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My favorite chair is Arthur Morgan's face

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Thanks @zae-heeyyyfor tagging me!

Get to Know Me

Favorite color: Baby Blue or Periwinkle

Last Song: Space Odyssey by David Bowie

Last Movie: The Nightmare Before Christmas

Last Show: Normal People (The only show that really cures my need for a yearning man)

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: Savory! I am a MAJOR lover of pickles, mild peppers, and Salt and Vinegar chips

Last thing I googled: "Haunted tours Portland, Oregon"

Current Obsession: Arthur Morgan, RDR2, my dog Tucker, sesame dressing, Trisha Paytas, Romantasy Books (looking for recs!)

Looking Foward To: Making new friends, I just moved to the Portland area in August and it has been SO HARD to find a community out here. But I am also very lucky the my best friend from my hometown is moving to Seattle with her husband next month, so atleast we will be semi close to each other!

Tagging; uhhhh, I really don't have anyone to tag

Get To Know Me

Favorite Color: big fan of the 70s color palette and Halloween colors (black/red/green/purple/orange/white)

Last Song: Watermelon by John + Jane Q. Public

Last Movie: I think it was Friday the 13th.

Last TV Show: Vox Machina

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: Savory > Spicy > sweet.

Last Thing I googled: Kingston club cocktail recipe

Current Obsession: The Ukrainian production of Caberet, the sour Shaq gummies, prana clothes, sleep token

Looking Forward To: sex, money, becoming successful. If those aren't possible, a casual ego stroke from strangers.

I was tagged by @circescircle. I tag @appalachiancowboy99.

[kisblle]

Piquancy- II

Summary: You wake up in Arthur's room. Pairing: Arthur Morgan X Female Reader Word Count: 1,486 Tags: High honor Arthur, developing relationship, alcohol and intoxication, fluff, before the Blackwater Massacre

A/n: Well, I got carried away with the story, and now I don't know how many parts there'll be. I split some things to give you about 1,500 words instead of 5,000. I'm having a great time writing again, and I hope you enjoy!

piquancy: a sharp or stimulating quality that provokes a strong, often intriguing reaction.

For six seconds, waking up felt weightless. You'd forgotten where and who you were, your mind mercifully blank of heartache, running, and lawlessness. In that tenth of a minute, your lifestyle of living out of tents, squatting in abandoned houses, and sleeping under the stars felt far away, like some other poor girl's life and not yours. The logical, constantly worried part of your brain stayed asleep, and only half your senses stirred.

Despite the fireplace long gone cold, warmth enveloped you from all around. Sunlight beamed through the window, illuminating dancing dust particles and kissing your skin while plush blankets shielded you from the lingering morning chill. Most of the warmth, however, emanated from the colossus of a man beside you. Arthur's heavy arm anchored you close. You were spooned against him, his chest molded perfectly into your back, and his long legs loosely tangled in yours. And at seven seconds, you were fully conscious. Heaven's floodgates opened, and you were swept away in the deluge of your life.

Getting out of the bed was like breaking through the surface after being plunged deep into the ocean; you didn't even realize you were holding your breath until you surfaced and both feet landed on the dry land of floorboards. Standing now, you glanced back at Arthur, still sleepily adrift in the sea of blankets.

Cognizant of every creek and groan of the worn wooden planks beneath your feet, you walked nimbly across the room. The ark to save you from the flood, the door, was just within reach. Before boarding, you looked back at the sleeping man with a crinkle in his brow. Worry always seemed to plague him, even in his sleep. Part of you wondered what would happen if you stayed, how he'd react to waking with you in his arms, but you didn't even get to finish the thought.

Distracted by your own yearning, you got swept away in the debris of cowboy left by the previous night's tsunami of liquor. The heel of your boot caught on his gun belt, dragging the damn thing–– and everything attached to– it across the floor. 

The rouse was up then, the room filling with the racket of scrapping metal. Arthur's cattleman fell from its holster, striking the floor with a jarring clatter. The gunslinger jolted awake, and his hand instinctively shot to his side, searching for the very weapon that caused the racket in the first place.

His shoulders relaxed when it dawned on him that he wasn't in danger and was, in fact, looking at the one person who brought him a semblance of peace. He rubbed his face with both hands, wiping away the sleep and keeping out the morning sun. The room was silent now as the two of you marveled at each other.

