#Houses Sauvages

[thejoyofviolentmovement]

New Video: La Sécurité Shares Bouncy Dance Punk Anthem "Serpent"

New Video: La Sécurité Shares Bouncy Dance Punk Anthem "Serpent" @mothlandsounds @girlieaction @delkin03

Montréal-based art punk quintet La Sécurité features a collection of acclaimed local players, with the band featuring current and past members of Choses Sauvages, Laurence-Anne, Silver Dapple, DATES, Pressure Pin, and others. Since their formation last year. the Canadian quintet have quickly developed and cemented their sound and approach: Meandering around the fringes of punk, New Wave and…

[strange-starz]

Obscure fan art time! Here's a Draag from fantastic planet... I love this movie

[nectar-cellar]

i know a lot of my male sims are already don lothario lookalikes (🙄) but i didn’t want to just take one of them, change his name, and call it a day. so i finally decided to make an intentional don lothario sim.

don always gave me a bit of a goofy campy himbo vibe. 80% sexy, 20% disgusting. i decided to give him a softer, more guy-next-door appearance instead of the chiseled male model look he has in TS4.

[wgm-beautiful-world]

Magnifecent entrance of VILLA MAJORELLE - Architect Henry Sauvage (1901 - 1902) - Nancy, FRANCE

[1roentgen]

.

[lexisecretaccx]

The games you play - Matt Sturniolo

(Femreader x Matt Sturniolo, cute and sad at the start, smutty, female receiving!, degrading if you squint, gamer matt😍, dom matt, fluffy aftercare)

This fic includes cheating! I don’t support cheating at all but y/n’s boyfriend is horrible and he’s a cheater so like..

Quick summary : y/n is the sturniolo’s best friend and she goes to their house after her boyfriend blows her off to hang out with ‘a friend’ , matt is playing games y/n comes in his room upset and so on (this is kinda a longer fic then usual i think idk)

“He’s a dick anyway y/n don’t even worry about him.” Chris smiles before patting me on the shoulder and handing me a Pepsi. “Yeah it’s just, this was to celebrate us being together for 6 months, he’s just lousy.” I wipe my tears and sniffle before opening the Pepsi and taking a small sip.

“I told you, all men are the same!” Nick laughs softly but stops when he realises it’s not the right time for jokes, “Nick.” Chris looks at him sternly, “matts in his room I think he’s playing, something or another,” Chris chuckles “you can go hang with him if you want? Laura’s picking me and Nick up for a meeting and matt didn’t want to come so he can keep you company.” He picks up a hoodie that was laid on the table. “Yeah okay.” I say breathily before smiling and making my way to Matts room.

I knock at the door before slowly opening it, Matt is sitting in his chair with his headphones on his eyes focused on his screen. “Matt?” I say loud enough for him to hear through his headset, he looks to me quickly before looking back at his screen. He then looks back again studying my face since I’ve been crying. “Hey, you okay?” He speaks softly before taking his headset off and throwing it down on his chair.

I go to reply but I choke up and just start sobbing, he hurried towards me before pulling me into a tight hug and resting his chin on my head. I cry into his chest and just wrap my arms around him. “What’s the matter?” He whispers before pulling his head away from mine to look me in the eyes.

I sniff and wipe my eyes “Jay cancelled on our really important date to ‘hang out with a friend’ and when I asked him if it was a girl he called me an insecure bitch.” I look up at Matt as his expression shifted from concern to anger. “He said that? He’s the insecure one who hates you coming here because he’s thinking you’re gonna fuck me or Chris,” he breathed out frustratedly. “He’s probably with a girl, which I know is hard for you but if you want my opinion? You’re here with me so he can go fuck himself.” Matt smiles softly before pulling me back into the hug.

“Thank you,” I smile as we pull away from the hug, “you smell good, is that new aftershave?” I ask boldly before looking up at him, he smirks before looking over to his bedside table at a bottle. “Yeah, it’s Dior sauvage, Chris uses it and told me I could use some.” He looks back down at me before walking over to his chair, sitting down and picking up his controller. I laugh lightly causing him to look at me confusedly.

“What?” He says smirking yet again, “nothing it’s just, people say that’s something a ‘man slut’ wears so it made me laugh.” I sit on the end of his bed waiting for his response. He laughs lightly before tilting and shaking his head, “a man slut?” He chuckles “yeah,” I quickly realise something “I don’t think you’re a slut though that’s not at all what I’m saying!” I say rapidly and nervously.

Matt puts down his controller and exits his game before turning the chair completely to face me. “Well.. I’m not really a slut no. So I’m glad you’re not assuming that.” He smiles as his eyes scan my body, something about the way he looked at me caused me to squeeze my thigh together lightly.

“I fucking hate Jay.” He exclaimed slightly louder causing me to leave my daydream, “what-” I go to speak but he interrupts me and stands up, “you know, he thinks he’s such a tough guy going around fucking other girls making his girlfriend cry, but I bet you his dick is probably half the size of mine, he’s got such a great girlfriend but chooses to fuck other bitches because he’s a greedy dick.” He sighs before flopping down on his bed. “I’m sorry if just really riles me up.” He mumbles turning his head to face me.

“You know what would really piss him off?” I whispered as lay my back on the bed next to him, matt looks at me intrigued. “If I did what he does and I fuck other people.” I laugh softly. Matts eyes widen and he looks up to the ceiling, “what other people would you fuck?” He added. I look to Matt and smirk, “It depends, Jay has always been so insecure that I’m gonna fuck you so he told me that I shouldn’t see you.” I roll my eyes, “so it would reaaally piss him off if we just.. you know.”

Matt sits up slightly, “if we fuck?” He whispers the last word like a kid saying their first curse word. I nod scanning his face for any form of acceptance or consent. “Say no more.” Matt chuckles before leaning down and pressing his lips to mine. I push myself up to be at his level and our tongues fight for dominance as he takes control, his hand makes its way up to my neck as he lightly holds it, not applying pressure.

The kiss becomes sloppier and more sensual as his other hand reaches down to squeeze my thigh. I push him back and sit on top of him as the kiss deepens and I feel a bulge between my thighs, I grind slowly on top of it and matt groans into the kiss and both his hands grip the sides of my hips to stop me.

He swiftly flips us over so I’m underneath him “you’re gonna wanna be bottom for this..” he whispers lowly into my ear before softly kissing my neck and collarbones. I’ve never seen this side of matt, he’s usually so caring and sweet so seeing him being so flirtatious and demanding causes my wetness to grow between my folds.

He pulls my shorts down in a quick motion and lightly touches my heat through my lace panties, “were you gonna wear these for Jay?” He mumbles into my neck, feeling the lace between his fingers, “too bad he doesn’t get to see them huh.” He hums cockily. He discards of my underwear and starts to rub his finger up and down my slit painfully slow, causing me to try and push down to create more friction.

“Ah ah ah.” He pushes on my stomach to hold me in place, “be patient, we have like an hour. Let me make you feel good.” He chuckles softly on my neck before bringing his lips back up to mine, I place my hand on the back of his neck as he starts to slowly apply more pressure to my sensitive spot. “Fuck matt.” I moan softly.

He stops what he was doing and brings his fingers up to his mouth, licking the slight arousal that was on them, “you taste so good,” he breathes “wanna taste you.” He moves his face down to my throbbing heat and I can feel his warm breath on it, without warning he licks a stripe up me and starts to suck on my bulb causing me to entangle one hand in his hair and the other gripping his silk sheets.

“You’re a good slut.” He mumbles against me causing me to clench slightly, he tongues my heat and occasionally inserts his tongue inside of me making me arch my back and moan loudly, my breathing gets heavier as I tug on his hair causing him to hum which only makes my orgasm approach quicker.

“Fuck matt right there.” I whine loudly, his tongue swirls around my folds, a mix of saliva and arousal coating his lightly stumbled lower face. My thighs tighten around his head causing him to only push into me further, the room was filled with my moans and occasional groans and hums from matt. The knot in my stomach tightens, a rare feeling whenever I’m with Jay.

“I think,” I breathe out quickly “I’m.. cum.” My moans are incoherent but matt knows exactly what I mean as he continues to lick, swirl and suck at every sensitive part down there “please” I ask barely audible, “cum for me baby.” Matt spoke softly, trying not to break away from my heat. I come undone around his tongue with a loud moan as he slows down his movements, helping me through my orgasm.

He’s comes up from between my legs, my thighs which were once gripping so tightly around his head, now limp and shaking slightly as I look down to him, his face covered in my arousal a smirk plastered across his face. “Bet Jay could never make you feel that good” he whispers before leaning above me again, licking his lips to remove as much of my juices from his face as he could, he uses his shirt to remove the rest.

“I hardly ever reached an orgasm with Jay, let alone any pleasure like that.” I spoke breathlessly, clearly boosting Matts ego as he says “I love to make you feel good, I want to be between your thighs every day, if it’s not my mouth then my cock.” He smiles before leaning down and kissing me softly. “Let me clean you up.” He walks out his room to grab a towel, I grab my phone and sigh before opening the messages to Jay.

‘It’s over Jay, you’re a lousy person and I deserve better.’ I press send on the text before sighing in relief and placing my phone on the bed next to me, matt walks back in smiling with a towel, I smile back. “You seem really happy, am I that good at tongue fucking you?” He laughs before gently cleaning me up. “No i, well yeah you’re great at it but I’m happy because i just texted Jay and i told him it’s over.” I laugh softly and Matts eyes widen and he leans up to my face so we’re inches apart.

“Hi.” He smiles, “Hi.” I reply as he kisses me gently and pulling me to sit up, he removes my vest causing me to look at him in shock, “Matt I can’t do it again not right now-” “no no, I’m getting a shirt for you to sleep in,” he removes my bra before his eyes widen and he smirks at my tits, “Matt.. the shirt.”

“Oh yeah, sorry.” He trails off, his eyes glued to my chest as he slips the shirt over my head and he looks back up to me before kissing me softly. “You’re perfect. You never deserved to be treated like shit by him.” He whispers.

“Sorry I made you quit your game.” I smile softly as I look over to his screen, he turns my head to face him before he pulls me in for a hug. “Are you kidding? I got to eat out the hottest girl ever, the game is nothing compared to that.” He whispers before kissing just below my ear. “You really live up to your Fortnite name.”

“Hm?” He hums against me, “Matt the munch.” I laugh before he realises and joins in, chuckling softly “I picked that name for a reason didn’t I?” He connects our lips in a sloppy make out as my phone rings and I see that Jay is calling me, I grab my phone not breaking the kiss and I throw it across the room before putting all my attention on Matt as the kiss becomes very heated again.

A/n: I’m not kidding I’m soaked rn, guys it’s ovulation I can’t help it, but like this fic is really long so if u got to the end of it ily! I realise how I kinda like writing smut but there’s not many words I can think of to describe a vagina😭 pussy just doesn’t seem very idk. But yeah I love all of u guys and my followers! I’m almost at 100 followers omg

Taglist: @kvtie444 @blahbel668 @mattsleftnipple03 @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @hysteria-things @sturniologurl4l2008 @jakevwebber

[chaossturns]

𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐘 | 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎

synopsis: you hand an attitude with Chris all day and he's had enough and makes you apologize

dom!chris x poc!reader

warnings: SMUTTTTT , spanking , praising , use of pet names , p in v , oral (male!receiving) , swallowing , slight choking , unprotected sex (wrap before you tap) , swearing , begging , orgasm denial , and ROUGH CHRIS

a/n: i have no words but chris is mean in this one 🫡

word count: 1.6k

You have been giving Chris an attitude all day, giving him little side eyes and rolling them. You guys were currently at target getting things for a movie night. Chris walks down the candy aisle, you trailing right behind him. 

Chris faces the wall of candy, viewing the various options he could choose. He picks bags up and puts them down, the sound of the candy jiggling around in the bag as they fall. 

“What kind of candy should we get mama?” He turns and asks you. 

“i don’t give a fuck chris, just pick out a fucking candy” you say, annoyance and impatience laced into your voice. This sudden change in your voice causes Chris to wrap his hand around your throat and pull you closer to him. 

“Watch your fucking attitude.” he seethed through gritted teeth. 

“Whatever Chris” you scoff , pulling away from his hold and heading towards the cash register. As you reach the register, you greet the lady there and proceed to pay. You and Chris walk out of the target, searching for where Matt had parked. 

As you find Matt’s car, you and Chris get in at the same time, you sitting in the back while Chris is sitting in the front. 

“Did you guys get everything?” Matt asks, waiting for one of the two to answer. 

“Yes , we did.” you mutter under your breath, keeping your eyes focused on your phone. You hear Matt whisper to Chris, “What’s wrong with her?” , “I don’t know, but I'll make sure she says sorry later.” Chris responds. 

That causes you to scoff and roll your eyes as Matt exits the target parking lot, heading towards the triplet’s house. You guys arrive at the house, collecting the bags as you exit the car. You walk in the door before Chris, he slaps your ass hard on your way up the steps. 

“Chris what the hell!” You yell out, turning around to face him, giving him a mean mug. He just shrugs his shoulders, giving you a smirk as you continue to walk up the steps. 

You guys make it into the kitchen, putting the bags onto the table. You see Nick in the living room, skimming through Netflix to find a movie. 

