help," Percy says, desperation leaking into his voice. He pulls Annabeth's arm and she sits, albeit reluctantly.

"I'm not-" but when Nico brings a hand up to wipe his face, he's surprised to find that it comes away wet. 

"Oh."

Well that's embarrassing. But I guess it doesn't matter now.

He sniffs at the snot threatening to run from his nose as he swipes at his face with his hands, wiping the fallen tears away. He then presses his palms into his eye sockets, willing the fresh tears to stay put. When he pulls his hands away, his skin colors from irritation and the bags under his eyes are more prominent. He's exhausted, and he says as much.

"I'm going to sleep. Sorry about the temperature change." He apologizes, and moves to lie under his covers, stopping propped up on one elbow. Looking at the floor, he lets out a sigh.

"Hey, Percy?"

"Yeah?"

Nico's hands clench where he's holding his sheets.

"You're one of the smartest and most beautiful people I've ever met." He says in a soft voice, then louder,"And, in regards to the Tartarus thing, I'm here if you ever wanna talk about it with someone who actually understands." He finally looks up at Percy. Percy stares at him for a moment before nodding with an affirmative hum. 

With that, he turns toward the wall and fully lays down, throwing the blanket over his head.

____________

part 2

#how we feelin out there tonight? 👀 #nico di angelo #anti percabeth #percy jackson #pjo #pjo fic #tw sui mention

[clareguilty]

Coal Fires and Snowstorms

This was a request fic that was originally for the Overwatch cowboy but I changed to Arthur Morgan for... apparent reasons Arthur Morgan/F!Reader (reader also has big enby vibes) Rating: Mature | No Warnings Word Count: ~2,200

Arthur wakes with a wheeze, bolting upright and smacking his chest with his fist as he tries to pull in enough air.

He’s shirtless, but a woven blanket had been draped over him while he was unconscious. A ray of light cuts through a grimy window. The angle is harsh enough that it’s probably late in the evening.

The last thing Arthur can remember is the dark of the night and the clamoring of the law on his heels. So he’s been out for at least a day.

His lips are dry and cracked, and his muscles groan in protest with every movement. God, his head is pounding like he was hit by a damn train.

A door creaks open, and there’s a squeak of surprise. “Oh! You’re awake!”

Arthur blinks in the harsh sunlight that’s streaming into the small cabin. Whoever is there is bundled up in furs and a jacket with a bow over their shoulder. They’ve got two armfuls of game practically swallowing them.

“Who are you? Where am I?” He means for it to sound rough and demanding, but it’s more croaky and pathetic when the words pass his lips.

“I’m not really anybody, and this is my cabin up in Cumberland. The law chased you a long ways from Annesburg didn’t they? You must have done something real bad.” The hunter dumps all the game onto the table and rushes to the bedroll where Arthur lays. “You aren’t hurt too bad or nothing, but you’ve got a real nasty cough. I’ve got tea and herbs that should help. I bandaged up all the bleeding bits as best I could”

Arthur is bewildered. He knows there had been a fire in Annesburg -- the coal had gone up in a pyre in seconds. Somehow, he had gotten separated from Dutch and the others. The smoke had taken him like crows to a carcass, and he was lucky to make it across the ridge with the way his eyes and lungs were burning.

The last thing he remembered was the pinkertons still on his heels and the darkness of the trees as he tried to hide in the brush. He must have made it to cover before the smoke and the soot finally got him.

He flinches as the hunter sticks an open flask under his nose. “Tea. It’s bitter but you’ll need it.”

Arthur sniffs the mouth of the flask, but it sure does just smell like weeds and water. He takes a sip and wrinkles his nose. But the flavor is a small price to pay for the way the liquid soothes the burning in his mouth and throat.

“Thank you,” he says. “You could have left me in those woods to rot. I appreciate you dragging my sorry ass back here.”

You grin and pat the bandage on his arm. “It weren’t much trouble, but you sure are one large fella.” Arthur thinks you must be a young boy -- it’s hard to tell. Your hair is short under your cap but your voice isn’t all that low.

You turn to the game on the table and grab a knife from your belt. “I hunted enough for the both of us the next few days. It’s gonna be a while before you’ve got your strength back, and a snowstorm is rolling in off the Grizzlies anyways.”

Arthur frowns. “Bit early for snow, isn’t it?”

You shrug. “Winter never listens to me. At least the game was out. Everyone is trying to feed as much as they can before it gets too cold to hunt. That includes us.”

Arthur grunts and struggles to his feet. “I can help with those,” he offers.

You watch him with narrowed eyes, obviously skeptical of Arthur’s strength. “Take the small ones,” you offer up the rabbits and squirrels.

Arthur usually doesn’t have a problem skinning game, but the smoke must have gotten to him more than he thought because he finds himself having to take a rest after just a few minutes. He finishes off the flask of tea and sorts through his pack and weapons.

“My horse…” he asks after a while.

“She’s fine,” you say. “I found her not far from where you were unconscious and she helped me get you back here. She’s out back with my Old Girl.”

“Thank you,” Arthur sounds genuinely touched. “She really means a lot to me.”

You shoot him another smile. “You’re nothing but a big softie, ain’t ya? What could you have done to have the law chasing you all the way across the damn country?”

Arthur rubs the back of his neck, flushing in embarrassment. “My folks might have blown up Annesburg? I don’t actually know how much of it is left…”

“Ha!” you bark. “You’re with them van der Linde folks?”

Arthur’s silence is answer enough.

“I won’t judge,” you shrug. “You’re safe as long as you want to rest here.”

And rest Arthur does. He’s confined to the bedroll, rolled out on a warm pile of furs near the stove. You’re good company, witty and friendly and far too nosy for your own good. Arthur learns that you’ve has been living in these parts for a few years now, trapping and hunting and crafting to sell in town every few weeks. It’s more of a living than Arthur could ever ask for. Arthur thinks he might be sweet on you.

It’s another day before he’s got the strength to walk. He makes it outside to his horse, glad to see that she’s well taken care of. You had said you were going off to bathe in a nearby stream, and Arthur follows the sound of the water.