"You stayed?" Disbelief and hangover thickened his already deep voice. 

"You asked me to," you answered quickly, "said you didn't want to do anything stupid."

Your words hung in the air, and you cursed yourself for acting so frantic. Arthur pretended not to notice, throwing the blankets off himself and walking around to your side of the bed. You didn't realize you were frozen all that time, an iceberg finally being thawed by the heat of him next to you. 

"Hope I didn't say anything more stupid than usual," he said, bending to retrieve his revolver. Seeing his belt still tangled around your feet, he offered a supporting hand while you fished yourself free.

"Youu get touchy and when you're drunk," you mused, feeling the awakeness dissipate with his hand in yours. "And sentimental." Upright again, you dangled the belt in front of him.

He chuckled nervously, buckled himself back in, and put the gun back in its holster, "Yeah, that sounds about right. M'sorry if I– "he scratched at his beard, frowning and internally fighting to find the right words.

"Whiskey does that to a man," You joked, trying to ease the new tension between you. Arthur nodded slowly, then shook his head and turned his back to you as the memories of last night came crashing back. 

"Ain't an excuse." Shame cast a dark veil over his handsome face. "Ain't an excuse for me to do what I did. Say what I said. I mean––talkin' like that, actin' like that—" he settled back down onto the bed, clasping his hands in front of him. His jaw was clenched like you'd seen after a job gone wrong or a disagreement with Dutch. "You're too good— too sweet for me to treat you like some —"

"Arthur..." you cut in on his self-deprecating monologue, sat beside him, and laid a hand on his knee. He seized that opportunity to lace his fingers in yours.

And his gorgeous blue eyes sucked you in. You were swimming again, more like floating away in them. His eyes were water, and his voice lulled you like waves.

"Want you to know I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or self-impose, I just—" Then he stopped himself and tore his ocean eyes away from yours again. "I just let the liquor get the best of me."

Your face fell despite you willing it not to, and you started to retreat into yourself, a lump swelling in your throat. Of course, everything had been taken out of context with the effects of the liquor. You should've known better, should've known that's just how he is. He'd have danced with anybody; would've said the same things to the next woman helping him up the stairs. He didn't mean it; he never did when he was drunk.

And then his grip tightened a desperate urgency to keep your hands in his. He shook his head as if reading your mind and dispelled everything you'd thought to yourself.

"Wasn' too far gone though. Not gone enough that I don'tremember what I said—what I meant—it wasn't just the whiskey talkin'." How his rugged man could soften himself so much and take your breath away would remain beyond you. His thumb stroked your knuckles tenderly, his eyes bore into you, and he swallowed.

"I know better. If I want a lady, I gotta court her right. I might've been raised rough, but I got enough sense to know that much."

Your four hands seemed to have minds of their own, twisting together as if trying to close the distance between you.

"Oh, Arthur," it was barely a whisper. You didn't know what to say, but you scooted in closer to him.

"Ain't good at this kind of talk," he confessed, "but whatever I said, I meant it."

There was a look in his eyes, almost pleading, like he couldn't bear the thought of holding it in anymore, couldn't bear you not knowing how he felt. You placed your hand soft on his cheek.

"You are stupid," you teased, pressing your forehead to his. He returned a chuckle and locked his fingers around your wrist, needing desperately to feel your skin under the tips of his fingers. He had to make sure this was real––that you were real— that this was happening, and he wasn't still trapped in some drunken hallucination from the night before. Blood rushed to his head, turning his ears a bright vermilion. With his other hand, he caressed your cheek despite the self-doubt pumping through him. 

And then you were submerged again, his lips an undertow, dragging you beneath the waves as they cut the air from your mouth. Drowning wasn't so bad as long as you were drowning in him. 

And the kiss lingered, both of your hearts pounding in your chest. You could've just about melted into him, but you pulled away as the town clock struck eight, its chimes slicing through the moment. Your hand dropped from his face heavily into your lap.

"Should get back," you sighed. "Got chores to do and all. Don't want Grimshaw to lose her head. She ain't exactly a fairy godmother."

Arthur's shoulders lifted with amusement, and he brushed a piece of your hair out of your face with a contained smile.

"I'm sure they're handling things just fine without you. Take yer time getting back; get a meal, have bath, wash the night away. I'm sure that weren't too pleasent––sleeping beside me and all."