“I’ll be back, I’m gonna go change real quick. “ you tell the three, jogging down the steps to Chris’ room. You open his bedroom door, the smell of his dior sauvage cologne filling your nose. As you strip out of your clothes, you pick up one of Chris’ blue fresh love hoodies and put that on along with some biker shorts. 

You begin to hear footsteps coming down the steps, coming closer to Chris’ door. Chris opens the door, his eyes full of anger and lust as he approaches you. 

“Chris what are you doin-” you get cut off by Chris’ lips mushing into yours, you moaning into the kiss. He wraps his strong hand around your neck, slightly choking you. His other hand goes down to your ass, leaving a nice hard smack on it.

He pulls away, leaving his hand attached to your neck. “What,” he starts. “You thought I forgot about today? Giving me attitude while we were out?” You shake your head yes, egging on his anger. 

“Just say sorry ma.” He says smirking at you, using his free hand to tuck your hair behind your ear. 

“I’m not saying sorry Chris.” you say to him, keeping your wall of stubbornness up. 

“Well I guess I'll have to make you say sorry.” He says, pushing you down to your knees. You come face to face with his clothed hardness, eagerly pulling down his sweats along with his boxers. 

You may or may not have wanted this to happen on purpose. You loved making Chris mad, it always ended up with him fucking you rough and messy.

As you pull his boxers down, his dick claps back on his stomach. His deep pink tip leaking of precum. You begin to kiss the tip, traveling up and down his dick, leaving small licks as you do so. Chris jutting his hips toward your face, needing more pleasure. 

“Hurry up and put it in your mouth slut.” He says, making you open your jaw and place his dick into your mouth. He groans out, finally getting more satisfaction with him in your mouth. You bob your head up and down, drool dripping from your mouth onto Chris’ hoodie. 

“Look at you, sucking my cock like a good girl.” Chris says, causing you to moan against his length. He throws his head back, collecting your hair, making it into a makeshift ponytail as he begins to fuck your face. 

His dick begins to hit the back of your throat, making you gag around his dick while tears welled up in your eyes. You look up at him, his shirt tucked between his teeth, little moans and whimpers leaving his mouth. 

You put your hands on his thighs, trying to slow down the strokes attacking your mouth. This makes Chris go faster, chasing his high. His strokes become sloppier, letting you know he’s close. 

Chris cums in the back of your throat, slowly pulling out of your mouth, your spit and his cum dripping down his length. 

“Swallow.” he says demandingly, tilting your head up so it all goes down your throat. You swallow, opening your mouth to show him you swallow it all. He smirks at you, picking you up from the floor and places you on his bed. 

Chris pulls down your biker shorts, your soaked underwear coming face to face with him. 

“Did sucking my dick make you wet huh slut?” He questions, leaving you to nod your head and whimper. 

“Use your fucking words.” He says, slapping your thigh as his head hovers over your dripping cunt. 

“Fuck, yes Chris.” You say, needing his mouth against your sensitive area. He peels the straps of your underwear away from your hips, dragging them down your thighs, and soon past your calves. 

Your bottom half now exposed to Chris, his hot breath fanning over your pussy. Brushing your hips against his face, needing some sort of relief from the tension in your lower half. 

“Chris.. I need you.” you whine out, moving your pussy closer and closer to his face. 

“Beg for it sweetheart.” he says, leaving hot open mouthed kissing on your thighs. 

“Please Chris,” you start. “I need so bad baby.” you sigh, hoping that was enough for Chris. In the matter of seconds his mouth is attached to your desperate area, his tongue dancing against your folds. 

You moan loudly, having Chris slap the side of your thigh, signaling you to be quiet. Your whimpers and moans are heard throughout the room, along with Chris licking and slurping your pussy. You grip onto his brown locks, grinding into his face as he begins to suck on your clit. 

“Mmph, shit Chris!” you yell out, your orgasm rapidly coming on you. Chris adds his index and middle finger into your soaking hole, stretching you out a bit. 

“Fuck Chris, I’m gonna cum.” you say, making him mumble out a “Don’t do it” before returning his torment on your cunt. Your legs begin to shake as you hold onto your orgasm, doing as Chris told you. 

Chris then lifts his head from your pussy, his face covered in your juices. He removes his shirt, leaving him completely naked. 

He flips you over, smacking both of you ass cheeks. You groan, enjoying the way his hand feels against your ass. 

Chris now brings his dick to your entrance, dipping his tip in and out of your soaked hole. You get impatient and push yourself against him, making him hold your hips and push you away. 

“Chris just fuck me already.” you say, wanting his teasing to stop. You were about to say something again, but Chris cut you off by harshly grabbing your hips and sliding his dick inside you at an intense rate. 

“Fuck mama, your shit is so tight.” he groans out, leaving you a moaning mess infront of him. You feel his length reaching places you thought he couldn’t, dropping your head in the comforter, releasing your moans. 

Chris grabs your hair, pulling you up from the comforter, wanting to hear how good he makes you feel. 

“Say sorry ma.” He says into your ear, increasing the pace his hips are snapping into you. You shake your head no, not fully able to get the words out. That familiar feeling finds its way back to you, having the need to cum. 

“Chris, mmm fuck.” you moan out, arching your back causing Chris to repeatedly hit your g-spot, further increasing your need to release. 

“Please let me cum Chris!” you gasp out, hoping he’ll let you get your high this time. 

“Last time i'm repeating myself, say sorry.” He grunts, his release traveling closer as he continues his abuse to your tight cunt. 

“Shit, o-okay fine Chris,” you say. “I’m sorry!” you yell out, getting worn out from holding onto your orgasm.

“Cum mama.” Chris says, your body wasting no time to let go, streaking Chris’ dick with your cum as he continues to slide in and out. Moaning aloud due to the immense pleasure you’re feeling. 

You feel Chris twitch inside of you, his fast and rough strokes becoming sloppy. He shoots his load inside of you, filling you to the brim. 

“Mmm fuck ma.” Chris says, slowly sliding out of you, watching his and your cum dripping onto his comforter. You fall against the mattress, your body trying to recover from what happened. 

You and Chris lay there , totally forgetting about the movie you were supposed to be watching with Nick and Matt. 

tags: @mattslolita @muwapsturniolo @luverboychris @sturnsslut @rileysturniolo @itsnotmariahh @bigbeefybitch

[cuddl3s4shur1]

•𝐒𝐇𝐄’𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐄•

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐘/𝐍 𝐗 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒, (𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐)

𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎: The first time you meet Armando and his Attidue.

𝐀/𝐍:HE IS SO FINEEE LORD HAVE MERCY, also

𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄: 𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: Horrible Spanish (Google translate and apple) , Maybe Bad Grammer. Semi Spoiler

Inspired by: that scene in Bad Boys Ride or die

music: Permission By Ro James

You would here a sudden knock on the door, you turn the news off see your Godfather his friend and soon be on the run for whatever.

You would get low on the ground grab your phone and gun from your safe, check your ring camera to see if it’s your God Father Marcus and Mike and the last one was know where to be found which didn’t effect you. Kelly and Dorn Was behind them.

“Man Y/n open the damn door” You get up and still have your gun in your hand as you open your door.

“Don’t rush me, had to make sure They weren’t tryna get me since you always bring crime around me” You say to him, you open the door all the way so they can walk in. They walk in, And you close the door behind you.

“First off what the fuck do yall got on, overhearing looking like rednecks that say the hard r” You laugh at him.

“Look we had to put on some clothes and they were the only ones, to be honest,” Mike said to you, you nodded your head and did a semi-smile. your body language was positive

“So what do you need me to do” You ask him as your arms cross, looking at them knowing they want something from you.

“You can shoot a gun, you can fight back and you're a nurse, you would be able to help us during this battle,” Marcus says to you, Your eye rolled even though he wasn’t wrong

“you understand right now, i had to work night shift i just got home im tired and this is what you guys want me to do” You question them, your door would be bust open, you feel your body react fast getting your gun out of your side.

“Armando I told you to wait in the car,” Mike says, you stare at the guys putting the gun back to your side as you realize they know him.

He looked at Mike and gave him a mug look ignoring his request, as he would stare at you listening to the conversation from afar as he stood in the kitchen. His eyes would look you up and down which you felt his gaze.

Ignoring him and his attitude you walked to your door closing it and locking it so no more people would come in your house. “But Yeah I know I can do all that, but how many days am I going to have to take off” you ask them, you only got 2 weeks of them off, and they are better when saved instead of used.

“Well we don’t know how deep this goes but I’ll say three days because we know you need one for rest,” Marcus says, you side-eye at him and chuckle. Armando’s eyes would flutter at you.

“Of all people Marcus you can’t say anything about rest days when you still need to be on bed rest and You Mike, need to go the doctor for your panic attacks,” You say addressing them, they tilt their heads at you, side eying you for saying it out loud.

“I’m perfectly fine-“ Marcus says before Mike cuts, him off “And I didn’t have a panic attack” you scuff and their comments as they obviously knew you were right.

“Know, I’ll figure some shit out but when are we leaving-“ you say as you take a breath seeing Armando drinking a glass of your Jack Daniel’s

“Why are you drinking my Jack” you ask him, everyone’s eyes look towards him; his shoulders shrug, “Why does your house smell like Dior Sauvage” He asks you instead of answering your question, His head tilts, as his lips would make a smirk. their eyes would now dart to you.

Marcus and Mike would look at each other before sniffing around trying to smell the Cologne, Kelly, and Dorn would side-eye each other and sit on the couch trying to not be nosey.

“Know what, why are you drinking Jack Daniel’s whiskey and infant why does it smell like Dior and why is it a diamond stud on the ground” Mike and Marcus would ask you. You look around at everyone before ignoring the question. Armando would chuckle seeing this as he poured Another cup full of the whiskey.

“I have a roommate, he wears diamond studs and likes Dior, but I actually do Like Jack Daniel’s,” You admit to them, Growing up around your family they would drink 5 things, Pepsi, Water, Beer, Hennessy, and Jack.

Armando’s teeth would grid, as you mentioned the roommate, it’s not like he was jealous or anything, but a part of him felt mad that it wasn’t him, even though he had just met you.

“Like when you say roommate, you mean roommate or roooomateeeee” Marcus asks you, you chuckled at his question

“Roommate, if you wanted to Know your god daughter isn’t going to give you any grandkids” You tell him upfront, his eyes would smile and so did Armando’s.

“Let’s go” He smiles at you being happy about not having grand kids, giving you the biggest hug, your eyes would face Armando’s.

You guys would look eye contact as he would mouth something to you.

“Come here” you you would close your eyes acting like you didn’t see his request. You would retreat from the hug.

“Look what the fuck am I getting myself into, also please hurry this process up, i still need to get some sleep, i had to drink 3 red bulls to stay up my full shift, the more I stay up the more I will be angry in the morning” you tell everyone of them, Armando would adjust the way he would sit into a man spread. His eyes would stare into yours , never coming off of you.

“They tryna frame, Captin We all know they are, he had a big break on a case on some mole working for the cartel, and now we need to put a stop before they try to disrespect captain. “ Mike says to you, you nod your head

“Ok that makes sense but why is he in my house, you point at him, confused and wanting to know answers.

“Puedes bajar el dedo (You can lower your finger) “he says at you, you had some patients that only spoke spanish so you took time to learn it for them. You would put down your finger done pointing still wanting to her and answer from them wondering what did they need.

Armandos face would slightly change as his eyes would lift seeing you knew some spanish, He smirked like he made a mental note about it .

“He knows who’s after captain and us” You nod your head, You start weighing your options , last time you helped them you got shot in your leg, so than you trained harder so that wouldn’t happen again.

“I’ll go and I’ll let yall crash at my crib and what not, yall can figure out what y’all wanna do or sleep, i have a guest room, don’t go in DJS room i have 2 bathrooms.

You would look around for your phone as you needed, And pat your back pockets as that where you thought it was last time. You look over to see Armando at your kitchen island with your phone in his hand smiling as he had lowered them at you.

Walking over to the bar stools at the island where he was, he would get up and get close to you. You kept a distance towards him but wasn’t that close “Can i get my phone” you popped your neck at him, you left your hand out and tilted your head as at him.

“¿Y con quién estás hablando, princesa? (And who are you talking to, princess?)”He questions you, as he walked up to you. His voice stern and husky. You scuff at his comment And you walk up to him as well,

“Obviamente, tú eres el único que sigue haciendo cosas. ( Obviously you're the only one who keeps doing things. “) “ You said to him, angry at him everyone else was toned out as You looked up at him with aggression

“Seamos honestos con nosotros mismos, ¿vale? (Let's be honest with ourselves, okay? ) He admits to you as he adjusts your chin to really look at him, his hand would sit on your waist. You couldn’t like and say this man didn’t affect you, because he did in a flirtatious way and an asshole way.

He places phone in your hand and pats your right shoulder as he walks away from you. You get your phone and place it in your back pocket, you get blankets and pillows and give them to everyone with a mug on your face

“What the hell was that” Mike said to fix the awkward silence that was once taking over the living room.

“A positive chat,” you say with the biggest sarcasm in your voice, your fake grin as well as you give the blanket and pillow to Armando.

You would hear under your breath kelly ask you a question “are you good” she would say.

“She’s fine,” He says you bat your eyes at him eye-rolling at him once again, and when done with the blankets and pillows you go to your bedroom to make some calls.

“Listen, Armando, I know that’s not my blood daughter but stop flirting right, or you gon deal with Some real problems” he says to him, his shoulders would shrug as he showed he didn’t give a fuck about that.

