#“arthur wouldn't go to heaven”

[arthursfuckinghat]

Do you think about Arthur reuniting with his family in the afterlife. Sorry do you think about Arthur being together with everyone he lost and no longer being in pain. Do you think about Arthur getting to see his son again. Do you think about it.

[normalbrothers]

[tinycoffeeroom]

thank god for bikes | arthurtv

inspired by @mrstelevision 🤍

face claim: steph bohrer ♡

request: here !

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📍 london

liked by gkbarry, max_balegde, and 98,302 others

y/nsworld about last night ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

view all 3,392 comments

user1 i'm in love with you

gkbarry cant believe i didn't even get photo creds ↳ y/nsworld please forgive my sins oh great gkbarry

user2 y/n!! i think the guys u mentioned on ur twt was george clarke and arthurtv!! arthur posted on twt about george getting hit by a bike on a wall!! ↳ y/nsworld !! let me check his twt <3

liked by y/nsworld, wroetoshaw and 29,492 others

arthurtv first pic taken moments before disaster (at least this one won't leave a scar)

georgeclarkeey don't know what was worse, the bike ptsd or you dribbling down your shirt ↳ arthurtv your mum doesn't mind my dribbling ↳ y/nsworld the dribbling was funnier to watch tbh ↳ georgeclarkeey take that mr television

gkbarry i didn't even notice it was you guys hiding in the corner ↳ georgeclarkeey just wanted some alone time with my boyfriend x ↳ arthurtv stop telling people i'm your boyfriend!!

👤 max_balegde liked by max_balegde, arthurtv and 38,028 others

y/nsworld wine in coffee cups and classic literature in a park, my idea of heaven ꕤ

max_balegde got home off my head and now andrews mad i've ruined dinner plans ↳ y/nsworld andrew baby im so sorry :( ↳ andrew_spanndy could never blame you xx ↳ max_balegde god just date her already wooooow

gkbarry regret introducing the two of you, my poor ears will never recover from this ↳ y/nsworld thats your fault for putting two professional yappers together xx

arthurtv pretty sure that's bride you're reading... wouldn't call werewolf smut classic literature ↳ y/nsworld and how do YOU know what's in the book? 🤨

👤 arthur_tv, max_balegde liked by y/nsworld, arthurnfhill and 30,395 others

georgeclarkeey totally normal photo to promote the newest useless hotline ep x

max_balegde rip my purple crocs... can't believe y/n stole them right off my feet... ↳ user2 !!! y/n at the arthurtv podcast recording?? my y/ntv senses are tingling ↳ user3 i'm pretty sure she was there bc her and max are friends... ♥️ y/nsworld ↳ user2 they've never randomly had their friends at recordings, dw you'll join the y/ntv cult soon

📍 ibiza

👤 georgeclarkeey, chrismd, arthurnfhill liked by arthurnfhill, y/nsworld and 45,028 others

arthurtv thank you spotify for inviting us out! (photo cred: y/nsworld)

user2 i am going to scream from the rooftops, y/ntv'ers unite!!

y/nsworld should receive compensation for having to look at george's bare grippers the entire weekend ↳ arthurtv will bring round some wine this weekend ↳ y/nsworld good boy ↳ user2 ... y'all are fucking with me atp

📍 ibiza

liked by arthurtv, gkbarry and 83,028 others

y/nsworld beach bum 𓇼

gkbarry happiness looks so good on you ↳ y/nsworld i love the bones of you

user2 !! WHO TOOK THE PHOTO I FEEL INSANE ↳ y/nsworld my friend! :)

📍 ibiza

liked by y/nsworld, georgeclarkeey and 49,204 others

arthurtv decided to stay in the sunshine a few more days :)

user3 user2 i fear you may be onto something ↳ user2 i'm gonna eat glass. like i am actually putting shards in my mouth rn ↳ y/nsworld omg pls don't

y/nsworld looking good mr television ↳ arthurtv why thank you miss world

liked by arthurtv, max_balegde and 83,028 others

y/nsworld use code ynsworld for 15% off ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

max_balegde leaving my bf for you rn. ↳ andrew_spanndy not if i leave you first ↳ y/nsworld i can date both of you at the same time xx

arthurtv djsidjief djg ↳ y/nsworld you ok mr television?

y/nsworld didn't even think about what i was wearing when i went to go see mr hill sing about cold coffee, sorry guys you got the wrong arthur xx

POST DELETED

👤 y/nsworld liked by y/nsworld, arthurnfhill and 93,294 others

arthurtv someone forgot to change over to their finsta so i guess it's hard launch time... somehow got the most gorgeous girl on earth to agree to date me, must be my fantastic sense of humour

y/nsworld lbr most of them already knew, we weren't exactly subtle ↳ arthurtv speak for yourself xx

theburntchip it's the big ol' hog you got in them trousers ♥️ y/nsworld ↳ arthurtv ah yes forgot about that

max_balegde take care of her or me and andrew are snatching her real quick ↳ y/nsworld ... i may have to do some rethinking

user2 i can't believe i was right... VINDICATION ♥️ arthurtv, y/nsworld

👤 arthur_tv liked by arthurtv, gkbarry and 104,845 others

y/nsworld told him i forgot to change to finsta but really i just wanted to show that i bagged a hottie ✮⋆˙

georgeclarkeey still can't believe you snatched him from right under my nose ↳ y/nsworld we're still in the honeymoon phase so i may give him back x ↳ arthurtv what the fuck

gkbarry crying into a pint of ice cream thanks xx ↳ y/nsworld you know you're the love of my life xx

y/nsworld also user2 sorry for gaslighting you xx ↳ user2 i have never been so happy to be gaslighted could do a happy lil cry ↳ y/nsworld our fave y/ntv'er we love you ♡

[narcoticv3nus]

Catch a Ride to Heaven ❤︎ Arthur Morgan

Kinktober Day IV: Virginity

summary: rebellious reader is a sinner for her cowboy tags/trigger warnings: 18+, f!reader, virginity loss, p in v, praise, fingering, religious symbolism, cherry popping, midhonor!arthur, smoking, dom!arthur, sub!reader, rough sex, a bit of degradation, pet names, author attempts at accents wc: 5.7k

MASTERLIST

“Ma’am”

You looked up from your bible sitting on your lap, noticing a rather large man standing before you. His shoulder-length brown hair cascades down, framing his rugged features and intense blue eyes. A short beard adorns his handsome face, emphasizing the scar on his chin. Despite his rugged appearance, his smile reveals straight white teeth, complementing his sun-kissed skin with charming freckles. His well-worn cowboy hat had seen better days, colored black with a weathered rope tied around the middle and what looked to be claw marks running down the sides.

“Good morning, mister,” you answered, fiddling with the cross around your neck, trying to tame the sinful thoughts running through your mind. You had come to notice this man from afar. He would stop by your little town now and again, whether that was to buy guns or sell a suspicious amount of items at the fence nearby. Your eyes always followed him. You couldn't help it, although you tried to pray the feelings away many times. God never answered your prayers.

Your daddy was the local pastor. He was always smiling and friendly, claiming he prayed for every person he came across. He was a good man, always going out of his way to serve others. It seemed God had given him the gift of spreading his love all over, yet it seemed to run out when it came to you.

Your daddy had always been hard on you after your mama passed. Your brain was too young to remember much of her, but you could still remember the sound of her voice in your ears and the soft, comforting scent of her clothes.

Daddy said it was because he loved you; he was so strict, which you never really understood. Anytime you made a mistake or a mishap, Daddy would sharpen you back into shape, sometimes going to extreme measures. The bruises on your behind still stung when you sat down.

He never permitted you to be alone around other men, claiming you had to stay pure in the eyes of God or else you'd burn in hell for all eternity for spreading your legs for no-goods. He said men only wanted one thing, but he never specified what. It didn't take you long to figure it out. You were a smart girl. At least, that's what everybody said.

You didn't feel smart now as Daddy’s teachings drifted from the back of your mind like a cloud of smoke, thoughts of purity and maidenhood be damned. God knows you tried to resist them, and you really did. To push those thoughts aside, burn them, shut them out as much as you could.

But wouldn't he have answered your prayers if God were all-loving? Heaven knows you wanted to be a good girl. You did, truly! But there was something about this man that had your body growing warm, his deep southern drawl reaching into deep parts of you you never even knew existed. He had your voice growing shy, your hands feeling clammy as your thighs pressed together, desperate to soothe that sweet ache between your legs.

Sometimes, he would compliment you, saying he liked your dress or how you style your hair.

“May I say you're lookin’ lovely' today, little lady.” You swallowed deeply, your lips parting as you gazed up at him, eyes wide. “Thank-thank you, mister,” you stammered, your cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

“You…you're awfully kind.” You continued, not being able to help yourself. How could you stay away when you yearned for him so deeply?

“I ain’t really,” he answered bluntly, his eyes boring deep into yours, the corners of his lips twitching into a grin. You've seen that same look on many men before, but only he had your heart racing with want.

“Maybe just to pretty ladies like yourself,” he continued, his hand reaching up to scratch his stubble chin.

If your face wasn't on fire before, it sure was now. You didn't know what to say as you began to stutter, sweat building between your legs and inside of your bodice. “I don't—” Your fingers curled around your cross, praying to God to give you strength or show mercy.

“What’s your name anyway?” He spoke up for you, reaching into his back pocket to pull out a pack of premium cigarettes. He placed the stick between his lips as he held the lighter close to his face, raising a brow when you lacked a response.

You gave him your name. Your eyes were bashful as they looked down at his shoes, noting the quality of the leather and his metal spurs.

“Ain't that lovely,” he responded, gray tendrils of cigarette smoke escaping his nose, his eyes never straying from your face.

“What’s yours?” you asked, fighting to keep your voice steady as your subconscious body seemed to float away, high into the sky and never to be seen again. You've never felt so euphoric. If it was wrong, how come it felt so right?

“Arthur,” he answered, tapping the ash from the end of the stick away into the dirt. “Arthur Morgan,”

“Well, it�� it's very nice to meet you, Mr. Morgan,” you said politely, part of you hoping to appease him. It seemed to work as his grin grew wider, his teeth poking out from behind his pink lips.

“Yeah,” he agreed, his eyes looking you up and down. “You too,” he said, emphasizing your name before exhaling another cloud of smoke. You bit your lip to hold back the whine building in your chest. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it. I just wanted to put a name to a face s’all.”

You wanted to tell him, no, to please stay, just a little longer. And yet you only watch in silence as he dipped his hat to you before turning and striding in the other direction. You watched him go, eyes drifting low to his backside, appreciating the natural sway of his hips as he left.

My Lord, please give me strength.

You and Arthur had met several more times after that. He'd sometimes saunter up to you after church, asking about your day and flirting with you right in front of the house of God, sometimes even in front of your Daddy.

Daddy had given you a good whooping after that, reminding you to stay away from that man if you know what's good for you. But you just couldn't, no matter how hard you tried. Lord knows you did.

But like Eve and the serpent, Arthur offered you the tastiest treat you couldn't refuse. Why did it feel so good if these feelings were so condemned? You started questioning your faith the more Arthur lingered around, and you started to fear for your sake. Maybe he was no good after all. Perhaps this was all a test.

But no horns were sprouting from the outlaw’s head, no devil’s tail swaying mischievously behind his back, he had no red eyes, and no white fangs. And despite what the poets might say, he had no slimy forked tongue. And you would know, counting how many times your eyes had fallen to his mouth as he spoke. Each time his tongue ran over his lips, yours would do the same.

There came a time when he placed a hand on your shoulder, leaning close to your face when he asked to buy you a room somewhere for the night. His cold eyes burn through you. You knew you should've said no, refused the forbidden fruit, and asked him to leave you alone for good. You were a child of God, blessed without sin, and designed for purity. But those would all be lies. No one is without sin. You thought as you nodded, your breath shaky and your cheeks stained red.

Daddy will raise hell. You reminded yourself, but it was already too late. You sealed your fate when you decided to shake hands with the devil.

As Arthur led you up the stairs, his hand entangled with yours, his heavy footsteps echoed throughout the hotel, the wooden floors creaking under his weight.

He opened the door for you to enter the small and empty room, the hair rising on the back of your neck as he followed close behind you. “Arthur, I—” you stammered when it dawned on you, realizing what you were about to do.

“Shh, don't be nervous,” he soothed as a heavy hand rested on your hip, sliding up your waist. “I’ll take good care of you,” he reassured, gently removing his hat and placing it on the night table beside the bed.

Like a predator circling its prey, he stalked around your body until he stood in front of you, both hands on your hips as he smiled down at you. He was so close. You almost let out a whine of fear, eyes glued to his teeth to ensure he didn't have fangs, just in case.

“I promise I don't bite,” he chuckled, almost like he could read your thoughts. Maybe he could. He leaned close to your ear, his warm breath tickling your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “Unless you want me to.”