He’s not expecting what he finds. The water is shallow but fast moving, and he sees a familiar jacket hung on a branch by the bank.

You’re turned away, rinsing in the ice cold water, and Arthur can see the gooseflesh on your skin.

But when you turn slightly, it’s the swell of breasts and the curve of hips that catches Arthur’s attention. He averts his eyes quickly, darting back towards the cabin with his cheeks stained pink.

Now that he thinks about it, you had never said that you were a man. Arthur had simply figured it was most likely. The soft voice and gentle features make more sense now.

“You had better wash up if you want to,” you say when you return to the cabin. “The snow is coming in tonight. I can smell it. I stocked up on herbs for your cough and we’ve got plenty of provisions. I’m gonna split some more wood to bring inside.”

Arthur can’t help but find it attractive that you’re so knowledgeable and well prepared. He makes his way to the stream on his own and washes up in the frigid water, pushing through another coughing fit when the cold makes his muscles seize.

It’s already getting colder when he gets back inside. His weak breath fogs even inside the cabin and the little stove can’t do nearly enough to warm the small space.

“You’re going to freeze,” he tells you. He’s big enough to handle the cold -- spent a damn month up in the grizzlies without much of a problem -- but you surely won’t last the snowstorm.

“I’ve made it before,” you say with a huff and a glare. “I’ve got plenty of furs to keep me warm.”

“Put your bedroll beside mine,” Arthur insists. “We can share the blankets.”

The snow begins to fall, sticking to the ground in wet clumps, and you brace yourselves for the days to come. You’re practically strangers -- save for the fact that you had dragged Arthur out of the woods and saved his life. Now you have no choice but to rely on each other until the snow melts.

Arthur wakes in the night to your violent shivering under the blankets. He pulls you so that you’re pressed against his chest, tucking both of you under the quilts closer together. “I thought you said you’d made it through this before?”

You huff, teeth chattering. “I survived. I never said I kept warm.”

“Stay close to me. It’s my turn to keep you alive.” He drifts back to sleep to the howl of the winter winds.

The next morning he’s greeted by a bowl of piping stew that makes his sinuses burn. “I had some jarred peppers I keep for weather just like this. You’re in no condition for liquor so this is the best you’re gonna get.”

Arthur accepts the stew graciously. He’s not ready for the way you stand on your tippy toes to kiss him on the cheek when he offers to wash both of the bowls.

You pass the time snowed in with several rounds of cards. Arthur tells stories about him and the gang until his throat aches and he starts coughing again, and so the you regale Arthur with your life’s tale and a few stories you picked up over the years. You’re curled up next to each other in front of the stove, and you have no shame about burrowing against Arthur in a quest for body heat. He lets you steal as much as you want.

“I thought you were a boy when I first woke up,” Arthur says.

You shrug. “Most people do. I find it makes things easier a lot of the time. How’d you figure me out?” You don’t seem to feel too strongly one way or another about how Arthur and others see you.

Arthur hides his embarrassment behind a cough. “I, uh, caught you washing up in the stream.”

“Oh,” you laugh, “that’s pretty solid proof, ain’t it.” You’re smiling, not shy at all. “You’re not mad at me for lying, are you?”

“You never lied,” Arthur says. “I just came to my own conclusions. Doesn’t matter much to me anyways, whether you’re a man or a woman.”

You frown at that. “Doesn’t matter?”

“Nah,” Arthur ruffles your short hair. “You’re cute either way.”

It’s the right thing to say. The frown disappears and you settle back against him, humming contentedly.

He wakes in the night to the feeling of your breath on his neck. You shift and your lips brush against his skin. He can’t help the way his whole body tenses at the sensation. His arm is draped around your waist, holding you close because he knows you’ll freeze if he doesn’t.

He pulls you in closer. Every inch where your skin touches his feels oversensitive and hot. You’re still asleep -- he can tell from how slow you breath against his skin, but you reach an arm around his neck and burrow against him.

His heart begins to race. He’s flushed and half asleep and you fit against him so well in this tiny cabin that you’ve made your home. One of his hands slides down your back. You moan as his palm passes over the small of your back and the curve of your ass. His hand comes to the back of your thigh, but you shift again and rock your hips against him.

He gasps, then has to fight back a cough. He doesn’t want to wake you, but your quest for warmth has you plastered against him in a very compromising position. It’s starting to make his long johns downright painful, and he thinks he’ll combust in shame.

You rock against him once more, mumbling sleepily into his skin.

“Darlin’” he croaks. But the sound doesn’t wake you. He tries to wriggle an arm between you so he can push you off, but instead he winds up with a handful of your breast, and the most gorgeous sound he’s ever heard escapes your lips.

He freezes. He’s painfully hard now, and you’re still gently rocking against him in your sleep, perhaps even more so now that he’s got a hand on your chest.

“Arthur, please,” you whine.

He’s pretty sure you’re awake by now, so he readjusts his hand and rubs his thumb over the peak of your nipple. You let out another breathy moan against his skin. This time when he runs a hand over your ass he lets himself take a moment to appreciate how it feels under his palm, they way his fingers sink into the soft skin beneath your winter sleep clothes. He once again places his hand on the back of your thigh and pulls you so that your hips are lined up with his, straddling him under the blankets.

You whine against him once more and grind your hips downward. The friction does way more for him than he imagines it must for you, and his vision whites out momentarily at the heat and weight of you against him.

He loses himself in the motion of your hips for several long moments, but then your whines grow frustrated and unsatisfied and he knows exactly what your after.

Gripping both of your hips tightly, he flips you both so that you’re laying back on the bedroll and he’s kneeling over you.

Your eyes fly open.

“Arthur?”

“You were asleep?” he looks absolutely bewildered.

“I thought so? I was having the best dream.” Your eyes look past him as you remember.

“I don’t think you were dreaming, sweetheart,” he chuckles. He leans in to place an open mouthed kiss against your neck. You gasp and dig your nails into his shoulder.

“Then I think you had better keep going, cowboy.”