It was all too pleasant, and you wanted to do it again soon. But you were on your way. Arthur put his boots back on and walked you down the stairs to the hitching post. You tried not to squeal as he gripped your hips tight and lifted you onto your house.

"Come back tonight," he said, stroking the animal's muzzle. An edge of nervousness scratched at his voice once more. "Spend the night with me, for real this time."

You departed, the lingering warmth of a kiss he'd left on your hand still tracing your skin. And, of course, you'd return.

Part I

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Replaying chapter one just so I can get more inspiration for my fic, and I forgot how handsome Colter Arthur is. Colter Arthur supremacy❤️

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A piece I’m working on right now.

Coltered (verb.) - to warm oneself, especially when a handsome cowboy is involved.

(If you can’t tell with is a Colter fic oops)

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RED DEAD REDEMPTION II ↬ A Quiet Time

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Why can’t he be real😢

handsome cowboah for Morgan Monday

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I just wanted to show of my OC’s outfit, just because I think it’s cute as hell.

Anyways, December is my favorite time to play RDR2 online just because of the snow and Christmas music.

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RED DEAD REDEMPTION II ᨖ

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Arthur Morgan I love you

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RED DEAD REDEMPTION II ↬ The Joys of Civilization

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Ahhhh , thanks for all the likes on Starved. Definitely will be a part 2! I really appreciate the likes and reposts as that was my first fic I’ve ever written!

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RED DEAD REDEMPTION II ↬ The Fine Joys of Tobacco

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Credit

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Starved

Pairing: Low honor Arthur Morgan x female reader one shot

Author's note: This is my first fic, so please give me some grace on any errors present. Just wanted to let everyone know I am also new to Tumblr, so I am trying to learn the tips on how to work it, feel free to give any suggestions. Currently accepting requests! Also, warning on HEAVY, GRAPHIC sexual content!

Summary: You finally make a move on the cowboy, and he doesn't deny you.

You wanted to worship him.

All six-foot-one inches of him.

With your blurred vision, you fell onto your knees right infront of Arthur, finding your place between his thighs.

Arthur’s eyes immediately met yours with shock, “What’r you doin’?”

“Let me,” you begged, reaching for his gun belt.

The cowboy didn’t stop you, his breath hitching for no more than a singular moment before his lips parted, his eyes focusing on your hands near his private region.

Months he had been gone.

Months you had laid in your cot gnawing at your finger nails not knowing if he'd ever return. You weren't scared that he'd run away, Hell, the man wouldn't dare. You were more scared of that five thousand dollar bounty on his head or another unfortunate run in with the O'driscolls.

What if he had died and you never got to confess your feelings to him? That is what perhaps frightened you the most. But now that he was finally here, you would refuse to wait any longer.

Hid behind nothing more than the thin canvas flaps of his tent, you sat between his legs, working at unbuckling his leather gunbelt from his hips. You didn't care if he didn't feel the same, you just wanted to touch him, worship him, you were starved, and for Arthur was just a man.

You worked diligently, setting down his gunbelt gently next to him on his cot and quickly started on the buttons of his jeans until you saw the red fabric of his union suit start to appear. Arthur made quick work of his suspenders as he dropped them to his sides, his calloused hands swiftly unbuttoning his collared shirt.

The gunslinger didn’t talk; he didn’t have to. By the way he was quickly stripping himself of his clothes you knew he wanted you as much as you wanted him. But deep down you had known that, you knew that all those years of playful banter and shy looks across camp always meant something, and the way he undressed himself so heatedly confirmed it for you.

Once Arthur had worked himself from everything but his union suit you pulled yourself onto his lap, gently starting to tear at the buttons of his suit. The cowboy stared deeply into your eyes, his face expressionless as if he was in a matter of shock and confusion, still, he didn't stop you.

You swiftly pulled the top half of his union suit off of him, the sleeves piling at his hips. Your mouth watering as your eyes fell onto his broad, hairy chest. Your right hand gently finding it's place roaming over the soft curls of his torso.

With your free hand you placed it upon his already blood swollen member, only the thin fabric of his union suit seperating your touch. For a moment Arthur's breath hitches as you grab at his cock, leaving him wanting so much more.