You couldn't hold back the whimper that escaped you, anxiety and desire twisting and churning in your stomach, leaving you speechless.

“I've never…” Your voice trailed off, the words getting lodged in you as Arthur hummed in response, seemingly unsurprised.

“I figured,” he chuckled, confirming your suspicions. “Sweet, innocent things like you usually are,” he grinned, flicking the cross against your chest. You weren't sure what to make of that.

“We just won't tell ‘em, ay?” he let out a huff of amusement, reaching back to unclasp the necklace around your neck.

“Wait,” you halted him, gazing at his confused expression. “I…I want to leave it on,” you murmured, eyes drifting downwards, hoping you hadn't disappointed him. You weren't sure why you wanted it to stay; it didn't make sense logically. He was right; you should put it away, considering what you were about to do—what you were about to let him do to you.

However, something about it gave you a sense of peace or reassurance: even though you were betraying everything you were ever taught, everything you've ever known, God was still there, and he still loved you. Maybe giving in to your deepest desires could reconnect you to him in some way, that finding pleasure in the most sinful of ways wasn't sinful at all. Wouldn't he want you to feel good if he really loved you? To take what you want?

He was silent momentarily before he removed his hands from your grasp. Here it comes. You thought, eyes shutting, waiting for his disapproval.

His fingers grasped your chin, tilting it upwards, his thumb rubbing softly over your bottom lip. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.” his voice cutting through the silence. “You can do whatever you like, darlin’.” his low, warm voice was gentle and consoling, offering comfort instead of pain.

“Thank you,” you breathed a heavy sigh of relief, your eyes gazing up at him with adoration, yet your hands continued clutching your dress, unsure of where to put them.

He hummed again, taking your small hands in his much larger ones, gently urging them towards him. You gasped as your fingers made contact with his skin, like it was the most lewd thing you've ever done. It might as well have been.

“I should be thankin’ you,” he responded, lifting your right hand to meet his lips, kissing your knuckles with a sweet softness you've never known. “Ain’t every day I meet a pretty girl like you.” he charmed, stepping closer towards you, your body stiff with nerves.

“I thought you said you were always nice to pretty girls.” You recollected, thinking back to the time you were first properly introduced.

“Well, I might've lied. Just a bit,” Arthur smirked, chuckling at your shocked expression. “They're not always as sweet as you,” he whispered, his face inching closer to yours. As your noses brushed together, he tilted his face to the side, one hand reaching up to guide your face to do the same in the opposite direction.

“Arthur, I don't know–” “It's alright,” he hushed, his breath hot against your lips. “Just follow my lead, alright?” You nodded slowly, taking a deep breath when he requested you to. “Close your eyes,” he whispered, the thin hairs of his beard tickling your cheeks. “Now, breathe out. Slow.”

As the cool air inside your chest unfurled from your lungs, his mouth pressed against yours. You squeaked in surprise, squeezing your eyes shut as his lips moved against yours. His hands smoothed down your lower back, pushing you closer until his erection was pressing up against your stomach.

You moaned into his lips, your body set ablaze as you struggled to kiss him back, your movements stiff and uncoordinated. He pulled away, a deep chuckle leaving his chest, causing you to squirm in shame.

“Just relax, sweetheart.” he purred, the fingers undoing the top buttons of your dress. “Don't be so nervous,”

“Easy for you to say,” you huffed, watching as his hands descended to each button, opening it with practiced fingers. He laughed, kissing your forehead with a smile. “I know, but just trust me.”

Trust me.

This was the most trust you've ever put in anyone you've ever met in your entire life. Here, this man was undressing you so calmly, like it was the most casual thing in the world. It probably was, to him. How many girls has he been with? You thought almost bitterly, jealousy spiking at him cherishing any other woman like this.

Every man you've ever met has bragged about how many girls he's bedded, whether they were modest wives or working whores, it didn't matter. It didn't matter if the man was handsome or ugly, rich or poor, dirty or clean. They all had the same goal in mind. Maybe Daddy was right. You thought anxiously as your dress fell into a pool around your ankles, leaving you in your bodice. Perhaps you were just another notch under Arthur’s belt. Even Daddy would stumble home with his clothes undone and lipstick stains adorning his neck.

Maybe Arthur is different. Maybe he's a good man.

“What's goin’ on up there,” Arthur asked teasingly, yet concern still laced around the edges of his voice. “If you don't want this–”

“I do!” You interrupted quickly, hands latching onto the front of his shirt, your lips puckering in embarrassment. “Sorry, I–I'm just nervous s’all.”

“I know,” he said, his arms resting against your upper arms, rubbing his calloused hands over your soft skin. “I understand. We’ll take it slow.” He promised, leaning forward to capture your lips in another kiss. He held his lips against yours this time, letting you adjust to him as his fingers deftly coiled around the strings of your bodice, slowly unlacing them one by one.

“S’been awhile myself,” he admitted, hoping to soothe you in some way as he took his time undressing you until you were left in only your bloomers, standing still with your face hot and your lips chewed raw.

“You don't…” you hesitated, wondering if you even wanted to know the answer. “…do this often?” You finally inquired as his eyes filtered over your exposed form. “Nah…” he answered, hands running all along your body.

“Well… once upon a time, maybe.” he grinned at you wickedly, his white teeth gleaming underneath his self-satisfied smirk. He laughed, finding the expression you subconsciously made amusing.

“Don't get all jealous now. It ain't like that anymore.” He promised, unbuttoning his clothes this time, undoing his vest, and taking off his short sleeve. “I wouldn't take advantage of someone like you,” he reassured, undoing his suspenders until he was left in nothing but his pants with his gun belt still sitting heavy over his hips and gun holster attached to his side.

Your eyes roamed to a large expanse of his chest, thick, coarse hair sprouting from his skin and leaving a path down into his pants. “Now,” he started again, your eyes snapping back to his face.

“Go sit on the bed for me,” he commanded, his tone firm yet tender, a heavy hand smoothing over your head. After letting his words sink in, you did as you were told. You knocked off your shoes as you sat at the edge, trying to avoid his gaze. With a simple click, he pulled the gun belt from around his pants and set it down near his hat, his holster following suit.

“Take ‘em off,” he instructed, his eyes studying your face as he undid his belt, waiting for you to undress. You clutched the warm off-white fabric of your clothes, your breaths coming in shaky, knowing you were about to expose your body to a man; you've never felt so vulnerable.

“I won't ask you again,” he threatened, his lips tightening as his eyes narrowed. “I have no problem takin’ you back home.” Just the thought of home had fear swirling in your gut. You'd instead take this than face your daddy. You knew it was unavoidable, but you'd rather it at least be worth it.

You nodded your head swiftly, standing back up to shed yourself of your underclothes until you were left in nothing but a necklace sitting on your naked chest. The cold surface of its metal and the cool air caused your skin to rise in goosebumps, your nipples perking in response.

“Good girl,” he purred, eyes drinking in your naked form with a dark hunger you've never seen. The spurs of his boots clicked as he reached forward, carefully sliding them off before setting them aside.

As you sat back against the bed, your fingers reached up again, clasping your cross, letting its sharper ridges poke against your skin.

“Don’t be scared now,” you gasped as his pants fell to the floor, his cock finally springing free mere inches from your face. Your jaw practically dropped to the floor as you stared. You've never seen one before. Do they all look like that? Are they always this big?

“You okay?” he laughed, strutting towards you, his cock bobbing between his thighs, hanging low towards the floor. Up close, you could see every vein protruding from underneath his foreskin, a strange liquid shining at the tip.

“Um…” you were at a loss for words, unable to look away. “What if it doesn't… y’know,” Arthur tilted his head to the side as he neared, hands on your waist as he urged you back further. “…fit?” You finished with a squeak as your head hit the pillow below, and your hair splayed out behind you.

You peered up at him, curious as his cheeks dusted into a dark shade of pink. Was he embarrassed? Did I offend him? “It’ll fit,” he said, looking away almost bashfully. “Gotta prepare you first,”

Prepare me?

He leaned forward until his forearms rested against either side of your head, trapping you underneath his body. Soft brown hair strands framed his face as he leaned closer, and front pieces fell over his thick brows.

You gazed into his clear blue eyes, deep as the sea, with a warm yellow ring around his black irises, reminding you of the sun’s rays casting light across blue skies. His eyes flickered between yours, seemingly searching for something before his lips connected to yours once more, his hairy chest pressing against your breasts.

Reaching up with shaky hands, you entangled them into his hair, resting them gently in fear of maybe hurting him. “That’s it…” he encouraged, his hand finding yours, interlocking your fingers, and pressing them to the bed.

“Just breathe,” he reminded before kissing you again, his cock twitching against your thigh, subtly rutting against you. You did as you were told: in and out. You thought to yourself as you practiced slow breaths until your heartbeat slowed to a semi-normal pace. “You got it,” he smiled into the kiss before continuing down your neck, rubbing his lips over sensitive skin.

You whimpered, your hand tightening against his as he lowered even further, reaching your chest. He let out a deep groan as he pressed his face against your breast, taking a nipple into his mouth to suck.

You looked down at him in shock, unsure what to do as he began rutting harder against you. Is this what people do? You were so confused, your thoughts racing a mile a minute. He let go with a slow suck, his heavy eyes meeting yours once more.

“Have I sprouted three heads?” he chuckled, worrying his lip with his top teeth. You shook your head, one hand gripping his shoulder to balance yourself.

“I don't… am I doing this, right?” As you whispered, your face flushed with warmth, and you squeezed his hand tightly, seeking comfort.

“You don't gotta worry your pretty little head over nothin’,” he said as his fingers dipped between your bodies, tracing over your thighs before nearing your pussy. You could feel its dampness trickle between your legs and into the sheets, your little pearl throbbing with need.

“You're perfect,” he murmured, his gaze softening into an emotion you've only seen flicker in his eyes and disappear as if it was never there. But this time, it stayed; it settled for you.

You didn't know what to say, so you opted not to speak; the silence spoke for itself as you stared back. The hand in Arthur’s hair cupped his stubble cheek, urging him closer before kissing his lips. He grunted at the contact, his tongue prodding the entrance of your mouth, forcing it to open before it slid inside.

No fork. The thought popped into your mind as Arthur’s tongue slid against yours, massaging the wet muscle with flicks of his own.

The hand against your leg reached underneath your thigh, lifting it around his waist before dipping back between your legs. You gasped into his mouth as his thumb reached underneath your hood, finding your pulsing clit and pressing down, moving in slow and deliberate circles. You moaned out; never once had you felt anything so amazing in your entire life. You had never touched yourself down there before; shame always held you back, and now you regret it.

All those times you refused your aching body with release almost seem abusive looking back now.

“Oh, Arthur,” you gasped into his mouth as he continued, your hips lifting to try and chase the addicting sensation.

“It feels so…” You couldn't even find the words to describe the feeling. It would be useless to try to explain it now.

“Like that?” he groaned, picking up the pace of his movements as his other fingers teased your entrance, coating his calluses in your essence. You nodded, mouth still open as broken whines and whimpers escaped your wet lips. You arched your back, your face falling to the side as you squeezed his hand, nails biting into the flesh of his skin. Arthur didn't seem to notice; if he did, he didn't show it, fully enraptured by your sensitive flesh.

“Christ, you're so wet.” Arthur didn't mean anything by it, but the mention of a name so holy during a time like this had your thighs closing around his forearms, trapping his hand against you.

He was also right. You don't think you've ever been this wet in your entire life. “Don't stop, Arthur.” You pleaded, trying to reopen your legs to give him more room.

“Wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart,” came his husky reply. You sighed at his words, more so the thickness of his voice.

“Wider, darlin’,” he grunted, his middle finger catching onto the rim of your hole. “Gotta stretch you nice and proper, so you can take my cock.”

“Arthur!” you whined, embarrassed by his words, throwing an arm over your eyes. He laughed breathlessly, his movements slowing down. “Thas’ what you want, ain’t it?” He urged his finger, slowly inserting itself as you bucked upwards, trying to chase the dwindling pleasure.

You whimpered in reply, opening your legs further, allowing him to slip his finger in deeper. It was so thick and so warm, your pussy welcoming him with wet pulses as he slowly moved it in and out. The pain was sharp but was slowly replaced as his finger curled deeper, reaching places you weren't aware even existed.

“There’s a girl,” he rasped, eyes glancing between your face and your slippery cunt before adding a second finger. He wasn't deterred by the small amounts of blood coating his digits, only focused on making you feel as good as possible while preparing you to take him.

“You're doing so well.” he sighed, twisting his fingers before spreading them into scissoring motions, completely enraptured as your pussy convulsed around him, spilling more and more slick as his fingers quickened their pace.