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan/reader #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #mild lemons #oranges #i guess #maybe limes

[calebdumes]

so being the captain of your own ship sounds stressful, right? someone should treat Hera to a day of pampering... (surprise romantic spa trip? a sweet homemade experience by the whole crew? you decide!)

keeping the Ghost in shape is hard work! good thing Kanan is a pro in stress relief.

fandom: star wars rebels

relationship: kanan jarrus/hera syndulla

rating: mature

word count: 2.8k

~

Hera woke with a list of things to do already forming in her mind. The pleasant dreams that had taken her through the nighttime hours had been replaced with tasks that needed to be completed. The Phantom was due for a diagnostic, she needed to finish her modifications to the sublights if she ever wanted to take the Ghost out again, and they were starting to run low on supplies. She breathed out harshly from her nose, somehow she’d have to find time to make a trip into town between her repairs.

And if she was in town, she might as well stop in and give Old Jho a visit. Fighting for the rebellion was good work - important work - but it didn’t pay much and their small purse of credits was slowly dwindling.

With a sigh, Hera blinked open her eyes to the darkness of her cabin. Kanan was a warm weight across her chest as he did his best impersonation of a human blanket. For just a moment, she allowed herself the luxury of imagining a sleepy morning in bed. If only she could close her eyes and let Kanan’s gentle breathing lull her back to sleep, held in place by his comforting weight. What she would give to be woken hours later with his kisses trailing down her neck, across the tops of her breasts, his hands running down her sides as she let his wandering mouth travel lower and lower.

Hera shook the sticky sweet heat from her mind; she had too much to do to let that daydream become a reality. She tried to wiggle out from underneath Kanan but as soon as she began to move, his arms tightened around her.

“No.” he said, his voice muffled by her shoulder.

“I have things to do Kanan.” she whispered, scrubbing her fingers through the long strands of his hair. He shivered but didn’t loosen his grip.

“Too early.” was his response.

“I’ve got a lot to do today, love.”

She felt Kanan’s lips brush against the side of her neck as he replied, “Sleep now. Work later.”

Hera sighed again when it became clear Kanan wasn’t going to move. She managed to free an arm and reached blindly for her datapad on the floor. The blue-ish glow from the screen lit up her face as she rested it on the top of Kanan’s head. If he wasn’t going to let her get up then he couldn’t object to her using his body as a prop for her pad. He didn’t seem bothered by it if his snores were any indication.

She read through the local Holonet, clicking her tongue at the new regulations the Empire was putting on trade in Capital City. It didn’t seem like they were even trying to hide their blatant greed anymore. Either that, or they believed that their grip on Lothal was so tight that no-one would dare speak out against them.

Hera smirked at that thought. Maybe it was time they took a trip to Capital City and livened things up a bit. She would have to get out of bed first.

Kanan slept for another hour until he finally pushed himself up, blinking at her owlishly and his hair a mess from where her fingers had run through it. He smiled at her, warm and soft, before jumping from the cot and throwing on some clothes.

“Stay here for a second.” He told her before slipping from the cabin. Hera rolled her eyes and stood, stretching her arms up over head and feeling her spine pop. She rolled her shoulders and fanned her toes out on the cool durasteel floor. Her lower back twinged a little from her time with the engines yesterday and she knew the dull pain would only get worse after another day of work but, the Ghost wasn’t going to fix itself.

Slowly she began pulling on her day clothes, forgoing her typical flight suit for a dingy pair of grease stained slacks and a thin strapped top - it tended to get hot in the engine room and her flight suit would only make it worse. Just as she was pulling on her head wrap, the door to her cabin opened revealing Ezra and a plate piled high with waffles.

“Mornin’ Hera.” Ezra said, letting himself into her room. “I made breakfast.”

Hera blinked at the stacks of waffles dripping with bright purple syrup, the cloyingly sweet scent assaulting her nose. “I see that. Why?”

“Kanan said so.” There was a loud cough from out in the hallway. Ezra grimaced and shifted on his feet. “Uh, I mean, because I wanted to.”

Hera arched a disbelieving brow. “Uh huh, sure you did. What’s the real reason?”

“Well, Kanan did say so but he had a good point.” he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “You always make sure there’s food for us, we thought we’d make food for you. So,” Ezra waved at the plate of waffles. “Breakfast.”

Hera looked at the waffles and then back at the young teen. It was a sweet sentiment, even if it wasn’t needed - keeping the stores full for her crew was one of her duties as captain but Ezra’s show of appreciation made her heart melt just a little.

“Well thank you kind sir.” She said taking the plate from him.

“Anytime Captain.” Ezra smiled before retreating. Kanan filed into the room moments later.

“So, you told him to do it?”

“I didn’t tell him so much as gently suggested he bring you breakfast.” Kanan said as he flopped down on the bed.

“You know you don’t have to do that.” she sat down next to him.

Kanan took a waffle off of her plate and popped it in his mouth, licking the sugary syrup from his fingers. “I know but we wanted to.” he replied through his mouthful of food. “You do a lot for us, it’s past time we did something for you.”

There was a suspicious look on his face that put Hera on guard. “I know that look.” she said, setting the plate down on the bed. “What do you have planned?”

“A day of rest and relaxation.” he winked.

“Kanan…”

“Hera…” he mimicked.

“I have too much to do, I can’t just do...nothing.”

Kanan stole another waffle. “You wouldn’t be doing nothing, you would be relaxing. Besides, we can handle whatever you need to do.”

“Yeah but-” Hera began but Kanan leaned over and kissed her on the mouth, cutting off her protest. He tasted like Jogans and spice. Hera’s eyes slipped closed as he deepened the kiss, one hand cupping her jaw.

“Let us take care of things today, okay?” He asked as he broke away, resting his forehead against hers. Hera searched his face, drinking in his strange teal eyes. It had been a while since she had taken a day off but there was so much to do, she couldn’t possibly leave it all for her crew. “We can handle it.” Kanan said, as if reading her thoughts. “It’s what you hired me for in the first place, remember?”

Hera rolled her head against his and let her shoulder drop in defeat. “Fine.” she conceded. “But call me if you need any help.”