After a few minutes, you would come out of your room, “I’ll be going I confirmed it with my boss, Although at first, I said y’all can sleep wherever I changed my mind, Mike And Marcus can sleep on the sectional couch, Kelly and Dorn y’all can sleep in the guest bedroom and Armando for you I have no idea, the trust we will figure it out, hopefully” You tell them, they start to shift around.

People would start taking showers including you, you were the first to take on the get the shift off plus it had now became a minute everything shower. Everything would get shaved and then smoothed with a scrub. After a good 30 minutes you would get out your bathroom, to see armando on the other side of your bed, “What are you doing in here” You asked, now fixing your towel so it wouldn’t drop.

“I think this is where I could sleep tonight,” he says, looking at you, he was dead serious with you. Which made you kinda nervous, you didn’t know where he was going to sleep for tonight and he might have to sleep in the bed with you tonight.

“You sure, there wasn’t anywhere else you thought of” you ask him, He looks at you and disagrees with a friendly nod. “Nope it wasn’t meant to be for us,” he says to you, you swallow some air trying to stay calm.

You would give up on the argument and would settle, you guys had been disagreeing with each other since y'all had met. You would grab your lotions and other vanilla products for you to smell good.

It would take an extra 15 minutes for your night time routine, to be done, after brushing your teeth and more. Armando had gone and took a shower during this time as well. You would tie your hair up so it could look good for the next day. He would come back into the room with just a towel on. You couldn’t even say he didn't workout because it was obvious that he did.

“do you have some clothes I could wear?” He asks you, you try to keep a straight face so you would only nod since you’re trying to prevent yourself from saying something wrong. You only could think of the clothes your ex-boyfriend had given you but forgot to get rid of and they were most likely still there.

They should at least be the same size so he might be able to fit them. You give him the pjs but he starts to look you up and down, you had on some fluffy Spiderman pjs and a white tank top with a red bra underneath. He heads to your bedroom to change into the PJs. Heading to the kitchen to clean the dishes he had made, you place the jack in the freezer and grab the glass he had. Washing it, Heavy footsteps would approach you, Marcus and Mike were knocked watching some old cartoons most likely from their childhood. And you couldn’t hear Kelly or Dorn so they were most likely asleep as well.

“You didn't want to enjoy a glass with me” He would ask you. “Nah we got important stuff to do and I work better when I'm not intoxicated,” you tell him. He’d nod. You guys would go back to your bedroom to call it nights out.

[keehomania]

come back home (집에 돌아와) – mark lee (마크이)

✧ 16+

you never really knew what it meant to have a home. surely, the idea was simple enough: a place to shelter from the world, a structure that separated you from the cold or the rain. but to you, it was just that—a roof, four walls, something solid beneath your feet. maybe a chair here, a table there, if luck was on your side. if luck smiled, perhaps even a bed. It was the bare minimum, and you learned to make do with it. the word “home” had always felt hollow, devoid of warmth or comfort. your house, with all its peeling wallpaper and creaking floors, was just that—a house.

you existed there, your parents existed there, but it was never more than an intersection of lives that hardly touched. the screaming was normal, expected even. the cadence of their voices raising in anger, the crash of shattered glass, the dull thud of doors slamming shut—it became the rhythm of your childhood, a song you wished you could unhear. at first, when you were young, it terrified you. you were nine, maybe ten, the first time it truly sank in, and you clamped your hands over your ears, tears streaking your cheeks as you cried yourself to sleep. but at least there was a bed, you reminded yourself, even if the sheets were cold and the mattress hard. cold water had a knack for feeling warm when your hands were freezing.

you learned, over time, that cold water felt warm when your hands were freezing. you adapted, hardened yourself to the noise, the tension, the never-ending war waged between your parents. they never divorced. that, too, became part of the routine, the way they lived in the same house but on different planes of existence. they tolerated each other, and you? you tolerated it all.

at nineteen, you left. escaped, really. found yourself in a dingy apartment on the outskirts of hongdae, where the nights were quieter than you expected. so quiet, in fact, that you almost missed the screaming. almost. it never truly left, though. the echoes of their fights lived on in your mind, a constant ringing in the stillness of the night. even when the world outside was silent, the crickets long gone, it was there. but it didn’t faze you anymore. it had stopped fazing you a long time ago.

you met him when you were eighteen, just a few months shy of nineteen, and you couldn’t have known then how much someone could fill the spaces in your life where there had only been emptiness before. mark was funny in the kind of way that made you laugh before he even finished his jokes, like his sheer presence radiated joy. he was sweet in a way that wasn’t forced, his kindness so natural it felt like breathing. but it was his charm that hooked you from the very first glance—there was something about him that was magnetic, a pull you couldn’t resist. he was clumsy, a little ditzy, the kind of person who seemed to trip over his own feet yet laugh about it with the confidence of someone who made falling look graceful. you had sworn, more than once, that he must’ve been a blonde bimbo in a past life, the way he moved through the world with a carefree lightness.

you liked everything about him, even the quirks that might have annoyed anyone else. the way he laughed a little too loud, obnoxious but infectious. the way his fringe had fallen just so over his eyes when you met him, a mess of hair that he never quite bothered to fix. you liked the way he mixed his english and korean, as if his thoughts flowed too fast for just one language to handle. and then there was his scent—the sharp, musky warmth of sauvage that clung to his clothes, lingering in the air after he left like a memory you didn’t want to fade.

what you liked most, though, was how much he seemed to like you. it wasn’t just the way he looked at you or the way his voice softened when he said your name. it was the fact that he embraced everything about you, even the things you were sure no one else would. the first time he came over, your apartment was a mess—clothes strewn across the floor, dishes piled high in the sink, books and papers scattered like debris from a storm. but he didn’t flinch. he didn’t judge. instead, he smiled, wide and genuine, as if the clutter didn’t bother him in the slightest.

“you're way too nervous, dude,” he teased, his voice light and teasing as he stood in the doorway. “it’s adorable, shit, what should i do with you?”

you blushed, avoiding his gaze as his hand ruffled your hair, the touch gentle but enough to send a warmth rushing through you. you fumbled with the keys, your fingers shaking slightly as you unlocked the door. “try not to judge too hard,” you muttered under your breath, stepping inside with him trailing close behind. mark clicked his tongue, shaking his head as if to dismiss your worries. “i’m not judging, promise.”

the interior was as chaotic as you’d feared—blankets draped over the couch in a haphazard pile, magazines tossed onto the coffee table without a second thought. there was a plate from last night’s dinner still sitting on the counter, and you caught sight of a lone sock peeking out from under the tv stand. but mark didn’t seem to notice any of it, or if he did, he didn’t care. he walked in, looked around, and grinned. “feels cozy,” he said, and the sincerity in his voice made you believe it, just for a moment.

you both settled on the couch, sinking into the cushions as the quiet hum of the television filled the room. he suggested watching a movie, something light, something to fill the silence without demanding too much attention. but you weren’t really focused on the screen. your gaze kept drifting back to him—the way he sat with one arm slung lazily over the back of the couch, the other holding the remote, his eyes occasionally flicking towards you as if he could feel your stare.

it wasn’t long before he caught you. his lips quirked up into a playful smile, and he leaned in closer, the scent of his cologne wrapping around you. “you’re staring,” he whispered, voice teasing but low enough to send a shiver down your spine. “i wasn’t,” you protested weakly, but the blush on your cheeks gave you away.

he chuckled, the sound soft and comforting, before he reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. his hand lingered for a moment, fingertips grazing your skin as his gaze dropped to your lips. and in that moment, the air between you seemed to shift, thickening with tension that neither of you wanted to break.

his lips met yours gently at first, testing, exploring. but the warmth of the kiss grew, deepening as his hand moved to cup your cheek, pulling you closer. the taste of him was intoxicating, the mix of his cologne and something inherently him filling your senses. when he finally pulled away, you were breathless, your heart pounding in your chest as you looked up at him.

“god, you taste even better than i imagined,” he murmured, his voice roughened by the kiss, a hint of something darker lingering beneath the surface. you blushed deeper, the heat from his words spreading through you like wildfire.

later, you found yourselves on the balcony, sharing a cigarette as the night air cooled the flush on your cheeks. the city lights flickered in the distance, casting a soft glow over the streets below. mark stood beside you, his arm casually draped around your shoulders, the warmth of his body seeping into yours as you both stared out into the quiet.

he took a drag from the cigarette, exhaling a slow, steady stream of smoke into the night before turning to you. his eyes were soft, but there was a determination in them you hadn’t seen before. “i’ll do anything to make you mine, you know that, right?” his voice was low, serious in a way that made your heart skip a beat. you looked up at him, searching his face for any sign of hesitation, but there was none. he meant every word.

your relationship with him unfolded like the slow bloom of a flower, delicate and sweet, each petal unfurling with every day you spent together. it was puppy love at its finest, the kind that made your heart flutter and your stomach twist into nervous knots. the kind of love that made the world seem softer, more forgiving.

your dates were simple, but they were everything. late-night walks through the city, hand in hand as the neon lights reflected off the wet pavement. you’d stop for street food, sharing rice cakes or steaming hot dumplings, laughing when the sauce dripped down your chin and mark wiped it away with a grin. he had a way of making even the most mundane moments feel special. like the time he surprised you with a cup of coffee before your early shift at work, the note scribbled on the side of the cup in his messy handwriting—“thought you might need this. see you tonight, babe :)”

it wasn’t grand gestures that defined your relationship, but rather the small acts of care. the way he always carried your bag without you asking. the way he memorized your favorite takeout order and brought it over after a long day. or how he slipped love letters under your door, little notes scribbled on torn pieces of notebook paper, each one messier than the last, but filled with words that made your heart swell. “you make me feel like the luckiest guy alive. can’t believe i get to wake up every day knowing you’re mine.”

you kept every single one, tucked away in a drawer, rereading them when the nights felt too quiet. he was your safe space, your escape from the chaos that had been your life for so long. and slowly, you found yourself opening up to him in ways you hadn’t expected. one night, after a particularly rough day, you found yourself curled up in his lap, your face buried in the crook of his neck as you whispered the words you had kept locked away for so long.

“never really had a home,” you started, your voice barely audible over the hum of the city outside. “parents were always fighting. it was constant. screaming, throwing shit, doors slamming. they never got divorced, but they never really stayed together either. i guess i got used to it after a while. but it never stopped hurting.”

mark’s arms tightened around you, his fingers gently brushing through your hair as you spoke. you could feel the way his body tensed beneath you, as if he were absorbing your pain, taking it on as his own. for a long moment, he didn’t say anything, just held you close, his breath warm against your skin.

then, in a voice quieter than you had ever heard him use, he spoke. “my dad was the same,” he admitted, his words heavy with the weight of years of silence. “used to hit my mom. me too, sometimes. i don’t think i ever really forgave him for that. he cheated on her. over and over. i remember hearing them fight when i was a kid, and i’d just hide in my room, pretending it wasn’t happening. but you can’t really ignore that kind of thing forever, you know?”

you lifted your head, looking up at him, and for the first time, you saw a side of him you hadn’t seen before. his eyes were dark, shadowed with memories he had buried deep. his usual smile was gone, replaced by a vulnerability that made your chest ache. “i’m so sorry,” you whispered, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. he leaned into your touch, his eyes closing for a moment as if savoring the warmth of your palm against his cheek.

“it’s okay,” he murmured, but you could hear the crack in his voice. “i mean, it’s not okay, but i don’t know. i guess i just got used to pretending it didn’t hurt.” and then, without warning, the tears came. first yours, then his. it was quiet at first, a few soft sniffles, but soon you were both crying, your tears mingling as you clung to each other. it wasn’t the kind of crying that came with sobs or broken words, but a deep, shared grief, the kind that had been bottled up for too long.

you cried for the pain you had endured, for the childhoods that had been stolen from both of you. you cried for the loneliness, the fear, the helplessness of watching the people you loved tear each other apart.