The only sound in the room was your deep moans and the sloppy sound of your wet pussy getting fucked by his hand. Arthur shifted his wrist so the edge of his palm rubbed against your sensitive button, curling his hands deep against your G-spot and smirking in triumph once he found it.

“There it is,” he chuckled as he gazed upon your expression. Your thighs slammed closed around his wrist as you arched your back deeply, feeling your spine ache in protest, but you didn't care.

“Ah! Right there!” You squeezed his hand with all your strength as a new sensation built in your stomach. Something was coming.

“Arthur!” You whimpered; your free hand reached towards his wrist, which was now twisting with more force as his fingers pumped faster, harder.

“Wait! It’s—I’m,” Arthur was quick to silence you with another deep kiss, yet you couldn't kiss him back as much as you wanted, your mouth struggling to stay closed as whorish noises forced their way out.

“Just let go, honey,” he groaned, the heel of his palm digging deeper. “It's alright, just let go.” His voice was so thick and coarse, so warm and so rich, so deep and so guttural you couldn't help but fall victim to his spell.

With one final wail, you felt something rush out of you, something liquid but didn’t quite feel like pee. All you knew was that it felt good.

I hope this is what heaven feels like.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your voice growing tight as Arthur continued his pace, helping you ride out your high before eventually slowing, dragging out your orgasm for as long as he could.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he moaned, taking in your debauched state with a proud smile. Your hair was in disarray, strands sticking to your sweaty skin as your eyes fluttered, lashes resting against your darkened cheeks, and your eyebrows drawn close. Your lips were wet and rubbed red from his kisses, drool lewdly sticking to the corners of your mouth. Your naked chest heaved, your cross still sitting in between your breasts.

“You alright?” Arthur chuckled, slowly removing his fingers from your wet heat and wiping the mixed residue on the sheets.

“I never wanted it to stop,” you whimpered at the empty feeling inside you.

“I know that's right,” he agreed with a chuckle, squeezing your hand one final time before letting it go. You gazed up at him sheepishly, your hands reaching out to grab his forearms, letting your hands feel the warmth of his skin.

He hoisted your hips upwards, wrapping your thighs around his waist before leaning forward, his palm cupping your cheek before slotting his mouth against yours. Your eyes fell closed as you lost yourself in the kiss, unaware as his hips shifted forward.

With one hand around his cock, he pumped it generously, coating his dick in precum as he guided it toward your entrance.

“Big inhale for me, darlin’,” he requested one final time. You did as you were told, breathing in a large gulp of air before you felt something catch against your rim and push inside, filling you inch by inch as the air caught in your throat.

“And out,” he grunted, pushing his cock to the hilt, forcing himself deep inside, cursing as you clamped around him. He swore he'd felt traps looser than this.

Your exhale was probably closer to a sob. You've never felt so full in your whole life. Although the stretch wasn't nearly as painful as you imagined it would be. There was just so much pressure.

“You're doing good, fuck, just keep breathing.” he panted, barely even able to pull back with how tight you were clutching him. You nodded when trying to focus on his words as his cock throbbed inside of you.

“Good?” he grunted, his face twisted into something akin to pain, his heavy brows pulled forward, his face creasing as his eyes threatened to squeeze shut despite his resistance to keep them open. He sucked on his lower lip, struggling to concentrate as your wet heat pulsed around him.

“It feels… full.”

He groaned in response, thrusting up into you until his pretty cock punched against that spongy spot, causing you to kean, your body squirming, unsure if it wanted to pull away or chase the feeling.

“It's too much,” you whimpered, your hands pushing against his abdomen before he took your wrists in one hand, forcing them above your head as he rocked against you, fucking his cock in and out in slow yet deep thrusts.

“Take it,” he practically growled, his warm gaze turning cold as he towered above you, one hand enclosing around your hip as leverage, manipulating your body up and down in time with his thrusts.

“God, fucking take it,” he accentuated each word with a powerful shove, your skin slapping loudly each time they met. You couldn't even use anything to stabilize yourself, his fist wrapped firmly around your hands, holding them down with ease.

You were forced to take the onslaught of pleasure, tears welling up in your eyes as you cried out with movement, each jamming of his cock against your sore, sensitive pussy.

“Arthur!” you sobbed, your body squirming desperately underneath him, attempting to run away from his battering hips that grew faster with each minute that passed.

“Yeah, say my name,” he moaned, his eyes falling shut as his lips parted, deep pants escaping his chest with every movement. “Go on, say it again,” he reopened his eyes, glaring down at you with a look of something fierce.

“Arthur!” You moaned, pleading with your eyes for him to slow down. He smiled wide, letting go of your wrists, urging you to wrap your arms around his shoulders as he leaned in close, chest to chest.

“Am I being too rough?” he teased, pecking your lips tenderly as he slowed to a softer grind, allowing you a bit of grace.

“It's okay,” you panted, nails digging into the hard muscles of his back, closing your eyes in bliss as his thick cock ruined you for anyone else. “You can go faster… if you want,” you gripped him by his arms, burying your face in his neck, shyly kissing the expanse of his throat.

He let out another deep groan, his hand resting behind your head, pulling you closer as his other curled into the sheets below you, fucking up into you at a steady pace. You held onto him tightly, knowing you wouldn't last much longer.

“It's coming again,” you warned, your voice high-pitched and airy as you struggled to breathe, feeling as though he was fucking into your lungs.

Arthur leaned upwards, letting you fall back onto the bed as he took hold of your waist, his unoccupied thumb pressed down against your clit, rubbing fast circles as he urged you to finish.

“You’re almost there,” he grunted, watching as his cock reappeared before disappearing back inside you, the base coated in your milky arousal.

“You got it, c’mon,”

You reached behind you, fingers curling into the sheets below as you arched in his touch, gasping for air as the sweet pleasure built quicker, coming in faster and harder. “M’so close, Arthur.”

“Yeah, I know,” he cursed, fucking himself deeper, trying to get as much of himself inside as possible.

“I can feel you squeezin’ me,” whines began to escape his lips, sounds you never thought you'd hear him make.

“Does it feel good?” you asked, barely holding on as the thread threatened to break. You watched Arthur’s shoulders shake with what looked to be laughter, his thrusts stuttering before picking back up again.

“Yes,” he dipped his head to the side with a hiss, his thumb pressing harder against your delicate pearl. “Feels so fuckin’ good, sweetheart,”

Something about the nickname did it for you. It was said with affection and lust, smooth as silk and sweet as strawberry wine. Arthur’s voice was thick and rich, slipping into your ears and knocking around in your brain.

You came with his name on your tongue, crying to the heavens above, knowing that even if God has turned back on you now, at least you’ll suffer knowing you were loved in some way by someone. You felt his nose nuzzle into the side of your neck, his hips slowing into something almost romantic.

You felt him place a kiss on your shoulder, almost as a silent apology, before drawing back and slamming forward, fucking you so fast and so deep the frame of the headboard knocked against the wall over and over. You held onto him for dear life as he used you for his pleasure, groaning uncontrollably in your ear.

“Almost there, fuck,” he whimpered, his hold on you tightening to something almost painful before he pulled out swiftly, pumping his cock at an inhumane pace before shooting white ropes across your stomach. He came loudly, teetering near a shout. Every time you thought it was over, more and more kept coming out, eventually spilling onto his hand and running down his length.

He glanced down at the cross, rising and falling with every movement of your chest. He smirked, holding it up in his clean hand, his thumb smoothing over the protruding patterns.

At least now he can say for certain where he’s truly going.

“C’mon, darlin, let's get you cleaned up.”

main masterlist, rules

[keruimi]

Found You

Muichiro Tokito x reader

Warning: Angst but have a proper ending

Note: I notice that my most favored post is Muichiro's oneshot. So I made another one, I hope you enjoyed it

And all along, I believed I would find you. Time has brought your heart to me.

I have loved you

__________________

"Muichiro" I heard Kyojuro-san call for me as I was standing at the engawa of the Ubuyashiki's household.

The other pillars were celebrating inside as I decided to be alone for a while until the Flame Hashira looked for me when he noticed my presence is not with them.

Both of us were silent as I didn't even bother glancing at him.

My heart always feels heavy so talking to anyone wouldn't make it better if they can't grant it.

"It's been 7 years kiddo. You need to move on" I heard him as he sat on the edge of the Engawa that made me stare at him.

He tapped the place beside him as he looked back at me.

I silently sat down on that place and he already had his arms resting on my shoulder.

"Your mind and heart should not always be on her. You have yourself too"

"I can't" I muttered as I felt my eyes started to sting a little as my memories with her keep flashing in my mind.

"She was..." I trailed off as I saw my imagination on her sitting down on the grass as the moon gracefully highlighted her existence.

For my vision, she was the angel that God sent to me.

So why did we end up that way?

Her fading silhouette disappeared in front of me as I swallowed the lump on my throat.

"She was the only one I have"

"And she left, kid. There are really times in our life that the heavens above would send to teach us a lesson and that lesson you learned can be found on someone else" he advised me as he pat my back.

I look down and I can't help but fisted my hands on his words.

"What if I want her to be my everything?"

"Then that's dangerous" he exclaimed before he stared at me.

I felt the tears in my eyes slowly build up as a small smile lifted from my lips on his words.

"You told me.." I breathlessly whisper as I started to have a hard time speaking knowing my next words would make me break down sobbing.

"You told me to set my heart ablaze. Go beyond my limits. Follow my dreams"

Tears started to slide down from my cheeks as I looked up as his facade softened when he saw my state.

"I did what you told me and in exchange..." I started to heave breaths as he ran his hand on my back in an attempt to comfort me.

"In exchange, she left me" I breathlessly let out as he brought my head to his shoulder to help me silence my cries.

I miss her...

I miss her so badly.

"Why is it so painful when I set her free. She was the only one I had when I lost my twin. Why didn't she stay with me" I continue crying as he let me rant the painful words I didn't manage to say to her.

"Why did she deprive me of the explanation I needed. She knew I only have her, she clearly knew that"

My body trembled in anger that would die down the moment I remember my moments with her.

But for now, I can't take it anymore.

"Kid, listen to me" he pulled away before he tapped my arms in a way to get my attention.

"Some people are meant to stay for a while even if we want them to stay forever"

My heart broke more on his words as I can't prevent my sobs from being drowned down.

"You followed your dreams. You love and that's not wrong. But for me kiddo, you need someone better. Someone who would support your dream of protecting the world. Someone who would stick beside you no matter how cruel the destiny you will face. True love is about staying even if there are reasons to leave"

I wiped my tears using my trembling hands as I looked up to him.

"But I always wanted her"

~•°•~

"Chiro" I heard her voice behind me that made me look up and saw her bring food for me and my brother.

She is one of the girls in the village who started to look after me and my brother after my parents died.

She didn't say her reasons but her happiness with us was unexplainable.

Even my brother can't help but soften up with her.

She is the one who put an ointment with the scratches on my arms and always tried her best to get along with my brother.

I overcame my parents death because of her.

She put colors back in my dull world. She helped me manage my brother's anger.

She made the world more bearable.

Until everything fell apart when my brother died due to the injuries the demon inflicted on him.

I almost died too if she didn't immediately call for help.

She helped me survive because of her gut feeling. It broke me when I barely even remembered her the moment I woke up but she didn't hold any hatred against it.

She still stayed as I trained myself to become stronger, to become a better defender.

Because I won't make it if I lose her too.

I train myself to protect her from the cruel challenges that the world will give to her.

But I didn't know she was slowly drifting farther away from me.

That one day, she suddenly burst her real feelings to the new me.

The new me who became a hashira, to help me ease the deep hatred I had for the demons even if I forgot my reason is to avenge my brother.

"I don't want you to become a slayer!" She shouted that loud and clear. That I could hear the fear and disappointment in her tone that broke my heart further.

"I did this to protect you"

"No!" She snapped back as tears filled her own eyes. "You can't risk your life in a battle"

"Y/n" I softly called out for her as I took a hold of her cheek but she didn't want to look me in the eyes at all.

"I'm doing this, so I can protect the people I love" I muttered as she slapped my hands away from her.

"How about yourself? Did you ever think of your life at least? Why do you always need to look for others!" She shouted as anger filled her eyes that made me step back.

It finally dawned to me that she has the same mindset as my brother.

I wanted to become a sword man because I want to protect the people. My brother thought I was useless for it, and she...

She think I would let myself die on the battlefield.

With my heart burning with hatred, I would not let myself die as long as the demons are not annihilated from this world.

"Y/n" I pulled her to an embrace as she tried to remove herself from my grasp.

"I need this to protect you"

"You don't. If you really think I would like this then let me tell you. I really don't!" She shouted as I could feel her hitting my chest but I refused to let her go.

"Why do you need to end up in this fate"

I felt my world stop the moment she weakly uttered those words.

"I ask for help from the wrong people" I pulled away from her as my own eyes reflect my disbelief on her words.