Kanan kissed her cheek before standing. “We’ll be fine. You just relax.”

“Have Chopper help you with the sublights, he has the schematics. And we need more soap, oh and see if Jho has a job for us or Vizago if necessary.”

“Hera.” Kanan smiled from the doorway. “Relax.” he gave her a jaunty two finger salute before the cabin doors slid shut, leaving Hera alone in her room.

She looked around the cabin suddenly feeling at a loss. What was she going to do now?

-

A gentle knock on her cabin pulled Hera from her third nap of the day. The holobook she had been reading tumbled to the floor as she sat up stretching. She smiled to herself, the pain in her back was nearly nonexistent and she felt more refreshed than she had in a long, long time. Maybe Kanan was right and she was long overdue for a day off.

It had been hard at first, to let the others do the work she had planned while she did essentially nothing. Her fingers itched to do something, anything other than sitting alone in her room but she didn’t want Kanan to think that she didn’t trust him to take care of her ship. Out of all the beings in the galaxy, Kanan was the only person that she actually did trust. And not just with her ship. So Hera had gotten back under the covers and ate her breakfast in the silence of her cabin.

That hadn’t lasted long, the quiet became too loud so she escaped to the lounge. At least there she could keep an eye on the coming and goings of her crew. Only, the common space had been empty. Ezra and Zeb had gone to town to pick up supplies and Kanan had recruited Sabine to help him with the last of the engine modifications. It was clear she wasn’t going to be allowed to do anything productive so she curled up in the big wooden chair and let her mind drift until she fell asleep.

The rest of the day had passed in a sleepy haze as she meandered from the lounge to her cabin; napping when she felt like it, eating the snacks Kanan had prepared for her, and catching up on the holobooks she had been wanting to read. Once she allowed herself to relax, letting the others handle the work became much easier.

There was another knock on the door, a little more forceful this time, followed by a hesitant voice. “Hera? Are you awake?”

Hera tossed the sheets aside and padded over to the door, hitting the control and smiling as Sabine came into view.

“I’m awake.” She smiled at the young Mandalorian who returned it with a slight tilt of her lips. Her orange and blue hair was slightly mussed and Hera could see a streak of engine grease on her exposed arm but there was a sparkle of accomplishment in the depth of amber eyes. It was the same look Hera got when she finished working on her ship.

“Dinner’s ready if you want to eat.” Sabine said. “I made stew.”

Hera’s stomach rumbled loudly as if on cue. “I could eat.” she chuckled, following the teen down the hallway into the lounge. The rest of her crew was already seated around the beat up holotable, steaming bowls of stew and crusty bread before them. Hera took her seat next to Kanan and inhaled the spicy scent of cooked tip yip and Sabine’s potent blend of spices.

“Don’t worry.” Sabine said. “I didn’t make it as spicy this time.”

“Good.” Ezra breathed in a sigh of relief. “Cus’ I couldn’t taste anything for like a week last time.”

Zeb chuckled, scooping a heaping portion of the stew into his mouth. “You humans don’t know anything about real flavor.”

“And Lasats do?” Sabine challenged, sprinkling a dusting of seasoning over her bowl. “You just grill everything until it’s burnt. At least you can taste more than fire with my food.”

“Not that much more.” Kanan coughed, reaching for his water.

Sabine rolled her eyes and launched into a haughty argument on the nuances and meaning behind Mandalorian cooking. Hera was only partly paying attention, taking small bites of the rich and spicy stew. She could feel the burn of Sabine’s seasoning scorch down her throat, leaving her mouth tingling.

“How did the modifications go?” she asked in a hoarse voice, leaning into Kanan’s side. He smelled like sweat and oil but Hera wasn’t too bothered by it. It felt good to be pressed up against his side after spending the better part of the day alone. She felt the heat from his body seep into her bones, making her insides twist with desire.

“Wonderful.” He responded as he threw an arm around her shoulders, drawing her in, impossibly close. “How did your day off go?”

Hera pressed her lips to his cheek. “Wonderful.” she pitched her voice low so that he would be the only one to hear her say, “But there is one thing that’s missing.”

“Oh yeah?” Kanan smirked, his eyes trailing down her face to land on her lips. “And what’s that?”

Hera placed a hand on his knee, slowly dragging it up his thigh. “You.”

The reaction in Kanan was instant. His face flushed with heat and his pupils grew wide until there was only a small circle of teal left. He leaned in close, his lips brushing against her ear cone and said, “Well, good thing I have something special planned for dessert.”

“I get that you two are like, gross in love or whatever.” Sabine’s voice cracked over Hera like ice, causing her to pull away from Kanan as if she had been shocked and the heat of embarrassment to color her cheeks. “But some of us are still eating so could you save all your gushy feelings until after dinner?”

“That’s the plan.” Kanan winked, unbothered about being called out. Ezra and Sabine both gagged.

Zeb smirked before draining his bowl and pushing up from the table. “I’m taking the kids into town tonight.” He said, walking into the galley. “Jho found us a job.”

“Do you need any back up?” Hera asked, secretly hoping that the Lasat would refuse.

“Nah, we’ve got it handled.” He brought his clawed hands down on Sabine and Ezra’s shoulders and pulled them to their feet. “We’ll let you get to your...night.”

Hera hid her face behind her hands.

“Wait, I’m not done eating!” Ezra complained as Zeb hustled him out of the lounge.

“You can get something at Jho’s.” Sabine countered. “Now let's go before they start making out at the table.”

“We wouldn’t do that!” Kanan yelled to their retreating backs. “At least not with an audience.” he said to her once they were alone.

Hera looked at him through her fingers. “You have no shame do you?”

He shrugged. “Not really.” Hera snorted, that was obvious. She picked up her spoon and dragged it through her stew but her mind was no longer on eating. Instead, she was intimately aware of every point of contact between her and Kanan, little points of starlight pulling her in. Her heart fluttered in her chest, her fingers tightening on Kanan’s thigh. He glanced down at her hand and then back to her face, biting his lower lip.