Arthur wasn't one of those proper folks you would find in Saint Denis with their pomaded hair and soft hands. Arthur was a man. His fingers were calloused, his chest broad and littered with scars from years of labored work. He was a man that didn't know more than a day worth of comfort; the kind of man that took what he wanted, and you were ready to give your all to him.

You found yourself kissing his neck as your free hand roamed all over his body. He smelled of tobacco and pine, an intoxicating mixture that enveloped your nose as you nibbled on his ear.

The man did not touch you, instead he leaned back on his palms as he moaned at every touch. With every kiss of his neck his cock pulsated in your hand, with every soft caress through his chest hairs he whimpered. His head cocked upward to the top of the tent, his mouth parted as he breathed heavily. Never had you seen the man in such a vulnerable state, just the view of him sent you over the top.

As you sucked on his salty skin you dreamt of him taking you hard and needy against his cot for everyone to hear. But no, you wouldn't let that happen until you were able to worship him the way he deserved.

You knew the cowboy was ready for more when his moans started to become louder. Slowly your kisses dropped from his neck and made the way to his chest as you fell back onto your knees infront of him. His head lowering in the process as he watched your face diligently find its way to the chestnut curls right above his thighs.

Before pulling the rest of his union suit down, you looked up at him. He was a mess, the cowboy was breathing heavily through his nose as his azure eyes were nearly glued to your own. In a swift motion you pulled the rest of his suit downward, the red cloth pooling at his feet. Arthur's hefty cock was beautiful; it was large and swollen with blood as it bobbed up and down inches from your face, begging for you to touch it.

You looked up at him, trying to read any expression on his face but you were met with a furrowed brow. “Open up,” he commanded, taking your loose hair in the back of your head to his palm.

You parted your lips at his command.

He gently pushes your head towards his cock, as you let just the tip enter you. You taste small drops of his salty precum on your tongue, playfully suctioning onto the tip of his cock. Your tongue dancing on his slit, making sure no more than just the first two inches of him enter your puckered mouth.

Oh how you wanted to watch him squirm. Arthur clenched his jaw as he did his best to control himself as you continued to suck on his sensitive tip.

The cowboy finally let out a deep, whiney, whimper as he realized you were not going to stray from his tip without feedback. "Come on girl'" he whined, pulling your hair tighter in his hands as he hiked his hips up toward your mouth.

His breathless command was enough for you to release him from your lips with a loud pop. For moments you sat there with his swollen member bouncing in your face, the look in his aqua eyes begging you to take him back into your mouth. His hips thrusting up at your face as if he was trying to tell you something without speaking.

Him begging for your touch was exactly what you wanted. His breath hitching once more before you finally decided to relieve him from his predicamant. You placed his large, swollen member into your mouth once again. This time, not breaking eye contact as you slip your tight mouth all the way down his shaft, until your chin rested on his testicles.

For seconds you just waited there, his cock shoved all the way down your throat. You wanted him to watch you take it, you wanted him to know the lengths you would go to make him feel good even if it was a challenge for you. You wanted him to know that you were his to use as he pleased, you wanted him to know that you worshipped the ground he walked on. You pushed your head down even harder, until you could feel the tip of his cock hit the very back of your throat, doing your best not to gag.

You only slid back up on his cock when your eyes started to water and snot started to leak from your nose. Only then is when your mouth made work of him. Mouth sliding up and down, over and over again on his shaft. Quickly, but in repetetive, suctioned motion.

Arthur's legs started to shake in pleasure as you sucked at him as hard as you could. Your tongue massaging his shaft as your head bobbed up and down, your saliva coating every inch of his hard cock, some even dripping down to the inside of his thighs.

You knew Arthur wasn't a gentleman, so it came to no surprise when when the hands that were holding up your hair were now pushing your head deeper onto his cock. Most times you would find actions like this displeasing, but it was Arthur, and you would do about anything to make him feel good.

You let him take control of your mouth as he pushed your head up and down onto him, over and over. Your eyes started to water even more everytime the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, but you wanted this. You revelled in his pleasure.

"That's right girl, take it," he commanded as he pushed your head even deeper onto his cock, your soft hair balled up into his palm.

His eyes were fiercly glued to you and you did your best to keep the eye contact as you bobbed up and down. "S' beautiful," he huffed as you finally pulled your head back, a small trail of saliva connecting your lips to the tip of his cock.