"Y/n"

It sounded like she regretted everything. Just because I chose to become a fighter?

"I hate you!"

Those dreadful words were the last thing I heard as she turned her back from me and walked away.

My feet were frozen and I couldn't even run to catch her.

No

I can, but I don't have the right words to make her stay.

What was I supposed to do?

Who am I supposed to be just to make her stay in my life.

That day...

I felt like I was really alone in this world.

~•°•~

It's been seven years ever since my family moved to the countryside for a more peaceful life where the village is in harmony and has not been attacked by demons at all.

A place where demons never existed.

Most of the time I thought of that sentence, it only reminds me of the person I decided to leave.

Cruel or not but I did it for myself.

I just can't handle the path he chose for his self.

My thoughts were snap when I remember what I was doing.

I was praying for his own safety.

I looked up and saw the kamidana as I put down my offering before clasping my hands together.

"I pray for his safety"

Even if I left him, even if he thinks I hated him, in the end, I would want him to continue living even if I was not there.

I couldn't accept his dream so I left hoping that he could reach it without me.

Because I know I can't support him knowing he is putting his life at risk.

I don't want to lose someone important to me again.

So cruel or not, I left early so it won't be that painful anymore.

I kowtow in front of the Kamidana before I looked outside the window and the moon started to rise.

How can the night be this peaceful and beautiful but dangerous.

I didn't think of anything anymore as I started to head my way back to my room.

I felt the cold breeze in my room as I noticed that the windows were open. I went outside so I can think better about the choices I made in my life.

One of them was the choice of leaving him.

There are no days I didn't berate myself for it.

It was selfish, because I wanted to lessen the pain and just left him hanging after he lost his family.

But at the same time, isn't it better?

He could follow his dream and at the same time, meet a better woman.

In his story, I am just a side character he shouldn't protect.

Because in the end, I would keep choosing myself.

I sigh as I embrace the coldness of the night as I gaze at the stars above.

I was just a stepping stone for him to be stronger. His reason, but should never be his first choice.

I want him to put himself first before others, before me.

"Yuichiro, I hope you're guiding him" I whispered as I felt my chest tighten.

Seven years, and I still remember both of them no matter how our destiny lined up.

I am still trying to unbind the tangled paths in front of me. The path of my life that I wanted to live peacefully.

I wanted a chosen destiny where I can be happy.

A Fate that wouldn't revolve around him.

My blood turm cold when I hear my mother scream outside my room. Without thinking further, I ran towards her direction and saw blood across the kitchen floor.

My father was holding a sword as the demon had his hand on my mother's neck.

I felt my hands shook in fear as I saw the terror in my parents'eyes.

I put a finger on my lips when my father was about to call my name.

Without a second thought, I took a knife and cut myself on the wrist and finally heard my father calling my name.

"You blood lust monster! I have the blood you wanted" I felt my voice lowered as I said those words.

No matter what, I won't let myself die in this situation.

The demon turned his head on my way and saw his face that almost looked like a zombie.

My body was trembling but I know, I need to stay calm.

"Leave... My mother... Alone" I stated those words with a cold tone as I keep my eye contact with him.

When he let my mother down the floor, I started to step back.

"Dad, I know what I need to do. Just stay with mom" I uttered those words as I keep my eyes on the demon who took a step forward as I step back.

On the side, I saw my father's silhouette embrace my mom's before I opened the door and made a run outside.

I can hear the quick footsteps of the demon beside me as I see the village. There are bodies on the ground as I realized there are more than one demon here.

"I have marechi blood!" I shouted like a lunatic in hopes to get the attention of the demons that attacked the village.

And I did

Knowing the selfish nature of these creatures, they would fight with each other for my blood.

I took the sword of one of the bodies and realized they were from the demon slayer corps.

These people were his peers.

I removed that from my mind when they started to run towards me while others fought with each other.

I slashed the neck of the other demons with all the strength I've got but it was not enough.

One demon manages to take a hold of the edge of the sword before pulling it away from me by force and knowing one of the wrists has a wound.

It started to sting in pain. I hissed as I fell forward to the ground.

My fears were gone the moment the pain settled into my system as I took a hold of my bleeding wrist to stop the blood from flowing.

They just growl when I do that.

Well as long as they are far away from the village, I can make it.

As long as I find a way.

But not even a minute passed by, a demon pounced on me with its fangs shown.

I thought I was going to die at that moment.

If it weren't for a sudden figure who showed up behind me and kicked the demon away from me.

He took his sword out and I immediately recognized the words written on his sword.

'Destroyer of Demons'

I felt my heartbeat quicken when It finally dawned on me the pale turquoise color at the end of their long hair as they easily killed the demons that surround us.

With their back facing me, I can only hear the wind and the sound of insects across the forest.

The figure in front of me finally turned in my direction and I knew...

I knew my destiny is tangled with his again.

His blank gaze slowly softened when his eyes laid on me. A look of relief crossed on his ways as he took strides towards me.

"Y/n" I heard his voice tremble when he called my name as tears built up on my eyes.

"I finally found you"

The happiness and relief on his tone was recognizable as he pulled me into an embrace, hiding his displayed emotions on my shoulders.

I felt my clothes started to get wet and I realized he was crying.

"Mui" His arms grip around me as I feel my chest tighten. The pain...

It was clear to both of us.

It was really clear that no one wanted to be away from each other. All those years because of selfishness, we went through the feeling of longing and heartbreak.

The Selfish I chose for myself. A choice that should be a fuel to his hatred for me.

So he can forget about me...

Yet the emotion I expected him to give me the moment we meet again, was nowhere to be found.

It was simply happiness when he found me.

It made me realize the precious someone I have abandoned that made me have the urge to embrace him like he did.

In the end,

I can't completely remove the feelings that have slowly built up within me

The truth is...

I just don't want him to die on me...

[vintagetvstars]

Diahann Carroll Vs. Rue McClanahan

Propaganda

Diahann Carroll - (Dynasty, Julia) - God every clip of her on Dynasty is just so iconic, her entrance, the bit where she shades Joan Collins' Alexis for her taste in caviar... "I wanted to be the first black bitch on television" she said, and she did it beautifully!

Rue McClanahan - (Golden Girls, Maude, Mama's Family) - Listen to me. I have never understood celebrity crushes until I first witnessed Rue McClanahan. She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen - just look at her!! Gorgeous eyes, the cutest nose, a SPECTACULAR smile - she has this adorable, princess-like quality about her AND she's also a complete hottie AND she's aware of it: she HAS THE RANGE, people!! Her two most famous roles are polar opposites, in fact: she starred in the role of naive, gentle Vivian Cavender-Harmon in Maude (and I mean. Just look her up and tell me that's not an angel!), and then went on to gain even more well-deserved fame and success as the seductive, extroverted Blanche Devereaux in The Golden Girls (a role for which she won an Emmy in 1987 - her amazing, hilarious acceptance speech can be found here: . I should also point out that both of these are comedy characters and she is HILARIOUS as them both - the comedic timing, the delivery, the expressions, she was a comedy queen!!! As for her personal life, she was just a darling - and also very funny in person, not just in her acting roles! She was a staunch supporter of gay rights and a big advocate for same-sex marriage in the US, as well as a vegetarian and a big defender of animal rights. She suffered from illness in her later years which greatly impacted her health, but she was still very active up until her death in 2010, and she even released a wonderful autobiography in 2007 titled "My First Five Husbands... and the Ones Who Got Away". In her interviews she's always gentle, soft-spoken (her voice. dear god. sweet mother Aphrodite I cannot weave I am overcome with gay thoughts), and kind, but also sharp, witty, and just a delight to watch. I could go on forever talking about her honestly. I am actually in love with her and you should be too. She's just the best! Here, have some additional pics: (pics below the cut)

Master Poll List of the Hot Vintage TV Ladies Bracket

Additional propaganda below the cut

Diahann Carroll:

Diahann Carroll's First Scene on "Dynasty"

Rue McClanahan:

The Hottie™ of the Golden Girls, she was definitely a GILF. And her character's shenanigans were Emmy-winning but no less fun and her outfits were always on point and gorgeous, befitting her perfectly.

she!!!

as Vivian, with her fellow hottie Bea Arthur as Maude

as Blanche - look at those eyes!!!

come on, tell me you wouldn't do anything for that smile, I dare you

in her contract she specifically requested to be given all of Blanche's clothes and SHE WAS RIGHT

Okay so first of all. Rue has this way of moving around and looking at you that just-- I mean, I'm ace, but I *get* the allos. She's hot and she knows it (and she plays a character in The Golden Girls who's in her 50s, hot, and knows it as well. Which, talk about perfect casting??) But I'm mostly here to talk about the fact that she said this in her Emmy acceptance speech (paraphrased because I'm sharing the video with the right timestamp, and you should absolutely watch up until 3:40, because her delivery is UNMATCHED): "My mother said to me once [...] 'Oh, Eddi-Rue, for heaven's sake. Don't you know every kick's a boost?' There've been a lot of kicks, and there've been a lot of boosts. I'm not going to mention the people who gave me kicks... but you know who you are. And you'll be in the book." (Seriously though, do yourself a favour and watch that video. She's amazing!!) She said this, and proceeded to WRITE THE BOOK, titled "My first five husbands, and the ones who got away", which is *incredibly* funny, and such an earnest look into her life. She opens the acknowledgements with "This book is about my life and experiences as I lived them, and anyone who doesn't like it can jolly well lump it." And I mean... she's awesome. I could go on.

Rue McClanahan @ The Emmy Awards 1987

[colins-bridgerton]

penelope & colin playlist

a year ago by james arthur

i wish it was a year ago i wish that i could hold you close now i'm driving past your house, i know the lights are on, you're not alone i wonder if you're making eyes i wonder if he loves you like the way you said that only i could do i wish that i could tell you that I miss you

ghost of you by seconds of summer

too young, too dumb to know things like love too young, too dumb to I drown it out like I always do dancing through our house with the ghost of you and i chase it down with a shot of truth that my feet don't dance like they did with you

far away by nickleback

i wanted you to stay 'cause i needed i need to hear you say that i love you i loved you all along and I forgive you for being away for far too long so keep breathing 'cause i'm not leaving you anymore believe it hold on to me, and never let me go

oceans by seafret

it feels like there's oceans between you and me once again we hide our emotions Under the surface and try to pretend but it feels like there's oceans between you and me i want you i want you and i always will it feels like there's oceans between you and me

give me a minute by the coronas

and i can't remember how we got so wrapped up in it hold on i'm not finished just give me a minute i'm not finished and if you don't mind i can live with it just a minute i'm not finished would you be so kind just to forgive it

can i be him by james arthur

i heard there was someone but i know he don't deserve you if you were mine i'd never let anyone hurt you no no I wanna dry those tears, kiss those lips It's all that I've been thinking about 'cause a light came on when i heard that song and i want you to sing it again i swear that every word you sing you wrote them for me like it was a private show

before by ulrik munther

before we burn each other up before we lose our minds before i'm not enough for you baby I need some time before you break my heart oh before we need to talk before it even starts i mean i'm sorry i didn't call

you're loosing me by taylor swift

how long could we be a sad song 'til we were too far gone to bring back to life? i gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy and all i did was bleed as i tried to be the bravest soldier fighting in only your army, frontlines, don't you ignore me i'm the best thing at this party (you're losin' me) andi wouldn't marry me either a pathological people pleaser who only wanted you to see her and i'm fadin', thinkin' "do something, babe, say something" (say something) "lose something, babe, risk something" (you're losin' me) "choose something, babe, i got nothing" (i got nothing) "to believe, unless you're choosin' me"

deep end by birdy

i don't know if you mean everything to me and I wonder, can i give you what you need? don't want to find i've lost it all too scared to have no one to call so can we just pretend that we're not falling into the deep end?

love me or leave me by little mix

and love me baby please cause i could still be the only one you need the only one close enough to feel you breathe yeah I could still be that place where you run Instead of the one that you're running from, ooh you, can take this heart heal it or break it all apart no, this isn't fair love me or leave me here

cross your mind by calum scott

tell me, do i ever cross your mind? do i ever keep you up at night? thinking 'bout what coulda been if we did it all again i've been trying to keep an open door even though you've got the locks on yours tell me even after all of this time do i ever cross your mind like you cross mine? do i?

wrong direction by hailee steinfeld

loved me with your worst intentions didn't even stop to question every time you burned me down don't know how; for a moment it felt like heaven loved me with your worst intentions painted us a happy ending every time you burned me down don't know how; for a moment it felt like heaven and it's so gut-wrenchin' fallin' in the wrong direction

loves you like i coudn't do by dunacan laurence

i hope you find that someone who'll love you and it feels like all that you wanted thought it would last if we just kept running we played our hand, now we're left with nothing hope you find that someone who'll hold you In a way that i always wanted to a hundred shots, but we kept on missing there's no regrets, 'cause we tried, my love I hope you find that someone who loves you like i couldn't do

a little bit yours by jp saxe

you found someone new, before me and you didn't try nearly as hard and maybe that's the problem i don't know how to take it away from you without giving someone else my heart all I do Is get over you and i'm still so bad at it i let myself want you i let myself try i let myself fall back into your eyes i let myself want you i let myself hope i let myself feel things i know that you don't you're not mine anymore but I'm still a little bit yours

[call-sign-shark]

Little Lamb part. 2 || Arthur Shelby x Reader x OFC

Summary: You discover that Arthur is already married when you are faced with his wife. Worst, she seems to already know about you. Did she see you flirting with her husband? (Yandere! Arthur Shelby x Reader x Yandere!OFC)

TW: (for the entire short series) Toxic dynamic, polyamory relationship, murders, torture, graphic depiction of violence, heavy allusion to smut, obsessive behavior, possessive!lovers, angst and horror. Inspired by the song The Things I Do For Love by Bludnymph.