“C’mon.” Hera said, pushing her bowl away and standing. She grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet, interlacing their fingers as she led him back to the cabin. As soon as the door slid closed, Hera turned and pulled Kanan down into a heated kiss, tasting the spice of the stew on his tongue.

His hands roamed over her body, pulling at the hem of her shirt while she unfastened his pants. Clothing fell to the floor as they made their way to the cot, breathy moans slipping between hurried kisses.

Hera fell back onto the bed as Kanan covered her neck with adoring kisses.

“Was this all part of your plan?” she said, her breath hitching as his thumbs brushed the tops of her hips.

“No actually.” Kanan chuckled, his face flushed. “I was just going to give you the day off. Getting the kids off the Ghost,” he kissed her lips. “Was all Zeb.”

Hera knocked her closed fist gently under his jaw. “Lucky you.” she smirked up at him.

“Lucky me.” he smiled back.

She got a little lost, looking at the love and devotion shining in his eyes. Kanan loved her with no conditions, no expectations - it was pure and sweet and simple and it made Hera feel like she would come apart at the seams from the intensity of it.

He loved her and Hera loved him back just as fiercely. She grabbed hold of his face and pulled him into a crushing kiss, pouring every bit of herself into him.

“I love you.” she whispered, breaking them apart.

Kanan nipped at her lips, “I love you too.” he said and Hera could feel it vibrating in her bones, weaving the promise held in his words right into her very soul. She let him kiss her, feeling his skin against hers until her desire grew to great. Hera pushed on his shoulder and he went willingly, sinking between her legs with a smirk on his face.

As she came undone under his skillful ministrations, Hera thought to herself, maybe she should take the day off more often.

#pretchatta #asks #kanera #kanan jarrus #hera syndulla #star wars: rebels #star wars #swr fanfic #mine #shleby writes #swr prompt fills #*pterodactyl screech*

[cowboisadness]

Found You {Arthur Morgan x F!reader}

Summery: She was there for Arthur through everything, being more than good friends but less than partners. They support eachother through the good and bad times, it’s not love tho, no, it’s not love at all.

Rating: M. Basically porn with plot. More plot than i planned i really got carried away with this. SMUT IS HERE! 18+ ONLY!!

—–

Chapter 4 - Together

The next few days were nothing short of torture. Arthur never spoke another word to me, huffing whenever I would say something to him or just walking away from me completely. Everyone else in camp soon noticed something serious had happened between us. Their comforting words and questions on what happened went unanswered and dismissed. I hoped time would help, that I would get a chance to explain myself and apologise for my foolishness and downright stupidity. But as the days passed, the frayed ends of the rope had no chance of being reconnected, no matter how hard I tried and how hard I cried. So I flung myself into as many jobs as I could get. As a distraction.

Robbing homesteads. Stagecoaches that turned into shootouts more often than not. Gambling with fellers that were too drunk to notice me stealing their wears from right under their noses and gone before they realised anything was amiss. Fighting in hidden alleyways with meagre men that thought they could take on a woman with nothing to lose. Just to feel something, another kind of pain that would lessen with time.

It wasn’t until I was sat at the edge of the camp, cleaning my revolver while looking out over the overlook, stars raining bright above. Bottle of whiskey by my side that Hosea came over and sat beside me. Silent at first. Taking in the view.

“You going to explain whats going on?”

“Nothings going on, Hosea.” I shrugged, running the oiled cloth over the same spot mindlessly. “Arthur won’t tell me. I though out of the two of you, you would.” he kept his eyes ahead, not bothering to look at me. I sighed, my shoulders dropping in defeat. I might as well tell him, not like he would be able to change my mind.

“I’m an idiot. I spoke to Mary. Told her to leave Arthur alone and to stop contacting him.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know anymore...Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“You love him.” I could see his grin out of the corner of my eye, albeit a sad on.

“Not you too, Hosea.”

“You two were very close. Closer than you think I realise. I’m not a dumb old man you know”

I didnt reply to that. No point to, my mind was made up now. Instead, I holstered my gun and stood, picking up the bottle as I did. Turning to Hosea to finally look at him.

“I’m leaving, Hosea. Only for a few weeks or a few months. I don’t know.”

“You really think leaving will help?” “Maybe. It might help him if I’m not here. I’ll send money and write to you and Dutch. I’ve already packed.” After a few more words and questions on my plans when I’m out there on my own, we hugged and I said my goodbyes to him, Dutch and a few others. Promising the girls I will see them again, even though I was doubtful. I willed no tears to spill when I gathered my things, leaving my tent bare and hollow. Mounting my horse I left camp without looking back, letting the wind guide me in whatever direction it wanted me to go.

---

Roughly 4 months had passed since leaving. Currently holed up in a now-abandoned cabin in the depths of Grizzlies East by O’Creagh’s run, hiding from the law after robbing the fence in Van Horne. Id wrote letters and sent money to nearby stations as promised. Keeping updated with the gangs coming and goings. The last time I heard from those who would write back, mainly Hosea and Mary-Beth, was when they were held up in a place called Shady Belle. I haven’t heard anything from them since. That was a month ago. I had thought of going there, finding them. But I couldn’t bare having to leave again after realising they had been getting on fine and had left me to my own devices. Coming to the conclusion that I was not returning and that I had abandoned them all. Which was far from the truth. I still cared, which I’m sure was evident from whatever leftover money I had been sending to them. Only, it wasn’t getting picked up from the stations anymore, along with my many letters. I was travelling back to the cabin after an evening hunting for supper and hopeful breakfast. The blanket of trees now behind me, opening up the wondrous starry night, pulling my jacket closed as the cold breeze this time of year began to sting any uncovered skin. I looked around before dismounting, taking my kill of two rabbits stowed on the side of my ever faithful horse and made my way inside. Looking around once more to make sure I hadn’t been followed. Just to be safe. As I began to skin and gut the meat, the warm glow from the lantern lighting my every movement in the otherwise dark cabin, I heard motion outside. Bears and wolves were not uncommon around these parts. I had to shoot my way out of a wolf pack not a week ago, coming away with nothing but a bruise on my hip from being bucked off the horse in her desperate attempt to flee. Nevertheless, I placed down the knife and picked up my rifle propped up against the door. Looking out the window to the right of the door. Seeing nothing and hearing nothing else. I went to the door, preparing my rifle then placing my ear to the door. It was silence for a few moments, then movement again, making its way up the steps. It didn’t sound like an animal. With a hand on the handle and rifle ready to be used, I swung the door open. The rifle now aimed at the unwelcomed guest.