You wanted to worship the man, you wanted to take him into your mouth over and over again. But you needed just a few seconds to collect yourself, to give your jaw just a quick moment of peace before preceeding.

Arthur eyes widened in fear as he worried that he had hurt you, gently placing his free hand on your cheek, wiping away a tear. "Did I hurt you-."

But just as quick as you pulled your mouth off of him, you had placed both your hands on his shaft, positioning the rest of his length back inside your mouth. That move alone answered his question.

Your hands made quick work as you pumped him into your mouth over and over, the cowboy seemed to like this as he readjusted himself on the cot multiple times, not being able to keep still. His teeth fiercely biting his bottom limp as he whimpered.

"Good girl," he grunted as you pumped him again, your lips suctioning to his shaft.

You could tell the gunslinger was close to finishing when his hand started to pull tightly on your hair, little whimpers starting to escape his mouth more frequently.

Seconds later he pulled himself out of you, his hand finding his way to his saliva coated cock as he started to finish on the ground next to you.

That’s not what you wanted.

You wanted him to finish inside you. You wanted to taste his salty cum inside your mouth, you wanted to see the look on his face when you swallowed it for him. You wanted him to know the length you would go for him.

So you forcefully pulled his hands away, placing your lips back onto his member and pushing your mouth deep onto his cock in a repetitive motion. Immeditaly Arthur came, the bitter taste of him erupting in the back of your throat.

Arthur's eyes rolled into the back of his head as you pulled that manuever, he grunted in pleasure as he watched you continue to suck him dry. You waited a handful of seconds after he finished to let him out of your mouth as you pulled your face to his ear, largely gulping so he could hear his cum drop down your throat.

Arthur let out a loud breath as he realized what you had just done. His eyes widening curiously at you.

You didn't kiss him goodbye, you didn't confess your feelings to him either. You took your sleeves, wiping the mess of saliva and tears off of your face as you stared at him with a mischievous grin.

Arthur was stunned as he watched you collect yourself, his knees cocked in opposite directions as his union suit still piled at his ankles. His palms placed behind him as he propped himself up, still breathing heavily in pleasure.

You didn't say a word before quietly lifting up his tent flaps to escape to your own, knowing by his dumbfounded expression that you had left him wanting more.

[kisblle]

I always feel guilty requesting stuff because you deserve so much more but if you write dubcon, I'd love some low honor Arthur dubcon breeding! Either way, your writing is amazing, keep up the good work ❤️

Low honor Arthur is a douchenozzle. And secretly has a breeding kink…? Sure, let's go with that. And maybe this is a little dubcon-ish? Bah, I feel like I am no good at dubcon. Also no good at LH Arthur…

Fortitude II

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link ➵ Previous

The sun has barely risen in the east, but in the warmth of the tent, you have been up for what feels like hours. Or it feels like hours that Arthur has been between your legs, lapping at your core, one hand holding your bucking hips down, the other up and squeezing your breast as you nearly cry from the overstimulation. 

“A-Arthur, p-lease-” You stutter as his rough tongue licks up the seam of your body for the umpteenth time. He grunts into your cunt; breath hot, and continues his assault. It is only after he has wracked from you another two orgasms that he relents, sitting up on his knees and wiping his damp beard. You can do nothing but stare at the pitch of the tent, utterly spent.

“Y’ make such nice little noises there, darlin’,” He rumbles with a self-satisfied smirk.

Perhaps, as you try to catch your breath, this is his penance for acting the fool yesterday. Perhaps this is him trying to garner your favor. 

You hear him spit into his hand and then the telltale sound of wet skin on skin fills the tent as you know he’s stroking his cock. One of his hands grabs the meat of one of your thighs, moving your leg to hook over his. Arthur leans over you and his face finally comes into your line of sight. 

You have the wherewithal, at this point, to move your other leg outside of his thigh, spreading yourself open for him and he hums in approval, leaning over you further with a hungry look in those blue eyes. 

Arthur’s cock prods at your entrance, and you spread your legs wider to grant him access. He hisses as his hips buck against yours, his cock sluicing through the arousal of multiple orgasms - cursing as he slides in so easily. He’s not a small man by any means - but you are just so goddamn wet and ready for him that before either of you realize it, he’s buried to the hilt.