Words: 1.3 K

Notes:

✞ 0 proofreading, it's also prolly bad written but it's just a little something I write for fun.

✞ Heaven in Reader in the ongoing Arthur x You series Heaven in Your Eyes.

PREVIOUS PART

Six months ago.

She hasn't stopped crying since they came back from the doctor's office. With his long and bony fingers lost in her wild silver mane, Arthur gently massages his wife's scalp in a desperate attempt to chase her troubles away.

"It's goin' to be okay, love." His usually loud baritone voice had turned into a tender hush. Gathering all his protective nature to remain the reassuring one, he presses a kiss on top of her head,

"No, it's not! What's wrong with me?!" She roars through her sobs, her fists weakly hitting Arthur's chest in frustration as her pain blends with a self-targeted rage. Usually, Heaven Shelby is not the emotive kind — quite the opposite, the young French girl's tears were as scarce as the most precious stones, only falling from her aquamarine eyes when the situation was truly catastrophic. Arthur himself could hold count of the few times she cried on a single hand. Yet, she seems unable to stop, her face hidden in the crook of her husband's neck and her salty tears dampening the fabric of his shirt.

"Don't fucking say there's someth' wrong with ya." Trying his best to remain gentle, Arthur shifts a little before cupping her doll face and then forces her to face his stern steel-blue eyes. The look she gave him, filled with inconsolable sorrow, broke his heart into pieces.

How he hates watching her in pain — it makes him feel powerless and boiling from the inside because, this time, there is literally nothing he can do to fix it. Nothing his fists can destroy, nothing his kisses can heal. All he has is words, and God knew how bad he is with them. "I don't care if ya can't have a baby, what matters is you. Only you." Still, he tried, wiping her tears and the remnant of her mascara with a soft caress from his thumbs. “Please stop crying…”

"But you've always wanted to be a father." She said through gritted teeth, her fleshy lower lip trembling and her eyes overflowing once again as she fought against another wave of uncontrollable sadness, "The night of our wedding I promised I'll give you a family and look at me! Look at me Arthur! I can't even be pregnant! This is... This is fucking unfair..." Her voice cracked. Unfair that John could spawn a whole football team. Unfair that Tommy got Grace's pregnant after fucking her only once when she came back from America while she couldn’t for the life of hers. Arthur let out a long exhale through his nostrils before wrapping his arms around her waist again, forehead pressed against forehead and eyes locked together in a tender embrace.

"Listen, little one. I don't care about babies. Don't care about anything in all this fucking world as long as you're by my side. If you can't have children and wanna grieve about it well it’s fine with me, but if you do want one we'll find a way. I promise we’ll find a way.”

"Arthur told me about you." No matter how patient and calmly she expresses herself, you can't help but feel each of her words like painful razor blades.

Discreetly behind the bar, your grip clenches around the wooden counter for you are convinced your legs wouldn't handle your weight if you let go of it. "Made me curious about this new pretty barmaid, even though the last one ended up dead and cold. Gun wounds in the chest area are pretty deadly. I truly hope you'll last longer."

As you stand there, eyes wide open and face dropping a few shades paler, an overwhelming wave of terror crashes through your body and leaves you petrified. Every muscle tenses, locking you in place as your heart pounds furiously in your chest. You don't know what it is about her — the frozen beauty, the frightening discourse, or the faulty contact in her eyes when she smiles — but it made cold sweat trickle down your spine. . "Oh, eeerr... I—" You try to speak but your brain just doesn't cooperate and your breath remains stuck in your throat. All the confidence you've built these past few weeks is destroyed in one batting of her doe lashes.

She notices it.

Hell, you're so obvious that everybody does.

"Hey," She says, her creepy smile withering and the ice of her iris melting, "I was just messing with you, little Lamb." Nimble, she leans over the bar and reaches for your face, her sly fingers offering you the most gentle caress you've ever felt grazing your skin. Her flesh is cold, smooth like marble, but despite everything the physical contact sends warmth into your soul, and in consequences your body quickly retrieves its ability to move, "I'm sorry, I knew I was terrible at making friends but not that much." The white-haired doll winks before stepping back to give you more space to breath, concluding her sentence with a little candid chuckle.

"Oh no, it's my bad!" You quickly replied, a sense of utter guilt washing over you for having thought she was being a bitch by trying to scare you, "I haven't got much sleep lately and it makes me quite sensitive. You've done nothing wrong." With a grateful exhale, you close your eyes briefly, savoring the sensation of safety as well as the fragrances of her refined perfume that envelop you. A shy smile finally enlightens your face.

"I wish I'd look as pretty as you when I'm sleep-deprived but unfortunately, I turn into a goblin when I don't have my beauty sleep." Her joke sweeps away the remaining tension and snatches genuine amused laughter from you. Heaven finally offers you one last smile before making her way to Arthur, who was sitting further, far too busy talking with John and Finn.

"Hey! Your glass of wine!" You call her.

"It's yours! Cheers, babe." She replies cheerfully, almost singing as she leaves your side.

You've tried to hate her, you’ve really tried, but you couldn't.

She didn’t make it easy either.

During the same evening, each time you came to the Shelby table to refill their glasses, you ended up quickly distracted from the pain of seeing her all snuggled up against Arthur's chest by how kind and bubbly she was when you were around. Always complimenting you and eager to chat with you — little insignificant and transparent you. So much that a part of you felt horrible at the thought that you have been flirting and planning to get involved with her husband. When they left the pub late at night -or rather early in the morning-, you found a ridiculous amount of money on the table, and under those banknotes was a little bracelet made of daisies, their stems carefully intertwined together by skilled fingers.

Did you wear it? Of course, it was made with love.

In the days that followed this unexpected meeting, Arthur's wife came to the Garrison and always left a homemade something for you to eat since you had told her that you struggled with eating more than one meal a day due to your financial problems. The food wasn't just good, it was certainly the most delicious dishes you had ever tasted. France, they say, has one of the finest gastronomy in the world and you learned the veracity of this statement the best way. It didn't take long for both of you to become friends first, then inseparable after some time.

Alongside this very unexpected friendship, Arthur's demeanor toward you hadn't changed the slightest — which didn't help forgetting about him. Every slight touch, every smile, and every word exchanged made your heart race in your chest the same as before, if not faster.

Lost and torn by the conflicting feelings of a friendship you genuinely cherished and your growing affection for your best friend's husband, you felt like your own reflection in the mirror was judging you. But if there was something you weren’t it was wicked.

Maybe that was why this battle between desire and loyalty had led you to stutter the following statement to the white-haired and crystal-eyed angel:

"Heaven, I'm so sorry. I think I am in love with Arthur."

Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia0000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @justrainandcoffee @kishie8 @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996 @vanhelsingsbigtoe @cherubswhispers @he6rtshaker @bemyqueenofdarkness @cljordan-imperium @cjarbo @rysko @red-riding-wood

[2demondogs]

Heartbreaking Charthur angst. Like a "What if..." Charles never left to help Rains fall and was there for Arthurs' end (high honor, help John ending)?

Anon I see ur vision, I respect your smoke, you are real for this, etc ad nauseam.

Any incorrect details um... blame it on the alternate timeline. I'll be honest I didn't proofread cuz this shit made me sad.

Words: 1.7k Tags: sickfic... :), character death, stream of consciousness, a lot of nondenominational religious Thoughts, major spoilers

Arthur had realized, since his first and last doctor's office visit, just how much time there was in a day.

Job after job after job and all that precious time he had never realized was slipping by. He wished he had never slept, for one; he hoped in the afterlife, if there was one, he might never sleep, because all things must end eventually, as he is still learning, and he'd hate to make the same mistakes twice.

He thought the Devil would look like Dutch, God save his soul — does he, here, mean himself, Satan, or Dutch? Arthur still doesn't know, supposes that they all need saved just as badly — and that he'd be worker of the month down there, too.

Turning tricks, maybe, wouldn't that be funny, workhorse to company pony, he thought recently, and then the pains started in earnest because workhorse wasn't always his middle name and it hurt badly to think of the days before.

Arthur still wants to go back.

It's been nearly an hour since Micah kicked him in the ribs. He knows, because he has become good at telling time, as if the universe is letting him on all those preternatural secrets a little early. It hurts so badly that it has ceased hurting at all— wouldn't he be sad to know it, if Charles had not shot him once Dutch had discarded him, too.

So many emotions on the matter of Dutch, yet no time to feel them. It's a good thing he began grieving him when Hosea died.

Instead of the sharp, white-hotness that he had worried was a rib puncturing his already squeezed lungs, there is now a constant ache throughout his body, maybe his very soul; he had used all of his breath screaming when Charles tried to move him, has not gotten one good one in since, and he thinks they both know the truth.

It's all up to one cough.

One last kick in the ass and it's lights out for old Mister Morgan, because that rattling in his breath can only mean one thing.

Charles kneels before where he lays on his side, looks down at him the way he had looked at that gored horse they came across while hunting, months ago— the way he looked at it before he told Arthur to put it out of its misery. He couldn't pull the trigger, even if he knew it was the kind thing to do. There is something meaningful in that memory which Arthur cannot think of words for, but he understands it the way men understand things when they are dying: silently, and completely.

Why is Charles so quiet, now? Arthur's eyes fall shut, and he cannot find the strength to open them for a long time.

He wouldn't be greedy if God came to him and said sure, son, you all look like ants from here, I'll drop you back into seventy-eight. Blood is seeping into his lungs, has to be, and every drop makes Heaven and Hell sound a whole lot more real.

In a perfect world, he might have left and made house with Eliza or made himself suitable for Mary, swallowed that boring life the happy way most men do. Because he would know. He would work in a mine and he would be happy to breathe in the coal, because he would know.

His wedding ring, he would know that, too, and suddenly this split-second daydream becomes a nightmare all over again.

I need to move on, Arthur, she wrote. It was one less thing to leave behind.

Sometimes he wished that Charles went, too, that he had chosen the type of belonging he'd grieved so often or that he had chosen Dutch, never to be on this mountain in the first place. That he had spat on Arthur and left him without a trace of his mortal life as he lay here dying, none except the familiarity of the sun breaking the sky and the grass dancing in the valley below — dancing, what a funny word for it, or maybe he's just hallucinating as his consciousness begins to slip to—

Well, wherever it's going to go.

No matter what, Arthur wishes that Charles did not look at him that way when he decided to stick around. They both knew it was because of Arthur, and they both knew it was temporary. He's been giving him the same look. Something like love, and grief.

I'm not dead, he wants to tell him, but Arthur knows there's no difference now and Charles doesn't deserve any more lies, anyways.

He lied to everyone, and selfishly.

How many of them will die? Hosea was coughin' more. Was I contagious before...?

That day, Arthur had realized just what all those science folks mean when they say humans are brief, in the grand scheme of things even if he was not egotistical enough to believe life begins and ends with himself— but men are temporary, and there's only been so many of them, and there only will be so many of them. He had marveled at the huge, ancient bones he found for that odd little critter of a lady, months ago.

Just yesterday, he entertained the idea that God had been real even before he needed Him most, and that He was telling him something by crossing their paths: Life before you, life after you. Don't get comfortable.

Rest assured, Big Man, he thinks, I am not.

But somehow, he almost is.

Death is certain, now. There is no guessing here, no waiting without knowing.

Some divine intervention, he's sure all dead men receive it as a consolation prize of sorts for completing the great big task of living. Charles' large, warm hand is on his shoulder, light as a feather. He tries to speak, even though he can barely think in words, and all he manages is a groan that comes from deep in his gut.

Arthur wishes he would crush him, that he'd hold him even if it made him scream in agony. He wishes Charles was—

Was—

No, he doesn't. He doesn't want Charles to give him the mercy execution.