“i didn’t think i’d ever find someone who understood,” you whispered through your tears, your forehead pressed against his. “someone who just—gets it.” mark shook his head, his own tears spilling down his cheeks as he looked at you, eyes red-rimmed and glistening. "you don’t have to go through it alone anymore," he said softly, his voice breaking. “we’ve got each other now. i won’t let you go through that again. not ever.”

he had never seemed more fragile. the boy who always laughed too loudly, who joked about everything, who never took life too seriously—now, he was exposed, raw in his vulnerability, and it broke something in you to see him like this. but it also healed something too. in him, you saw a reflection of your own. every time he smiled at you, every time he touched your hand or kissed your forehead, it felt like a promise. a promise that you wouldn’t be alone anymore. and you believed him.

there’s that saying, the one everyone knows but no one really wants to admit the truth of. something about apples and trees. the apple never falls far, but when it does, it rots. months had passed, and he hadn’t changed. he was still the same sweetheart you met, the same boy who made you laugh at stupid jokes, who scribbled love notes and stuck them in your bag when you weren’t looking. the same boy who held you through the darkest moments and promised he’d never let you feel alone again. you clung to that.

but then, slowly, things started to shift. it was subtle at first, the kind of thing you told yourself not to overthink. his phone, which had always been an afterthought, suddenly seemed to light up more often. notifications during your dates, while you were watching tv, even when you were lying in bed together. each time, he would glance at the screen, the light reflecting in his eyes for a moment before he turned it off, flipping the phone over like it was nothing.

you didn’t want to be that person. the one who asked too many questions, who pried, who doubted. but the feeling gnawed at you, deep in your gut, a quiet ache that you couldn’t shake. “what’s the matter?” you’d asked him once, your voice soft, trying to keep it casual. mark had answered smoothly, barely blinking. “group chat being spammed.”

you believed him. you wanted to believe him. so you brushed it off. you convinced yourself that you were being paranoid, that the ache in your stomach was nothing more than insecurity. but then you caught a glimpse of something. a photo of some girl, just for a split second before the screen went dark again. “who’s that?” you asked, trying to keep your voice even, trying not to sound clingy, desperate for him to say something that would calm the storm brewing inside you. “my cousin,” he said easily, his tone so calm it almost soothed the unease in your chest. “she’s coming to hongdae next week.”

you nodded, forcing a smile, swallowing the doubt that still lingered in the back of your throat. you brushed it off, again. but the ache had grown, twisting and knotting in your stomach, especially when you noticed something else. the scent of perfume. not his usual sauvage, that sharp, familiar musk that clung to his clothes. this was different. dainty. fruity. feminine. you didn’t say anything that night, even though it felt like a slap in the face, but you got no sleep. you lay there, staring at the ceiling, the smell of it taunting you, the ache now a full-blown pain, throbbing in your chest.

the final straw came one night when you were at his apartment. he was in the shower, the sound of the water echoing from the bathroom connected to his bedroom. you sat on the edge of his bed, running a hand through your hair, staring at his phone lighting up on the bedside table, once again buzzing with notifications. curiosity got the best of you. you didn’t want to be the kind of person who went through someone else’s phone, but the feeling in your chest wouldn’t let you ignore it anymore. so, with shaky fingers, you pulled down the notification bar, and that’s when your heart dropped for the first time in nine years.

four girls. maybe five. their names flashing on the screen, some of them sending attachments you didn’t even want to open. you didn’t need to. the gist was clear. flirting. photos. motel meet-ups. you felt sick, your hands trembling as you held the phone, your pulse roaring in your ears, drowning out the sound of the water still running in the bathroom.

when mark stepped out, a towel slung low around his waist, his hair dripping wet, his usual grin plastered across his face, you couldn’t even look at him. “you okay, baby?” he murmured, approaching the foot of the bed. the scent of him, the faintest hint of sauvage, mixed with the steam from the shower, was almost nauseating now.

you stared down at your bare feet, unable to speak. you felt like you were on the edge of breaking, your throat tight, your hands shaking as you held his phone in your lap. his smile faltered as he noticed the phone in your hands. you turned it on, the messages lighting up the screen once more. his heart sank, and for the first time, you saw him panic. “babe,” he started, his voice breaking, but you wouldn’t let him finish.

with all the rage and betrayal you had kept buried, you slammed his phone against the floor. it shattered, pieces of glass scattering at your feet. the sound of it breaking filled the room, sharp and violent, like the crack of something much deeper snapping inside you. “what the fuck is wrong with you?” he said, his voice rising in disbelief as he stood there, staring at the wreckage of his phone. “at least let me explain.”

you stood, rage boiling in your veins, and before he could reach for you, his hands gripping your shoulders, you met his gaze. the smile he had worn for so long, that same charming smile that had made you fall for him, was gone now. and you saw him for what he was.

without thinking, your hand flew up, and your palm collided with his face. the sound echoed in the silence of the room, and for a moment, neither of you moved. mark was stunned, his cheek reddening from the impact, his eyes wide with shock. you should’ve been afraid. maybe some part of you should have hesitated, but you didn’t. not this time.

“what?” you spat, your voice trembling with fury. “gonna hit me? show me you’re your daddy’s son? you’re already halfway there.” you saw the way his fist clenched, his knuckles turning white. but he didn’t raise his hand. he stood there, frozen, his face pale, eyes filled with a mix of shame and anger, but he didn’t strike back. you left right then and there, grabbing your things with shaking hands. you didn’t look back.

the familiar sound of silence weighed heavy on your shoulders, pressing down like an invisible force, suffocating and thick. it wasn’t the comfortable kind of silence you’d once craved, the kind you sought when the world felt too loud, too chaotic. this was different. this was the silence that mingled with the sound of your quiet sobs, echoing off the walls of your apartment. it was too quiet. too still. and in that stillness, the mess of your head overpowered the mess of the space around you.

the apartment was the same disarray it had always been—clothes strewn across the floor, an unwashed coffee mug on the table, an empty takeout container abandoned on the counter. but none of it seemed to matter. not now. not with the turmoil in your chest, the ache that made it impossible to focus on anything but the hollow throb of betrayal that gnawed at your insides.

your phone buzzed on the table beside you, and you didn’t have to look to know it was him. it had been going off for hours now, vibrating insistently, demanding your attention with every essay-length text he sent. you could imagine the words without even reading them—apologies, excuses, desperate attempts to explain away the hurt he had caused. but they were just words, and they meant nothing to you now. he had ruined everything. not you.

you had been a step ahead of him this whole time, guarding your heart as best you could, but that was perfect. he was a step behind you, stabbing you in the back had never been easier. you stared at your phone, the messages stacking up on the screen, the notifications piling on top of each other until it felt like they were mocking you. mocking the love you had given him, the trust you had placed in him.

eventually, you responded. not with the anger or the pain you felt in your chest, but with something colder. numb. a simple message, telling him to come get his stuff the next day. no explanations, no arguments. just the finality of it, the line drawn in the sand.

you didn’t get any sleep that night. How could you, when the shadows of him lingered everywhere? his clothes, his gifts, his belongings—they surrounded you like ghosts, watching over you from every corner of the apartment. even the air felt heavy with his presence, as if you could still smell the faint scent of his cologne hanging in the room, clinging to everything he had touched.

by the time the sun started to rise, you felt hollow. the kind of emptiness that comes after a storm, when everything has been stripped away, leaving only the wreckage behind. that was when you heard the knock at the door, faint but insistent. you knew it was him.

your hands trembled as you unlocked the door, the cold metal of the knob slick beneath your sweaty palms. when you opened it, mark didn’t hesitate to step inside. he barged in, his movements hurried, his breath catching in his throat like he had run the whole way here. his eyes were puffy, red, and swollen, matching your own. his heart broke at the sight of you, standing there in your worn-out pajamas, eyes rimmed with tears. but you? you had nothing left to break. you had already given him everything. your heart, your trust, your love. he had taken it all and shattered it, and now there was nothing left for him to ruin.

“your stuff’s in my room,” you croaked out, your voice hoarse from hours of crying. it was all you could manage to say. you couldn’t even bear to look at him, not directly. you were no longer facing the man you thought you knew. you weren’t sure if you ever knew him at all. but mark didn’t move. he stood there, his breath shallow, his body tense, as if he was fighting some internal battle. you turned your back to him, unwilling—unable—to look at the face that had lied to you for so long. that was when he finally moved.

not toward your room, not to gather his things like you had expected. no, instead, he came for you. you felt his warmth before anything else. his breath, hot against your neck. his arms, familiar and strong, draping around your waist, pulling you close. you didn’t fight it. you didn’t push him away. maybe you were too weak, too tired from all the crying. maybe you just didn’t want to. maybe you wanted to hold on to something familiar, something that reminded you of the love you thought you had.

“i’m so sorry,” his voice cracked, barely above a whisper, the sound of it raw and broken. “i don’t deserve you. i never deserved you. i don’t deserve to beg, but you have to know they meant nothing. nobody will ever top you. nobody will ever come close to you. hate me, but please don’t stop loving me.”

you didn’t respond, but you felt the tears start again, the ones you thought had been drained from your eyes. they flowed silently down your cheeks, mingling with his as he pressed his face to yours, his cheek wet against your skin. you could feel him trembling, the weight of his regret pouring from him in waves, and for a moment, you let it wash over you.

he kissed your cheek, soft, tentative, as though he was afraid you might disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough. his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you closer still, his lips trailing along your jawline, your temple. you let him, because it was cold. and he was the only warmth you had left. his lips found yours, once sweet and tender, now salty with tears. you didn’t pull away. you let him kiss you. you kissed him back.

“i’m so sorry, baby,” he murmured between the kisses, his voice cracking, “i love you so much. please, don’t leave me.” you didn’t respond. you couldn’t. his hands were everywhere, gripping you like he was terrified to let go, like he was scared you might slip through his fingers if he didn’t hold you tight enough. that’s what you wanted to believe—that his touch was desperate, that he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. so you let him. you let him touch you, hold you, kiss you. because in that moment, it was all you had left.

his hands moved up your body, his touch feather-light as they reached the hem of your shirt. he tugged it over your head, his eyes never leaving yours, and you didn’t resist. your heart was racing, but not with the excitement it usually did when he touched you. no, this was something else—something more frantic, more desperate. you weren’t sure if you were letting him do this because you loved him or because you were just too tired to fight.

you felt the warmth of his skin against yours as his shirt came off next, the soft fabric brushing against your sensitized skin like a lover’s caress. and maybe, just for a moment, you convinced yourself that you could forgive him. that his love was enough to fill the gaping hole that his lies had left in your chest.

you stumbled backwards toward the bed, his arms never leaving your body, your legs giving out beneath you as he laid you down. his kisses grew more urgent, his touch more feverish as he explored your bare skin. you were crying now, your body shaking with each sob that wracked your chest. but he didn’t stop. he couldn’t stop, not now.

you felt his hands on your pants, the button popping open, and you didn’t protest. the fabric slid down your legs, leaving you exposed, vulnerable. his eyes searched yours, looking for a glimmer of hope, something to cling to. you didn’t want to give it to him, but your body was betraying you. it responded to his touch like it had been programmed to do so from the very start. his weight settled on top of you, and you wrapped your arms around him, holding on as if he were the last piece of driftwood in a storm. you sobbed into his neck as he moved inside of you, the friction mixing with the pain in your heart. you weren’t sure if you were crying because it felt good or because it hurt. maybe it was both.

his breath grew ragged, his movements quickening, his eyes never leaving yours. he whispered sweet nothings into your ear, words that once meant everything now sounding like echoes of the past. you didn’t say anything back, just held onto him tighter, letting his warmth and the rhythm of his body fill the cold void that had taken root inside you. and when he finally came, his body shuddering with the force of his release, he collapsed onto you, his face buried in the crook of your neck, his tears mixing with yours.

it hurt like hell, every bit of it. every breath you took was like a punch to your gut, every tear that fell from your cheek felt cold. it was cold, and it was quiet. it was home.

✧

a/n: if ur reading this and ur in a toxic relationship, and when i say toxic, that ranges from gaslighting to physical abuse—this is ur sign that there most definitely is a way out. if ur reading this while and ur ina toxic relationship thinking, this is awful, how could the reader patch things up with him just like that, this is ur sign. the hands that hold you are the ones most capable of harming you and the words that console you will be the fastest to hurt you. a cold touch will feel warm when ur freezing, but sometimes its just better to freeze. know your worth, and even if you dont know it, know that it has never depended on what a man thinks of you, and it never will

[prettyundeadgirl]

Strange Trails - the series

This series is based on the album Strange Trails by Lord Huron and is heavily inspired by the lovely and talented @ichorai go check hers out!!

All Arthur Morgan because I think the vibe of this album fits him perfectly. These oneshots aren't connected in any way unless you want them to be. Hope you enjoy! :)

AO3 link | Masterlist

Tracklist:

I - Love Like Ghosts (1.0k) → Within the night, an inebriated Arthur returns. You take care of him, and when morning arrives, he realizes how in love he really is.

II - Until the Night Turns (1.4k) → Arthur couldn't keep his eyes off you during Sean's return party.

III - Dead Man's Hand → Sustaining injuries from a violent altercation in Valentine, you patch him up.

IV - Hurricane (Johnnie's Theme) → A raging storm causes a change in your hunting plans with him, and you both stay in the quaint hotel in Strawberry.

V - La Belle Fleur Sauvage → While spending time with Arthur, he finds himself in awe and fills his journal with drawings of you.

VI - Fool for Love → It was the small moments in which Arthur knew he'd never find another like you. A fool for love he surely was.

VII - The World Ender → You'd spent your days worrying for Arthur after his kidnapping, and upon his return you remained by his side.

VIII - Meet Me in the Woods → The sheriff's daughter and a brutal outlaw. It was something you never imagined.

IX - The Yawning Grave → During the shootout in Shady Belle, you were unlucky in reaching the house in time.

X - Frozen Pines → Separated from the gang after Blackwater, he spends his time searching for you, praying you're alive and desperate to reunite with you.

XI - Cursed → A failed robbery leads to a chase through Saint Denis.

XII - Way out There → You and Arthur get lost trying to collect a debt, and with the sun setting, you spend the night together.

XIII - Louisa → A glimpse into your life with Arthur after the events of 1899.

XIV - The Night We Met → It had been months since you left the gang in fear for your safety, and he visits you in your home to say goodbye, looking different from when you'd last seen him.