“Fuck-” he spits out as his fingers splay across your thigh, clenching at your skin and leaving red marks in their wake as he finds a rhythm - hard, sharp, fast - there is no softness about this man, but as you’ve seen him beat other senseless, the restraint he has with you in his bed is probably as close as he can get.

A grunt that echoes through the tent recenters you, “Wanna fill you up-”

“We can’t - y’can’t,” you moan high and flighty as his cockhead keeps hitting that sensitive spot inside you, “You can’t get a child on me.”

“Why - oh goddamnit - why not?”

“Arthur- you’re not seri-”

One of your knees gets heaved over his shoulder, and you’re unable to respond in words, instead a hoarse, needy moan bubbles up from your chest.

“I should take you and find a little house and make you my little wife, come home and fuck y’ stupid every night.” Arthur snarls, heaving his hips into yours with little care for gentleness. A strangled noise escapes your throat as your other thigh is pulled up and propped on his other  shoulder. He looms, predatory, before slamming his hips down as he veritably bends you in half.

“I should put a baby in you. Yeah, you’d like that, huh?” He rasps through pounding, punishing thrusts, “Keep you home and chasin’ my children. Belongin’ utterly to me.”

“Ar-Arthur!”

“Yeah, girl, you want it?”

“I want it-!”

“Fuck-” 

He throws his head back and moans, loudly, as he pours his hot spend into your cunt. Spurt after vicious spurt, panting hoarsely as he wrings himself dry. You mewl, completely uncaring of volume out here in the woods, as your body seizes in response, making Arthur nearly collapse on top of you.

The gunslinger wheezes as he lets go of your legs, letting them fall to either side of his hips before he rolls off of you, landing on his back next to you in the bedroll. You recover your wits, gasping as the final throes of ecstasy roll through your body.

And then, you realize what he did. You realize what you said.

“Are you goddamn serious?” 

Arthur doesn’t look at you, covering his eyes with his forearms as he pants, coming down from his exertion.

You turn over in the bedroll facing away from him, hugging yourself, trying to calm yourself down, and failing miserably as you feel his spend drip between your thighs.

“Y-you can’t say that and not mean it.”

You’re ashamed as tears begin to roll down your face - mad at yourself for being so easily upset - mad at yourself for letting him upset you so - furious at him for using you for the cheap high of coming inside a warm cunt. Mad at yourself for wanting that - wanting him in that way. Wanting something that seems so entirely out of character for him, who on a good day, you would hesitate to call him ‘lover’. Mad at yourself at even thinking of a possibility of a future like that.

His burly arm wraps around you and pulls your entire body back against him, his skin still warm and clammy from exertion. 

“Why’re you sayin’ I don’t mean it?” His hand settles over your belly, rubbing gently. 

Your fists unclench, “Wh-what?”

Arthur sits up on his elbow, unwinds his arm from your waist. Drawing back the curtain of your hair, he scowls as he sees the wet trail of tears down your cheeks.

“Look’it me, woman.”

You turn, blinking up at him. His thumb, callused and trigger-worn, swipes across your wet cheek.

“D’you want to be with anyone else?”

“N-no.”  You sniffle.

“D’you want somethin’ after all the runnin’ around we’re doin’?”

“Yes….”

“Good. It’s settled.” He says, manner-of-factly, as if he didn’t just ask you for a future when your entire relationship has felt like a series of one-night stands.

“And if you just got a child on me?” You confront the issue head-on, and you can still feel the dripping of him from your body.

Arthur smirks, haughtily proud at the idea. Before you can make a retort, he leans in and presses his lips against yours insistently. You are surprised, letting him easily press his tongue into your mouth and against yours. One of his hands weaves into your hair, cupping the back of your head gently - almost lovingly.

At the sign of affection, you tremble in his embrace, moaning into his mouth as you throw your leg over his hip, opening your core to him again, rolling your hips against his pelvis and his member, hardening as it fills with blood once more.

He pulls away and you gasp, breathless, your hand tight on his bicep, holding on for dear life.

Arthur Morgan smirks, in that way that he does before he’s about to rob someone blind. 

“Then we best find someone to marry us. Cause I’m gonna keep on fillin’ you until it takes.”

[kisblle]

maybe your fanfic doesn’t have to change someone’s life maybe it can just brighten someone’s day for a bit