Arthur just wishes he were not giving Charles his own form of execution. He is laying still, grimacing hard each time the shallow raise and fall of his chest makes his body scream. Charles has no idea what he is feeling, but he must be able to see on Arthur's face that he's feeling things inside his body which should not be happening: the sac of his lung ripping further open, his bowels threatening to let go, his sternum pressed tight to the skin above from a week of near-starvation because there is no amount of food that could feed the disease that is eating him alive.

He knows how it feels to watch a man you love die, even if his had been his father and he's certain that it's harder at their present age, and when you've chosen to love someone. No hands of blood had pushed them together.

Arthur wishes he had known it sooner.

He doesn't know if he ever wants to hear it from Charles' mouth, but he blinks his eyes open as the vague, misty image of that day finally fades for good. The sky is breaking hard beyond the shadow of Charles' form. It is glorious as sunrises always are. He feels his bones grinding on one another. He is clenching his teeth so hard, his molars are about to be pushed through the gums and into his mandible.

Never one for making his own decisions, Arthur wonders again if God is real or if he is coping with this horribleness in the only way he knows how: relying on someone else.

Again, he wants Charles to crush him. Even if it stabs the broken rib through his lung and out his back, even if it kills him before he can use his last breath to find out how his throat smells— he wants Charles to be the one to hold him.

Hosea is gone. So is Dutch. Arthur would long for Charles even if they were both here, although alarmingly he feels as though Hosea is somewhere around him — he cannot see, smell, or hear him but he knows it silently, and completely.

I love him, Arthur is thinking, has no time to study how selfish he would have felt just one month ago for his desires in this moment. Dead men cannot regret any longer, or maybe regret becomes like the pain when you are dead, grows so big that it blocks out the sun of peace. He made me feel safe, he thinks, already in the past tense, as if he is rehearsing what he will tell all the fellow skeletons.

He squints through the morning light and finds Charles' face, drawn tight in an expression he has never, ever seen before.

His eyes are open sores. He's never looked more like an angel.

With the last of his breath, Arthur opens his mouth and finds it suddenly very hard to draw in air. His throat itches, and if he swallows this cough he will simply choke on his own vomit instead— so he begins to hack, feels his lungs decompressing and the violent convulsions through his abdominal wall as things that are not meant to touch it touch it.

He gets his wish, because Charles is curling around him. He wants to shove him away, but then he doesn't; if Charles is going to get sick, he already has, and this is all he could have ever wanted in this moment. Charles is warm, and his chest presses over Arthur's jolting side as if holding him still, and he realizes the man has been talking but he has no time to regret not listening.

He's forgotten English, anyways, doesn't think in words anymore but feels everything. His throat thickens with the metallic taste of blood and his body squeezes, squeezes— Arthur goes stiff in panic and shock, fingers of both hands clawing into Charles' arm, and if either of them were sober the blood his nails draw would be felt.

In the moments before he can no longer breathe, he sees — with that nonmaterial eye that shows men dreams, nightmares, the best novels — something like peace.

Yes, Hosea feels very close now, and Charles, very far away.

[dk-ghostmachines]

i gotta talk about FourDogs

I really do. 'Cause I posted a lil' passive-aggressive hot take a few days ago, but this is Tumblr not TikTok. Here we can have our 60-second hot takes and eat our long essays too. Kipperlilly Copperkettle was introduced as a rival in episode 3, after which there were a number of posts criticizing The Bad Kids' response to her, labeling it disproportionately mean at best and bullying at worst. I think that's an unfair reading of that interaction and I'm gonna talk about why.

Now, I'll be the first to admit that it's parasocial as fuck over here and The Bad Kids are my personal best friends actually, so where necessary I'll do my best to separate the ((loyalist ride-or-die-bad-boys-for-lyfe emotional reactions)) from the actual points I'm trying to make.

((That being said, the fuck was FourDogs talking about? Y'know? Like what was she on about, for real?))

Here's what's true: over the course of their time at Aguefort, three adults directly related to The Bad Kids - Jawbone, Gorthalax, and Gilear - have been instated as faculty or staff. And if I'm a third-party, especially another student, then for sure. It's giving nepotism, it's giving cronyism, and I'm drinking my Haterade about it every morning. But favoritism is about treatment. It's about actions, rewards, benefits - and ma'am, if you're gonna levy a charge like that, I'm afraid you're gonna need receipts!

What actual benefits have The Bad Kids received from the school that is not available to other students? In freshman and sophomore year, The Bad Kids get detention like anybody else, they don't make it on the Bloodrush team, Gorgug in particular was always not doing great in Barbarian class, they take their midterms, they have to complete the big 60%-of-the-grade spring break project, etc. And now this year, Fig is getting punished for not going to class, Kristen is getting consequences specific to being a kid with ADHD who doesn't live at home anymore, Gorgug's still getting the literal opposite of favoritism from Porter, and Riz, Adaine, and Fabian are all getting the treatment from professors that is proportional for historically successful students in good academic standing.

((And someone else brought this up but, re:that 60%-of-the-grade project, miss ma'am, what were you doing in the Far Haven Woods?? In addition to saving the world again, The Bad Kids endured borderline psychological torture for their final grade, while the Buttcrushers got to step on bugs in the neutral zone??? But they're the privileged ones, no, for sure))

Whether or not saving the world is as big a deal in-universe as it would be in our real world is up for debate. Brennan said it was an outstanding feat in the scope of student adventuring at Aguefort to consistently complete Class B and C quests, but then, when TBK comes back from Hot Yorb Summer everyone acts like they went on a class trip to Six Flags. Either way, unearned success is the wiiiiiildest claim to lay at the feet of consistent world-savers.

Freshmen year it was the Helioic Fundamentalist Apocalypse and the Emperor of the Red Wastes. Sophomore year it was the Nightmare King and the Night Yorb. They've saved the whole school, they've saved specific students at the school. They My Little Pony-ed Ragh, one of the biggest actual bullies Aguefort had, and then Fabian killed toxic masculinity! Even if the favoritism was in the room with us, would it not be the natural result of all this hero shit??? Aguefort hasn't done The Bad Kids any favors he wouldn't do for the rest of the student body, but even if he had I'd get it because KRISTEN APPLEBEES SNUCK HIM INTO HEAVEN AND THEN BROUGHT HIS ASS BACK TO LIFE.

Again, maybe not remarkable in a world where Revivify is just a thing you can learn, but y'know! Shit!! Diamonds aren't free!!

Also FourDogs' whole tone of disdain for the "eccentricity" of Arthur Aguefort's administrative decisions truly boggles the mind, because we found out in freshmen year that he has some kind of mass Power Word over the government of Solace that allows the students of his school to do crimes, AND in sophomore year he has that auto-call-ex-machina that students can evoke when they're in danger overseas. His "eccentricity" is the reason the school can function at all, put some respect on man's name.

Now, let's get word-perfect.

That's the American Psychological Association.

And that's StopBullying.gov, which is managed by the Department of Health and Human Services.

Here's what's true. At moment 00:00 of their relationship, Kristen said something pretty freakin' mean to Kipperlilly for an audience of her friends with like, no provocation.

Kipperlily then revealed that she has based her entire campaign around addressing the perceived privilege that "some students" have under Arthur Aguefort's rules. And THEN, Jawbone revealed that Kipperlilly had been snooping around asking questions about Kristen's relationships with her god and trying to get general dirt on The Bad Kids. BUT WAIT THERE'S MORE, in the preview for episode 6, we get Murph's line of "Kipperlilly's team is trying to get us kicked out of school".

Does that excuse the thing Kristen said ((yes it was hilarious)), no. Not at all. She didn't know that stuff, Kipperlilly just failed a vibe check. In the moment though, that's all it was. The Bad Kids met someone they didn't like and perceived as a threat, and Kipperlilly had something mean said to her by people she already didn't like and already wants to see brought down. While she was not threatening them in that moment, Kipperlilly is a threat. She's not a victim, she is an equal with opposing goals. And now that Ruben has the song of the summer, The Buttcrushers are probably just as popular as The Bad Kids. There is no greater imbalance, they're just adversaries.

Ultimately, Kipperlilly's got them fucked up. But she's a kid. Kids are allowed to get shit fucked up and misdirect their anger at systemic unfairness. TBK are also kids and well within their rights to feel what they felt when Four Dogs walked up with self-righteous vibes and started yappin about academic privilege in what is already the most academically stressful year of their lives.

As the audience, we not only know all the shit TBK has gone through that Kipperlilly does not, we also are aware of how Brennan is introducing her in the story. As soon as he brings her into the scene, you know what's up. The voice he gives her, the tone, the actual things he's saying - if you watch everyone's face after the line about favoritism gets dropped it's the culmination of the whole interaction. Oh, she's our enemy, like our specific enemy and her team is coming for us, specifically.

So what do we gain from ignoring all that? From ignoring the JUICE of this rivalry and flattening it into "the bad kids were mean :/". I actually love Kipperlilly, the rivalry is giving and I love feeling big emotions and getting to use angry, feral, fandom language. FourDogs, can't wait to see you next week, and I can't wait to read the 40k word, FourDogsxKristen, enemies-to-lovers fics. And y'know, shout out to all the people who kin her because she found the rogue teacher, it's pretty goated, I won't lie.

But also. Bad Kids Supremacy. Buttcrushers, stay mad.

[saladscream]

And here's the second and last part. Because apparently my brain wasn't done with this silly ficlet. Again, huge thanks to @discessio for creating such inspiring artworks.

@melodymeddler@orliththedragon Here's the end of the ficlet. Thank you for your comments. I probably wouldn't have bothered writing/posting this second part if not for them. ❤️

Title: Opportunity (sequel to Misstep)

Pairing: Merlin/Arthur

Rating: mature

Warning: sappy, fluffy, unbetaed

Wordcount: 1873

Arthur blinks, confused.

One might say it’s a chronic affliction where the Prince is concerned. Confusion seemingly became his middle name the day Merlin became his manservant. But what’s confusing him at the moment is the too-close-for-comfort juxtaposition of two conflicting worlds that were never supposed to meet, much less overlap. Ever.

One minute Arthur has dreamMerlin under him, welcoming his princely ardours with wanton abandon and very encouraging noises, and the next, realMerlin is hovering mutely above him looking culpable as hell while Arthur’s cheek tingles with what feels suspiciously like a leftover imprint of lips.

Arthur is experiencing time and space disorientation like never before.

“What the…?”

“I can explain,” Merlin promises breathlessly, utterly flustered and clearly looking like he’ll never be able to explain anything in a million years. “You were having a nightmare.”

And for a very fraught heartbeat, Arthur considers saying “No I wasn’t” but then realises that he’d then have to be forthcoming about the real nature of his reprehensible dreams. So he decides now is the time for some cunningly strategic counteroffensive.

“Did you just kiss me?” he blurts out in disbelief.

Merlin makes his who-me face and, when that doesn’t work, proceeds to descend into a number of contradictory facial expressions that only serve to prove just how irredeemably guilty he is.

“And what on earth are you doing on my bed?” Arthur asks pointedly.

Now, it is common knowledge that Arthur loves riling up Merlin. He loves needling and prodding him and teasing all sorts of reactions and emotions out of him, ranging from mirth to sarcasm to annoyance all the way through to positive outrage and pig-headed disagreement. It’s even more entertaining than pranking Leon.

It is also common knowledge that Merlin is a master bullshitter. He will absolutely attempt to talk himself out of the direst and deepest of troubles with the most convoluted excuses and harebrained lies man has ever heard – with a mitigated success rate.

And right now, Arthur can’t wait to hear the kind of rubbish his inventive and very much cornered manservant is going to invent. The Gods only know what Merlin’s real motives were for sneaking up to Arthur’s bed in the bloody middle of the night and pecking Arthur’s cheek the way he did, but whatever those motives were, they’ll never be as laughably implausible as what the man will conjure up.

Arthur counts down to bullshit in his head.

He has but a split moment’s notice to brace himself when he sees an ominous Ooo-I’ve-got-an-idea expression flit across Merlin’s all-too-readable features.

“Eh… but this is all still a dream, my lord,” Merlin breathes, making his voice soft and low and distractingly sensual.

Oh for heaven’s sake. Merlin pretending to be a figment of Arthur’s imagination – that’s a new one. Where does he get all this crap?

Arthur resists cracking up. Barely.

“Really?” he says, almost encouragingly.

And Merlin, warming up to his own nonsense, gets ambitious. Always a reliable sign of dreadful things to come.

“Yesss… All a dream,” he nods slowly – aiming for dreamlike, but achieving awkward.

Oh but this is too good to pass up.

“Aren’t you a little overdressed for this to be one of my dreams?” Arthur arches an eyebrow.

“Yesss. Overd… Um, what?”

“Yeah, the whole jacket, tunic, the trousers. You do sometimes keep the neckerchief, but you usually wear far less clothes in my dreams.”