It took a moment for my eyes to adjust in the darkness, but it didnt take long to recognise who it was.

“Arthur?” It was barely a whisper. A question of disbelief. I blinked a few times, surely my eyes were playing tricks on me.

After a few breaths, he finally spoke “I’ve found you.” We just stood there, I released a breath I didnt even know I was holding. How did he find me? Why would he? Months of keeping myself away from people the best I could and staying hidden for long periods of time I was beginning to feel content with being a lone wolf. Not thinking that lone wolves are weakened beings after too long. Often driven out when deemed useless or a weakness to the pack, or leaving to find their own family. Not alone forever, wolves would struggle and go insane.

But he, of all people, found me. The only question now is why. And that was the only thing I could say as I lowered the gun.

“Why?”

He told me everything that happened. The downfall, the betrayal, the heartbreak. Those that we lost. Everyone gone in one way or another. Sean, Kieran, Lenny, Hosea, Molly, Miss Grimshaw. Dead. Saint Denis bank, Guarma, Micah working with the Pinkertons. In the end, Micah had turned Dutch against almost everyone, whispering little worms into his ear until they grew and grew to leave no room for anything else.

Dutch turning his back on Him and John. Leaving John to bleed out and leaving Arthur on that mountain. Where he thought would be his final resting place. But once the sun was up, high in the sky, he found the energy to live. To heal. To find me.

And that’s what he did the last few weeks until he heard whispers of someone fitting my description that caused a bit of hell in Van Horn. He knew he was close.

“But...why did you want to find me?” I asked. Both of us sat around the small table below the window, two empty whiskey glasses before us.

He took in a deep breath, his perfect blue eyes meeting my bloodshot and watery ones. “I wanted to the moment I was told you left,” He leaned over, taking my hands in his.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think these last few months. Especially in the last few weeks. What you did before you left, I understand now why.”

“But I hurt you.” letting a sob escape, my body starting to tremble and I’m sure he could feel it in my hands.

“It did hurt. But losing you hurt even more,” He said, nothing more than a whisper, his eyes never leaving mine and his hold on my hands not faltering as he continued. “I remember what you said to me that night years ago. ‘Bout not knowing how much I mean to you. Well - I - I do. Because I feel the same. Always have. it just took me a while to realise it I guess.”

I couldn’t stop the tears. The damn had busted open. Within seconds he was on me, his arms enveloping me, my hands coming to purchase on his shirt. Neither of us wanted to let go, out of fear the other would disappear into the air like dust in the morning rays. We held each other for what felt like an eternity, my tears slowing and the shaking subsiding. I lifted my head from where it was perched on his chest to look at him, our eyes locked once more. No words were spoken but I could see it in the depths of those pools, the forgiveness and longing. And I was sure my eyes mirrored the same. His hand came up to cradle my face and I instinctively leaned into him, my breathing hitching despite the calmness that washed over me. Then I looked into his eyes again, only to be met with a look I had not seen in many years. I opened my mouth to speak but before I could he surged forward, his lips on mine. It was delicate, more fragile than any other kiss we had shared. It wasn’t long until that fragility turned into desperation, my hands at the nape of his neck, his on my waist. My mind was running a million miles a minute, all thoughts of him and this moment. Feeling like we were young lovers again. His hands roamed my sides as I gripped his hair, keeping each other glued to one another. My body began to burn up, feelings I had repressed for months pushing their way to the surface, refusing to be drowned. We broke apart and he pulled me to stand, his lips now on my neck, trailing wet kisses from below my ear to the hollow of my neck, causing me to moan. He looked at me then, desperation and pleading etched upon his face before I kissed him again. Kissing the scar on his chin that was easily visible within the stubble, his jaw, down to his neck and then his chest. Pushing off his jacket and suspenders with it. My fingers returned to the front of his shirt, undoing the buttons slowly as he pushed me back into the direction of the bed. My legs soon coming into contact with the edge. His hands now making a start on my blouse, pulling it from the confines of my pants and lifting it over my head. My hands roaming his chest and snaking down to his abdomen, stroking the hair there, causing him to tense at my touch. He always was a fine man, built from hard work that I couldn't help but adore. His arms wrapping around to my back to undo the corsets lacing, completely surrounding me and all I could smell was him. Horse, rain, sweat and something that was just so undoubtedly him. Undoing his gun belt was muscle memory, hitting the floor with a thud, my corset following, now both bare from the waist up. We couldn’t wait any longer, our lips on each other once again as we worked on unbuttoning our pants. He leaned me down to lay on the bed, my legs hanging over the sides as he wasted no time to pull off the rest of my clothing. Laying there propped up on my elbows I watched as he raked his eyes over every curve, scar and freckle on my body. Kneeling between my legs he drew kisses from my knee up my thigh, getting oh so close to where I wanted him to be. He looked up at me once more, giving a shuddering breath before his mouth landed between my legs, soft but purposeful strokes easily pulling moans from me. He didn’t let up, devouring me like a man starved as he paid close attention to my little bundle of nerves. My body shaking again but for a whole different reason. It had been too long and I knew I wasn’t going to last if he kept going for a minute longer. My hands fisting the bedsheets I tried to speak but it was useless, squirming from the sensations. Lifting my legs to rest on his shoulders feeling him moan against me, the vibration causing bolts of electricity to fire through my whole body and land at my core. I could feel my orgasm rapidly approaching and my hand flew down to card through his hair, holding him there. My body convulsed as I tipped off the edge, my head rolling back as the blinding pleasure washed over me, moaning his name into the air. Arthur was above kissing me within seconds, tasting myself on his tongue and lips. Catching my breath he pushed me further up the bed until my head hit the plush pillows. Removing his pants and then situating himself between my legs. I could feel him pressed up against my thigh, hot and swollen and begging for attention. And oh how my body craved to give him what he needed. His eyes met mine, hooded and filled with lust. Silently asking for permission. I nodded, placing a kiss on his forehead and placing my hands on his shoulders. Electrifying jolts surged through my core as he strokes himself along my slit tenderly. His skin burning to my touch and looking downright drunk. Completely intoxicated. He sinks into me slowly. My body soon getting accustomed to the memory of him as he bottoms out, his hips meeting my thighs. My breath hitches as he bites back a moan. Both of us taking a moment just to bask in the feeling of one another like this again. It all felt the same but so different. He kissed the scar on my collar bone that he only got to see before when it was fresh. We had been through so much over the years we would need to learn about each other again. But one thing remained the same; my body yeard for him. He pulled out before setting a languid pace, lifting one of my legs to wrap around his waist, allowing him to go deeper, his pace quickening and lifting my hips to meet him, Chasing our pleasure. One hand in my hair, tangled up with my locks as his other hand firmly grasped my hip. The look on his face was evidence that he was holding back, needing to completely lose himself in me. And I felt the same. “Arthur...Please.” I purred, not needing to say anymore. His pace quickened with a grunt, one that was a borderline growl. My moans and the sounds of skin on skin filling the air and our ears as he kept hitting that sweet spot. My nails forming crescents on his shoulders. Pulling him down to crush my lips against his, our teeth clicking and tongues dancing together. Pulling back suddenly with swollen lips as the pressure began to build, my whole body trembling more and more as I got higher and higher. Moaning out his name as his rhythm began to falter. Nuzzling into my neck and mumbling ‘oh, fuck,’ in that gravelly but wanton voice. His hand on my hip made its way between my legs, rubbing in quick circles. I couldn’t hold back. That coil within me growing tighter and tighter before snapping. My back arching as the shockwaves rocked through me. Slowing his pace slightly to ride me through it before picking up his pace again, chasing his pleasure with a few more pumps of his hips and he stilled. His hand like a vice on my thigh as he spent himself inside me with a drawn-out moan. It took us a few moments to get our breath back. Pulling himself from me causing me to whimper from the empty feeling and sensitivity. He moved to lay beside me and pulled me to lay with my head on his shoulder. Neither of us willing to clean ourselves up just yet. My skin now acknowledging the cold air around us. The thin sheen of sweat cooling me. Nothing was said for a while as he held me close until he broke the silence to place a kiss to the top of my head then lifting my chin for my face to meet his. “I love you,” he said. My eyes getting blurry from the confession I never thought I would hear. But looking at him I knew it was true. His eyes shone with adoration. I smiled weakly before kissing him once. Looking back into his eyes and with no hesitation, I said out loud what id only heard myself mutter in my dreams. “I love you too."