[sweetcollywobbles]

my yandere!leon headcanons so far MDNI

hello! these are just a few headcanons i had about leon as a yandere and a person in general. there is nsfw below the cut, so MINORS AND AGELESS BIOS FUCK OFF ‼ also feel free to send me your thoughts on yandere!leon and your personal headcanons if you have any!!

xx

sfw

⟢ he's self-aware that what he's done to you is horrible. he knows you have every right to hate him, but that doesn't stop him from wishing you would love him back. he never meant to hurt or deceive you, but he's lost and given too much. leon wants someone to come home to, share a meal with, and feel needed and wanted. to receive a sliver of what he's given out. so forgive him if he's being selfish when it comes to you, but he deserves happiness too. so why not help him play house?

⟢ smells of bergamot and lavender. it’s nice and relaxing, but also musky and woodsy. he read somewhere that lavender calms the nerves, so he just absolutely lathers himself in the scent. Sometimes you swear he smells like sleep personified. unfortunately, he’s still a man, so he uses old spice lavender body wash. for cologne, he uses sauvage by dior. 

⟢ normalcy is hard. how can anyone go back into society as if the amount of  horrors you’ve seen, aren’t there? like you’re fine and everything is fine? so, leon has found a pretty good remedy, company. each friday, a sit down dinner with claire, chris, and jill. pizza, wings, and beer every sunday with chris watching whatever football game is on. sometimes they may not know the current standings of teams, but it’s fun to pretend that they do. yet friends can only fill the void so much, maybe with you, the world won’t feel so lonely. 

⟢ he has a major sweet tooth! likes his coffee with cream and sugar, won’t drink his coffee black unless he really needs it. leon will always have room for dessert lmao. has tried to bake, but he just doesn’t got it 💀something just always goes wrong. a big ice cream/frozen yogurt guy. once a month, leon will make a “everything under the kitchen sink” sundae. he’ll dump whatever pints of ice cream into a large bowl and top it off with whatever candy, syrup, and whip topping he has. leon is usually on a very strict diet, so why not splurge?

⟢ leon on his off time has taught himself how to smoke/grill meat. only knows how to make small side dishes to go with the meat that he’s made. mashed potatoes and grilled veggies are usually his two favorite go-to sides. 

⟢ i'm a firm believer that leon's receiving love languages are quality time and words of affirmation with a hint of acts of service. leon works a lot, whether at the office or away on another mission, this poor, tired man is always working. so when he's home be prepared to be attached at the hip. leon also has a lot of self-doubt and guilt about what he's done to you, so by telling him how much you love and appreciate him, it feeds his growing delusion that what he's done is necessary. you need him just as much as he needs you. it also adds to the reassurance when you do small things for him to show your love and appreciation, whether it’s real or not. like cleaning and folding his laundry, making him a cup of coffee in the morning, back rubs after a long day, or even packing his lunch for the day. 

i’m giggling at the thought of leon keeping all the small notes you add to his lunch, reading them when the day gets tough. or maybe he has one or two in a go-bag when he has to take small out-of-state trips for work. 

⟢ building off the one before, he won't admit it but he's clingy. he prefers showers, but will choose a bath if it means he gets a small intimate moment with you in the morning. not in a sexual sense, more in a “let’s bask in each other’s presence”. never sits across from you at a table or booth, always next to you. same thing for the couch. there could be a thousand pillows on the bed, but he always chooses yours. leon will also never lets you sleep facing any windows/doors for security reasons. there is no such thing as personal space with this man.

⟢ since leon is a yandere his reciprocating love language is all of them. he wants you to stay with him, so he is willing to drown you in his love until it's the only thing you'll ever know. i'm going to break this down a little in sections.  

⟡ leon isn't the best when it comes to choosing the words that relay how he feels. the words feel wrong and it leaves him awkward. so any sort of verbal praise from him is rare. the most you would get from him is a thumbs up and a "sure" or a pat on the back with a nod.

(😀👍🏻 <— leon fr) but, put a piece of paper infront of this man and all of a sudden he's writing words that’ll make shakespear blush. it's words so sickly sweet it gives you a toothache. leon really hates himself for not being able to verbal relay this to you, but maybe you can feel what he wants to say?

⟡ leon is just really good at showing you how he feels than telling you. I KNOW THIS MAN WOULD GIVE THE BEST HUGS BECAUSE HE SO DESPERATELY NEEDS ONE. just imagining leon giving you a bear hug, fully enveloping you, and he can't help but hold you a little closer. maybe even holds your head a little more to him. his eyes are closed, soaking up the loving moment, he might even do a little sigh of relief. because with you, he's safe. with you, he's loved. and he just wants you to feel the love he has for you through every action. to feel what he can't say. (SORRY I GOT OFF TRACK!!) leon also always has to be touching you in some way. his favorite places for kisses; nose, cheek, neck, or hand. every morning, when he's holding you close, he'll leave small repeated kisses on your neck until you wake up giggling. not really into lip kisses, but will sometimes start a lazy make out session. just loves holding you whenever he can and making sure you feel loved at all times.

⟡ leon will also do the most for you. having a hard time sleeping? he's awake with you, lightly scratching your back in small circles or holding you close while he's running his fingers through your hair. leon just can't sleep knowing that you're having a hard time sleeping. hungry but don't want to cook? he's in the kitchen cheffing it up. putting love in every plate that he makes you, even if it isn't restaurant quality. i feel like leon will also leave you small notes around the house in places that you would find, but it's little drawings instead of words. in the slow cooker, a picture of a flower. in between the dryer sheets, a bad stick figure drawing of what you think is of you and him. at some random page of the book you're reading, a simple heart. 

⟡ leon loves spending time with you. it doesn't matter what it is, even if you're doing nothing. he wants to do nothing with you. his favorite thing to do with you is listen to you. whether you’re rambling about the latest tv drama he knows nothing about or it’s late at night and you’re reading whatever book you’ve picked up. he loves being in the kitchen when you’re cooking/baking. he’s your dedicated sous chef, so feel free to boss him around like your gordon ramsay. although, i’m so sorry for the amount of “my name is sue” jokes he’ll make. loves watching movies, putting together legos/ doing diy crafts, and playing mario kart. 

I NOTICED THIS WAS GETTING LONG AND IDK IF I EXPLAINED THIS WELL BUT IM HOPING I DID. THIS WAS SOOOO SELF INDULGENT.

⟢ when it comes to pet names, leon will add a “my” to the start of it. he’s possessive and it shows in his actions. will often say: my girl, my sweetheart, my baby, my angel, etc.

nsfw (i’m not good at smut sorry)

⟢ the praise problem does not equate to what happens in the bedroom. i'm sorry, i just simply refuse. a complete 180, he's a talker. whether it's saying something so outlandishly lewd like he wants the whole world to hear or sickly sweet nothings in your ear, this dude will NOT stfu. (and it makes me giggle and kick my feet) I WILL PUT MY LIFE ON THE LINE AND SAY THAT THIS MAN IS ABSOLUTELY FERAL IN BED. he's always stressed. from his job, from the lack of self care, from the past that just never seems to leave him. he's on edge. he has healthy ways of releasing it, but sometimes the gym or extra training isn't enough. 

⟢ which can lead to leon being a little mean in bed. he’s absolutely degrading the life out of you while also giving you whiplash with the praise that he gives you as well. leon is a lot more aggressive and at some point you’re just a fleshlight to him. spanking, choking, biting, spitting, you name it, it is on the table. also licking whatever drool comes out of his mouth makes him lose his mind fr.

⟢ i'm not good at writing smut, but i do have an idea of what i think leon's favorite sex positions would be. the first one would be mating press. it's extremely intimate and it allows him to be close to your face and neck than the regular missonary position. again, he really gets off knowing that he's the one getting you off. another postition would be cowgirl, it gives him full view of your chest and face, except you're not really riding him. again, he just using you as a fleshlight like giving you the perception that you’re in control. another would be you on your belly and him basically putting you in a headlock. IDK WHAT IT’S CALLED BUT IF YKYK. and leon just saying the most down right atrocious things in your ear would make me go crazy. 

YOU’RE GONNA SIT THERE AND TELL ME YOU DON’T WANT HIS HUGE ARMS AROUND YOUR NECK, YOU’RE INSANE. 

⟢ last but not least, ✨moaning✨. i like to think that he’s a grunter and whiner at the same time. idk if that makes any sense? he’s loud but not obscenely loud. but sometimes when he overstimulates himself, he’s a complete whiner like lovi (again if ykyk).

[cowboydisaster]

* ˚ ✦ Compass * ˚ ✦

chapter one: La Belle Fleur Sauvage

pairing: arthur morgan x f! reader

word count: 7.9k

summary: modern au; Living out your dreams on a ranch in Colorado; Arthur finally proposes.

a/n: This is a little gift for @margowritesthings. I originally wrote this for you a year ago, but I've rewritten it for you for this christmas. xx

Arthur is nervous, his palms clammy as he pulls a Carharrt t-shirt over his head. The dark hardwood floor is cold against his bare feet as he slowly pulls his clothes on, layering up to defend against the harsh weather. You sleep comfortably in his bed, unaware of Arthur's absence from your side. He slowly approaches, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. You smile in your sleep. 

"Gonna be a good day, darlin'.” He murmurs, pulling the white, fluffy blanket up over your shoulders before stepping out of the room, trying to keep his footsteps quiet.

The coffee machine beeps twice, notifying Arthur that the morning pick me up is finished. Two mugs sit by the machine, as always. But today Arthur doesn't grab his usual, opting instead for a travel mug. It's an old one. One that he'd gotten from some random bank event a while ago, "Strauss Financing" it read. 

He'd used that bank to get a loan for the house and the barn. God– nearly ten years ago now, Arthur realizes. 

The coffee is black and hot, steaming as it's poured into the mug. Arthur leaves the pot on for you before opening the door, and whistling in the direction of the bedroom. He can hear Copper jumping down off the bed, and then he rounds the corner, trotting towards Arthur and out the door. 

"Hey there boy!" Arthur laughs and gives Copper a few pats. He's had the old vizsla about as long as he's had the ranch. Copper follows Arthur outside, happily trotting after the man. Everything outside is coated in a dusting of white. It's the kind of snow that looks like diamonds, where ice clings to the trees and rooftops, but the sun shines down, making everything sparkle. 

When Arthur gets about a hundred feet from the house, with Copper circling around him, he stops and turns around. The log cabin stands proud before him, even after all these years. Arthur had built the place with his bare hands, just him and Copper. 

The Colorado mountains stand proud behind the house, hues of purple and blue painting  their cliffs, the morning rays of sunlight reflecting off of the snow on their peaks.  When he looks at the slowly aging wood of the house, and the warm glow of the porch lights he can't help but smile. It's not the house itself that he is so fond of, it is what you have made the house– a home. 

When the walls were bare, and the house was empty, save for the few pieces of furniture that Arthur could afford, it was incredibly lonely. He tended to the animals and worked on the ranch all day to avoid sitting alone in the house. He spent his evenings at the only bar in town, Pearson's Pub, drinking to forget and to ignore the empty house. 

Things got better once you moved to town, working as a bartender. You warmed the man's cold heart. You were like a breath of fresh air in this old town. You still are. You managed to take his frozen, barely beating heart and melt it in the grip of your soft hands. 

Arthur began to chat with you while you worked. After only a few interactions, he started coming in on the days he knew you would be there. 

Then, one day, he offered to cook you dinner, and you accepted. Now, you lie in his bed, cozy and happy while he plans for the future. Funny, how things work out like that. All those years when Arthur was young, he'd hoped for someone to love. As an adult, he was content with his solitude, until you came along, of course. Divine intervention, you are. 

Copper barks, stomping his paws in the snow, pulling Arthurs attention back to the present. The poor dog is probably cold. The nip in the air makes Arthur's cheeks and nose red, and his breath lingers in the air like a morning fog. 

The truck isn’t far, sitting halfway between the house and the barn. Arthur shoves his hands in his pockets, shaking some snow off of his hat as he makes his way towards the old rust bucket. Snow and ice fall from the door frame as Arthur swings it open, leaning in. 

He reaches across the steering wheel, jamming the key into the dash and turning it. He mutters a small prayer when the engine starts to stutter and hiss, but after a few seconds, it turns over. Once the engine is running, Arthur turns the heat the entire way up, setting the knob towards the windshield. 

“Should be right as rain, now, huh, boy?” Arthur smirks, stepping down from the truck, shutting the door. Copper barks, running into the wooden barn where Arthur is heading, stalking the chickens, as Arthur slides through the wooden door. 

He shakes the snow off of his hat, boots clicking on the floor as he grabs a few scoops of feed and dumps them into each horse's trough. Arthur greets each one, scratching behind their ears, patting their necks. He feeds, avoiding stepping on loose hens, until he reaches Boadicea's stall. A warm smile graces Arthur's face at the sight of the old chestnut mare. She brightens up at the man's arrival, and not just because of the feed he carries. Her head tosses as she whinnies for him..

“There's my girl." Arthur hums, dumping the feed, soothed by the sound of her chewing. Arthur scratches the underside of Boadicea's jaw, earning a slight whinny from the older mare. 

"S’a big day today, y'know." Arthur releases a shaky breath as he strokes the mare's neck. Boadicea lips at Arthur's jacket, searching for treats that he doesn't have. 

"I'm gonna ask her to marry me."

He huffs through his nostrils then, smiling as he pats the mare one last time. 

"You're gonna be a part of it. I'm countin' on you, girl." 