“I do?”

Merlin’s dry gulp is indecently loud, and Arthur is enjoying this. Far too much. He pokes Merlin with a finger and pushes him back until he’s lying on his back by Arthur’s side on the bed. The phrase ‘knock him down with a feather’ has never been more fitting. But damn, the sight of Merlin’s raven head of hair on his pillow makes something shiver deliciously inside him.

“And you don’t talk so much,” Arthur piles on.

“Ah.”

“Well, it’s generally more moans and grunts. Sometimes roars if you’re feeling feisty and we’re going at it vigorously.”

“Uh-huhhh.”

“You’re a bit of an animal when you get going,” Arthur smiles indulgently. “A demanding animal.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“I don’t mind,” Arthur promises. “I’m always happy to provide the good hard pounding you cry for.”

Merlin opens his mouth, but no sound comes out – a first. He closes it with an audible click.

Meanwhile, Arthur is on an exhilarating roll.

“We don’t rattle the headboard every single time, mind you. Sometimes a sweet bit of languorous ravishing is all a man needs.”

And so, to sum up, Merlin is now lying on his back, gazing up at Arthur – sweating buckets and going slightly cross-eyed – seemingly seconds away from spontaneous combustion, and Arthur wonders why the idiot hasn’t admitted defeat and called an end to the charade yet. The prince knows that his manservant has a competitive streak a mile wide, but this is pushing it. The pretence seduction is going full swing and they should both be more careful before someone gets hurt. Arthur’s fingertips have loosened the front laces of Merlin’s tunic and are poised to slip inside and glide along an elusive collarbone – the one that Arthur has licked and kissed so many times in his dreams.

“This is still a dream, right?” Arthur taunts, his voice a little hoarse.

And once again, Merlin swallows and wets his lips – he does a lot of that and it’s not good for Arthur’s heart condition.

“Undoubtedly,” Merlin croaks. Arthur isn’t sure where he found enough spit to say such a long word. Gods but the man is infuriating.

The situation of Arthur’s feelings where Merlin is concerned is not a simple one. Arthur likes Merlin. Unthinkingly. Idiotically. Abysmally. And worse, he trusts him. He trusts him more than he’s ever trusted anything or anyone. He trusts Merlin on a level that’s as visceral as it is incomprehensible. The blood in his veins trusts Merlin. The marrow in his bones trusts Merlin. Every bloody inch of his carcass trusts Merlin.

And all of this wouldn’t be so damning if Arthur didn’t find the man to his taste (read, positively edible). That’s the real nail in the coffin of Arthur’s sex life. Merlin is bewitchingly attractive, but sadly, there’s no way Arthur will ever make a move on him. The prince is too scared of fraying the subtle bond between them and ruining their unique friendship.

What makes it so galling is that he’s pretty sure no one would bat an eyelid if he shagged his oddly alluring manservant.

His own father once seemed to imply that it would be nothing out of the ordinary.

“Are you bedding your manservant?” the king had asked rather benignly, in between popping his last bit of cheese into his mouth and reaching for a pear in the fruit bowl. With the same detachment as if he’d been asking whether Arthur had seen the first foal of the season.

Arthur had swallowed sideways and coughed up a lung before answering a wheezy but determined, “No?”

The king had looked at him funny and carved into his pear, a faint frown on his brow that seemed to suggest there might be something slightly wrong with his son. Of all things.

And let’s not even mention Morgana or the knights. Arthur’s pretty sure they have a betting pool going on as to when and where the prince will use his droit de seigneur on his charming but gormless manservant.

But really. It’s not like that. Arthur cares about his best friend. Truly. Deeply. And somewhat madly. So much so that he’d rather limit himself to the company of his commiserating hand than disrupt the fine balance of their friendship. Arthur never quite loses sight of the fact that he’s Merlin’s master and that this tiny bit of administrative fluke will forever stand in the way of any frolicking. They’re simply not playing on a level field and no sort of carnal relationship they could invent for themselves would ever be fair to Merlin. So Arthur is resigned to lose out. It’s all right. As long as Merlin stays his friend, he’s willing to bear it.

But it doesn’t mean Arthur’s going to let this opportunity go to waste. It is too tempting a gift.

He brings a gentle hand to Merlin’s cheek. He’s actually dreamed of doing this. Of brushing his thumb over the sharp cheekbone. In his dreams, Merlin usually leans into the caress and smiles at him sleepily. And tonight, Arthur’s heart crashes against his ribs when he feels his friend lean into the touch. Not with the same abandon as dreamMerlin (for that one’s a bit of a flirtatious trollop), but with a shy hint of neediness that echoes painfully in Arthur. 

“Merlin?”

“What.” Merlin’s voice is but a breathless whisper.

“If this is a dream, I can do whatever I want without there being any sort of consequences, right?”

“Ye-es.” There’s an inkling of worry in Merlin’s blue gaze, bless him.

“So I can do this, and it won’t matter,” Arthur murmurs, dragging the pad of his thumb gently over Merlin’s soft lips.

Beyond the parted lips Arthur sees the tip of Merlin’s pink tongue, and for an insane second he thinks his manservant is going to lick his thumb. Trouble is, if Merlin does that, Arthur is a goner. One of two things will happen: either Arthur comes on the spot (and let’s not forget that he was already halfway there when Merlin woke him up), or he kisses the living daylights out of Merlin and comes on the spot. Either way, it won’t be pretty or dignified and it certainly won’t reflect well on Arthur's stamina.

Fortunately, the tip of the little pink tongue remains wisely where it should and Arthur is saved a world of embarrassment. But damn, those lips are soft. Arthur watches his thumb rub ever-so-gently over Merlin’s heart-shaped mouth, and it’s just about the hottest thing he’s ever experienced.

“Are you going to admit that you’re a silly, reckless prat who’s in over his sizeable ears, or do I have to go all the way and shag some sense into you?”

End of the game.

Merlin winces, then sighs self-consciously. He gives Arthur that look. The contrite, I-need-to-do-what’s-right kind of look.

“I really thought you were having a nightmare,” he mutters by way of explanation.

“But I wasn’t.”

“No. You seemed to be having a good time.”

“I was.” With you, turniphead.

“Yeah.” Is it Arthur’s imagination or does Merlin seem a little bitter.

“Not that it’s any concern of yours,” Arthur advises.

“Obviously.” And now Merlin scowls, looking miffed.

Arthur can’t resist it. He ruffles the black hair with a tenderness that he seldom allows himself to display.

“Oh Merlin. What am I ever going to do with you?” He shakes his head fondly. He’s so ridiculously besotted with the man that it probably shows on his face by this point.

Merlin relaxes and smiles, and the dimples even make a furtive appearance. Then Arthur notices the cheeky glint in Merlin’s jewel-like eyes.

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind a bit of ravishing,” Merlin says, apropos of nothing. “If you could see your way clear to that.”

Oh well, when the man asks so nicely.

***the end (for real, dammit)***

[jillsc6rs]

Peace ✷

pairing ｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+ john marston x gn ! reader

warnings ｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+ no dialogue , angst...sorry , hurt/(no) comfort , abigail and john r not a thing in this , not proof read

a/n ｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+ i think I've seen a fic like this before but...i dont really remember? still in my head j am givinf them credits if i actually did read something like this,,, might've been a caption on a joiver art i saw idk . anyway i rly need to stop making everything angsty,,,

I will help you swim / I'm gonna help you swim

You knew you weren't going to see him again. Watching him from where you sat at the campfire, the gang was falling apart and you were planning your way to leave. Such little people left and your heart hurts whenever you see the condition Arthur is in.

Always having to deal with hearing Dutch say they just need one more score — but you know it's over. This is it.

John walks over to you and sits down next to you. You give him a smile and he returns it. The two of you sit in silence as the remainder in the members do the same.

Hearing Micah and Dutch whisper about something you move to grab Johns hand. Now your fingers interlocked, you look at him and he's staring at you too.

You truly don't want to just abandon him but you can't stay and asking him to leave with you seems unreasonable to do. Thinking to yourself, you decide to maybe share one last tender moment with him before your leave.

You get up and tug his arm and he gets the message; standing up as well. Then you lead him as far as you can from the camp, to a lake. He stares at you; confused but you squeeze his hand and he understands.

Releasing his hand the two of you slip out of your clothes and only have your undergarments. Stepping into the water, you reach your hand out for him to grab and he does.

You ease him in and instruct him to keep calm and let himself float. Promising you won't let him sink.

You stare at him as you keep him a float. Simply admiring him as his long hair makes it look like he has a halo — like he's an angel from the heavens above. He looks so peaceful but you know he's fearing of suddenly drowning and the fact he put his trust in you to keep him living makes your heart skip a beat.

The only sound the two of you hear being the rustling of trees, water splashing, and your humming. Feeling your eyes well up with tears, you close your eyes, trying your best to savor this moment.

It's so peaceful...you wish to stay like this as you open your eyes again and notice he's opened his too. He takes note of your teary eyes and his face twists with concern. You give him a smile of reassurance but it didn't help.

Yet he didn't say anything, just appreciating the silence as well — he never thought water would be this calming for him. You lean down and place a kiss on his forehead and he smiles.

You hear him mutter an 'I love you'...

That's all you hear, before everything sounds silent now. You try to respond but all you can get out is a small noise.

He doesn't mind, he knows you love him as well and wouldn't leave him.

And you do love him...you treasure him and everything about him. Ever since you met him, sure he was a piece of work but that was why you loved him.

So it leaves him confused and hurt when he can't seem to find you at the camp the next morning. He was hoping to ask if the two of you could go to the lake again but he can't find you.

He notices a piece of paper in your tent and he picks it up to read.

He feels his world crumbling as he reads it.

My Dearest, John,

I'm sorry for leaving you. I love you, I truly do, I just couldn't bring myself to ask you to leave with me. I don't know where I am going, think I'm just gonna wonder until I find where I can stay. I know it seems like a bad idea, but it's all I could think to do. The gangs falling apart — Dutch as gone mad. Please get out of there as well. I hope you can forgive me if our paths decide to cross again and god I hope they do. I'll miss you dearly, John

Love, [Name].

He couldn't believe it. You left without telling him? He would've said yes if you'd asked him. Why didn't you ask him? Did anyone else know about this? Were you safe? He prayed you were safe. Please be safe.

The day couldn't get anymore worse then this. You left without a word and his heart is broken. He's not sure if he could handle more.

But more he had to handle. Everything is falling apart, he has to leave. And that he does when he gets left for dead by Dutch. When he's forced to pick a side and Arthur makes him leave, to get away from this life, to go find you. He keeps Arthurs words in mind, after getting to a safer area, he sets off to find you.

He will find you — somehow; he needs to.

a/n 2 ｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+ lolol sry this is short . i think idk...i was listening to twin sized mattress and needed to write this ! hope u enjoyed ur read see u next time ^3^ mwah mwah

[thisisnotthenerd]

ok evil faculty count go:

goldenhoard/kalvaxus

coach daybreak

arcturus grix? (may have been modified, may have been trying to disrupt the rat grinders' ritual)

porter cliffbreaker

jace stardiamond

doreen technically (possessed by a corn monster and murdered)

the aguefort adventuring academy is the world of spyre's premier adventuring school. it's well-established and has a reputation for turning out competent high-level adventurers. alumni sometimes come back to teach--it is home to many powerful adventurers passing their skills on to the next generation of adventurers.

it just also happens to be the intended prison of kalvaxus, arthur aguefort's wizard's sanctum, home to many magical artifacts and the center point of multiple existing protections on elmville and the nation of solace. it's no wonder they deal with evil faculty coercing students into their schemes; they have access to powerful young adventurers and the resources they need to exert influence--why wouldn't they be there? they can just get the kids to participate in magical rituals to do what they want, knowingly or not. it's not like aguefort enforces any oversight, especially when he's dead and taking over heaven, escalating tensions with fallinel, or exploring the dawn of time with his daughter.

if the plan revolves around elmville they can't do anything but slowly advance their planswhile he's present, so when he's gone plans swing into full force; the bad kids are just unlucky enough to be attending when he's gone.

the second rise of kalvaxus in the bad kids' freshman year sets off so many world ending events. obviously the quest for the crown of the nightmare king because arianwen & kalina capitalized on aguefort's absence, but there's also no night yorb if the bad kids don't go to leviathan. theoretically the night yorb still happens, but more due to the influence of the cult of the yorbies.

the crescent moon trading company wouldn't have been able to try to sink leviathan without the bad kids a) coming to leviathan and getting a tangible connection to the cult of bill seacaster in hell (alistair ash). they were capturing gnomes at the border of sylvaire for years, so that likely would have been the same, but was probably made easier with the freeing of sylvaire from the influence of the nightmare king.

the release of talura wouldn't have happened without the maidens being captured at the lair of kalvaxus. furthermore, the nightmare king and the nekronomikron were both explicitly associated with kalvaxus.

the fall of kalvaxus just made it easier for jace and porter to try and get their scheme going. a recurring motif in sophomore year was curses riding under other curses--this time we have schemes riding under other schemes.