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan smut #smut #rdr2 #arthur morgan x fem #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader

[thewildomega]

Alpha Whitebeard x pregnant omega headcanons

A/n: Thank you o the anon that requested these. I think I got a little carried away...again. But it’s Whitebeard so can you blame me? Anyway hope you enjoy these. 

Whitebeard will notice immediately when his dear little omega starts becoming tired easily, constantly falling asleep in his lap. Sometimes he goes looking for her when he hasn't seen her for a while and finds her sleeping in their massive bed. 

At first he would think you had been pushing yourself too much, doing too much and he will tell the crew to make sure you don't try and help out so much. 

When you do fall asleep on his lap he will simply move you to the nook of his arm and tug his jacket up to cover you some. 

Days later when you begin getting sick he will start to actually worry. You can never seem to keep anything down for long. 

Waking in the middle of the night to find you not in bed with him he panics. Finding you asleep on the the bathroom floor he will gently scoop you up and go to carry you back only for you to wiggle down and run back to the toilet to empty your already empty stomach. 

Demanding Marco give you a full check up he paces the deck outside of his room. The crew don't dare bother him, never seeing him like this before. He's worried, in all their years together he has never seen his omega this sick before. Sure she's gotten a cold or even a stomach bug but never like this. 

You on the other hand already have a feeling about what is causing your sickness. When your son tells you that you are with child you see him look to you and blink. "You already knew..." Nodding you saw his brows knit together. "Then why..." he goes to ask, glancing over his shoulder towards the door but you smile sadly. "It's taken so long Marco, I...I don't want to get his hopes up if something goes wrong." 

It didn't take much convincing on your part to swear your dear son into secrecy. Neither of you wanting to cause the captain any pain. Besides in just another week you should be far enough along that all would be okay. 

Straightening up as the door to his cabin opened he looked to his first son and saw him as calm as ever. "Well?" urged. "She's fine." marco shrugged. "Fine. Fine. She is not fine, she is puking her guts out, she's always tired, she..." "Pops. Ma is alright. It's probably just a little bug, I'll make her some ginger tea, it helps with Nausea. Just make sure she rests and I'm sure the nausea will pass in a bit." 

Deflating he watched as Marco moved down towards the kitchen and sighed. Rubbing his face he looked to the door before moving inside. Looking over to her he saw her sitting up in bed, her eyes looking to him and a tired smile coming over her lips. Walking over to her when she held her arms out for him he kneeled down on the floor and placed his head in her lap. 

Marco had been right, by the ginger tea had helped along with the cooks making her blander foods. She was still tired all the time but she wasnt getting sick nowhere near as much. 

While he was happy his omega was getting better now something else was going on. She seemed to always want to be touching him. He didn't mind truly but a man needed his space every now and again. Gritting his teeth when she clung to his arm for the millionth time that day he let out an annoyed sigh. "Would you quit being so damn clingy woman." he snapped making everyone look to him. 

Flinching a bit at his sudden outburst you released his arm slowly and curled up some. Hearing him complain about not being able to drink his sake in peace you dropped your eyes to your lap and felt them water up. 

Without a word he watched her slip down from his lap and walk away with her head hung low.