He then looks to the black quarter horse in the stall beside Boadicea. The horse has a star on his forehead, and a thick dark forelock that covers his eyes. When Arthur had gifted you the gelding, you'd named him Whiskey. It was both an homage to the bar where you met Arthur, and your preferred poison. 

"Hey there boy. You better be good for the lady today, ya hear?" 

He pats the horse who is hungrily lapping up his grain and then brings his wrist up to check his watch. The watch ticks quietly, showing the time as being 6:17am. 

Arthur decides that the truck has had plenty long enough to heat up as he makes his way out of the barn, pulling his jacket tighter around himself. Copper has gone off, probably chasing birds in the woods, or attempting to play with the cattle. Once he's done playing he will come into the barn for shelter, at least until you wake up and let him back in. 

Arthur's hands are tinted pink with cold as he opens the truck door, sliding in and shutting the cold out. The heat from inside the cab is nothing short of cathartic as it begins to thaw his frozen features, slowly melting away the ice and causing his nose to turn pale again. 

Arthur turns the radio up a bit, driving down the long road towards the city. He tries to avoid Denver as much as possible. The tall, leering buildings are suffocating, reminding him of a very dark time in his life. 

When Arthur's ma and pa died, he was placed into foster care. When he was twelve, he fought with the other kids, even beat a few nasty boys that were older than him. Arthur learned quickly that anger and aggression were the best ways to protect himself. 

He ran from every foster home he was placed into, never having anywhere to go, just running. Arthur slept outside many nights, surrounded by vermin– both rats and people. He was spat on, cursed at, and kicked down by many of the people he encountered. It wasn't until he was fifteen that he found shelter- a home. 

— — —

Arthur's feet pound against the pavement as he runs. The door remains open, swinging, as Arthur barrels down the driveway without shoes. The blacktop is rough on Arthur's feet, scraping and cutting into his heels as he scrambles, but he pushes through, determined to get away from the outskirts of Denver. 

He follows the driveway until it meets gravel, avoiding it by running through the grass, into the forest. Tears stream down his cheeks, rough gasps for breath mixed with raspy sobs erupting from his chest. 

Arthur bolts from yet another foster home– another abuser. He can barely see as the street lights get farther away, but he pushes on faster at the sounds of sirens. Sticks and rocks dig into the soles of his feet, but he continues, terrified. 

In his hand, Arthur clutches a small bag, carrying the few things that remain of Arthur's childhood: his momma's ring, and a photo of her when she was young. His knuckles are white in their grip.

Horror trickles up his spine, sickness twisting his guts and making him sick. Tears prick at his eyes, threatening to send him to the ground 

Did he just kill a man? 

Disgust bubbles up in Arthur's throat as he searches around in the dark forest, looking for somewhere to hide for the night. Not far in the distance is a building with a light on outside, it appears to be a barn. Arthur tries not to think about anything as he stumbles towards the barn, feeling like he may collapse at any second. His arms are wrapped around himself, and he shivers as he parts the barn doors, stepping inside, sheltered from the cold winds.

A few animals grumble at the intrusion, but Arthur can barely hear them. His vision is blurry, breaths coming in quick pants as he trips. He makes it a few steps to a pile of hay, mind fuzzy and body cold. Arthur is exhausted and unable to breathe.

Suddenly his feet are falling away from him and he collapses. The impact is made softer by the pile of hay, but it still knocks the wind out of him. Arthur stares at his blood stained hands as they clutch his mother's things. 

— 

There is a shuffle. A door? Footsteps? They stop. 

"My, my… What on earth do we have here?" A man says, his timbre deep enough to rattle the barn walls. Arthur's eyes flutter but he is not able to open them. 

"Christ, Dutch– the poor boy's covered in blood, he can't be more than sixteen." A second voice chimes in. 

Then Arthur is being hoisted into the air. He tries to fight, but slowly begins to lose consciousness again. 

"Well take him inside, have Bessie and Annabelle fix him up… Once he's awake, we'll find out who he is, and.. what he needs."

— — —

Arthur thinks back on that time with distaste as his truck rumbles loudly through the crowded streets of Denver. Things got better after he found Dutch and Hosea. He stayed with them, working on their ranch for many, many years, and once he turned twenty-five the two gentlemen gifted him one hundred acres, enough to start a small ranch of his own. 

Arthur sits at a red light, not far from his targeted destination. His fingertips tap the steering wheel impatiently as he thinks of that bag, his mothers contents inside. His stomach twists with anxiety. He hasn't been down this street in fifteen years. Muscle memory tightens his lungs as he pulls his truck along the street parking, brakes squealing before he pushes it into park. 

Arthur sighs, eyes glancing up to the ornate, tall buildings before him. It makes his stomach turn. All this money poured into concrete structures when kids are starving in the streets. 

He gets out the truck, straightening his shirt and jacket out of habit, before approaching the golden gate outside of the apartment building. 

It's not long before he's in the elevator.

Arthur goes to knock on the ornate door, knuckles hesitating for a moment before rapping on the wood twice. It's the only barrier between him and the penthouse. 

Arthur plans to make the trip as quick as possible. He’d vowed not to come here ever since the verbal assault had been thrown at him during an expensive dinner. He’d left in shambles, still young and naive. Arthur places his hands behind his back and pushes his shoulders back out of habit when the door swings open.

"Mary." Arthur acknowledges. 

Her voice is soft, her southern accent spilling from her lips, "Arthur?” She seems worried, shocked. Her eyes scan him quickly, identifying that he's not hurt, “Is everything okay? Dutch? Hosea?"

"Yes Mary, everyone's fine." 

Arthur takes note that Mary's father mustn't be home, and he instantly relaxes. His shoulders come down and his hands rest at his sides. 

“Come in.” Mary says, opening the door, gesturing to the white couch in the middle of the living room.

Arthur hesitates at the door, but complies when she starts leading the way. Nothing has changed in all the years that he's avoided this place. The carpet feels the same as he walks across it.  The couch dips under Arthur as it used to when he sits. 

Mary sits on a chair across from him. The couch he's sitting on is far more comfortable than the one at home, but he prefers the quiet oak house compared to this busy modern apartment. 

She looks to Arthur, her eyes curious. He hesitates, eyes unsure where to land– dancing between Mary's eyes and the floor. 

"I-” He starts speaking and then stops a few times, before taking a breath, getting the words out, “I've met a woman…” 

A pang hits Mary right in the chest, but she hides it well. 

“Happened a few years ago." Arthur speaks low and quiet, his timbre is deep as he explains. Mary remains quiet and allows him to continue, eyes drifting towards the windows, mind caught up in memories that threatens to pull her under.

"She's a fine woman Mary, and… Well, I'm gonna ask her to marry me." 

Arthur looks up to Mary then, her dark eyes contrasting his own. She has a puzzled look on her face as she replies, 

"Arthur, I'm happy for you, but I’m afraid I don't understand…? Did you come all this way just to tell me–”

“Mary…” Arthur whispers, cutting off her snowballing thoughts, redirecting her to the point that he is trying to get across without being harsh. Without demanding. 

She stops in her tracks then, realization dawning upon her, “Oh. I see.” She smiles, bittersweet. Arthur can see the regret in her eyes. He is quick to ease the tension, leaning forward, trying to soothe the old wounds that Mary has yet to heal. 

"I'm sorry, Mary, I am– that things didn't work out between you and I, but– it means a lot to me, and there's no other-”

Arthur is stopped in his tracks as Mary raises her hand to stop him, “It belongs to you, Arthur. She should have it, really.” Mary smiles sincerely. 

She loves Arthur, though she'll never admit it. She loves him enough to let him go, to let him be loved by someone he deserves. Mary doesn't know you, but she knows that since he came here, for this– you must be deserving of his love.

Mary places her pale hand up, signaling Arthur to wait as she stands and disappears into the doorway towards her room.

Arthur fiddles with his hands, emotion bubbling up as he waits. This is the final obstacle. Once he has his this item back he will be able to give you what you deserve, and if you accept, Arthur will be the happiest man alive. 

Mary rounds the corner, her lips pulling into a bittersweet smile, a few tears dripping down her cheeks. There is a small black box in her hand, extended out to Arthur.

His green eyes transfix on the box. The one he hasn’t seen in almost fifteen years. Arthur places his hands on his knees to push himself off of the couch, staring in disbelief at the old thing. 

It is carefully placed in his hands, and he slowly creaks the lid open, staring. It's a gold band, with a ruby placed in the center, and intricately placed diamonds on either side of the gemstone. It’s the one thing he has that ties the man he is now, to the happy young boy he used to be- when he was good. It was his momma's. One of the only things he has left of her. Arthur closes the box, tucking it away into his pocket. 

“Best of luck to you, Arthur.” Mary whispers, a sad smile on her lips. 

“Thank you, Mary.”

The ride home is quiet, for the first half anyway. As soon as Arthur is out of the city, back on dirt roads, he switches the old truck stereo on. A familiar song is playing, one that's been bringing him quite a bit of comfort in the past weeks. 

“Now I know the only compass that I need”

He smiles. One of his hands rests on the steering wheel, the other rests on his jean pocket. He palms at the box as he drives, making sure it doesn’t slip away. 

“Oh, is the one that leads back to you”

His voice is deep, rumbling in his chest as he taps his left foot against the floorboards of his truck. He thinks of you, riding your horse, smiling, of your hair in a messy bun and you in his too-big t-shirts. He thinks of how you love him, with a passion and a fervor. 

“Now I know the only compass that I need Oh, is the one that leads back to you”

He thinks of when you met for the first time, your fates tying together in ways you never could have imagined.

— — —

Arthur enters the old bar, same as he does most every night. It's the same bar he's been going to for fifteen years now. Contrary to some of the other fools here, he doesn’t always drink when he comes here. Sometimes, he just sits at one of the tables, drawing the scenery.

Arthur comes here to drown out the silence of the house, to get away from the loneliness that he refuses to admit is swallowing him whole.

Tonight, he walks around the tables that adorn the small place, straight up to the bar, sitting down in his usual seat. The place is busy tonight. Arthur assumes there's a game being played, or a rodeo on the tv, but he doesn’t ask. Plenty of patrons sit around the bar, most with women or men in their clutches. Laughter and the sound of glasses being slammed on the bar fill the air, and a neon light flickers on the wall.

Arthur is all too aware of the familiar atmosphere around him, and yet somehow, he misses the new bartender serving tonight. Typically Pearson himself is behind the bar, but tonight someone else is handing out drinks. 

Arthur knocks on the bar once, eyes watching the TV in front of him, a bulldogging competition. Suddenly, a form slides in front of him, blocking his view of the television. He adverts his attention to the person blocking his view, and his eyes go wide. 

You stand in front of him, smiling and whipping a bar towel over your shoulder. 

“What can I get for you, mister?” You ask, wiping your hands against each other. 

Your eyes twinkle like they're among stars, and Arthur is sure that he’s never seen a smile so bright. He doesn’t respond for a few seconds, basking in your beauty. Your hair is not tied up, and it falls down, cascading over your shoulders.

Your black long sleeved shirt is tight, clinging to your figure, but Arthur is caught up in your eyes. He shakes his head lightly before responding. 

“Yeah, uh… Sorry– just get me the strongest drink ya got. Make it neat.”

Arthur's typical order is a bourbon on ice, or a beer, but tonight he's going to need something stronger. Everyone knows everyone in this small town, but you're a new face, and Arthur can already feel the singe of the hot brand, burning you into his memory.

“Coming right up.” You raise a curious eyebrow, wondering about this man’s choice of drink. With your interest piqued, you grab a rocks glass and a bottle of patrón, pouring a few fingers of golden liquid into the glass, sliding it across the bar. 

“Have one for ya’self too.” Arthur tosses a bundle of cash onto the bar. 

“Thank you, mister.” You smile, pouring yourself the same drink. 

You eye the mysterious cowboy curiously, noticing the softness hidden behind his rough features. He is attractive, very attractive, with dirty blonde hair, and a five o’clock shadow that exaggerates the scars on his lip and chin. His eyes are hidden from you by a dark cowboy hat, until he peers up and you are met with the most strikingly beautiful, bright, blue-green eyes you've ever seen. 

You have to look down to hide the blush that creeps up on your cheeks from being caught in the act of staring. If he notices your gaze, he doesn’t say anything. Both of your crystal glasses are set on the bar as you lean onto it with your elbows. 

“You ain't from around here, are ya?” Arthur asks. You smirk. The ruckus from the bar seems to die down in your ears. Even your busy mind quietens as you focus on the peculiar man before you. 

“Is it that obvious?” You laugh, “No, I'm not from here, just moved.”

Arthur hums, content. There's an amused sparkle in his eyes. 

“How'd you know?” You ask, wondering what gave it away. What's making you an outsider? You moved here to get away, to blend in. Anxiety curls in your stomach at the thought of being found. 

“Well, miss, you’re far kinder, n’ far prettier than anyone in this old town… Don't help that everyone knows everyone here. We don't come by new faces much.”

Your anxiety quells, cheeks blushing a deep crimson, and after a moment, you raise your glass slightly, angling it towards his. 

“Well thank you kindly, mister.” You hum. 

“Arthur.” He corrects, clinking his glass against yours, swallowing down a swig of the burning liquid. You cock your head, not tracking at first. 

“My name's Arthur. Arthur Morgan.” He reiterates, and you smile. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Arthur Morgan.”