[themultifandomgal]

John Shelby- In Heaven Together

This was a request over on Wattpad. It’s a sad one. I cried writing this because I miss John!

Christmas Day started out as any other Christmas for John, Esme and the kids. YN the eldest of Johns kids was woken up by the younger kids and the dog all jumping on her bed. Esme made breakfast, they opened presents. Ada had also been over the day before to drop off presents. However everything changed when a car pulled up outside of the house

"Dad there's a car outside" YN says looking at the black car that's just pulled up the drive

"Get away from the windows and take your siblings upstairs" being the eldest child of all of Johns children she obliges as she watches her dad pick the shotgun up. YN ushers her siblings up the stairs as John opens the door "oh it's you" this immediately settles the young girl "got nothing better to do on Christmas morning?"

"You lot go up I won't be long" she tells her siblings. Being the ever so curious YN Shelby, she takes a peek at who's here. Michael? Why's dads cousin here? She asks herself

"Tommy wants everyone at Charlie's yard"

"What's gonna happen it's fucking Christmas man"

"Look, John, we don't have time for this" Esme rushes out the door to Michael

"Tell Tommy Shelby, we can look after ourselves"

"Tommy says that they could come for us today"

"Tommy says, Tommy says. Are you his fucking parrot?"

"Dad who's coming for us?" YN asks moving from her hiding position

"It's the Mafia alright! It's the New York mafia we're talking about" Michael should not hearing YN. She stands next to her dad looking at him with worried eyes

"Dad?"

"We're fine YN. We're the peaky fucking blinders"

"No we're not John. We're not the Peaky fucking Blinders unless we're together"

"Dad Michaels scaring me"

"You were together in the gallows with one man missing"

"John, come to the meeting. All right? Think about the kids" YN then starts to hear horse shoes getting closer

"Dad?" she says with a frown

"Come to the meeting and if you want to leave, then fine"

"No. It's Christmas Day" Esme replies "were the family now, we're staying at home" that when YN notices a man jump from behind a hay bail

"Dad!" YN screams. Immediately John pushes YN behind him getting his gun ready

"Get in the fucking house!" he yells. Michael grabs hold of the young Shelby and pushes her away just as more men appear. Esme closed the door behind her as the sound of gunfire becomes deafening. YN holds on to her step mum as tears fall down both their faces.

As soon as the men have left Esme throws the door open, running to John. YN slowly makes her way out. She sees both her dad and Michael on the floor, blood pooling around both of them

"Dad? your just pretending aren't you? A game? Right dad?"

"YN, inside" Michael chokes out. Esme's screams could be heard from a mile away, but the 14 year old girl was stood frozen.Tommy was the first to the scene with Finn and Arthur not far behind

"YN?" Tommy slowly approaches his eldest niece, still staring at the scene in front of her, she barley notices her uncles until Tommy stands in front so to shield YN from her dads body "YN?" he says again. Realisation suddenly hitting her like a ton of bricks. She had now lost her dad. He will have joined her mum in heaven

"He's gone isn't he?" she gasps as tears now spill out of her eyes "my dads dead" tommy wraps his niece up in his arms while Arthur tends to Micheal

"Shhh I got you"

"Mums dead, dads dead. Why couldn't things go back to the way they were when we only had the betting shop? If they did dad wouldn't have died"

"We've always had enemies YN"

"But now I'm alone" she cries into Tommys chests

"Your not alone. I promise your not alone" he whispers into YNs hair. YN pulls away from Tommy and kneels by her dad

"I love you dad" YN whispers giving her dad one last kiss on the cheek and hug before Tommy pulls YN off when it's time to move the body

"John loved you too, was smitten the moment you arrived on this earth"

"At least mom and dad are in heaven together"

[vintagetvstars]

Rue McClanahan Vs. Barbara Stanwyck

Propaganda

Rue McClanahan - (Golden Girls, Maude, Mama's Family) - Listen to me. I have never understood celebrity crushes until I first witnessed Rue McClanahan. She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen - just look at her!! Gorgeous eyes, the cutest nose, a SPECTACULAR smile - she has this adorable, princess-like quality about her AND she's also a complete hottie AND she's aware of it: she HAS THE RANGE, people!! Her two most famous roles are polar opposites, in fact: she starred in the role of naive, gentle Vivian Cavender-Harmon in Maude (and I mean. Just look her up and tell me that's not an angel!), and then went on to gain even more well-deserved fame and success as the seductive, extroverted Blanche Devereaux in The Golden Girls (a role for which she won an Emmy in 1987 - her amazing, hilarious acceptance speech can be found here: . I should also point out that both of these are comedy characters and she is HILARIOUS as them both - the comedic timing, the delivery, the expressions, she was a comedy queen!!! As for her personal life, she was just a darling - and also very funny in person, not just in her acting roles! She was a staunch supporter of gay rights and a big advocate for same-sex marriage in the US, as well as a vegetarian and a big defender of animal rights. She suffered from illness in her later years which greatly impacted her health, but she was still very active up until her death in 2010, and she even released a wonderful autobiography in 2007 titled "My First Five Husbands... and the Ones Who Got Away". In her interviews she's always gentle, soft-spoken (her voice. dear god. sweet mother Aphrodite I cannot weave I am overcome with gay thoughts), and kind, but also sharp, witty, and just a delight to watch. I could go on forever talking about her honestly. I am actually in love with her and you should be too. She's just the best! Here, have some additional pics: (pics below the cut)

Barbara Stanwyck - (The Big Valley) - she was my favourite character in the entire show when I was little and I just think more people should see that she's one of those actresses who looks even prettier as they age

Master Poll List of the Hot Vintage TV Ladies Bracket

Additional propaganda below the cut

Rue McClanahan:

The Hottie™️ of the Golden Girls, she was definitely a GILF. And her character's shenanigans were Emmy-winning but no less fun and her outfits were always on point and gorgeous, befitting her perfectly.

she!!!

as Vivian, with her fellow hottie Bea Arthur as Maude

as Blanche - look at those eyes!!!

come on, tell me you wouldn't do anything for that smile, I dare you

in her contract she specifically requested to be given all of Blanche's clothes and SHE WAS RIGHT

Okay so first of all. Rue has this way of moving around and looking at you that just-- I mean, I'm ace, but I *get* the allos. She's hot and she knows it (and she plays a character in The Golden Girls who's in her 50s, hot, and knows it as well. Which, talk about perfect casting??) But I'm mostly here to talk about the fact that she said this in her Emmy acceptance speech (paraphrased because I'm sharing the video with the right timestamp, and you should absolutely watch up until 3:40, because her delivery is UNMATCHED): "My mother said to me once [...] 'Oh, Eddi-Rue, for heaven's sake. Don't you know every kick's a boost?' There've been a lot of kicks, and there've been a lot of boosts. I'm not going to mention the people who gave me kicks... but you know who you are. And you'll be in the book." (Seriously though, do yourself a favour and watch that video. She's amazing!!) She said this, and proceeded to WRITE THE BOOK, titled "My first five husbands, and the ones who got away", which is *incredibly* funny, and such an earnest look into her life. She opens the acknowledgements with "This book is about my life and experiences as I lived them, and anyone who doesn't like it can jolly well lump it." And I mean... she's awesome. I could go on.

Rue McClanahan @ The Emmy Awards 1987

[messy-gemini1]

His lost Angel, returned to his heaven.

Even with an eye missin, Micah could picture you form as if you were standing Infront of him..

Your glowing (h/c) locks, bright smile and bright eyes that lit up his day any time he saw you.

But he was an arrogant bastard, too greedy for his own good. He was Icarus and he had flown too close to the sun.

He could remember the look of disappointment and sadness when Arthur arrived to call him a rat. You begged for him to be lying, begged Arthur that you man wouldn't tell you out.

No matter how much Micah wanted to tell you it was a lie, he couldn't because despite how much he loved you; he was still a greedy bastard..

he tried to console you, but the Pinkertons had arrived, guns blazing as you hide behind the table with him. The look on your face broke his heart; your eyes were cold, distand...

"please darlin, i did it for us!" he begged, firing shots. No! you did it for yourself!" you screamed at him. Micah flinched, he knew it too, he knew he did it for himself.

"(y/n)! c'mon!" John yelled, waving you to the cave. You bit your lip and looked, before meeting Micah's eyes.

"go darlin...get outta here" he said, he grabbed your hand and placed a small coin purse in it before shoving your quickly to john, who was quick to pull you along.

He remembered how he felt when he beat Arthur, how he knew you'd be so disappointed in him. How Morgans words stung him "you'll never be...good for that girl" he wheezed, and Micah knew it too.

He knew he was never good for you, and yet. You had stayed with him, even when he was in Guarma, you waited for him.

Micah sighed and threw his cigarette into the ground, snuffing it out. He never thought he'd be back in this place again.

He boots clicked across the cobblestone as he led his horse to the hitching post before walking into the store. He looked around the store before walking up to the register and hitting the bell.

"Just a second!" came a voice, and Micah could swear his heart stopped.

There you were, dressed in a black button-down vest and a red skirt. You both froze when seeing each other, Micah quick to take off his hat. "Hello, darlin..." He spoke. You gulped, carefully stepping up to the Counter.

"Hello...Micah" the way you said is name made his knees weak, as if he was that nervous man who was sacred to ask you to dance all those years ago.

You had aged beautifully to him, your hair pinned in a messy bun, eyes still shining as bright as the day he lost you.

"What can I help you with" you spoke, looking away gently. Micah cleared his throat and shook his head.

"Just need a few things" he said, pulling a list from his breast pocket and handing it to her. their fingers touched for just a second and it sent electricity through Micah.

You gingerly took the note and looked over it. "yeah, I can get this for you" You spoke. Micah smiled "thank you."

"Listen I-" he started but you stopped him "no, don't you start with apologizes" you said, pointing a finger at him. Micah was surprised by the sight of tears filling your eyes.

"Your right. But I'm still sorry. Not for what i did to the gang...But for what I did to you" he said, taking a step around the counter, moving to stand in front of you.

You crossed your arms, hugging yourself and biting back tears. Micahs heart clenched, how could he have done this to his angel, to the one girl he promised everything to.

He opened his mouth to speak, pausing when catching the light on your ring finger.

"is that.." he started, taking your hand in his own. Looking at the ring on your finger.

It was the ring he hid in the coin purse he gave to you, he was going to surprise you with it that day but fate had other plans.

Your eyes widened before you moved your hand. "shut up..." Micah grinned, hands moving to sit atop your waist. "so you have missed me.." You scoffed and rolled your eyes, lookinh away from the outlaw.

"momma! look!' a blonde-haired child ran into the shop, holding a flower out to you.

Micah was surprised, looking from the boy to you.

"Micah baby, why don't you go to the back and sit awhile momma talks okay?" you moved past Micah and ushered your child into the back room.

"Micah huh?" Micah spoke, leaning against the counter with a cocky grin on his lips.

You crossed your arms, looking away. "you...You once told me that in your family, the first-born son is named after his father."

You hated the fact Micah still had this effect on you, even after all these years. he still turned you into putty, as if he was that man all those years ago.

Micah's boots clicked across the floorboards before they stopped Infront of you.

"Can... can I stay with you for a while? ya know, meet my son and all?" he asked, trying to not sound desperate.

Your eyes widen before you shifted your gaze away once more. 'I-I don't know Micah. i don't want my son involved in the outlaw life..." you spoke.

Micah cupping your cheek gently, turning your gaze to face his own. baby blue eyes stared at you with that same old adorable look when he wanted something...and you were weak against them.

"I promise, I won't cause any trouble. and if I do, I'll let you kick my ass" he grinned.

You bit your bottom lip before sighing "fine"

Micah can still think back on that day, 2 years ago and now here he was, tangled limbs with your own as you slept soundly beside him in the bed.

He smiled down at your form, sun shining through the curtains and illuminating your form perfectly. You looked like and angel.

His angel.

His angel who had returned to his personal heaven.

He would not let you down this time, not after giving him the life he graved deep down his heart and below his ego..

Your stirred from your slumber, eyes blinking open slowly before looking up into his eyes, er rather his good eye.

Micah grinned softly, placing a chaste kiss on your brow before he ran a hand up and down your bare back.

You smiled tiredly at him, cupping his rough cheek and rubbing a thumb over his scar. No words were spoken between the two of you and yet, so many things were said at a glance.

Micah didn't need to hear those three words from you, he could see them in your eyes as you stared at him with so much adoration and affection it almost made him tear up.

Now. He'd never lose his angel. Never allow her to escape his heaven to fall to earth without him.