It wasn't until later that night had he went to their room and found her. Looking down at their shared bed he furrowed his brows. She had built a nest? but she only ever built a nest when she was close to her heat and that... counting in his head he looked back down to her, that wasn't for another two months. Leaning closer he saw she had one of his shirts pulled up to her nose and... it had damp spots on it under her eyes. She had been crying. But she never cried. 

Over the next few days he could only sulk as his female kept mostly to herself. Sitting in his chair his eyes would follow her around the deck as she walked slowly, her eyes staring out across the sea. 

She would come when he called her, sit in his lap but she would no longer cling to him like she did before. 

What he found even stranger was that she refused to share a drop of sake with him. She had always drank with him before so why did she suddenly not want to. One night when they were all drinking and partying he had tried pushing his bottle to her lips, knowing when they both got a little tipsy there would normally be some good love makin' later that night but this time she had only shook her head and pushed it away. Grunting when she didn't want to join in on the party he tried again.

Becoming annoyed you finally snapped and knocked the bottle from his hand. "I said I didn't want any, now quit."

Stunned by her sudden temper he opened and closed his mouth before growling. That night the party had been ruined when the two of them got into a heated argument, not the first one but definitely the worst. It had ended with the both of them saying things they shouldn't have said and going their separate ways. 

Choosing to sleep out in his chair that night he told the crew to leave him be and set in the dark alone. They had never been like this, not in fifteen years had they ever felt so far apart. She was just so... different and it irritated him because she was his omega and as her alpha he should know everything about her.

Rolling his head to the side he noticed the soft light coming from the bath house and narrowed his eyes. Chugging down the rest of his sake he pushed himself up from the chair. 

Soaking in the massive tub you leaned against the side with, laying your head on your crossed arms and closing your eyes. Snapped out of your thoughts by the door being thrown open you let out a long sigh when your alpha's scent filled your nose. "Go away Edward. I don't want to fight anymore." you said in a soft voice. 

Shutting the door behind him with a slam he stared at her back through the steam. "No. You and I are going to talk." Kicking off his boots and pushing off his pants he stepped into the hot water and moved over to her. 

Looking over her bare back he licked his lips but shook his head. Sitting down he pulled her to his chest, holding her small body in his hand. "You are hiding something from me and I want to know what it is right now." Seeing her go to deny it he gripped her chin with the tips of his fingers and forced her eyes to his. "No, you can't lie to me. I know there is something. Are you growing tired of me? Is that it, do you want to leave me or..."

Hearing this made your heart ache and you quickly leaned up to silence him with a kiss. Pecking his lips a few times you cupped his face in your small hands and sighed softly. "I would never leave you or grow tired of you alpha. I love you." When he looked down at you with those warm yellow eyes you smiled softly as he started listing off all the things you had been doing to make him think something was wrong.

"Why?" he asked in a deep voice. Seeing her eyes tear up again but a large smile grow on her lips he knit his brows. 

"Because you big jerk, I'm pregnant." 

His whole body went stiff, his mind went blank and his throat was suddenly dry. "Co...come again l..lass?"

Sniffling you kissed his nose and then his cheek and down to his jaw. "You're going to be a daddy." grabbing his massive hand and moving it down to your lower abdomen. 

After that night there were no more problems between the two of you. 

Whitebeard was the most attentive he had ever been in his life. He catered to all of his omega's needs. 

Anything you wanted, you got. 

He demanded she didn't lift a single finger and told the crew as much. 

Edward will be there every step of the way. If there is something you are craving he will sail to that specific island to get it, even if it is clear across the sea. 

You are never allowed out of his hold for long because there is no place safer than in the arms of the strongest man in the world. 

If it was up to him you would be locked away in the safety of the cabin, surrounded by pillows and blankets and no sharp objects of any kind. 

Arriving at islands he refuses to allow you off with anyone other than himself. Walking as close to you as he can only because you finally put your foot down and told him he couldn't carry you everywhere he keeps his haki activated at all times to make sure you and his unborn pup are never in harm's way. 

While he loves the sight of your belly swollen with his child, his chest puffing up with pride knowing that he had successfully bred you, he becomes extremely possessive, growling loudly if anyone looks at your baby bump for too long. 

Once when it came time for you to get some maternity dresses he about made one of the women at the clothing shop faint from fright when he snapped at her for touching your large belly. Smacking him you gave him a angry glare and pointed to the back wall, demanding he go wait in the corner. 

Sitting in his chair he will hold you in his lap and gently stroke your belly.

At night he will lay with his face close to abdomen and talk to his pup growing inside of you. 

When the pup kicks and he feels it you feel your heart swell at the large smile on his face, the light in his eyes. 

As your delivery day grows closer he will sail back to his home island, wanting his child to be born on the safety of land. 

He joins you for your walks, walking slowly beside you, always on alert as you suck in breaths and slow your steps. 

Labor is long and hard but he never leaves your side, stroking your hair, kissing your temple and brow while he purrs for you. 

He hates to see you in pain and at times Marco wonders if his father is having sympathy pains for his omega. 

Boy or girl. One or multiples he doesn't care, he will be in awe. 

He will cry there is no doubt about it. As soon as he sees his long awaited pup he will burst into tears. 

When Marco lays he tiny wailing pup on your chest that is all he sees. Even covered in blood and birth he is sure he has never seen anything more precious in all his life. 

Watching the newborn's cry slowly die down once both him and his omega gently purr for their child he smiles proudly. 

Sitting behind his mate as she nurses their pup he chuckles softly when you make the comment about them having his appetite. Letting the pup hold the tip of his finger in their tiny hand he smiles proudly, "Little runt's got a grip as well."  

Holding his pup to his bare chest he gently lays his large hand over the babe to keep them warm.

You are fast asleep, exhausted from the long and difficult birth. He feels you curl up between his spread legs, your upper half nuzzling his thigh. 

Rubbing his omega's back as she gets her well deserved rest he sighs softly. Staring down at the family he had always wanted. 

#Whitebeard #whitebeard one piece #one piece whitebeard #whitebeard headcanons #whitebeard x reader #edward newgate #edward newgate x reader #Alpha x Omega #alpha whitebeard