— — —

Your eyes flutter open slowly. The first thing that meets your eyes is the vase of purple flowers on your bedside table. The morning light hits them beautifully, reflecting off of their vase, refracting on the deep purple petals. 

A wave of realization dawns over you.

Sunlight? What time is it?? 

You sit straight up in bed, eyes immediately seeking the alarm clock on Arthur’s nightstand. It reads 9:25am and your heart leaps into your throat.

“Shit!”  You curse, swinging your legs out of bed, body barely covered by your cotton shorts and cami.

You feed the horses at 6am every day. Today your alarm mustn't have gone off.  You feel terribly, knowing that the horses must be starving. You frown, hair messily falling around your shoulders as you hurry to your dresser. 

A piece of paper sits on the mahogany, and you hesitate in your rush, placing your pointer finger on the paper and reading its contents. 

Fed the horses so you could sleep in. I had to run into town real quick. Should be back before lunch. Call if ya need anything, Sweetheart. Coffee is hot in the pot for you and Copper is outside. - A

The panic leaves your chest, replaced with warmth as you pocket the note, pulling your slippers on as you move towards the kitchen. 

Arthur is always doing this for you, taking on little tasks to remove some weight from your shoulders. Doing anything he can to ease your troubles. He knows that you've been crazy busy with work lately, as horse training always picks up in the winter, and he's been doing everything he can to help. 

You hum a tune as you round the corner, hand trailing along the smooth oak wall. Your slippers are soft and quiet against the floor as you enter the kitchen, eyes trained to where the black coffee pot rests on the counter top. 

You grab your clay mug, the one you'd made back when you were taking pottery classes, and you fill it with black coffee and a splash of cream.

Wrapping one arm around your torso, you move to the glass french doors in the kitchen, overlooking the barn and the pastures. You sip at your coffee, eyes slipping closed as the coffee wakes you up, the warm liquid heating down your cold bones. Your eyes trail over your farm, the brown and black cattle, starkly contrasting the snow. Snowflakes flutter past the glass as you watch the sun peeking behind a few pine trees in the yard. 

Copper runs through one of the pastures, throwing a stick up into the air and then grabbing it in his maw. You can’t help the smile that graces your lips. 

You head back towards your room, pulling out a pair of jeans. They hug your hips and waist, but leave room for your boots to lay under your pants at the hem. You pull on a long sleeved black shirt and your beige ranch coat before leaving your room and pulling your boots over your socks. 

With one last swig, you finish the last sip of your coffee and set it in the otherwise empty sink before opening the glass door and stepping out into the elements. 

You expect the cold to wind-whip your face, but it doesn’t. Instead, the sun shines down, adding some resistance to the cold weather. It causes the snow and ice to sparkle like diamonds as your boots crunch through the snow. 

You push the barn door aside, heart humming at the warm sound of nickering horses. 

“Alright. Who's up first?” You hum, looking to the chalkboard on the wall. It's outlined with feeding schedules, medication times and dosages, and your training schedule.

You find the designated box for today, seeing that today you'll be getting your work cut out for you. You're working with Doob, a seal brown thoroughbred, off the track, with more energy than he knows what to do with. His owners had brought him in for a bucking problem, one that you're already beginning to curb. 

You make your way down the aisle until you find his stall, promptly grabbing his dark green halter and slipping it over his head. 

“C'mon, boy.” You whisper, petting behind his ears, “You're just a big sweetheart, aren't you?” You chuckle as he nuzzles your palm. Of all the client horses, he's definitely carved a home in your heart. He’s a funny little horse, a character. You'll be a bit sad to send him back when you’re finished, but you know his owners will treat him right. 

A short walk through the snow leads you both to the round pen. You leave him loose in the small pen, and he immediately starts running. 

“Yeah, here we go.” You hum, cold biting your nose. You grab a green lasso from the fence post, moving him up with it, pushing him forward as he runs around the pen.

“Good boy.” You call, “Easy does it.” 

Doob gets his energy out, running to his heart's content, wind flying through his long black mane. You just let him run, only correcting when he tosses a buck or kicks. After a long while of working, he eventually becomes tired out.

“That's a good boy, whoa now.” You cue, and he stops on a dime, turning towards you, walking into the center of the circle. Your head turns at the sound of a rumbling truck, and your eyes brighten at the familiar sight of Arthur coming down the lane. 

“Good job, Doob. That's all for today. You go on and play now.” You smile, handing a treat out to the thoroughbred. He takes it happily before you remove his halter, letting him out into the pasture with the other client horses. He'll surely run off more steam out there. 

A few snowflakes are stuck in your hair, and your nose is already turning red as Arthur steps down from his truck. You make your way to him, ignoring the chill in your bones, and leaning towards the warmth before you. 

“Hey, baby.” You smile as he turns to you, shutting the door to his truck. Arthur smiles back, his hands extending as he grabs your waist, pulling you in for a kiss. Your lips are cold compared to his, and he runs his hand up and down your arms to warm you up. 

“Shit darlin’, you’re froze. I was gonna ask if ya wanted to go for a ride but-” 

His eyes go wide as you jump a little, gripping at his coat with your cold hands, interrupting him.

“No, I wanna go for a ride! I'm not too cold, I've got more clothes in the barn.” 

He chuckles, his warm breath creating a fog in the air as he hugs you tightly. You've never turned down a trail ride, not in all the time you've known him. 

“Alright, why don’t you start tackin’ up the horses. I gotta run in the house quick. I'll grab some food too. We can have a picnic.” His deep voice rumbles against your ear as he holds you in his embrace. 

“Okay, I'll grab the horses. Oh- grab the chocolate, okay? The good kind. There's some in the cupboard above the sink.”  

Arthur chuckles, “Sure thing, darlin’.” 

You go to pull away from Arthur, but before you're fully released from his grasp, he gently pulls you back by the chin, catching you in another kiss. He hums against your lips, and you relax into him, allowing him into your mouth. He chases after the taste of you.

After a few seconds, another light peck– or two– you pull away from each other. When your eyes slowly flutter upwards, you see intense emotion in Arthur's eyes. Love. 

Arthur loves you, and he always makes sure to display it, but he's being extra affectionate today, which has your eyebrow raising in curiosity. 

“Why are you lookin’ at me like that?” you chuckle, hands resting on the thick blue fabric of his wool coat. You look up at him with those sparkling eyes, and he falls in love with you all over again. The snow has made your nose pink and cold, and Arthur leans down to kiss it.

“Cause I love you,” Arthur pulls away, “Now, go tack up those horses. I'll grab us a snack.” you peel away from him then, shaking your head. 

One whistle for Copper, and the orange flash is running down from the pasture. Then, he's at your feet, whining happily. The snow crunches and creaks against your boots as you lean to pet the dog, and you both look at Arthur’s back as he opens the door to the house. 

“Your daddy’s actin’ weird today.” You whisper, curiously eyeing the blue coat that moves through the door. Copper barks, as if he is trying to explain, but Arthur had sworn the dog to secrecy. 

You pet Copper before standing up and brushing the snow off of your knees. When you step into the barn,you’re immediately surrounded by the soothing smell of oats and hay. The warm scents envelop you, and wrap you up like the warmth of the barn. 

By the time you have both Boadicea and Whiskey fully tacked up, Arthur is walking through the front barn doors. He pushes the door open wide enough for your horses to step through. 

“So where are we ridin’ to today? Maybe we could trail down to the creek? It's beautiful this time of year.” You ask, pulling yourself up into the saddle. The cold leather sends a chill down your spine as you rub at your thigh in an attempt to make warmth.

Arthur shakes his head lightly as he climbs up into the saddle, “Actually I was thinkin’ we’d go on up to the overlook today…”  

The overlook? You hum. Typically you and Arthur only go to the overlook for special occasions. The last time you'd gone up there was about a year ago. It's a special place. 

You both had said your first admissions of love there, let the words pour down into the plains below. Your first kiss with Arthur was at the overlook. 

But the overlook doesn’t just house good memories. You and Arthur had split up, briefly, a few years ago. The separation took place there. It’s a place of much love and heartache, it's you and Arthur’s spot. 

“Okay, sure… It’s been quite a while since we’ve been up there.” You respond quietly, curiously. Anxiety swirls in your stomach, but you push it down. 

You and Arthur trot beside one another, carried by your mounts. The air is chilly, but your heart is toasty warm as you and Arthur chat, laughing and smiling as you go. The ride to Horseshoe Overlook is a long one, and you make the most of the time as you and Arthur ride through the bright snow. 

“I'll race ya cross’ this hill up here.” Arthur drawls, his lips ticking up in a smile as he looks at you from under the brim of his hat. 

You eye the hill in front of you. It's open, probably over one hundred yards. The snow isn’t deep over the grass and it doesn’t appear to be slippery. Adrenaline seeps through your veins as you eye it, swirling and pumping through your heart, flicking the hairs on your neck up like static electricity.

“Alright then…” You adjust yourself on Whiskey, preparing to run.

“Get ready…get set–” You are cut off as the wind whips your hair and Boadicea starts charging forward. Your jaw drops and you watch Arthur barrel ahead of you. Quickly, you spur Whiskey and kiss and cluck to move him forward. 

“You cheated!!” You scream loudly, trumping the sound of pounding hooves. 

Determination sets in your bones then, and you lean forward, spurring the horse forward with every ounce of might in your body. Whiskey shoots forward until he is running side by side with Arthur’s mare.

“I don't play dirty, mister!” You yell in Arthur’s direction. Hooves are pounding loudly against the snow. The two horses are breathing heavily, each determined to win their own races. You see Arthur laugh, but he stops when you spur Whiskey, charging forward. 

Arthur curses as you shoot ahead of him and Bo. Whiskey's hooves kick up snow as he passes, sending it flying into Arthur's face. It slows him down, giving you the advantage. 

You and Whiskey run hard until you reach the top of the hill, and Whiskey slides into a deep stop right before reaching the tree line. After ten seconds, Arthur and Boadicea are at the top as well, stopping hard and breathing heavily. 

“Dammit woman, you can ride, I'll give ya that.” Arthur pants, face wind-whipped as you ride up beside him and lean over your saddle to kiss him. 

His lips are cold, as are yours, but the kiss is still alight with warmth. You grip onto the collar of his shirt, not releasing when your lips pull away from one another. If anything, your grip tightens on his collar as you eye him.

“I know.” You smirk, winking at Arthur as you pull away and canter your horse away from him, and towards the entrance to the overhang.

He watches you canter on, shaking his head. 

“You are somethin’.” He jests, trotting after you.

When the trees break, you nearly gasp. Though you have been here a handful of times, it always steals your breath away. You can see the house and barn in the distance, separated from you by miles and miles of white snow. Evergreens stand tall, dusted white, with a few herds of elk at their trunks. You can see for miles, past the house and to the tall blue mountains far in the distance. 

“So beautiful.” You murmur, eyes bright with wonder. 

“Sure is…” Arthur whispers, eyes not on the landscape, but on you. 

You hop down from Whiskey, patting him for his good work, and offering him the same treats that you'd offered Doob earlier. You always keep a few extra in your pocket. 

You walk towards the cliff, keeping a safe distance from the drop. Your eyes flutter over the rolling hills and plains before you. Everything seems so quiet up here. Troubles seem so far away. Unique snowflakes slowly drop from the sky, dusting your hair and coat with white diamonds. 

Boots crunch in the snow behind you, stopping just a foot from your back. You smile, but don't turn around when Arthur's chest presses against your back. One of his hands wraps around your middle while the other, unbeknownst to you, rests on the small black box in his coat pocket. 

The serenity of the overlook envelopes your senses as you breathe in deeply. The cold air carries notes of pine and sap, familiar scents that comfort you.

“Love you, y'know.” Arthur hums, leaning down, pulling your hair away from your neck, kissing the soft skin under your ear. Blood rushes to your cheeks, and you turn in his embrace, chest to chest. 

“You’re actin’ strange, Arthur. Are you feelin’ okay?” You chuckle. 

Arthur exhales sharply, otherwise ignoring your question. Instead, he pulls you up onto your tiptoes, your boots on top of his as he kisses you. 

You melt under his touch, kissing Arthur feels like your muscles relaxing after a long day’s work, like rain after a drought. Kissing Arthur feels like coming home. He's been kissing you all day, unable to pull himself away from you. 

You pull away only for a quick breath before your lips meet again. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, straining on your toes to remain in contact with his lips. Arthur pulls away with a bite to your lip, smiling when he sees how yours are plump and swollen. 

The wind brushes Arthur’s hair into his face as he backs up, pulling you by your hand. He has placed a thick wool blanket on the snow for you two to sit on. You plop down on the blanket beside Arthur, your head resting on his shoulder. Your head rests on his shoulder. Heat radiates from the man, and you are glad for the extra protection from the cold.

“So what snacks did you bring, baby?” you ask, curiously peaking into the bag that Arthur has laid on the blanket. 

“Alcohol.” He says plainly. You laugh, smacking Arthur in the arm as he chuckles. 

“And your chocolates.”

“Arthur!” You chide as he hands you a bottle of golden liquid. You peer at the label. 

It's patrón. You quirk a brow at the drink of choice. Arthur rarely buys the expensive tequila. Curiously, you pull the round cork out from the neck of the bottle and take a small swig. The alcohol burns its way down your throat, warming you from the inside. 

You don't mind the burn, watching as a pair of pronghorn bucks fight in the hills below you. Their hooves slip in the snow as they each attempt to win their battle. Your hands numbly grip the neck of the bottle as you pass it back to Arthur. 

You huff before you speak, “I can’t believe we’re here Arthur. After everything we’ve been through we can just… live now…” You pull your knees up, curling more into his chest. Your past hangs over you, haunting you like a dark cloud. Bit by bit, Arthur has been helping you to push it away, to heal and move on. Today is a good reminder of that progress. 

His hands place the tequila in yours, and you down a swig.

“S’ like your readin’ my mind, sweetheart.”

You smile up at Arthur then, placing your hand on his stubble.

“Y’know this is the first place you told me you loved me…” Arthur says, low and quiet. You smile, the good memories filling your heart as Arthur continues,

“Also the first place I kissed ya…  a lot ‘a memories up here.” 

Your stomach flutters at his words, your brain is flooded with warm memories of Arthur and you in the overlook. 

“C'mere.” Arthur whispers, smiling, taking a shaky breath. Your eyebrows furrow together. but as he stands and extends his hand, you take it. Arthur pulls you up, hands in his own. 

The overlook is beautiful in front of you, serene and perfect. A moment he'd capture with a camera if he had one with. Whiskey and Boadicea watch on from the treeline, ears perked up. They know what's about to happen. Arthur's been telling them about it every day for months. 

“I love you.” Arthur whispers, deep and serious. His eyes soften, and your heart begins to pump loudly in your ears. A delicious red flushes into your cheeks.

“I love you too, Arthur… but why are you.. what's going on?” Your voice is higher than usual, eyes sparkling bright with wonder, reflecting the sun and the white snow.

It isn’t unusual for Arthur to admit his feelings to you, but there are too many factors for this to be a coincidence. Arthur was ‘shopping in town’ all morning, but had come home empty handed. He brought you out to your special spot, bought you your favorite expensive tequila– and is treating you with such delicacy, and love, that butterflies flutter in your stomach. 

Arthur huffs, letting out a humorous chuckle and looking up to the sky, projecting a short prayer, before he holds your hands a little tighter and begins.

“I love you more than I ever thought possible.” He looks away from you for a split second, staring at the ground, before anchoring himself in your eyes again, and continuing, “I didn’t think my life was goin’ nowhere before I met you… I gave up in my twenties, said I wasn’t gettin’ attached to anyone.” Arthur admits, and you frown. You know about his past. You've talked about it, and now you're trying to show him how much he deserves to be loved. 

“I stood by that for a long time…” Arthur's lips crack into a beautiful smile, a chuckle falling over them, “And then you stumbled along.” A single tear drips down his cheek, and landing in the snow below. Your eyes are threatening to overflow with tears of your own.  

“Arthur…?” You whisper, voice cracking. He squeezes your hands reassuringly. 

“You showed me what it felt like to be loved. And love ain't somethin’ I've felt in many a years.” Arthur pauses, gathering his words. A few tears trail down your cheeks, and Arthur’s thumb wipes them away.

“You make me want so much more outta life. You make me wanna wake up every day and work on this ranch, take care of these animals. You make me want a family. I wanna wake up n’ watch our kids playin’ from the window.” 

“But what I want most in life? More than anything…?” A pause ensues, his loving, green eyes locked onto yours, “I want to be with you, every day, for the rest of my life.” 

Arthur thinks back to the song he had been listening to earlier on the way home from the city.

“As long as my compass keeps pointin’ to you, I’ll be where I belong… I’ll be home.”

Tears flow freely from your eyes, and you gasp as Arthur reaches into his pocket, kneeling down on one knee in the snow. 

He looks up at you, one hand still intertwined with yours, the other extending out the black box. Arthur snaps the ring box open, presenting a stunning gold ring to you. The band is adorned with a ruby, and several small diamonds decorate the sides of the gem. Your hands come up to your mouth, as Arthur looks up to you, smiling. 

“This was my Momma's…” Arthur explains, and your eyes flicker down to his, “You’ve already made me the happiest man alive… and I wanna spend the rest of my life with you… So, would you do me the honor–”  Arthur chokes up, “Would you marry me?” 

He looks into your teary eyes, holding the ring box a little higher as he asks the question. You wipe the tears away from your eyes, sight locking onto the scene, wishing you could etch it into your memory forever.

Your head frantically nods, tears flowing down your cheeks as you cry tears of joy, “Yes, Oh, Arthur–of course. Yes, yes!” 

Arthur smiles the brightest that you’ve ever seen, standing before you and slipping his mother’s ring onto your ring finger. The band fits you perfectly, and you marvel at it for a second before Arthur’s arms wrap around your waist. He lifts you up into the air, and you wrap your legs around his waist, laughing and crying, overcome with a happiness unlike any other. Your heart leaps with love and passion for the man in front of you.

His lips crash against your, wet tears dripping down your face as you kiss him. Your hands entangle into the hair at the back of Arthur’s neck as you both kiss, pulling apart only to breathe or to laugh. The kiss is deep, bodies singing with love, energy overflowing from the both of you. He keeps kissing you, over and over again, never wanting to leave the taste of your lips. 

You pull apart, foreheads pressing against eachother's, his hands on your thighs, keeping you off the ground. 

“I love you so much darlin’.”

“I love you too.” You whisper against him, the happiest you have ever been. 

The ring rests on your finger as you kiss Arthur again, senselessly. The band of rubies and diamonds holds promises of a future, of a marriage  and a life with him.

As the wind rustles through your hair, carrying your joy so far down the mountains that it can be felt radiating even miles away, you can’t think of anything you could ever want more than that promise.

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow @holyratrimony @twola

[fuckyeselucien]

Creator Highlight #11 - @labellefleur-sauvage

Today we'd like to highlight @labellefleur-sauvage! We were so delighted when she came up on the wheel of fate, because @labellefleur-sauvage writes, consistently, some of the most interesting fan fictions in the community. She has no shortage of creativity, which makes picking three of her works incredibly tricky- all of them are so interesting, so fun, and SO well-written!

@labellefleur-sauvage captures the essence of Elain and Lucien, regardless of the setting. They might be in the mortal lands meeting for the first time, or an ancient mummy and a modern archeologist- no matter the time or place, they are ALWAYS recognizably Elain and Lucien.

Check out some of our favorites from her below, or check out her masterlist HERE:

Tempests And Urges:

Slowly, Lucien turned his head and his gaze found hers. Everything quieted. The house’s inhabitants were gathered around Lucien, talking about what he could expect, but Elain focused only on the male in front of her. She tried to convey her apology and sorrow and want with her eyes, frozen with indecision and unable to say what she wanted.

Lucien stared back at her, and while she could so clearly see his own sadness and longing reflected in his brilliant russet eye, he gave her a small, slow bow and turned away. Elain’s stomach dropped. He was going to leave her, and Elain would be stuck in this house like a neglected piece of furniture, without the one being who had a hope of truly understanding and listening to her. She took a half step down the stairs at the same time Lucien turned to Rhys and nodded his head…

“Wait!”

...

"Take me with you."

OR: A divergent ACOTAR fic, in which Elain goes with Lucien to find Vassa during ACOWAR.

The Highland Fox and English Rose:

Elain Archeron, the middle daughter of an enterprising English merchant, has been raised with one goal in mind: become the wife of a respectable Englishman. Everything else—her interests, her desires—didn’t matter. But when her father convinces her to enter into an arranged marriage with a brutal Scottish Laird to save their family from ruin, Elain is suddenly forced to reevaluate everything she thought she wanted in life.

As the newly appointed Laird of a derelict clan with a crumbling castle, marriage was the last thing on Lucien’s mind. His entire life is thrown into disarray when he is forced into a marriage contract he didn’t sign, to an Englishwoman he’d never met.

But Lucien harbors a dark, ruinous secret that affects more than just himself, and he is determined to resolve the issue at hand. Together, the Highland Fox and the English Rose will go on a journey that will force Elain and Lucien together—or drive them apart.

Or: an entirely indulgent Elucien Scottish Historical AU

The Curse of Sleepy Hollow:

In the quiet village of Sleepy Hollow in the human lands south of the Wall, there’s a local legend: that every All Hallow’s Eve, the ghostly form of a headless fae on a horse from the lands north of the Wall haunts the town for an evening, looking for his missing head and a human woman to take as his bride.

Too bad for Elain Archeron, the headless fae has found his head; now he’s looking for a bride, and he’s set his eyes on her.

Want to nominate someone? Fill out the form HERE

[torusdove]

I'm doing my best to stop being a lurker, so here are some Nanami headcannons, pls forgive me if my English isn't the best, it's not my first language 🙏🏽

Nanami HATES it when someone calls you his girlfriend, something inside him dies everytime someone calls you that, it's too casual for him, that's his WIFE bro even if she isn't (yet)

Nanami is chronic sweater and cardigan wearer

Nanami isn't a fan of strong fragrances, however he still smells VERY VERY clean, sometimes, SOMETIMES he'll wear the woodsy cologne that you got him for special occasions, and even then, it's 2 sprays

Pls excuse my English 🙏🏽

Your English is perfect, don't you worry about a thing, sweetheart!

I wholeheartedly agree with the first oneee!! I don't even see Kento dating someone when he doesn't see a future with that person (I am fully convinced he wants the whole traditional way: get married, buy a house, two, maybe three kids, two cats and a big yard). So, it's not really a surprise that he calls you wifey, even if you're only just dating.

Honestly, about the sweater and cardigan.. yes and no. I view Kento as an old money kind of guy, if you know what I mean. His style is sleek, formal but also casual (if you want me to show you pictures of what I mean, do let me know).

The last one I disagree with! Yes, Kento is very very very clean and smells nicely, however, he does love his parfume. I see him using woody, leather scents and musk. Something dark and heavy, very masculine (Dior Sauvage or Terre d'Hermès).

[depressedraisin]

miles kane serving at fashion shows through the years 💅

with suki waterhouse, burberry womenswear s/s 2013, london fashion week (2012) // with lisa, celine menswear s/s 2020, paris fashion week (2019)// with alex turner, saint laurent fall ready to wear 2014, paris fashion week (2014) // saint laurent menswear f/w 2015, paris fashion week (2014) // with alexa chung and agyness deyn, house of holland 2009, london fashion week (2009) // with alexa chung (and others), celine menswear- hedi slimane's debut show, paris fashion week (2018) // with alexa chung, celine womenswear f/w 2021, paris fashion week (2020) // celine menswear f/w 2019, paris fashion week (2019) // celine womenswear s/s 2020, paris fashion week (2019) // with tinie tempah and david gandy, a sauvage 2015, london fashion week (2015) //

[l0velylecter]

ares — phillip graves ( nsfw )

— nsfw imagine / headcanons on phillip graves  pairing : phillip graves / f! reader fandom : call of duty modern warfare ii rating : e for explicit, minors don’t interact (mdni!), not safe for work (nsfw!) warnings : graphic descriptions of sex tags : drabble, not proofread, just midnight thoughts, smutty but also soft, graves can also make love and not just fuck and i’ll show you how, afab, female bits 

01 | graves isn't all about fucking. most of the time he’s suspended over you with one hand to either side of your shoulders, fingers fisting the sheets as he slides inside of you, slowly, thoroughly — burying himself into the hilt to feel all of you: and you’ll clench down on him so he’ll groan against your neck. his cologne, rich and heavy and mingling with the smell of sex and sweat. he thrusts into your sore cunt, and the pain pricks your skin with pleasure. it drives you insane. sichuan pepper and reggio bergamot crowding you as you shudder and come, lips open in a wordless scream. 02 | his hips keep moving, driving into you until you’re spent and just on the edge of consciousness. then he slows and stops and he tells you he shouldn’t. but you know the time you shared apart has housed this appetite in him that needs to come out. that needs to be bled and wrung and satiated. he has stamina, he has strength, he has enough longing inside of him to spread your legs open and start again. and even if you’re tired, you tell him you want it too. nipples already hardening. graves waits a long moment, breathing hard and eyes glazed over, skin flushed. the moonlight is peeking through the gaps in your curtains. he always sleeps with the window open. the breeze soft and cold against your skin. you squeeze his arm in reassurance. then, slowly, he resumes his thrusts and descends upon you, closing the gaps between your skin to hold you close. closer. (as if he wants to be one with you.) 03 | you drag your index finger down his spine. he guesses that it’s a tree and you burst out laughing. he turns to face you with an eyebrow raised and you tell him it’s a house. he smiles, pulling you by your waist to tell you to never enroll in art school. out of instinct, you tilt your neck to let him trail kisses down your jugular. with the sheets cold and thin between your legs, he pushes your hair back, slick with sweat and sticking to the side of your face. his thumb is resting on the underside of your chest when he says i love you.his pulse: steady and content against your ear. (graves isn’t all about fucking.)

a/n : so this is a blurb because not writing for a week had rendered me illiterate unfortunately. and i just wanted to make more graves content so enjoy ! ( he definitely enjoys slow, steamy sex because he’s lowkey touch starved ) + i had no idea what to put based on the title so i just put the name of greek/roman gods that share the same mbti as the characters, which in this case : estp for both ares and graves ( oh and the bit where he sleeps with the window slightly cracked is a headcanon from tt, let me know the creator’s name so i can credit them as inspo for this ! )  → p.s the cologne mentioned above is the description of dior sauvage  👀 ( he definitely wears it )